#drago/skuld

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Some progress on my skuld/drago drawing

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Started drawing Skuld and Drago

Drago's all grumpy.

As you can see I'm still figuring out the tormentipede arm. I should probably do a separate sketch to plan it out.

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so i had an absolutely horrible (and by horrible i mean upsetting) idea today for my thw fic in regards to skuld the sorceress and im kinda torn on whether or not to do it because i dont know if i want her to be quite as evil as this would make her

so for context: skuld is a sham sorceress who tricks people into thinking she has powers, etc etc. at the point she's at in my plot, i want her to be very good at making her intelligence look like magic - so her "prophecies" will be very astute observation wrapped up in confusing language with some smoke and a trance like state for pizzazz. her "curses" might be psychological manipulation or a stealthy poisoning disguised behind mystical words. she's very willing to pull out the bells and whistles because it makes people more likely to believe her. ultimately she's an advisor but because she doesnt come from a powerful family or anything like that, she needs an in to get people to listen to her - thus, magic

i was thinking about the idea of having one of her divination practices involving haruspicy (divination through examining the entrails of a sacrificed animal) - although im not sure if her character would get her hands dirty with something like that (need to reread the comics for chracterization)...she might have someone do it for her and then observe (ok actually yes i like this)

BUT i was also thinking it would be particularly dark if the animals she were sacrificing were dragons - probably smaller and more common ones on a more regular basis (sorry, terrible terrors ) and then bigger or rarer ones before important battles

i havent made up my mind yet because i dont know if i want her to be quite this cruel , especially considering that she doesnt even believe in her own powers, so all of it is really just for show, or what she might think is a necessary evil to maintain her position of power

i also dont know how much value drago (who she's advising) would put into magic. he might have been skeptical at first but then got on board when he saw that she was right more often than not? im thinking she's spinning it as doing the will of the the gods (whose gods? uh...good question because idk what religious beliefs drago's culture may have...just...gods in general for now) maybe shes convinced him that some of the more powerful the norse gods support him and he finds some of them to be analogous to his own) abhoring the idea of humans and dragons being equals (uhh something about dragons being forces of chaos that upset order, say theyre the spawn of nidhogg or something and is dragos destiny to subdue them etc etc) and at first he's like yeah i can get behind that as a general idea - and then over time he takes the more mystical elements seriously because she's convincing

alright i think i do want to go with the order vs chaos prophecy angle. still figuring out the dragon sacrifice though

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thinking about ~them~

drago taking skuld by the waist, pulling her close, and asking her if she bewitched him to fall in love with her. he's not even asking with anger or suspicion, but with curiosity. he's pressed their foreheads together, his eyes half lidded, his voice low and uncharacteristically gentle — if his fate is to be enthralled, he seems resigned to it. skuld laughs in surprise — a bright, musical sound. "whatever would I need to do that for?" she asks him. "it would be a waste of a spell. you wanted me the moment you laid eyes on me." Drago shakes his head, but not because he disagrees. after all, she's right — she's always right

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Skuld the Sorceress headcanons

shoutout to the httyd comics for giving me a bunch of characters to use in my fanfic. (this is for my thw rewrite)

so my backstory on skuld is that sometime after the events of httyd 2, she joins forces with the northern alliance, and while she's still up to her "sorceress" bullshit (at least thats the plan for now) she also has legitimately useful information about the barbaric archipelago that she's learned from travelling around and duping people. so she is actually useful but probably uses the mysticism to embellish and make herself appear more powerful. I think it would be great if she were like the mellisandre to drago's stannis (as in a mystical advisor blowing smoke up his ass about his destined greatness. i use a lot of asoiaf characters as analogies. except in this case skuld isnt a true believer, she's just a survivor who will say and do anything necessary). I really want to have some scenes of her giving vague-ass prophecies about the outcome of battles that could be interpreted as positive or negative based on the desires of the person listening. i love when shit like that happens.

I imagine she's particularly good friends with griselda the grievous and despite not being particularly fond of children in general, she likes griselda and chaghatai's kids, especially oktai . I'm thinking chaghatai probably sees through the sorceress thing and doesn't trust her. ragnar is probably scared of her.

