a.n. Hey everyone! This is my first fanfic for How To Train Your Dragon so I hope I did the fandom justice! I just couldn't sleep after I saw the sequel the first time (advanced screening the night before) so I had to write this down. I just really enjoyed the movie and wanted to get something out that expressed my feelings on it; this is it. This story will be centered on that scene from the movie (you know which one I'm talking about) and the aftermath that follows. That being said, there is a MAJOR SPOILER for the movie because of that particular scene, so if you haven't seen it and you don't want to be spoiled, now's your chance to get out of here. This story is really more of a collection of one-shots than a full-fledged story (you'll see what I'm talking about once I get a couple of chapters posted). I don't have a strict post schedule; I'll post when I get a chance to write them. I've planned to write ten chapters for this and they probably won't be very long based on how I'm structuring this story. Anyways, I hope you read, review, and enjoy! I look forward to reading your thoughts on this story!

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing in this story except the idea. All characters, places, actions, etc. are property of Dreamworks, Cressida Cowell, and whomever else may own them. I only dream of escaping to Berk and riding my own dragon one day.

Part I: Warrior

Gone.

That was the only word he could use to describe what had happened. One moment he was there and the next he was just…gone.

Hiccup crouched behind his father's body, tears threatening to fall as he just sat there in shocked silence. He barely registered his mother moving to his side to place an ear on her beloved's chest, searching for some sign of life within his still warm flesh. He could feel her lean back up in resignation as she accepted the truth. He turned sad eyes towards her, refusing to believe what she already had:

Stoick the Vast was dead.

Gone.

Taken to Valhalla, never to return. Never to set eyes on his son again. Never to set foot on Berk again.

Never to dance with his beloved Valka again.

No one would ever hear the booming voice of his commands or the bellowing laughter of his amusement or the soft affection of his love ever again. The world had lost a warrior, a leader, a friend, a husband.

A father.

He was called many things by many people: Stoick the Vast. Stoick the Bold. Stoick the Brave. Stoick the Strong. Friend. Chief. Berkian. Dragon rider. But no moniker was more important to him than the ones given to him by the two who had loved him most: Husband. Father. And that pair sat by his side together and silently mourned the man they knew, the man they loved.

It was only moments before Astrid joined Hiccup, taking her place at his right side. She tried to offer whatever comfort she could to the young man beside her, but it was to no avail. His grief overwhelmed him too much to even notice her usually comforting presence next to him. But she stayed there by his side, as she had silently vowed to herself once. She would always be by his side, no matter what.

Gobber took his place to stand near Valka, looking down at his longtime friend. The man he had cherished above all others, the one to whom he owed his allegiance, his very life. They had been friends for many years and he had loved Stoick like a brother. To see him now, like this, it broke his heart and he shed a very un-Viking-like tear as he mourned the loss of such a great man. He couldn't care less if anyone saw him cry.

It was quiet as the other Berk riders approached, solemn looks on all of their faces. All of them grieved with the family before them. They, too, had lost someone dear to them. He had been their chief, their leader, the one whom they followed and rallied behind. He had helped lead them through both war and peace. He had helped them forge a new society where both man and dragon could coexist together in amity. He had helped to lead them into a new era of harmony and prosperity. And he had fought to ensure that that harmony and peace would always find a place in their world. He had fought, to his dying breath, to protect his family, his son, from the evils of the world. He would be missed and they all tried, unsuccessfully, to hold in their tears.

Soon, a new figure tried to join them and his wide black head approached cautiously, his bright green eyes full of confusion. He neared the gathered group and made his way towards the still figure on the ground. He could tell that this man, his rider's father, a man he had once hated and had come to begrudgingly respect, was injured and it was hurting his rider. Whatever comfort he could give to the young Viking he would if it would ease the hurt he saw in the boy's eyes. Toothless lowered his head and stretched it towards the massive hand in front of him, hoping the older man would accept his gesture and show everyone that he was all right, show Hiccup that all was well. A harsh rebuke from the mourning young man, his rider, his best friend, his other half, turned that confusion to sorrow. The dragon's eyes grew wide in recognition and surprise as he was pushed away from the tearful youth, anger lacing his voice. It was only a moment later that he realized what had happened and his part in it. He hung his head low and looked to the group; all of them wore sad looks on their faces. All but the boy. His face held nothing but anger and grief. The Night Fury stepped back and let his boy mourn in peace, his cat-like green eyes full of sorrow, regret and the hope of forgiveness.

But Hiccup was too filled with anger to care. It was his fault! He had killed him! His father would still be alive if it hadn't been for Toothless. Subconsciously, he knew that it really hadn't been the dragon's fault. Toothless would never hurt Stoick, not after everything they had been through, everything they had faced. He had been under the control of Drago's Bewilderbeast who had issued the command at the behest of his evil master. Toothless couldn't help himself and looking at his face, Hiccup knew the dragon was filled with remorse. His own emotions, however, were just everywhere and he couldn't think straight. He had just lost his father, the one person he had always been able to rely on, the one person who had been there since the day he was born. He couldn't handle that and his grief-addled mind lashed out and attacked the nearest thing it could find to place the blame. He knew it was wrong, that Toothless didn't deserve it, that the loyal Night Fury would accept the undeserved abuse because he knew his friend was hurting. He didn't care though. All he wanted was his father back.

Valka watched as her words, that good dragons only do bad things when they are controlled by bad people, fell on deaf ears. Her son was too emotional to hear her and while she couldn't blame him, she was worried about his actions now towards Toothless. She saw the look of regret in the dragon's eyes, saw how ashamed he was when he realized what he had done. He felt truly horrible about it; there was no reason for her son to make his dragon feel worse. She too was hurting and her son's outburst, coupled with the sorrowful look in Toothless' eyes, was almost too much to bear. Yet, she tried to stay strong for her beloved, for her son, to show him that everything would be all right, to prove to him that there was no one to blame but Drago.

The young Viking didn't hear her and he pushed the black reptile away, his rage too strong for him to see reason, his mind too clouded to think clearly. The poor dragon stepped away to give his rider some space before he once again fell under the spell of Drago's terrible beast and was taken by the madman. Valka had seen the regret in Hiccup's eyes as he watched his dragon get taken by the vile man; it was the same look she had seen in the Night Fury's eyes when he had realized what he had done. Both creatures, two halves of a greater whole, were hurting but neither had the chance to apologize or comfort the other, the boy too distraught at the loss of his father and the forced seizure of his partner and the dragon too confused and bewildered to help his boy grieve.

Stoick the Vast was gone. The light of this great warrior was extinguished. His last sacrifice as the world crumbled around him saved the only hope to rebuild that world. Darkness was encroaching upon the peace he had helped create and with his bright flame gone, the dark had the advantage.

Yet, a light still burned.

A small flame flickered and grew within the heart of another. The great chief's life was over, but his legacy would live on and its fire would burn stronger and brighter than any ever had before. The dark would be vanquished, the light would return, and the union of man and dragon would be whole once more.

Stoick the Vast was gone.

Hiccup the Dragon Master would survive.