Hullo! I can't believe I'm actually writing a Mericcup fanfic, since I can't hardly remember the HTTYD films and have not read the book series, but hoorah, here I am, trying in vain to make it seem as less OOC as possible.

I blame it on Andrew Garfield, Lily Cole, and the brilliant film named The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus, for inspiring me to write this fic, which is very loosely based on it.

Please do leave some reviews in order to get inspired in updating! And also, to comment any advice if there were instances where the infos I've written were wrong, especially Merida's accent because I'm sure I messed it up.

Also, before we go through the story itself, the timeline will be 4 years after the Brave film, and then a month or two after the second installation of How to Train Your Dragon.

Prologue-Part I

Do you believe in Fate?

The gentle caress of sweet spring sun rays can do nothing to ebb the heat on her cheeks and the deep frowns on her brows. Her Mum, the Queen, had been pestering her about marriage again. Of what she could have always learned to handle became too much once she finally opened up to the aspect.

Marriage might not be that bad, if her choice was free to make. She felt like an idiot, to expect her mother's approval to anything she grew to love and wanted. No weapons on the table, Merida! A princess should have not any weapons at all! Sit straight, Merida! Walk like a lady, Merida! Be not yourself, bairn!

She groaned the loudest one she could muster, the empty halls of the castle echoing her disdain. It was only fitting, to let her anguish out lest she'd do something she'll probably regret yet again, like turning her mother into a bear once more, for one. Ever since that incident 4 years ago, she focused on fighting every urge to explode and be as reasonable as possible. Her mother also tried her best to understand where her teenage daughter heeds from. Fortunately, their relationship did improve amidst the hurt, and they finally see eye to eye on most things; those that do not concern Merida's fate. For a while, the Queen lets her forget her responsibilities, yet she was reminded yet again that she couldn't escape them.

And once those responsibilities are their topic at hand, her mother seems to think that regality meant sacrificing your humanity, your own freedom for the good of the people. Be reasonable, be reasonable, be reasonable..

She marched to her bedchamber, pushing the heavy doors and threw herself onto the windows, perching herself on the pane. Somewhere far away, nestling upon the vast ocean was the Chief of the Isle of Berk, her longtime friend among the multitude of wolves dressed in sheep's hide.

The dark blue sea was the same blue she had seen when she first saw him. As the waves come and go, so does her friend. She needs not to worry if he was to forget of her, he always find his way back no matter what.

Along the gentle tugging of the sea breeze, a lone trade ship was ushered to the docks of Dunbroch. Immediately, she stood from her position in the sand, Angus next to her arose as well, his relaxed state a while ago was replaced with tension.

It was not the season for Trade, this ship was either a raid or a stranger to their custom. However, if it was the former, why would they only attack with just one seemingly harmless vessel? With only few men in the journey as well?

She sharpens her eyes, one of such keenness of a hunter, then she saw the sign. Despite the angry red and menacing logo of a Viking totem, the supposed enormous, grotesque creature from the legends and war stories was replaced by a wee lamb. He was just a lad like those of her age. His body was lean, however as the wind brushes onto his breeks and shirt, she remarked at hidden rises of muscles that might've been earned by heavy work. Though, certainly not from killing people, she confidently assumed.

Still, she flexed her hand on the dagger that suddenly felt uneasy on the confines of her boot.

The lad was quick to notice her stance, his bright, unassuming green eyes were calculating, apt in observation.

"Woah, wait, wait, we mean no harm," His arms instantly raised themselves as he tried to diffuse the tension. He said his statement softly to her, and repeated it sternly, although somewhat stressfully to the intimidating Vikings littered evenly on the ship. "We, the people of Berk, come as tradesmen with the intentions of peace and negotiation."

To her people, he was rightfully human, though next to his', he was a mere lamb, rabbit even. Yet, somewhere in that body, his voice resonates the confidence, the intelligence that even she, the Princess of the land, can do nothing but hear him speak.