I want drago and skuld to actually be completely head over heels for each other but extremely hesitant to show anything other than lust because both of them think about love as a weakness. aghhh i cant get them out of my head!

also im using the premise of the fire tides as setup, so drago has that tormpentipede dragon attatched to his shoulder. uh...this is going to make intimacy between them...interesting. i have some ideas but idk how wild i wanna make things

anyway im in love with this villain couple and i need to draw them (especially with skuld in some new outfits i have in mind for her. i put some inspiration photos below)

got some mellisandre obviously. the second photo is great because wings of war (working title for the wip) is also going to take place in fall/winter and i love the image of skuld surrounded by drago's freezing, exhausted soldiers meanwhile she's all elegant and unscathed

hildur from norsemen. i love this conniving bitch with my whole heart. she's my favourite character in the show. also definitely using her fur lined cloak as inspiration

reluctantly adding skade the witch from the last kingdom because i cant stand her but i like her clothes and accesories. I love the concept of her character but idk...maybe it was the acting? something about her felt whiny and juvenile when she should have been intimidating and sultry. anyway. next.

morgana pendragon my actual wife. i. love. her. free my girl, she did all of that but like...can you blame her???

anyway, i think my ideas for skuld's clothes will look a lot like morgana's winter outfits but with the colour schemes of her gowns pre-villain arc.

i think skuld's outfits were a lot more similar to skade's before she joined the northern alliance, but the more she gained influence, the more they (specifically griselda and drago) were willing to indulge her finer tastes

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The Plight of the Phoenix

*Spoilers* This is an upcoming chapter in my fic "The Wings of War."

Heavily inspired by plans for the unreleased graphic novel, "The Fire Tides"

CW: Brief body horror.

Word Count: ~3k

...

First the fall, then the consumption

Next, the transformation

After, the prophecy

And at last, the return

—Such was the plight of the Phoenix

First, the fall

His old life had ended with a sensation of heat and a flash of blinding light. Then he was falling from a great height, his stomach flipping and churning as he yelled. The huge dragon beneath him fell first, and then he lost his footing, at last shaken from the great beast’s back as both of them hit the water below.

His emotions swept over him in quick succession. Disbelief and anger. How could he have been defeated by such a reckless, naive, and inexperienced foe? Then came fear and pain as the water swallowed him up. He had a split second to take in air before the dark surface rushed up to meet him. It was so cold, so painful that it burned.

Then the consumption

He wanted to scream in frustration and anger, but he could not. He clenched his mouth closed and swam furiously, but his cloak was too cumbersome, and it was difficult to move in this water with his one good arm. The light of the sun shining above got farther and farther away as he sank. His lungs burned and as he thrashed, part of him just wanted to let go, to give up; to accept that his decades of work and determination had been for nothing; that the devils had won, that for all his attempts, he would die alone, a failure; that his uncle was right. He could hear the old man’s voice in his head, telling him that he was mad, this his plans were hopeless, that his pride would cause him to fall. The cowardly bastard. How would he react to seeing his nephew like this? Would the man smile with smug vindication or weep with sorrow? It hardly mattered now.

Finally, when he was truly exhausted and everything around him was dark, he gave up. He breathed out and prepared himself for the horror and pain of inhaling water. But he felt the water shifting around him, getting warmer and growing completely dark. He couldn’t quite see, but it felt different. Soon, the water was receding, draining all around him, and he was deposited on a floor of some kind, lying on his side. He took a laboured, shuddering breath in, accidentally breathing in a little water, but it was quickly coughed out. The darkness receded as well, and as he blinked his stinging eyes, he saw that he was lying in what looked like a translucent sphere—a bubble moving through the sea, through which he would just make out the watery depths beyond.

He shifted on the spongey floor of the bubble, felt its textured and bumpy surface with his hand. He glanced up and saw the ripples of the ceiling, the dark hole in front of him and the interlocked, sharp ridges behind. He realized with fear and awe that he was in the mouth of a beast—of a great, tidal dragon inflated with air. Again, he was overcome with the urge to scream. To think that he survived the fall and the freezing clutches of the sea only to be devoured! But he was too tired and cold to move. He sunk into unconsciousness and hoped that he would not feel it when he died.

