59. Two Hatchlings

…

It hurt.

It really, really hurt.

And it wasn’t immediate, either.

At first, it barely felt like anything.

Then it felt cold. He was suddenly and violently hit with the presence of a foreign, cold object.

And only then, as his body caught up with the sensation of his skin and muscles being split. As his pain receptors registered being ripped in half…

Then it hurt.

It hurt like nothing he’d ever felt before.

But Hiccup didn’t care.

He was so extraordinarily, unfathomably pissed off…

That he hardly even felt his father’s axe, lodged in his forearm.

There was silence, on the cliffside.

Not a single soul uttered a single word.

No one moved.

No one blinked.

No one even dared to breathe.

Mirabel and Toothless gawked at the boy, at his dripping red arm, in shock and horror.

Mariposa, standing right behind Hiccup, was frozen. Eyes bulging with fear.

If he hadn’t moved to defend her, she wouldn’t have a head right now.

Stoick was shocked out of his rage, mortified at the sight of his son’s nearly mutilated arm.

Panicking, he quickly tried to remove his weapon. In his haste, he ended up worsening the wound.

A long gash was now present on Hiccup’s left forearm. Wide open, and gushing with blood. Once the axe was taken out, it fell to his side limply.

He motioned his other arm to hold onto his damaged one, as it no longer had the strength to move much on its own.

But he did have the strength to shout.

“What the heck are you doing!?” Hiccup yelled to Stoick, his temper flaring.

Stoick’s eyes were still locked on the boy’s forearm. On the wound he’d caused.

He didn’t speak. He couldn’t.

His silence only served to enrage Hiccup more.

“Why?” He demanded. “Why’d you attack her!?”

At the mention of her, Stoick looked over to the Stormcutter that was currently cowering behind Mirabel. Trying to hide, despite the fact that she was larger than the girl, and quivering with fear.

Seeing this, seeing what he thought to be the heartless beast that had killed his wife, hiding like a sniveling coward. Not even having the integrity to face him head on…

It reignited his fury, tenfold.

A horrible expression of pure hatred contorted his face, and he pointed to Mariposa with trembling fingers.

“IT’S A MONSTER!” He bellowed, spittle flying from his mouth. “A DEMON!”

He shouting echoed throughout the forest, making birds flitter from the trees.

Toothless began growling harshly. Pupils thin, and threatening.

Terribly afraid, Mariposa pushed her face into Mirabel’s back. Trying to hide herself.

The girl desperately tried to soothe her, but she couldn’t keep her eyes off the current altercation. Not even for a moment.

And Hiccup was furious.

Because in his mind, he’d been fooled.

He’d allowed himself to believe that a man like Stoick could change.

Some desperate, blubbering, weak part of him still wanted the man he’d known as a father for most of his life to accept him.

When it looked like he had come to understand dragons, at least a little, the joy in Hiccup’s heart was indescribable.

When the man had wanted to talk about his interests, his life, he felt a warmness in his soul that he’d never felt on this island.

Those memories were tainted now.

Tainted with the knowledge that it was all a trick.

A lie.

Some scheme to get close to their dragons, so he could kill them.

Hiccup was sure of it now. His stubborn mind refusing to acknowledge any other possibility.

Stoick the Vast would never change.

The Hairy Hooligan Tribe would never change.

And Hiccup was sick of them.

All of them.

A deep scowl settled on the boy’s face, as he glared at the man with disdain.

Wordlessly, he climbed up onto Toothless.

Mirabel, confused, followed his lead. Mounting the still very frightened Mariposa.

Seeing that they were about to take off, Stoick scrambled to stop them.

He needed to explain to Hiccup what that creature was, what it had done.

And he couldn’t let it get away.

He started running after them, axe in hand-

Only to stop, when a plasma blast was fired right in front of his feet.

“Stay away from us!” Hiccup demanded, glowering with dark bags under his eyes.

From the vitriolic look in his eye, and the threatening beast he was sitting on, together…they looked like a force to be reckoned with.

Mariposa had already begun to fly off, not wanting to be near the chief any longer. Mirabel strained to look back, at the confrontation below.

Stoick resisted the urge to fling his axe at the escaping Stormcutter. He didn’t want to hurt Mirabel.

She probably didn’t even know that she was riding atop a demon.

Instead, he tried to reason with the boy.

“Hiccup, listen- “

“NO!”

The boy interrupted him before he’d barely said anything.

“No more!” Hiccup cried. “We’re done. I’m done with you!”

“We’re freeing the dragons, and then we’re leaving. And I’m never coming back to this stupid island!”

He didn’t understand. But he was so angry, he didn’t want to understand.

He didn’t care anymore.

He wasn’t thinking about Gobber, or the Dragon Riders, or any of the villagers who seemed receptive to dragons.

Right now, in his mind…

Every single Berkian was Stoick.

And he despised them for that.

Overwhelmed with a storm of wrath, Hiccup felt the need to say three more words.

Just to stick it to him, just to hurt him in any way possible.

“I hate you…”

And then he was off. Blasting into the air, leaving a trail of blood in his wake.

