Ok Before I say anything else, this is a DarkFanfic, if you don't like that stuff, then don't read.

This idea come to me, when I read Heir and Pride. First few chapter, it will sound like the same but trust me, it's all written by me also some of the character will be OCC for a while but change back to their normal selves. I hope you like the fanfic, and the chapter should come out every Monday. Anyway enough with the talking let's begin.

Disclaimer: I don't own HTTYD

Chapter 1

"Berk. Twelve days north of hopeless and a few degrees south of freezing to death. It's located solidly on the meridian of misery. My village. In a word, sturdy. It's been here for seven generations, but every single building is new."

"We have fishing, hunting and a charming view of the sunsets. The only problems are the pests. You see, where most places have mice or mosquitoes. We have...

...dragons."

The usual scenes of chaos met him. Vikings fighting dragons, dragons raiding stores, houses being burnt. He ducked under two fighters and sprinted down between the houses, and the villagers were as pleased as usual to see him.

"What are you doing out here?"

"Get back inside!"

He ducked under other villagers, getting the same shout from anyone else but he ignored them and ran harder. It was dangerous to be out, but his job was to help Gobber the smithy during raids.

His father was always out leading the defence in the village and Hiccup had always wanted to do his part to help his village. He rounded a corner and a strong hand wrenched him backwards then holding him up by his collar, narrowly saving him from a huge stream of fire. He winced as Stoick looked at him angrily.

"What are you...? What is he doing outside?" he growled, glancing around. No one answered but the Chief didn't expect an answer. He released the boy. "Get inside!" he snarled at him and Hiccup ran on as he heard his father get a report from Sven on the attack.

Hiccup dashed into the open door of the forge, he glanced back to see the fire beacons raise into the dragon-infested sky. Gobber looked up from a broken sword, which he was pounding with his hammer prosthetic hand.

"Nice of you to show up," the blacksmith said sarcastically. "I thought you'd been carried away!" Hiccup continue to walk through the shop, took off his vest and dragged on his leather apron, all with a smile. After a day when no one seemed to want him at all, it was a relief to be with Gobber, who seemed to have forgotten his earlier anger at the boy for his lateness.

"Who, me? Nah-they couldn't handle all...this..." he replied and demonstrated his scrawny and very unimpressive physique. Gobber glanced up as the boy struggled to manhandle a war-hammer into the rack.

"Well, they need toothpicks, don't they?" he shot back and the boy smiled. Runt, toothpick and fishbone were the most common insults thrown at him and while Hiccup knew, he was small and scrawny for a fifthteen year old, the constant repetition still hurt. Though not as much as being called Useless...

"Always happy to help," he muttered and had to put his entire body weight into pumping the bellows and getting the fire hotter. He threw the hatch open and a dozen Vikings immediately thrust their weapons in to hurry the boy. With a sigh, he gathered them in his arms and began sorting them. Gobber stared at the boy: he could tell when Hiccup was unhappy and the boy was troubled.

The blacksmith was Stoick's best friend and had helped the Chief raise his son after the boy's mother was taken as a baby. He knew Hiccup and could recognised the boy was different to the average Viking. However, Stoick always trying to make the boy into a perfect Viking son was never going to work. Gobber knew that his friend was so focussed on making his boy a proper Viking that he forgot the boy had any feelings.

A diet of criticism, shouting and humiliation certainly hadn't turned Hiccup into Snotlout-thank the gods-and it was unlikely to suddenly take effect. Gobber made a mental note to have another word with his angry and embittered friend about his son.

Hiccup was leaning out the hatch, staring. Gobber peered over his shoulder and saw the fire crew-the other teens-at work. He knew that Hiccup was needed in the forge but he could understand the boy's heartfelt desire to join them. He had very little positive interaction with his peers and had begged to join them in the fire crew but the entire village council had vetoed the suggestion, already envisaging the utter destruction of the village.