Next, the transformation

For reasons he could not quite understand, the beast did not swallow him. It saved him. It spat him out the next morning in the shallows of a cove. The sudden shock of the water woke him from his stupor and he made his way clumsily to the shore. He crawled until he was just clear of the water and collapsed on his belly. He thought vaguely about making a fire and getting dry, of fashioning weapons to fish or hunt, of finding fresh water. But he was still too tired. This newfound weakness was abhorrent to him, and he hated that this was the reduced state in which he would meet his end.

This is my death then, he thought bitterly. I will not drown, neither will I be devoured. I will lie here until I die of thirst, feeble and delirious. Not a particularly dignified death. Suddenly, drowning seemed more respectable—but he was in no great hurry to haul himself back into the water.

As he contemplated the least horrible way in which he might die, he heard a skittering and hissing noise and saw movement from the corner of his eye. Then it came into view: a long, thick, many-legged creature with dead, beady eyes and a twisting, segmented body. Its antennae whirred about in the air and its pincers opened and closed before a mouth filled with sharp little teeth. It came closer. It was looking at him, studying him. He was too exhausted to scream. He moaned and muttered threats at it, but it was not deterred.

Devouring it is then, he thought. But in hundreds of tiny bites rather than one big gulp. He tried to stop his heart from racing. Or perhaps with poisoned blood, he feared. The thing looked like it might have venom. It came close enough for its antennae to brush up again him, making him recoil. It came close to his head, and like a child, he shut his eyes, not wanting to see its ugly, soulless face.

Then he felt pain like never before. A sharp, twisting sting in his left shoulder’s stump. Finally, he found it in him to cry out. No battlefield wound could have compared to this—except, perhaps, the time when his arm had been ripped from his body from the very same shoulder.

Venom, he thought. It must be. This is going to be fucking terrible.

He writhed around as the thing pierced him deeper and deeper and he could not pull away. So he gave up and lay there trembling, waiting for the venom to take effect and end his now miserable and pitiful existence. Instead of increasing, however, the pain began to level off and then retreat. The unbearable burn turned into a string and then a dull pulsing. He could still feel the thing on him though.—it had not let go. He turned his head as much as he could manage and saw that the back of the beast’s body and several of its legs were coiled around his shoulder. Its legs, not its teeth or pincers, were dug deep into his arm, stretching his skin. He almost vomited at the sight of it. At the same time, he was fascinated. There was hardly as much blood as he thought there’d be, and from the deeply embedded legs spread out new tissue and blood vessels, ripping through his flesh, stretching out from the beast and into him.

A parasite, he realized with horror. It’s feeding on me. But slowly, his body grew warmer and a pleasant burst of energy washed over him. Feeding on me, he thought, but perhaps...feeding into me as well? Was such a thing possible? He sat up to get a better look.

It moved around, snaking its way through the air in a manner that looked horrible now that they were fused together. It was about the size and thickness of his other arm, and it looked like a hellish limb without bones. The thing looked at him, and he felt a chill run down his spine. Instinctively, the muscles in his shoulder twitched, as if to make this dragon-arm move away.

And it did.

It moved exactly as an arm would. He sucked in air. But it could have been a coincidence. So he tried again, moving his shoulder as if to plant an arm firmly on the ground. The dragon-arm did so, and the beast’s face lowered. As it nestled into the sand, a distant tingling echoed through the space where his arm used to be

Like the pain of a phantom limb, he thought.

Unless...

But such a thing wasn’t possible. Was it?

Slowly, he reached his hand out to touch the dragon-arm. He brushed his hand gently against it, fingers trembling. And he felt it—felt a light tickle exactly where his fingers trailed. He poked a finger against the back of the beast, and he felt it. He squeezed harder, not enough to hurt the thing, but enough to be sure. And he felt it, clear as day.

He began to weep. It was an arm. He had an arm. It was an ugly, parasitic beast, but an arm nonetheless.

He staggered to his feet, still tired but no longer exhausted. He laughed with relief and with hope. He was not going to die, at least not here, not today. He was going to start a fire...perhaps his new dragon-arm could help him with that. He was going to find food. He was going to build a raft, or find a flying dragon to tame, or find a boat to steal, and he was going to get off this island, and he was going to live. And more—he was going to have his revenge.