Leaving Stoick with those final words.

The last words Hiccup ever wanted to say to him.

They quickly caught up to Mirabel, who was eyeing Hiccup with an intense amount of concern.

“Are you okay!?” She asked, glancing to his wound with much anxiety.

In truth, Hiccup had forgotten about his injury. As soon as she mentioned it, it seemed the adrenaline wore off.

And he realized that his arm was almost just cleaved in half.

He hissed with pain, clutching his forearm as the wound pulsed and ached.

The two dragons present released soft warbles and trills, trying to calm the suffering boy.

Mirabel frantically fished around her coat pocket. She always kept a couple arepas with her, just in case.

Bringing Mariposa over, she stuffed it in his mouth before he even had the chance to grab it himself.

Fighting through the pain, he chewed. And he swallowed.

The wound lessened significantly, but it was too big for just one.

After a few more arepas, it finally closed up.

“Geez, we gotta be more careful…” Hiccup said, as his forearm tingled with magic. “We’ve only been here a week, and we’re already almost out of food.”

“Though that’s probably because Camilo sneaks a few every couple of hours…” He chuckled.

Mirabel didn’t share in his laughter.

“Hiccup, what was that about?” She asked. “Why did he attack Mariposa?”

The boy formed a grimace.

“…Because he’s a Viking, and that’s what they do.” He seethed. “They attack, they destroy, they kill, and they don’t change.”

He sounded so sure of that statement, but something about it didn’t sit right with the girl.

“What about Astrid? And Fishlegs, Snotlout, the twins?” She asked. “Or Gobber? Or the twenty villagers who asked us about dragons today?”

No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t deny her words.

And he really wanted to.

“Yeah well-I don’t-I- “He groaned, putting an end to his sputtering.

Every attempt at an argument he could think of was dead on arrival.

His mind was too clouded by anger, sadness, betrayal…

He needed to clear it.

“Look, I just…I just need some time to think…to be alone…I’ll meet up with you guys later.” He said.

She still looked wildly concerned, but she hesitantly nodded anyway.

Bringing her dragon near, she leaned over to kiss his cheek. A silent reminder that she was here for him. Always.

He managed a slight smile, before it fell again.

The girl and her dragon then began flying back towards the town.

“BE CAREFUL!” He called after them.

He was worried that Stoick may come after her dragon again. But with Isabela, Luisa, and Camilo, along with their dragons, he knew they’d be fine.

He just really needed a moment right now.

And so he flew.

He flew over the island, looking for a secluded spot.

A familiar spot.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stoick watched them go, drifting around the island with the sole intention of getting away from him. Feeling horrified at what he’d done.

His son’s parting words cut deep, deeper than any blade.

But he didn’t blame the boy.

From Hiccup’s perspective, this must’ve looked like a massive betrayal.

If only the boy knew what the Stormcutter had done…

If only he hadn’t been so lost in his grief, that he’d never told his son the truth behind his mother’s death…

That would change.

He would find Hiccup, and tell him everything.

Everything he’d been holding in for sixteen years.

And he would understand why the Stormcutter needed to be slain.

He set off, in the direction of the village. Not a thought burgeoning in his mind the whole way there.

His head was solely occupied by his single-minded determination, to get this mission done.

But as soon as he arrived, the very moment he stepped foot into town, he was stopped by Gobber.

A very angry Gobber.

The one-legged man wasted no time, not even allowing Stoick to get a word in.

“Do ye want to tell me why I heard Mirabel saying that ye tried to kill that dragon of hers? Or why ye nearly took Hiccup’s arm off!?” He shouted.

His eyes narrowed, dangerously. And he asked his old friend a simple question.

“What did ye do?”

Stoick sighed, deeply.

“It…it was an accident…” He mumbled. “Hiccup jumped in front of my axe, I would never- “

“Okay, next question.” Gobber interjected. “Why were ye trying to kill her dragon in the first place?”

His meekness forgotten, the chief bristled with old tenacity. Returning after many years.

“I’ve found it…” He said.

In response, the blacksmith brought out a pinky to clean his ear. While raising an eyebrow.

“Gobber…I’ve found it.” He repeated.

And then, Gobber got it.

He understood exactly what was going on.

And he groaned. Placing a palm to his face in exasperation.

“Stoick…”

“I’ve found it! The demon that took my wife!”

“Stoick.”

“After all these years, I can finally avenge her. I can finally-”

“STOICK!”

At Gobber’s shout, the chief ceased his rambling. The blacksmith fixed him a stern glare.

“That dragon is not the one that took her.” He declared.

The bearded man huffed, finding this claim ridiculous. “Of course it is, it’s a Stormcutter.”

“Aye, but it’s not the Stormcutter.” Replied the Belch.

The chief’s brow furrowed with agitation. “Yes it is.”

A lone fist clenched. “No, it isn’t!”

“And how do you know?” Stoick shouted, now very annoyed.

“Because I was there!” Gobber yelled back. “I was in that raid! I saw the dragon break into your house! And ye know what else I saw?”