The boy was staring with a slightly goofy expression, his gaze locked on the lithe shape of Astrid and Gobber smiled. He knew the lad had a massive crush on her-his inability to string a coherent sentence together in her presence was a giveaway-but she was as dismissive of him as the rest. With a regretful sigh, he hauled the boy away from the window.

"Get back inside!" he snapped. Hiccup looked up plaintively, his big green eyes pleading.

"Oh please, let me out!" he begged. "I need to make my mark!"

"You've made plenty of marks...all in the wrong places!" Gobber pointed out, jabbing him in the chest with his prosthetic hand-now a pair of tongs. Hiccup wasn't giving up.

"I just need to get out...and slay a dragon. My life will get infinitely better," he added and the plea was much clearer. It couldn't get much worse. "I may even get a date," he murmured gently. Gobber glared at him. He was exasperated. No one would want Hiccup!

"How? You can't lift an axe. You can't swing a sword. You can't even use these..." Gobber lifted a heavy set of stone bolas which a villager grabbed and used to bring down a Gronckle. Hiccup backed away, gesturing to a device he had been working on in the back room.

"No-but this will throw them for me!" he said quickly, his eyes serious. The boy couldn't help inventing machines to fight dragons. He patted the cover and the thing instantly launched a bola and flattened a Viking queuing at the hatch. Hiccup winced and mentally noted that he would have to go and apologise to Bjorn later.

"You see?" Gobber snapped.

"Minor calibration issues," Hiccup offered quickly but Gobber advanced on him and he backed away. Gobber was one of the few people he didn't fear would hit him but Gobber was huge, intimidating and probably crazy and he could still devise some annoying punishments that would wipe out what little spare time Hiccup had for his inventing. The blacksmith scanned the skinny shape in front of him.

"If you ever want to get out there, you need to stop all of ...this..." He indicated brusquely. Hiccup frowned.

"You just gestured to all of me," he complained, his tone slightly hurt. Gobber nodded.

"That's right-stop being all of you!" he encouraged the boy. Hiccup stiffened.

"Ohhh-you, sir, are playing a dangerous game-keeping this much raw Viking-ness contained..." he replied spiritedly. "There will be CONSEQUENCES!" Gobber looked unimpressed, though he was glad the boy was still willing to stand up for himself.

"I'll take my chances," he said swiftly and spun as they heard and explosion. Since the disastrous raid where Stoick had been severely injured, his brother Spitelout-Snotlout's father-had been Stoick's physical avatar. Stoick had offered to stand down as Chief but the village to a Viking had demanded he stay on. Though physical prowess was important, they recognised his skills in leadership, his wisdom and justice and his diplomacy. Spitelout was almost as strong as Stoick but vacuous verging on stupid, a man whose only plan was to hit something and then, if that didn't work, to hit it harder. So Stoick sent Spitelout to lead the fighting in the lower defences while he directed the overall defence, often from the plaza but usually from the Great Hall.

"Is that...?" Hiccup asked, peering around the blacksmith. The whine sounded through the air and a catapult exploded in a welter of purple fire.

"NIGHT FURY!" Hiccup leaned further forward as the shout echoed round the besieged village.

"The dragon that no one has seen. This thing never steals food and never misses. No one has ever brought down a Night Fury. That's why I'm gonna be the first," he murmured. He had noted the sleek black shape always zoomed through the explosion as it veered away and he had memorised the sleek shape, with wide bat-like wings. Another explosion sounded and another catapult went down. Gobber made his decision.

"They need me out there!" he announced, switching his prosthetic for an axe. He fixed Hiccup in a stern blue glare. "Stay. Here. Now." Hiccup stared back as Gibber hobbled outside on his leg leg and threw himself into the fray with a roar. But the boy's gaze swung back to his machine. Another explosion made up his mind and he threw his leather apron off. Maybe he could make his father proud at last.