After, the prophecy

It happened in a town on the edge of the Archipelago. Here, he kept his dragon-arm hidden beneath his cloak, so as not to raise alarm. It was not time for that. Yet. He kept it to himself until such times when he needed a dramatic show of power. There had been some instances where having an arm that could roast a man alive came in handy. But he hadn’t found need for that here—no one had yet discovered who he was. He didn’t want to turn this town against him when he still needed shelter and directions from its people.

It was in this town that he met her.

She was sitting outside a tavern at night, tending a small scrying fire. A beautiful woman, tall and slender, shrouded in dark robes with a pale, eerily painted face: her gold-green eyes darkly rimmed, and her cheeks and forehead etched with patterns and sigils. She was selling fortunes, telling patrons their futures. He thought little of her at first—thought she was a conwoman, profiting from the hopes of fools. She told him that she was a priestess of the Norns, the goddesses of fate.

“I don’t know those,” he said. “We worship different gods where I’m from.”

“Mm,” she hummed. “You have travelled far.”

He scoffed. “It doesn’t take a seer to guess that I am not from here.” He was tempted to walk away from her, but he felt affixed by her gaze. So instead, he asked, “What good can your gods do me when they are are not mine?”

She shook her head. “They are not my gods any more than they are yours. They go by different names in different places. But ultimately, they are all manifestations of the same power: prophecy, destiny, fate. Whatever you wish you to call it.”

He sniffed. Cynically, he said, “Or perhaps, whatever you wish to call it.” But he had to admit, she intrigued him. Her words were convincing—or perhaps it was simply the confidence and mystery with which she said them. She did not desperately fawn for his attention and belief, as if she was comfortable and sure in her knowledge, confident that she was correct, and it was simply up to him to realize it.

She offered to tell his future for free. Curious, he obliged and sat down on the stool across from her. There was no price for the reading, but she still asked things of him: three strands of his hair; a drop of blood from his pointer finger; a loose thread from his cloak; and spit expelled after he cursed the name of an enemy. Her eyes seemed to light up when he said his enemy’s name, though it might have been the glow of the fire on her face, creating a dance of light and shadow. All of these things were dropped into her fire. When it was done, she gazed intently into the fire and smoke. For a moment, he found this so absurd that he almost laughed. But soon the priestess was overcome by a trancelike expression, and her eyes seemed to glaze over. She spoke as if under a spell.

“I see,” she murmured, rocking gently.

He squinted, trying to shake the chill coming over him. “What? What do you see?”

“I see...the fall of a great man; a man being tested by the gods to see how much he can endure; a man who will rise from the ashes like a phoenix and fulfill his life’s great work; a man destined to win glory and fame; a man whose name will echo throughout history for generations upon generations; a man whose story has only just begun.” The priestess swayed and came out of her trance, looking startled. She blinked and looks at him in awe, as if her own words surprised her, as if seeing in him a new light.

“What is your name?” He asked quietly.

“Skuld,” she said.

He grinned. “Skuld. The gods have blessed you. They have given you the gift of true foresight.”

She smiled back and something about her smile both frightened and comforted him. “I wish you well on your travels, Phoenix. I hope you will visit one day and tell me of your great victories.”

“I will.”

And for the next few days he was on that island, he could not stop thinking of her—of her low and calming voice; of her elegant hands moving to complete a ritual; of her haunting eyes shining in the fire light; of how her words made him feel—invincible, unstoppable, divine.

What shall I do about her? He wondered. When I move on from this place, will the memory of this woman continue to haunt me? He couldn’t allow that. He was too old for such distractions to keep him from his goals.

Every day, he pondered this question, and every time when he passed her by outside the tavern, the look in her eye seemed to give him his answer. And the day before he left the town, he made up his mind.

On his last evening there, he returned to her.

She looked up at him expectantly. “Would you like one last reading before you go?”

“Yes.” He sat down across from her. “Answer me this, priestess: what will happen when the Phoenix asks the fortune telling woman outside the tavern to join him? To consult the gods for him in his journeys? To help guide his path and play a role in his great and glorious future?”