He held up one finger. “First of all, it was way bigger than Mirabel’s…” and then a second finger. “And second of all, it was brown! Brown! Not bright yellow, ye half-wit!”

Stoick remained steadfast. “It’s a Stormcutter!”

Gobber gave him a look that seemed to suggest that he was seriously doubting the man’s intelligence.

“There’s more than one Stormcutter, Stoick…” He stated, slowly.

Stoick wanted to argue, he wanted to stand firm in this belief, he desperately wanted this to be the same dragon, so he could finally make good on his promise…

But he couldn’t deny the facts.

And when he really tried to remember…

When he dug deep into his recollection of that horrible night…

He realized that the dragon was brown.

Not yellow.

And the reality of the situation came crashing down on him.

He had done it. He’d finally managed to reconnect with his son.

And he’d ruined it all.

Gobber saw the overwhelming shame overtaking his old friend, and his own features softened.

“Look, I understand. She…” He hesitated, old memories resurfacing. “She was my friend too…”

“I know this has been eating ye up inside for years…” He said, morosely. He’d been a witness to his friend’s grief for nearly twenty years.

Gobber’s sadness was replaced with a resolute glare. “But ye made a mistake. Ye’ve wronged both of those kids, and now ye’ve gotta make it right.”

And just like that, shame subsided.

That same single-minded determination from before welled up from within Stoick.

But this time, for a different purpose.

He’d harmed his son, nearly killed an innocent dragon, and Mirabel probably hated him now.

He had a lot to make up for.

But he would try.

He had to.

And he knew who he had to start with.

With one last nod to Gobber, he rushed off in search of his son.

Gobber watched him as he went. Feeling a mix of frustration over what he did, and an understanding as to why he did what he did.

From behind him, he heard a multitude of footsteps.

The Madrigals were approaching, and they didn’t look too pleased.

“Dang it, Gobber! Why’d you let him get away?” Isabela groaned, before her look became very deadly. “I was just about to strangle him…”

Ignoring her threats against his leader and old friend, he turned to Mirabel.

“Is your dragon alright, lass?” He asked.

“She’s shaken, but she’s fine…” She answered, before asking a question of her own. “But what’s happening? Why’d he try to kill her?”

“He wasn’t like that earlier.” Luisa chimed in. “He was talking about, y’know, being cool with dragons. I wonder what changed…”

“I dunno, I mean this is the same guy who tried to cut his son’s arm off…” Isabela said. “Maybe he’s just insane?"

Camilo chuckled at this, before he morphed into a distorted form of the bearded man. Cartoonishly short in stature, with large, clown-like feet.

“Behold, it is I! Stoick the Emotionally-Unstable!” He proclaimed, in a horrible Scottish accent.

He earned a few laughs from the group, and Gobber had to admit that it was pretty funny…

But he wasn’t in a laughing mood.

He faced them all, with a somber expression. “I’m sorry about all this, lassie. Y’see…”

He sighed. Of all his stories, this was one he truly hated to retell.

“Stoick’s wife…Hiccup’s mother…she was killed by a Stormcutter.” He revealed, morosely.

Immediately, all joviality died from the group.

“He’s…I don’t think he’s ever really moved past it. She was the love of his life…” He said. “And when he saw your dragon, he mistook it for that one and…y’know the rest…”

The Madrigals all glanced to each other with wide, disheartened eyes.

They’d all been rather angry with the man, and still were in a sense.

But it was hard to keep the fire of rage burning, after hearing something like that.

They didn’t agree with his actions, of course not.

But they had a deeper understanding of where he was coming from.

And it was awfully sad.

“He’s terribly sorry for what he did, what he tried to do…” The blacksmith said, facing Mirabel once more. “I’m sure he’ll apologize to ye, next time he sees ye.”

He looked back to where Stoick was heading. Knowing exactly what he had in mind.

“But first…he’s gotta find his son…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Cove.

The only part of Berk he liked.

And even now, he couldn’t stand it.

Because it was still part of this stupid, Viking-infested island.

Underneath the setting sun, a cool breeze flowed throughout the forest. Carrying the Night Fury on gentle winds, as they landed in the cove.

It’d been so long since they’ve been here. Since the beginning of their powerful friendship.

It felt like a lifetime ago. So much had changed.

But despite how nostalgic the swaying grass felt underneath his feet. Despite how soothing the calm river was. Despite how comfortable it seemed under the shady trees…

Hiccup found no enjoyment in this.

He was still just so angry.

And he needed to let it out.

But before that…

Toothless was bounding the area, happy to be in the Cove again. Examining old scratch marks on the rocky walls, or checking if his drawing was still in the dirt.

He was displeased to find that it wasn’t.

When Hiccup approached the dragon, he was fully in play mode. Fidgeting on his feet and ready for a game of chase.

But Hiccup wasn’t feeling up to it.

“Hey, bud? When I said I needed alone time, I meant alone…get it?” He asked, softly. Trying very hard not to let his anger out while his friend was present.

The Night Fury ceased his antics, and gave the boy a strange look. Rumbling apprehensively.

