Hello! Thanks for checking this out! Galaxyexplorer74 asked me to do a story about How To Train Your Dragon, and I adore those movies, so I was more than happy to oblige. Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I have not read the books, on which the movies are based on, but I have seen and love the movies, which this is based on. I have heard great things about the books, and I do want to read them someday, but just want there to be no confusion when this follows the events of the movies rather than the books, because from what I've heard they are very different. Sooooo…. With that being said, carry on!

A Real Monster

Stoick the Vast, of Berk, let out a heavy breath as he sat down in the massive Chieftain chair, one of thirteen present. He was the second to last Chief to arrive, preceding only the oldest and wisest of the Chiefs of the Thirteen Clans, Fiske the Unmoving, of Alost. Stoick had not been a Chief very long, only for a couple of years now, but he was greatly respected already among the other Chiefs, for his bravery, his passion, and unwavering loyalty and service to his people. Not to mention, of course, the tragedy that Stoick had already suffered at his young age.

Dragons. They had taken away his love, his Valka. They were evil, pure evil, taking away everything he cared about. Not quite everything, mind you. He still had Berk, and of course he still had his sweet son Hiccup. They hadn't taken that away yet. But they had certainly tried, and would continue trying until either they succeeded, or Stoick did.

That was why they were meeting, the Chiefs. Stoick was far from the only one who had faced the horrendous beasts, and he was certainly not the only one who had lost loved ones to them. They had come together in a historical meeting to join forces against a common enemy, the dragons. The Vikings would band together to live, or to die fighting. They would protect their own.

"Hey Stoick!" One other Chief said. His name was Bjorn the Mighty, of Holmlond, and he was even bigger than Stoick, if it could be believed. He was a cheery soul who carried out his work with a whistle on his lips and a spring in his step, and was well liked among the Viking Chiefs. He wasn't quite as mighty as his name and appearance might suggest, but he was still no one to look down upon, even if he weren't a head taller than anyone but Stoick. "It's good to see you, my lad!" Bjorn said cheerfully.

"Evenin', Bjorn." Stoick answered with a nod. "How are things in Holmlond?"

"Ain't so great, with the dragons attacking, so much lately, but we're surviving. How's your boy?"

"Hiccup is doing just fine." Stoick said with a chuckle, thinking of his son. "He's a bit on the wee side, but he got his mother's brains."

"On the wee side?" Bjorn scoffed. "With you as the father? I'd have to see it to believe it!" He took a deep swig of his drink, then said, "I didn't think I'd ever meet a man who could take me on in an arm wrestling match, but then I met you!"

"Aye, I didn't think he would be like he is, either, but I'm sure he will even out as he gets older. Happens to boys all the time."

Suddenly the door of the hall burst open, and the roar of the wind outside erupted to life. All heads turned to see a lone man standing there, with the dark clouds of the storm outlining his shape. It was hard to see his face, and became even harder when lightning flashed behind him, causing the shadows to dance around like dreaded dragons.

"Is that Fiske?" Stoick muttered to Bjorn.

The older Viking shrugged. "Right size, but something doesn't feel right."

The figure walked forward slowly, seeming to revel in the attention he received. Every eye was drawn to the man, some with curiosity, some with worry. The man drew forward, into the light of the torches, and Stoick could immediately tell that it wasn't Fiske. This man was a stranger to him, covered in scars and a cloak of what shockingly appeared to be dragon skin.

The man grinned, an ugly, toothy snarl. "Greetings, great Chiefs. It is an honor to be with you on this fine night."

"Where is Fiske?" Stoick asked the man. He didn't like that the head Chief was nowhere to be found, and he had a feeling deep in his stomach that this man was involved somehow.

"Fiske the Unmoving…" the man said slowly, as if tasting the words on his tongue. "He won't be joining us today."

He might as well had admitted to the murder. Stoick knew it, and he had no doubt that most of the smarter Chiefs knew it as well. Something about this man was just…. Wrong.

"Who are you?" Bjorn asked him.

"I, Drago Bludvist," the man said softly, "am a man of the people." Even though he barely spoke over a whisper, and even despite the howling wind outside, the words carried across the hall. "I am devoted to freeing us, mankind, from the tyranny of the dragons. We will be free! We can defeat them! We just need to follow a strong leader. That strong leader is me. I, Drago Bludvist, can control the dragons. The dragons! They fear me. The dragons, who have plagued your people and mine for so long, are afraid, and with good reason. I can keep us, all of our people, safe." His eyes narrowed. "But only if you bow down before me."