She eyed him blatantly, and he raised his lips into a sheepish smile, the confidence she'd seen faltering once the attention was purely on him, and not his cause. A paradox, a curious case of a lad.

"How can we trust ye?" She tried her best to be intimidating. Yet none of the Vikings even did flinch, their stands were proud, extremely threatening. Though her attention still remained on their speaker, and he too was still calm, yet strangely, his eyes were sincere as though offering his apologies because of his too proud clansmen.

"We swear it, to the gods even. We do not wish any harm to befall, our only reason of coming is to trade, to offer an alliance, in hopes of betterment of our clan's survival"

"Whit's it that ye bargain, Viking?,"

"I'm sorry, however for security measures, we desire only to speak of it to the King first"

Nobody ever dare talk to her like that. He had been exchanging statements with her as though she was just a common lass. She was ought to be angry, and yet she found herself nodding. Her mind soared as she realized that they had ho clue she was of royal blood. It was an acceptable excuse, a great one even. It was foreign to her, of being treated normally.

"Very well, then. Ye can come with mei, an' ye only." She climbs on Angus' saddle, cocking her head for him to come. Behind him, one of the Vikings had the audacity to whistle, of which was back handed roughly by a fair haired lass.

"Wait, how'd we know you won't do anything fishy, like I dunno, kill him?" The Viking lass said, eyeing her sharply. But before she had the chance to speak, the lad with the green eyes and words confident spoke. "She won't, I trust her"

She blinked, but like what her mother usually tell her, in times of doubt, act like you have everything under control. "Aye, our lands won' do any good with a new war"

There was still tension in which the fair haired lass continued to look at her suspiciously, which she took in stride as she glared back.

"Um, I hope you don't mind, but I'm not exactly complete" once he reached her, she nearly smacked herself for being a half-wit. He gestured his prosthetic limb and rubbed the back of his neck consciously.

To his surprise, she simply nodded, as though it was normal for her to see anybody with a jarred body. He was quite informed of the differences between their clan, and of hers. Unlike the Vikings, they're quite accustomed to aesthetics, to propriety. They do have a kingdom after all, and Hiccup's, for one, lean more to chieftains and being a tribe.

"Oh, sorry 'bout that." She said, then added, "Angus, yield" the Clydesdale neighed as though he understood, and then bended slightly, just so Hiccup could ease himself up.

She offered her hand for him, and then thought of his pride. In one of her lessons, her mother taught her not to taunt men with their weaknesses, their pride was something they treasure the utmost. They feast when it's fed. She groaned inwardly as she prepared for his hostility, to regain his bravado as he'll most likely mistaken her kindness for belittling.

Then, she also violated another lesson, in which she was supposed to act dainty, hiding her strength, her masculine tendencies as princesses aren't supposed to have such ability at all.

Nonetheless, even be inclined to weaponry, to fighting, or even wander all alone by herself.

Although she now has the freedom to be herself around her family, she was advised to remember her lessons when being seen by the public. She should've known she couldn't have a break, since even in her own home guardsmen were also considered.

Ah bollocks, she said she's a good listener, but never a good follower.

To her surprise, he took her hand. She blushed deep scarlet as she was taken aback by his ease, stunned by his peculiarity. "Thanks" he said, his smile offering gratitude and his cheeks tinted pink. The freckles on his face darken along his blushing skin, and she couldn't help but smile back at the lad.

Not only was he alright with her showing strength over him, but he also didn't try to dominate her by doing foolish things in order to get the upper hand. He simply took her offer, and based on her scrutiny, did not show any offense or reprimand over her unlady like behavior.

"Are you alright?" Not trusting her voice incase she'd say something foolish, she only nodded, tugging at her handle for them to finally get moving.

They coursed in a slow pace, Angus' hooves pattering softly as they repeat in a steady beat. She usually make her Clydesdale dash for the sake of the adrenaline, the freedom that pumped through her blood as the wind travel wildly in her hair, on the spaces of her fingers, and her hot cheeks. Yet, the steady pace of the journey was pleasant as well. The tall trees, their bowing branches, the chirps of birds, the crawling insects, the smell of dew on the grass, and the sun peaking shyly on every spaces between the leaves.