She smiled.

“Will you need more of my hair for that?” he asked with raised brows. “Some more spit?”

The woman laughed and shook her head. “No. I already have your answer.” She leaned forward. “The priestess will say yes. She will come with the Phoenix and the two of them will bring fear to the hearts of his enemies.”

“The Phoenix,” he said revelling in the words, “and the priestess.”

“The Phoenix, and the priestess,” she confirmed.

And at last, the return

The two continued their journey together over sea, by land, and through the air. Skuld was not afraid of his dragon-arm. She was not afraid the things he had to do to fulfill his destiny. She was not afraid of him. So he confided in her. She listened intently as he told her more about his past. He revealed in full he plans for the future—that he would make his way back to his allies. He was going to tell them about what had happened to him in this savage backwater of the world, and he would convince them to help him rebuild his army. Despite his losses, he knew they would listen to him, because in his defeat and in his transformation, he’d discovered something essential about dragons that would bring them victory.

And when that was done, when he’d amassed enough soldiers and dragons, he would begin his conquest anew. He would return to the archipelago. He would take what had been kept from him, and humble those who had unseated him. He would free humanity from the chaos of dragons, from the fear of dragons—for once he controlled them all, the only thing there would be left to fear was him. For there was nothing in this world more fearsome than a man chosen by the gods: a man who was destined for greatness.

All his life, he’d known this to be true, and the priestess had confirmed it.

Drago Bludvist had been chosen. And he was going to change the world.

Such was the plight of the Phoenix

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love being obsessed with an extremely obscure character and appreciating her mostly for headcanons that ive come up with

like shes not an OC but for my purposes, she kinda funtions as one considering how little content she's in

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writing my first (and probably only) explicit dagcup scene in the wings of war soon. this fic is going to have a lot of dagcup in general, but not that much erotic dagcup (unfortunately not enough space -- at least not for my liking -- because of how many character arcs and pov chapters theres going to be) - but i am planning to have at least one erotic scene for each: dagcup, hiccstrid, heathstrid, rufflegs, eretlout, and skuld/drago (the last one, im pretty sure no one wants or cares about but but idc, theyre special to me)

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My redesign of skuld for a fic

For context i used a panel from the endless night as reference (when shes walking up stars to the deck of a ship?) But i wasnt really focusing on the background

Ill probably do more with her and drago (currently shipping them), maybe in colour

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1, 6, 11, 16 for the HTTYD asks! Thank you for making them! 🫶

Thanks for asking!

Which part of the series was your introduction to HTTYD? How old were you when you first became a fan?

HTTYD 1! My social studies teacher showed it to my class instead of teaching us the Vikings unit, lol. I learned nothing about actual Vikings but gained a lifelong obsession. I was 10 when the movie came out, so I've been into this franchise for over half of my life. I find it kind of funny because I remember thinking the movie would be absolutely terrible when I saw the trailers (I thought it was a "boy movie"....yeah I was like that as a kid) and then I never shut up about it for 14 years, lol.

6. What are your favourite ships in the fandom and why?

Ok IMMEDIATELY Dagcup comes to mind. I LOVE ship dynamics that basically resemble the dynamic between a chaotic dog and an exasperated cat. (Although Hiccup is pretty chaotic too to be fair. He just seems so rational in comparison to Dagur) I've also got a huge crush on both Dagur and Hiccup so that helps, lol. Vigcup is probably a close second.

Honestly though, I'm a fan of most of the popular non-canon ships in the fandom and most of the canon ones -- and even rare or crack ships I can eventually get behind.

My current favourite rarepair (that I'm pretty sure only I ship...for the time being) is Drago Bludvist and Skuld the Sorceress. I also ship Chaghatai Khan and Griselda the Grievous (and I came up with some OCs to be their kids).

11. What are your favourite locations in the Barbaric Archipelago?

This is gonna sound like a cop out but...pretty much all Berk in movie 1 - the first film has my absolute favourite set designs, textures, and colour schemes. The forests, the houses, the great hall, the sea stacks...all of it is breathtaking. This photo in particular makes me wish I could visit movie 1 Berk in real life:

The vibrant colours in the following movies are wonderful, but to me, they don't quite say Berk the way the first movie does. I understand that the art direction was probably trying to reflect how allying with the dragons brightened the lives of the characters...but I still think cold, dark Berk can still be a happy place.