“I’ll be fine, Toothless!” Hiccup tried to reassure him. “I just-I just need…”

He sighed.

“I’ll meet you back in town soon, I won’t even be here long. Just…please.”

He sounded so tired. So defeated.

Toothless nuzzled him, to try and bring him some small comfort.

The boy didn’t acknowledge it.

Finally, Toothless made his way out of the cove. Scaling the walls slowly, and meticulously. Hopping from rock to rock, instead of just dashing into the walls.

Once he made his way up, he trotted into the forest.

And Hiccup was alone.

With his thoughts.

His frantic, infuriated thoughts.

Swirling, whirling through his mind.

A hurricane of rage. A cyclone of venomous emotion.

If he had Pepa’s gift, he was sure that he’d create a tornado capable of destroying entire countries.

It was too much. He had to let it out somehow, in some form…

So he did.

He balled his fists, looked to the sky, and-

“RRRAAAAAAAAAAAGGGHHH!!!”

…

And then he panted.

He panted for a good long while.

And the worst part is, he didn’t even feel any better.

Now his throat just hurt.

He fell backwards, taking a seat on the grass. In front of the river.

He curled himself inwards, hugging his knees.

He wanted to go home.

He wanted to just grab Mirabel, Isabela, Luisa, and Camilo. Plop them on their dragons, and head home.

He missed Julieta’s hugs. Or the goofy way Augustin would pat his back.

He missed being caught in a random drizzle, and knowing Pepa was near. He missed the rain dissipating soon after, and knowing Felix was near as well.

He missed the uncomfortable comfort of knowing Dolores was always listening out for him. He missed watching Antonio light up while telling him about river dolphins, or something.

Reading overdramatic romances with Bruno. Desperately trying to appear respectful to Alma. Avoiding Valentina’s overzealous jabs to his arm. Finding Mariano writing poetry in the middle of the town…

He missed his family.

He missed his home.

He’d promised to free the enslaved dragons, and he meant it…

But he was just sick of it.

Every time anything related to Berk entered his life, things got worse.

Even if things seemed to get better, it’d be a trick. To lure him into a false sense of security, and ruin everything for him again.

Mirabel had come this close to losing her dragon today.

He couldn’t allow any more of this nonsense to continue.

They had to free the dragons as soon as possible.

So they could go home as soon as possible.

He readied himself to stand. To go into town.

He’d gather the Riders, and tell them that they’d launch their attack in three days.

They’d spend the few days they had, training. Preparing for the ultimate showdown.

And when they were done, he’d leave with his family. And never look back.

It was a bit abrupt, but it was the way things had to be.

Because the thought of spending even more than just a few more days on Berk made him sick to his stomach.

But just as he was about to get up and go, he heard footsteps approaching him from behind.

Stomping footsteps.

He didn’t turn. He didn’t stand, and run. He didn’t even shout.

He didn’t have the energy anymore.

He stayed in his seated position. Not sparing a single glance to the man.

“How’d you find me?” He mumbled, bitterly.

He was legitimately curious. The Cove was fairly secluded, it was how he’d managed to hide Toothless.

Stoick cleared his throat.

“I just…followed the scream…” He stated, awkwardly. Glancing anywhere but downwards, at the boy.

But as he did, he came to realize that he was familiar with this little cove.

He took a few, tentative steps. Swiveling his head around the area, taking in the sights.

Hiccup eyed him, an eyebrow raised.

Stoick remembered this place, though the memory was foggy.

“I…I’ve been here before…” He whispered.

Hiccup was overtaken with curiosity.

“When?” He asked.

Stoick was wracking his brain, trying to figure out how he recalled this cove.

It was only when he looked at the river, did he remember.

It wasn’t that he had truly forgotten. He could never forget.

He had just locked the memory away, to protect himself from the pain it caused.

The pain her absence caused.

Because it was in this cove, where one of the most important developments in his life occurred.

He fell to his knees, gazing at the river with wide eyes. The scrawny teen beside him, looking at him with shock.

“This…is where I proposed to your mother…”

Hiccup’s interest was piqued, despite his still present anger.

And Stoick saw this as his chance.

To tell him everything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The battle was fierce.

But Stoick was fiercer.

Oswald the Antagonistic, true to his name, had decided an invasion of Berk was in order.

Berserkers stormed the island, fully intent on either taking it for themselves, or burning it to the ground.

But the Hooligans wouldn’t allow that.

Weapons clashed, arrows soared, fists flew…

A pleasant Wednesday morning, for a Viking.

Stoick easily felled his foes, without a bit of effort. His famed right cross doing the work of ten men alone.

But as he knocked out his thirty-eighth opponent in a row, he couldn’t help but notice something.

Across the way from him, engaged in battle with a group of Berserker warriors…

Was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

Her lithe frame, her auburn hair, her blue eyes…

The way she could punch a guy twice her size with ease.

She was just…amazing…

After conking two Berserker heads together, knocking them both out, he quickly rushed over to where she was.

He leapt at the warrior she was facing, assaulting him in a flying tackle. Taking him out with his hefty size alone.

As he stood, the woman regarded him with an unimpressed look.

