Fiercely and Without Reserve
A/n: This is a character study for Stoick. I find him fascinating, because although he has a very gruff, unyielding exterior, you can see a vast store of emotions and love hidden away beneath. My favorite moments in HTTYD are when that exterior cracks, and you see Stoick the man/father/friend/husband, instead of Stoick the Vast, Chief of Berk.
Not the most successful thing I've written, but I thought it was interesting enough to be worth posting
Stoick the Vast was a fairly uncomplicated man. He led his people and loved being their chief, he loved the thrill of a fight (as was proper for a Viking), and he enjoyed a large meal and a good tankard of ale. He was also, quite appropriately, a very stoic man; it took much to ruffle his feathers. He'd been a part of many bloody battles and remained entirely collected despite the horrors and trials of war. But one consequence of his imperturbable nature was that he often came off as cold and unpersonable. Such impressions could not be further from the truth.
Stoick did not love easily, but once he did, he loved fiercely and without reserve.
The first person he loved this way was his mother. The large woman was one of the village's best warriors, as befitted a chieftain's wife, but there was no jollier woman around once off the battlefield. She was rowdy and loud and hilarious and the village adored her. Sure, Stoick loved his father as well, but the man was aloof, always submersed in his work as chief. His mother, however, adored her son the way he adored her, and taught him everything: tricks for fishing, tips on sword, axe, and hammer fighting, battlefield tactics, even the best way to interact with and lead people (a large portion of which consisted of introducing solutions to the people that felt like their own ideas so that they became more easily accepted). Her lessons, which continued up to his adolescence, made his chief training that much easier; his father quickly determined him fit to take up the mantle. At age eighteen he was officially crowned chief, with a quietly smiling father and a mother so proud tears gathered in the corner of her gray eyes even as she beamed with a face-splitting grin.
For the next several years, they often dined together, comparing battle scars and discussing village affairs. She became his most trusted adviser and surpassed even his father when it came to helping him deal with the village. She also gently encouraged him along in matters of love, and a secretive smile crossed her face when Stoick first mentioned Valhallarama. A year after that first conversation, she told him she knew from that very first moment he'd found the love of his life, and she couldn't be happier for him.
When she died of complications from an infected wound several months later, Stoick's heart could hardly handle it. He mourned for months, struggling to find the strength to face his duties day after day despite the vast size and bulk of his muscular frame. He had to lean on some of the others he loved in order to pull through.
One of these people was Gobber. Stoick and Gobber had grown up together, fast friends since childhood. They watched each others backs as they entered adolescence, dealing with older teens who thought the younger teens were easy targets. Together, they showed the bullies neither of the rapidly growing and bulking boys were to be trifled with. As the years passed, they entered Dragon Training together, and were by far the best teens in their year. Even though Stoick outshone his friend in the end, winning the right to kill the Nightmare, Gobber's easygoing nature meant their friendship quickly recovered from their heavy competition during training.
Their first real battle bonded them further, each saving the others life at least twice during those four bloody hours. They even stiched each others battle wounds after the fact. Gobber was fiercely supportive of Stoick as the young man took on his cheifing duties, lending moral support and advice even when Stoick didn't ask. In return, Stoick was there to lend a hand – or foot – each time Gobber lost a limb. As they grew up, Gobber cheered him on with punches to the arm and inappropriate or embarrassing coments as Stoick wooed Val. The blonde viking danced for hours at their wedding – multiple times with the bride herself, who he loved like a sister just as much as he loved his battle-brother Stoick. He even managed to get both Stoick and Val to dance a jig with him, nevermind convention.
Val, of course, he loved more than he had ever thought possible. She was fierce and lovely and always said exactly what was on her mind and he loved he for it. She made him feel alive every moment he was around her. Her loss had struck him harder than the loss of his mother, much harder. He'd been genuinely depressed for months, and had to struggle to find the will to live. As much as he loved his people, they weren't what got him back on his feet.
It was Hiccup.
As much as he loved his mother, and Gobber, and even Val, they all paled in comparison to the love he felt for his only child. From the moment he was born, despite the fact that he was small and sickly and just too early to make it, his heart was all Hiccup's. The tiny, mewling handful of an infant had Berk's greatest chief wound tightly around his delicate red fingers.
Hiccup was air and water and light. Stoick was always reluctant to put him down. Sometimes Val scolded him for it, claiming he'd hinder Hiccup's growth if he babied him too much.
He couldn't help it though. He was so tiny, so frail and delicate, and so infinitely precious he was always hesitant to let him walk on his own, explore, or whatever Hiccup had planned in that already-brilliant mind of his. He feared for his son's well-being, although not without reason. Hiccup got sick easily, tired easily, and even well after his first steps he struggled to stay upright on his feet. These were guessed to be symptoms of his too-early birth.
Stoick wanted to hold on to him, always, so that he could protect him from everything; because anything and everything could hurt his child. He was born to protect Hiccup, he lived to protect his only child.
Even his floundering attempts at parenting during Hiccup's early adolescence arose from that fierce love, that overwhelming need to protect Hiccup from the dangers of the world. Naturally, he made a mess of it, but not once did his actions stem from not caring about his son. If anything, he cared too much.
It led to much grief, trying to shelter Hiccup from all the dangers of the world. It cost Hiccup his foot, and very nearly Stoick his son. But after a long, hard recovery, Hiccup walked again. He flew, with that Night Fury of his.
And Stoick watched his son every day, with a sense of pride in his child he was ashamed to have lost in the first place. But the love was there, strong as ever. After all, his love for Hiccup had never waned in the first place.
To Stoick, Hiccup was the most important thing in the whole world.
A/n: don't mind me, I'll just be here suffering from Stoick fatherly feels forever. Damn you, HTTYD2.
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