Above the Tavern – Rafters
He crouched in silence, cloaked in dust and shadow, motionless atop the old tavern beams.
From this angle, he saw them clearly: Lucian, Hiccup, and Prince Eric, seated together in quiet conversation. Their voices were muffled by distance and wood, but certain words still carried.
Auction... Night Fury... Lucian.
The assassin narrowed his eyes.
One gloved hand reached beneath his cloak, pressing against a glowing communication rune hidden in his palm.
He whispered, voice low and precise,
"It has been confirm, Your Highness. Your brother, the exiled prince, is still alive and he's with Prince Eric. They're preparing for something tonight..."
The rune pulsed once — confirmation.
The assassin shifted slowly, ready to slip away—
Then froze.
Below, Lucian's head tilted.
Just slightly. Intentionally.
Their eyes didn't meet, but the assassin felt it. That unmistakable tension—when the predator realizes it's become prey.
The man had been seen.
A quiet curse escaped his lips as he pushed back from the beam and darted across the rafters.
---
Inside the Tavern
Lucian's eyes snapped upward. He didn't hesitate.
In one smooth motion, he stood, cloak sweeping behind him, and sprinted toward the stairs.
"Lucian!" Hiccup shouted, grabbing his satchel and stumbling after him.
Eric rose instantly, signaling two of his guards to follow as they bolted behind.
Lucian burst through the upper hatch and hauled himself onto the rooftop, boots skidding across the tiles.
Up ahead, the assassin leapt from rooftop to rooftop, his silhouette flickering between chimneys and moonlight like a ghost.
Simba, perched lightly on Lucian's shoulders, growled low his tail coiled, his small frame tense and alert beneath the cloth.
Lucian gave chase.
He ducked beneath a clothesline, hurdled a chimney, and launched across a narrow alley. The assassin was fast but Lucian was faster.
They wove through merchant stalls below, startling late-night traders and birds from rooftops. The chase twisted through back alleys until—
The rooftops ended.
The assassin landed hard on the ground and took off into the woods beyond the market.
Lucian followed, his boots pounding the dirt path, cloak trailing like smoke behind him.
Trees rose high around them. The sounds of the market faded into silence.
Then—
SWISH!
A dagger spun through the air. Lucian spotted the glint just in time.
He raised his sword, turning his shoulder and knocking it aside with a sharp clang. The blade vibrated in his grip, but he didn't stop.
Another dagger flew — then another.
Lucian deflected one and sidestepped the second. He moved low under a branch, picking up speed.
Up ahead, the assassin stopped suddenly in a clearing, pivoting to face him.
Lucian didn't hesitate. He lunged, blade drawn.
But when he landed—
The man was gone.
Lucian's boots hit dirt. He turned sharply, senses flaring.
The wind shifted.
Above.
He looked up just as a shadow dropped from the canopy.
The assassin descended like a hawk, blade-first, aiming for Lucian's head.
Lucian shifted back, raising his sword at an angle—
CLANG!
Steel struck steel as Lucian caught the downward swing. Sparks flared.
The assassin hit the ground hard, rolled, and came up slashing.
Lucian ducked, blocking the strike with his forearm and shoulder, then answered with a sharp kick to the ribs.
The assassin stumbled, but recovered quickly—he was trained. Quiet. Fast. Precise.
They circled.
Lucian pressed forward, blade angled low. The assassin feinted left, then threw a hidden dagger with his right—
Lucian parried it midair.
Then—
SHHHHHH!
A cold gust swept the clearing.
The assassin's boots froze to the ground in a thin web of glistening ice.
He looked down, confused and was startled.
Simba, now crouched beside Lucian, let out a low, rumbling growl. His small body shimmered faintly, and with a slow exhale, he blew another breath of frosted air, coating the forest floor in pale blue.
The assassin was trapped.
Lucian didn't waste time.
He closed the distance in a blink and tackled him to the ground, both of them crashing through brush and leaves.
They struggled.
Blades scraped. Cloaks tangled. The assassin twisted, but Lucian hooked his arm, slammed a knee into his chest, and locked him down.
Breathless, the man struggled once more—but Lucian was stronger.
Leaves rustled.
Eric and Hiccup burst through the trees, guards following close behind.
They stopped at the sight:
Lucian crouched over the subdued assassin, sword at his throat.
Simba stood beside them, glowing faintly, frost still clinging to the ground.
Eric caught his breath. "Well... I'd say you caught him."
Lucian ignored the comment.
He reached down and tore the mask from the man's face.
Sharp features. Pale eyes. A faint scar cut across his brow.
Lucian's voice dropped to a growl.
"Who are you? Who sent yo—"
The assassin's lips curled in a smirk.
"For the Order."
Then, without warning, he bit down hard.
Lucian's eyes widened.
"No—!"
But it was already too late.
The man's body convulsed violently. Veins blackened. Roots of ominous dark energy spread from his eyes and mouth like ink under glass. His lips turned gray. His back arched once—
And then he went still.
Dead.
Lucian stood slowly, staring down at the body, his blade still in hand.
Hiccup stepped closer. "What was that...?"
Eric's jaw tightened as he knelt, observing the black-streaked face. "Tch... Solstice Order. That's what their assassins do when they're caught."
"Why are they here?" Hiccup asked.
But before Eric could answer—
"Lucian? Hiccup?!"
A familiar voice cut through the trees.
Lucian turned, blade still low.
From the opposite side of the clearing, bursting through the underbrush—
Astrid.
And behind her Fishlegs, Snotlout, Ruffnut, Tuffnut... and a cluster of wild redheads.
One of them, with a wild tangle of curly red hair, grinned wide
"Told ya I heard 'em," said Merida.
Lucian frowned, but Hiccup let out a breath of relief.
"Okay," Hiccup muttered. "Now this party's officially getting out of hand."