The beauty was not unnoticed by the Viking as well. "Your forest is beautiful," he gasped, taking everything in with observant eyes. She turned her head, though her wild hair still shielding her face, he understood it as offending her. Stiffening at the back, he stuttered, "I mean, this forest is beautiful, not yours, but can be yours if it's special to you, but in the wider sense, you know, must be property of the land, and-"

Her laughter caught him by surprise that even the birds that were peacefully nestling on top were startled. She lets out a snort or two, until he too was grinning ear to ear, albeit not knowing what was humorous in the situation.

"Ye' speak like an orator but yer also a blabber"

"Gee, thanks a lot"

"Did I offend yer'?" she glanced at him, finally seeing his playful, slightly pouting face amidst her impossible hair.

"Am I supposed to be?" he asked, challenging her as one thick brow disappear behind his bangs.

"Nae"

"Nah, I'm not. I'm thick skinned" his voice ended in a bitter tone, one that she noted of. She frowned then, wondering where his self consciousness come from. But of course, isn't it? He was a paradox, after all, there's more of him than meets the eye.

"What's so bad 'bout tha'? Of bein' yer' self?" She said confidently, though secretly, she was somewhat scared of his answer.

There was a pregnant pause, his eyes reading hers as he articulates himself. "It's fine, I guess. There's just a few things people wanted to change on me" he gestured himself from head, down to his missing leg. "Yer' just pointed to all'f yer'"

"Exactly," his eyes were set downcast, and she immediately understood. "But like I said, I have thick skin"

He shrugged one shoulder clumsily, smiling once again in an effort to ease the guilt that must've been written on her face, "me Mum and I don' always see eye ter eye

"Don' slouch, Merida! Weapons off the table no', lassie! Chew slow'r, close yer mouth! Breathe slowly, quiet breathings, Merida! What Mum, d'yer wan' me to die?" He stared transfixed as her arms flare, eyes ablaze, and hair almost seemingly angry. He couldn't help but snort, chuckling as her eyes shift from comical to annoyance with just a blink of an eye.

"but me' Mum wouldn' have me any other way though, she said. If I were different, Mor'du's still be alive, an' me da's leg's will be dead in vain. Al' things are, cause of reasons, laddie"

"Mordu? Dead leg? Fate?," he paused for a moment, connecting all the words he caught up in her thick accent. "Do you believe in Fate?"

"Aye, what else would lead one to adventure?"

"I don't know, a dragon, maybe"

"Bah, yer sarcastic" She hit him gently by the sharp bone or her shoulder, thumping against his chest as she vehemently freeze when she felt his warmth.

He chuckled against her, though not from the blush on her face but to her dismissal of his reply, "Merida, huh?"

"Wheesht, now. Ye din' say yours"

"Hiccup, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the III. The horror of men, terror of the lands, the bearer of the chief's blood to an assured strong, dreadful, enormous Vikings." He punctuated every description with exaggeration, though his voice laced with self deprecation that could hardly be missed.

"If Vikings were of yer', our lands'll be at peace"

He snorted, "cause I'm feeble, a hiccup in the Viking standard"

She stopped in their tracks, turning around so she was face to face with the green eyed lad. Only a breath away, she could feel his soft exhales, and smell the foreign yet familiar woodland musk "Nae, cause ye think, yer smart" she nodded on his forehead, "and yer reasonable" and different, so much different, she wanted to add.

She remembered the wee lamb that he was, then to the unusual Viking wearied down by war, by death.

Remembered the greens of his eyes, the forest in which she can get lost in, a place she can finally be herself.

Her mind was elsewhere, somewhere deep in the stretched ocean, swimming in hopes of getting close to him.

bairn= child

breeks= trousers

wheesht= quiet