I also very much enjoy Caldera Cay/Defenders of the Wing Island in RTTE. I like seeing how the architectural style of the Defenders of the Wing differs from that of other groups in the Archipelago. Their style is so utilitarian, it makes Berk look luxurious! And it makes the dragon-related decorative elements of their ceremonial architecture stand out even more.

16. What is your favourite plot arc?

Ooooh that's a tough one. I don't have *one* specific one in mind, but I think I have to go with any epsiodes in RTTE that feature the rivalry between the riders and the Hunters. Watching Viggo and Hiccup constantly try to outsmart each other is so fun.

Thanks again for asking! You'll probably see some questions in your inbox from me soon!

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ok my goal for this weekend is to get enough chores and work/school stuff done (bleh im so tired) that i have time to either work on my vampire au or draw some fanart for my thw rewrite...hopefully a bit of both

im thinking i either want to draw drago/skuld or the kids of the northern alliance warlords

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im thinking of making skuld the sorceress and drago bludvist a villain power couple in my httyd 3 fic...but i dont think drago will know that skuld is a charlatan...either that or she's changed her angle and acts as more of an advisor with less focus on the "sorceress" part...idk yet

i do really want to redesign her outfit though cause im not feeling it

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really just want to turn drago and skuld into the evil stannis and mellisandre of my fic

i want skuld to fill his mind with prophecies about how hes destined to rise even stronger than before and save the world from dragons - now not only for his own glory but now on a mission from the gods

he was clearly cynical and self serving in httyd 2 but what if he actually starts to believe his own bullshit - or at the very least convinces himself and everyone else that he believes it? maybe he has an epiphany with the whole tormentipede thing but instead of becoming a better person he takes it as a sign that he was right - because he believes he's in complete control of the dragon and doesnt see it as a parasite feeding on him

i like this very much

and i am still not asleep

so i know that when people say night furies are the unholy offspring of lightning and death, theyre probably referring either to the force of nature/abstract concept or simply making a powerful metaphor - but it would be interesting to think about dragons as the offspring of gods, and in this case toothless would be the offspring of thor and hel

i think it would be cool if each dragon species had an associated god or godly pairing that they were fabled to originate from (if not literally then symbolically)

im also playing around with ideas of people who still hate dragons seeing them being as descendants of nidhogg and therefore being agents of chaos that must be eradicated. im also considering jormungand but idk if he's as strongly associated with chaos and i want to focus on the order vs chaos thing pretty strongly

thinking about drawing links for fafnir too? idk

need to brush up on my norse mythology

but i was already thinking about how to include religion in my thw rewrite and it would be fun to compare how the protagonists use their religious rites for celebration and to inspire hope while the antagonists use it to justify conquest of people and dragons

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specifically them as a villain power couple

i have also become a huge shipper of a ship that i do not think exists yet (drago/skuld) but when i start my httyd 3 fic (and hopefully include skuld - albeit a version of her that i've reworked for the sake of the story) i will never shut up about them

im such a sucker for people who do terrible things being in love - this is why i love the briarwoods (from critical role/vox machina)

it is now occuring to me that the biarwoods kinda look like viggo and heather (sylas especially looks like viggo)

like tell me this doesnt look like vampire viggo

can't stop thinking about viggo/heather. my brain is so full i had a dream about them last night

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the dagcup and heathstrid scenes in particular ive already had planned out in my head for months. i just need to write them down

the skuld/drago one is gonna be...uh...real freaky. unless i chicken out. we'll see

writing my first (and probably only) explicit dagcup scene in the wings of war soon. this fic is going to have a lot of dagcup in general, but not that much erotic dagcup (unfortunately not enough space -- at least not for my liking -- because of how many character arcs and pov chapters theres going to be) - but i am planning to have at least one erotic scene for each: dagcup, hiccstrid, heathstrid, rufflegs, eretlout, and skuld/drago (the last one, im pretty sure no one wants or cares about but but idc, theyre special to me)