“I could’ve handled that, you know…” She griped, while punching out an incoming invader.

Stoick just grinned. “I don’t doubt it! But it never hurts to help!” He replied, while clobbering a warrior with his own mace.

She dropped down, and swept her leg out. Toppling three Berserkers in one fell swoop. He couldn’t help but admire her form.

“I’m Stoick, by the way!” He greeted, dodging crossbow fire overhead. “Stoick Haddock!”

She performed a dodge roll, avoiding the boulder that had just catapulted her way. “I know, you’re kind of hard to miss.”

“And you are?” He asked, hefting that same boulder over his head and throwing it towards a mass of warriors.

Rolling her eyes and resisting the urge to call him a show off, she replied. “Valka.”

And that made him freeze.

Like a Valkyrie…

That moment of immobility cost him, as a second later he was whacked by a hammer to the back of his head.

He fell forwards, like a mighty tree that had just been chopped. The ground quaked when he collided with it.

And he heard…giggling?

Scrambling to his feet, Stoick saw Valka giggling at him.

“And what’s so funny?” He asked, dusting dirt of his clothes.

“Nothing! It’s just…” She spoke through her chuckling. “You always look so big, and strong, and untouchable…”

“Right then, you looked human!” The strangest glint appeared in her eyes, as she looked him over.

“…Approachable…”

He met her gaze, and they suddenly found themselves lost in each other’s eyes.

Until they were surrounded by a horde of Berserkers.

They gave each other a glance…

And smiled.

And took them all out, together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

From that moment onwards, the two were nearly inseparable.

He’d loudly proclaim his love for her, daily. He’d launch into enamored rants, at the mere mention of her name. At one point, he wrestled Spitelout until the man was unconscious. Over a minor joke at her expense.

She’d cook for him, even though her food was considered atrocious by everyone else. And he’d eat it willingly and ask for seconds. She’d write him little poems, even though he never quite got the subtext. She had to start making them excessively literal, but even then she enjoyed the challenge.

Marriage was obviously in their future, everyone could see it. Gobber would frequently ask “When’s the wedding?” even in the most inappropriate of circumstances.

Like a dragon raid.

The question had been on Stoick’s mind for a while.

One afternoon, he’d fired a net at a hovering Gronckle. A straggler from the last raid, most likely.

It landed near Raven Point, so that’s where he ran.

In the forest, he stumbled across a cove.

But when he arrived, he didn’t see anything.

There were signs of an impact, but no dragon to be found. The net was gone too.

Nothing was there…

Except for Valka.

She was standing near the river, looking around. She was acting as if she was doing something she didn’t want to be caught doing…

But Stoick didn’t notice that.

All he saw was his beloved Valka.

And suddenly his question was the most important thing on his mind.

He tried to carefully climb down the cove’s stone walls-

But he tripped on a mossy rock.

He stumbled down into the cove, barreling into a very shocked Valka. And knocking the two of them into the river.

They sat, in the shallower waters, completely drenched.

They glanced to each other…

And laughed.

And kept laughing as he helped her up. The both of them standing, hands clasped together, in the river.

And in that moment, when pine green met blue…

Stoick knew what he had to do.

She’d tell him, about her fantasy proposal.

The man of her dreams would sing her favorite song, and they’d dance together as they swore their eternal love to each other.

Now Stoick was no dancer, or singer.

But for her, he’d do anything.

“I’ll swim and sail on savage seas…”

Her eyes widened, as he began to sing.

She definitely wasn’t expecting this, not now.

But she soon grew a bright smile, and sang along with him.

The two danced and sang, splashing around in the waters without a care in the world.

All that mattered was their love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They were married soon after, to their endless joy.

Gobber was disappointed. Now he had to find a new joke.

It wasn’t long before they tried for a child, eager to expand their family.

But…it didn’t work out.

They tried again, and again.

But it just never happened.

They started to think that maybe she couldn’t get pregnant.

But they both wanted a child, so very badly.

They prayed.

Nonstop, they prayed.

To individual Gods. All the Gods at once. Different sets of Gods at different times.

All day, every single day. Whether in the back of their subconsciousness, or at the forefronts of their minds.

If they could be granted any mercy, any act of divine intervention.

Please…just give them a child to love.

And one day, after three years of marriage…

Their prayers were answered.

A boy.

Their boy.

Their son, was born.

Early.

He was such a tiny, fragile thing. It barely looked like he had to strength to move.

He’d scared them from the moment of his birth, as it took him longer than usual to begin crying. Barely on this earth for a minute, and he was already giving his parents heart attacks.

They’d gone sleepless for months. Staying up every single night, just watching him. To make sure he was still breathing.

Valka was terrified for her tiny boy, but Stoick never gave up. He knew this child was stronger than he appeared.

He was given the name Hiccup. As is traditional for a child who comes out…less burly than the others.

But Stoick was so sure that he’d outgrow that name, he was already picking out new ones.

Valka vehemently shutdown any attempts to call him “Hangnail.”

It was a frightful time, constantly looking out for any little thing that might harm such a frail baby.

