Green Orbs
Those green orbs had just watched his father.
"For once in your life would you please just listen to me?!"
The phrase echoed around dad's head over and over.
When he was little he would come stumbling home with a bloody knee and crying because Snotlout had pushed him, and mummy would always be there to kiss it better, to chase the pain away.
Then daddy would come and laugh and tell him to toughen up, because he was the chief's son, the heir, because there was no room for weaknesses. Then mommy went away and daddy stopped smiling, and he would always try to get daddy to smile again but he couldn't because he wasn't strong and daddy liked strong Vikings.
Eventually he gave up trying to make daddy smile, now he just wanted to make dad proud. But he couldn't because he wasn't Viking enough, because dad only liked Vikings.
He would try, and try, put his body through torture to build muscle, but it never worked. He would come outside during raids to try to kill a dragon, to be a Viking, to make dad proud.
But he could only get in the way. He couldn't protect himself from the harsh remarks and hateful glares, not really. He remembered each and every one. He tucked them away into a remote corner of his mind. He hid them behind his dry humour and sarcastic personality. He made it seem as if he got over it, but he didn't and never would.
He was sent to work with the blacksmith to keep him out of the way, if nothing else. He began to try different things, he came up with crazy ideas and schemes to help fight dragons, but something always went wrong. It wasn't actually his fault, sometimes he didn't have the strength to push it up the hill so it rolled down and smacked into someone. Sometimes it got a spring knocked loose by a bully. Sometimes, he was interrupted by someone and didn't finish tightening that last bolt. Either way all of his plans were flawless.
But dad didn't want to know, dad just wanted a normal Viking son, was that too much to ask of Odin? Or was it Loki trying to ruin dad's life by giving dad a hiccup, a worthless mistake of a child.
The boy was blessed in the forge at least so he could be a blacksmith while his cousin could be chief. Maybe it could work. Maybe he could marry the Hofferson girl she was a good Viking why couldn't she have been born to dad?
The boy however refused to follow instructions, what could be done with him?
Gobber had managed to convince dad to put him in training with the others, but he'd be killed before they let the first dragon out of its cage and that would look bad. It would look like dad was trying the bump the son off, although if dad was gone at the same time dad's heroic deed would cancel out dad's questionable one.
Dad came back to a more Viking-like son, one that placed first in dragon training. In fact dad would watch him fight the monstrous nightmare that very day. It was during that 'battle' that he would try to show dad the truth, it was also during that 'battle' that dad would find out that he'd been 'conspiring' with the beasts. It was during that 'battle' that his one and only friend, his one and only comfort, his only true family would be mercilessly torn from him by the person that was meant to be that in the first place. After all blood means relations but loyalty and love means family.
Those green orbs had just watched. They had watched as their world was stolen by a cold figure from distant times, they had watched as it was bound in chains, they had watched as the one that was meant to be there for them took away the one that always was. They didn't spill over not even threatening to, they didn't reflect anger or hate or even dislike. They didn't flinch like they normally did when their owner was in trouble, they didn't show shame, they didn't waver. They were the only bits of their owner that showed anything. And what they showed was a broken child. All that time he spent trying to please his father, trying to make him proud, it was all thrown to the floor and spat upon by said parent. He had never before seen the child break, he had seen him bend over backwards and recover from everything thrown at him. It was incomprehensible at the time how much he'd hurt the child, the fragile trust in his father that existed was shattered, completely destroyed, never to be restored.
His son had always been weak yet he was the strongest of them all, he had something special in his centre something that made him help, he could've taken off on that Night Fury and been happy somewhere else. Only he had the strength to carry on when the one he cared most about hurt him in the worst possible way. His world was torn away, he suffered more pain than anyone else, yet he didn't shed a single tear. He was hurt and had every right to be vengeful yet the only expression in those green orbs of his was disappointment.
The worst part was that, this innocent young Viking, this boy who'd done nothing wrong was disappointed.
Disappointed in himself.
Why?
Because he wasn't a Viking he wasn't dad's son.