There was a moment of tense silence, and not a single person breathed. Stoick felt that he could hear not only is own heartbeat, but that of every other Viking as well.

Then it all popped like a balloon as all twelve of the Chiefs burst into laughter at the proposition.

"Are ye out of your mind, boy?" Bjorn choked out in between fits of laughing. "Bow down! Ha! Have you met us?"

Drago snarled and turned back around to the door. He wrapped his dragon skin cloak back around him, calling out, "Then see how well you do without me!" The door shut loudly, but not loudly enough to be heard over the uproarious laughter of the Vikings.

No sooner had it closed than Stoick heard a familiar high pitched whine from above. He glanced up in fear, seeing the last thing he ever wanted to see. There, through the planks that formed the roof of the hall, was a reptilian eyeball peering down at the Chiefs. Stoick jumped to his feet and yelled, "MOVE!" Right as the roof burst into flames, caving in and dropping the deadly monster into their midst.

The dragon landed square onto two of the Chiefs, killing them before they could even move. Stoick felt his heart pang with their deaths, but wasn't able to think about it long. All of the rest of the Chiefs managed to get to their feet by this time, although most were still unarmed. Stoick had his trusted axe ready and was charging the beast, roaring as he did so. The dragon let out a large jet of flame from its mouth, burning one man alive. Meanwhile more dragons were landing above, adding their fire to the inferno. Three men died as well from what Stoick could see, maybe more.

Stoick swung his axe hard at the dragon, and was surprised when instead of slicing into the neck, it bounced off of the dragon. Stoick looked closer and was surprised to see that there was metal armor protecting the dragon. It looked man made.

"What in Odin's name is going on?" He muttered to himself.

Suddenly he was swept from his feet and onto his back as the dragon's tail took out his legs. The dragon screeched, readying its flame, as it looked down at Stoick, its prey. He knew this was the end. The flame launched from its mouth, but suddenly there was a shield blocking it. There was Bjorn, taking the brunt of the attack with his massive oaken shield, saving Stoick's life. Stoick took the opportunity to scramble to his feet, and swung his axe into the non-armored part of the dragon's armor. With a roar, Stoick cleaved body from head, leaving a dead dragon before him.

Bjorn grinned at him. "This battle isn't over yet! They should know we Vikings won't be defeated so easily!"

No sooner had the words left his mouth than one of the other dragons pounced down and bit down on Bjorn, taking the entire man's body. The Viking Chief was gone in less than a second. Stoick, in shock, was unable to react as the dragon headbutted him, sending him flying across the hall. Stoick crashed through the wall, bringing half of the hall raining down on top of him.

He groaned as he shook himself out of the debris, throwing the pieces of wood and thatch away. He looked around, realizing the battle was over. How long had he been out? A moment? A few minutes? Hours?

The hall was in absolute ruins. The place was unrecognizable, with not a single thing left standing. In addition, there was not a single man left standing, either. No, that was wrong. There was one.

Drago Bludvist.

The strange foreigner stood in the middle of the ruins, staring at the destruction the dragons had caused. Several dragons still remained, but they did not attack him. In fact, it looked almost like they were… bowing to him?

"You're no man, Drago Bludvist…" Stoick muttered to himself. "You're a monster… you did this… why would you do this?"

Drago slowly walked to the only remaining ship at the island. Stoick knew that there had been twelve more, one for each Chief that had attended. But they were nowhere to be seen. Stoick looked closer at the water, and realized with cold horror where they had gone. The waters were filled with carnage and corpses, the blood turning the water red. Dragons splashed in the shallows, taking bites of dead sailors.

They were dead, all of them. The dragons had killed them. Drago had killed them.

Drago's ship soon set sail, and the dragons took flight to follow. This left Stoick all alone on the island, this island of graves. He slowly got to his feet. He looked around at the horrors around him. He vomited, unable to take the horrible sights. All the death… all the unnecessary death…

Stoick bent down, taking a fist of dirt and ash into his hand, squeezing it tightly. "I vow." He said shakily, looking to the sky. "I vow that I won't let this happen again. You won't take them from me, Drago. Berk, Hiccup, all of my people. I will protect them from the dragons. I will protect them from you. I won't let you touch them. Gods help you if you try, Drago. A Chief always protects his own. Always."