But they were happy.

They’d begged the Gods for a child, when all hope seemed lost. And they’d gotten one.

He was a gift.

A miracle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To this day, it stands as the worst moment in Stoick’s life.

The day his love was lost.

He stood in his burning wreck of a home, feeling utterly hopeless…

As the four-winged demon took his wife away.

Away from him.

Away from their son.

…Their son.

A weak crying reminded him that he wasn’t alone.

Hiccup was in his bed, bawling his little eyes out.

Teary eyed himself, Stoick moved his large hands to gently pluck the boy from his cradle. Holding him close.

His father had died, years ago. As did his mother, and his grandparents.

And…with Valka gone…

His son was the only family he had left.

He was so small…so weak…so vulnerable…

In that moment, Stoick made two promises.

Both to Valka.

He would find the devil that killed her, and make it suffer. He would avenge her death at the claws of the dragons.

And he would protect their son.

For as long as he still stood, he would protect their gift.

Their miracle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hiccup had grown, he was nearly six.

But he hadn’t gotten any beefier.

He was still as scrawny as ever. Perhaps even more so, with the baby fat gone.

He couldn’t join the other children, who were already beginning to train with weapons. The Hofferson girl especially was proficient with the axe, despite being so young.

But Hiccup was little, weak, uncoordinated. He’d chop his own hand off.

To protect him, Stoick forbade him from training with the other kids. Not until he was bigger.

There were two problems with this.

Firstly, keeping the boy separated from the other kids in his generation only served to alienate him. They’d mock him for being too scraggly, too nerdy, and not Viking enough.

Stoick didn’t notice.

The second issue, was that Hiccup would not stay still.

He was always running out there, reaching for the nearest weapon he could find. Even if it was twice his size and thrice his weight.

Stoick saw it as the boy just getting into trouble. What he didn’t know, was that Hiccup was trying to prove that he could handle a weapon. That he didn’t need to be kept away from the other children.

That he could make his father proud, just as the other kids were making their parents proud.

To keep him occupied, Stoick stuck him in the forge with Gobber.

It was basically a babysitting job, disguised as a mentorship. But the boy showed an interest in blacksmithing and machinery.

In fact, by the time he was seven, he was making his own machines.

Simple, rudimentary little things.

But they sparked his imagination.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was when Hiccup was eight, that Stoick realized he probably wasn’t getting any bigger any time soon.

All the other children were having growth spurts. Sprouting up, and filling out. The Ingerman boy especially was getting to be huge.

They’d been training with weaponry for years at this point, and were starting to look like promising young warriors.

They were even allowed to participate in raids, now. Putting out fires wherever they could.

Hiccup had begged and pleaded to be placed with them, but Stoick refused.

The boy was still so small, barely a few inches taller than when he was a toddler.

He was still so weak, so vulnerable…

No. He would stay inside where it was safe.

Stoick didn’t notice the judging eyes of the villagers, wondering when Hiccup would stop cowering inside and make himself useful. Wondering if he was even Stoick’s son at all.

He didn’t notice when the Jorgenson boy’s bullying grew from childish teasing to more violent altercations.

And when he did notice, he figured it’d give Hiccup some much needed toughening up.

It was just some roughhousing. No harm in that.

So he didn’t do anything to stop it.

He was worried. Would he have to wait until the teenage years for his son to start looking like a real Viking?

But looks aside, the boy’s thought process was just…different.

Stoick would see a broken cup, and get a new one. Hiccup would see a broken cup, and try to fix it.

Stoick would run into a tree branch, and he’d rip the branch off. Hiccup would run into a tree branch, and plan his path around avoiding it on all subsequent trips.

Stoick would encounter a boulder blocking his path, and he’d crush the boulder. Hiccup would encounter a boulder blocking his path, and sketch a complex contraption of levers and pulleys that would move the boulder aside.

Stoick couldn’t comprehend it. They saw the world in fundamentally different ways. Any attempt to relate to each other was just…painfully uncomfortable.

He loved his son. Of course he did.

But he didn’t understand him.

However, Stoick chalked it up to an awkward phase.

One day, he’d start looking, and talking, and thinking like a real Viking.

Until then, he’d put up with him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hiccup had fought in his first dragon raid.

Against Stoick’s permission.

The boy had snuck out, under Gobber’s nose. Carrying some strange device.

It looked like a small, handheld catapult. That threw daggers, when a lever was pulled.

If he couldn’t throw the weapons himself, he’d make something to do it for him.

The still very small nine-year-old ran out of the forge, while Gobber was busy with a Gronckle that had gotten its head stuck in the window.

Seeing his opportunity, he rushed out into the fray. Looking for anything he could shoot at.

And then, he spotted it…

A lone Terrible Terror. Trying and failing to make off with a sheep far too big for it.

Killing the smallest dragon wouldn’t get him that much respect, but it would show that he could handle himself in a fight. That the other kids didn’t have to avoid him, or make fun of him. That he could kill a dragon, just like everyone else.

It would show his dad that he could be a real Viking.

Taking aim, he wound the lever on the small machine. The metal arm wielding the dagger slowly reeled back…

Until he let go of the lever, causing the arm to jolt back into position. Launching the dagger at his target. Striking it right in the heart.

…That’s what was supposed to happen.

Instead, the machine busted. Gears popped, springs sprung, and the dagger somehow ended up being tossed backwards.

Right into a net, that was holding some downed Nadders.

He turned just in time to see them burst free of their containment, and one of them quickly whirled around-

Slapping Hiccup across the face with its spiny tail, as it did so.

He was launched back, pain exploding all over his cheek.

The Nadders then proceeded to burn the surrounding huts to cinders, while the boy watched. Powerless to stop the destruction.

They took to the air, but not before nabbing the sheep Hiccup had just been trying to protect.

Leaving the child with his broken invention, amongst the burnt homes.

And that’s when everyone arrived.

The raid was nearing its end, with the dragons who hadn’t been captured or killed flying off into the night sky.

From afar, Stoick noticed even more homes being incinerated. He gathered a group of villagers, and they all rushed to stop the damage.

They were too late. The huts were ashes when they arrived.

But that wasn’t what was most surprising.

Stoick looked upon his son with shock, and fear.

What was he doing out? Had he been hurt? He could’ve been killed!

He was still so small…so weak…so vulnerable…

“Hiccup…” He asked, overcome with worry. “What are you doing out here?”

“Um…I-Uh…” The boy sputtered to try and answer, but someone else answered for him.

“Letting dragons loose, is what he’s doing!”

Spitelout swaggered in, looking grouchy. His son mirroring his movements.

He marched up to Stoick, and pointed to the small boy.

“That son of yours used some doohickey to set a bunch of Nadder’s I’d captured free!” He raged, before gesturing to the wreckage around them. “And now look what he’s done!”

The villagers began murmuring, pondering if such a small boy could cause so much devastation.

Stoick stared right into his son’s eyes.

“Is this true?” He asked.

Hiccup couldn’t muster the will to answer. He just stared ahead, his eyes wide as dinnerplates.

Snotlout barged in, and grabbed the busted machine from the ground.

“Check this out!” He snickered, showing it to everyone present. “He needs a toy to fight! He can’t even hold a dagger himself!”

And the crowd laughed.

Because it was funny to them.

The son of Stoick the Vast, was a nerdy little hiccup.

It was pure irony.

“I bet he can’t even wield a butter knife!” A townsperson wheezed.

“What kind of Viking can’t hold a dagger?” Asked another.

From the mass of chuckling Berkians, someone shouted out “A USELESS ONE!”

And whether he knew it or not, he’d just given Hiccup his title.

Between the weight of his own failure, all the mocking laughter, the jokes, the glares, and the whispers about how much of a disappointment he must be…it was overwhelming.

Hiccup began to cry.

Which only served to make the laughter worse.

Through teary eyes, Hiccup looked to his father. Silently pleading for help. To make them stop.

Instead, Stoick just glowered at the boy.

If he’d listened, this wouldn’t have happened.

If he’d stayed inside, he wouldn’t be in trouble.

If he’d stop making those weird gadgets and just…acted like a real Viking!

…Stoick wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore.

He’d made his bed, now he had to lie in it.

Maybe this’ll teach him to start acting right.

Stoick turned around, and left.

He left Hiccup to deal with the ramifications of his own mistake.

To teach him responsibility.

In hopes that this hardship would strengthen him, and get his head on straight.

A bit of tough love never hurt. Right?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The years passed, and things were different.

Hiccup was steadily growing taller, but he was still so small. So weak. So vulnerable.

However, Stoick couldn’t baby him anymore.

If he was ever going to be a real Viking, he needed to get his act together.

Stoick wouldn’t be around to protect him forever. Hiccup needed to grow up.

Despite his massive blunder, Hiccup would insist on going out every raid. With some new invention is his possession.

Each time, it would end in disaster.

Every time he wrecked half the village, the people grew more and more disdainful of him.

Stoick didn’t dissuade them. If Hiccup saw how his actions affected others, he’d stop with the contraptions and start acting like a real Viking.

Snotlout’s beatings were becoming more brutal, and the Thorston twins would join in as well. For their own sadistic pleasure.

Stoick didn’t stop them. The day Hiccup defended himself, is the day he started acting like a real Viking.

Hiccup kept working in the forge, and the weapons he made were of an incredibly high quality. Astrid had expressed her sheer delight, when given her beloved axe for her birthday. She had no idea Hiccup had made it.

But Stoick never complimented him on it. He was doing the bare minimum. He’d have to step up, if he wanted to be considered a real Viking.

He didn’t let it show, not anymore. Affection would halt him on his journey to becoming a hardened Hairy Hooligan.

But Stoick was still so worried about him.

And he was also annoyed by him.

He was just so weird! So gangly, and meek, and awkward. He’d rather draw than wrestle. He preferred reading to hunting. And he still couldn’t wield a dagger properly.

Why did he have to be so different? Why couldn’t he make Stoick’s job easier, make everyone’s lives easier, and just be normal?

The boy seemed so desperate to prove…something. And he would always look to Stoick expectantly. Like he was asking for some unknown thing that the chief wasn’t giving him.

It infuriated him, sometimes.

Hiccup was making things so much harder than they needed to be.

He made a promise to Valka.

He promised that he’d protect their son.

And he’d keep trying.

He’d keep trying to toughen the boy up.

He’d keep trying to steer him away from whatever inanity he wasted his time with.

He’d keep trying to turn their son into a real Viking.

So Stoick would know that he’d be okay, in this dangerous world they live in.

But it was so hard to do that…

When their child was such a hiccup.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finally, Stoick finished his long story.

The origins of their frayed relationship.

What started as a promise, to protect his fragile son…

Turned into years of neglect, in a failed attempt to strengthen him. To break him down into what he thought he needed to be, instead of nurturing who he was.

The boy wasn’t completely innocent in all this. Those faulty inventions did cause a lot of damage. A bit of his reputation was earned.

But he was only so insistent on making them, because he was desperate to prove to his father that he was worth something. When the man had viewed him as useless. Something to be changed into something else. Into something more valuable.

After all these years asking why, Why him, why couldn’t he be what they wanted him to be…

Hiccup knew the truth.

The truth behind his mother’s death, and why Stoick had attacked Mariposa.

The truth behind the years of mistreatment.

The truth behind the driving force of their relationship for the last decade.

A lack of understanding and communication.

Hiccup was angry. Angry at this man who’d convinced himself that neglecting his only son was protecting him.

But…he couldn’t say he didn’t understand the reasoning.

It was incredibly flawed, but he saw where he was coming from.

And in a strange way, despite the fact that it had gone horribly wrong…

The fact that it was all for the sake of protecting him…almost made Hiccup feel better about his past.

Almost. He was still pretty mad about it.

“I’m not trying to excuse myself…” Stoick spoke, voice hoarse from talking so much. “And I’m not asking you to forgive me either, I don’t think I’ve earned it…”

“But…I just want you to know that I never hated you. Even at my worst, I only wanted you to be safe. To be happy. I thought I had to change you…but it was you, who had to change me…”

He looked the boy straight in his eyes, an action he felt like he didn’t have the right to do. “You are the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me. Somewhere I just…lost sight of that. I was focused on what I wanted you to be, instead of loving who you were.”

Hiccup remained quiet, as Stoick released a deep sigh. “I know I’ve screwed up, maybe too much. I know I’m in no position to ask this…but…”

“Do…do you think we could start over?”

Hiccup thought.

Hiccup thought a lot.

About everything he’d been told. Everything he’d experienced.

Did he really want to give this man another chance?

The boy frowned. “…I already have a dad. Augustin is my dad.”

Stoick’s eyes fell, and his posture slumped, but he still despondently nodded. Accepting Hiccup’s wishes.

But he perked up, when the boy spoke again.

“…But…there’s no rule saying I can’t have more than one…”

The bearded man looked to the scrawny teen, in pure surprise.

“I don’t want us to start over.” Hiccup said. “I want us to remember everything we did. So we can remember what not to do. And I swear to Odin, we’re gonna actually talk things out this time!”

He held his hand out.

“Deal?”

Nearly brought to tears, Stoick grabbed his hand. And shook it.

“Deal.” He answered, cheeks rosy from smiling so hard.

Hiccup nodded, satisfied-

Until he was pulled into a crushing hug.

And after the initial shock wore off…

He returned it…

They embraced, under the setting sun. The lake’s waters twinkling in the waning sunlight.

“You’re a gift, Hiccup…” Stoick whispered through his sobs. “Never forget that…”

Stoick didn’t know where Valka was.

But he knew she was smiling.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Night had fallen. They were talking for a while.

The two Haddocks strolled back into the village. No one saying anything, in a comfortable silence.

It was also slightly uncomfortable, but not too much.

They stopped in the middle of the village.

The Great Hall lied in one direction, and the Haddock House in another.

Stoick gestured to the direction of his home. “Do you…I mean…would you like to- “

Hiccup caught onto his implication. “Uh…well I think I better head to the Hall, let everyone know I’m alright. And I’m pretty tired, so…”

He tried, really hard. But the chief couldn’t hide how dejected he felt at that.

“But…” The boy started. “I’m not opposed to swinging by tomorrow.”

And that brought Stoick’s mood right back around.

“O-Okay, great!” He sputtered, suddenly filled with hope.

The two waved good night to each other, as awkwardly as could be, and parted ways.

Stoick could not be happier.

It hadn’t worked out exactly how he thought it would.

In fact, it was a rather tumultuous ordeal.

But he’d done it.

He’d gotten his son back.

…

And soon, his son would go up against a giant killer dragon.

There was a very high chance that he’d die, in that fight.

A very high chance that he’d die, just as they’d finally reunited.

…

…No.

This wouldn’t happen.

Stoick would not allow this to happen.

Despite everything they’d discussed, everything they’d planned…

Hiccup would not fight the Red Death…

…

Even if Stoick had to go and kill it himself.