He closed his ears to the cries of the villagers ordering him to get back inside and pushed the Mangler-as he had dubbed his bola-launcher-into position on an outcrop in the upper village. Then he snapped it open and narrowed his eyes, focussing on the remaining catapult in the lower defences. He could hear the Night Fury coming round for another pass and lined up the weapon.

"Give me something to shoot at," he murmured. Not that he expected the gods to help: why would they want to involve themselves in the shipwreck that was his life? But the catapult exploded and he fired at the black shape that zoomed through the explosion. The recoil tossed him onto his back but he scrambled up to see if he hit anything. And then he heard it: a shriek of pain and saw something silhouetted against the stars, arching down the impact into Raven Point forest.

He leapt in the air. "Oh, I hit it! I hit it! Did anyone see that?" he shouted and spun-to spy the menacing head of a Monstrous Nightmare rounding a house. He backed away. "Except you," he sighed and ran for his life.

Stoick was shouting orders to the Vikings who had trapped a trio of Nadders that had been after the sheep. He bore the species special animosity, since it was another trio of Nadders-or maybe it was the same trio?-that had almost killed him as he rescued his disobedient boy. Mentally, he had stopped calling Hiccup his son after that day. He roared another order and then he heard it-the desperate scream that had him coiled in a mixture of worry and fury. The boy was out AGAIN! He scanned the skyline and saw the skinny shape racing down, pursued by a Monstrous Nightmare!

Hiccup scrambled and almost fell, narrowly missing being incinerated. He knew he needed to get the village, to the fighters and wondered what his dad would say. He guessed his father would be absolutely mad. The Nightmare missed him again and he dashed behind one of the huge posts suspending the fire beacons. He was so skinny that his slight frame could completely hide behind the tree trunk post. And then he flinched as the dragon poured all its flame at him. He could feel the heat as it rushed by but the post held-just-though it was groaning and creaking ominously. His breaths scorching his throat and heart galloping with fear, he glanced to his right...as the dragon snaked its long neck round to his left. The jaws opened to end the boy...

...and the Stoick's hammer crashed into the muzzle and knocked the beast back half a dozen yards. Limping, the Chief lurched at it, his hammer raised. The dragon narrowed its eyes and then spat it a gout of flame at the man. But all it managed was small burp: it was empty. Stoick gave a nasty smile.

"You're all out!" he shouted and slammed the dragon with his hammer again. The dragon backed away. They all knew of the flame-haired warrior, his ferocious fists and his implacable will. The dragons believed he had been killed but he was alive and the Nightmare didn't fancy its chances: it backed away and flew off at speed. Stoick gave a grim grin: it was his first action since the attack and it had invigorated him, reminding him just of how much he enjoyed killing dragons.

Then a sickening crack sounded behind him as the tortured post of the beacon finally gave way, dumping the enormous fire basket in the ground. The Chief watched as the basket rolled down the hill, crushing houses, setting more fires and freeing the Nadders, which immediately made off with the sheep. In fact, all the dragons were leaving, laden with loot. So he concentrated on the skinny shape, wincing and flinching at every crunch and crack as the fire basket continued its destruction of the lower village. Hiccup looked up, his shoulders tense: he knew he was in desperate trouble.

"Sorry...Dad," he said. Stoick scowled at him as the villagers silently glared at the boy. Hiccup stared at the ground meekly for a minute but knew he had to explain. "Okay-but I hit a Night Fury!" he added

There were mutters of disbelief and annoyance that Useless had not only destroyed half the village and let the dragons get away with half the food but that he was lying in a ridiculous attempt to excuse his irresponsible actions. Stoick grabbed him by the arm and hauled him bodily up towards the plaza. His rage seemed to improve his usually uneven gait.

"It's not like the last time!" Hiccup protested quickly. "I really actually hit it this time! You guys were busy and I had a really clear shot. It came down over Raven Point and if we get a search party..."

"ENOUGH!" Stoick roared, lurching to a halt. The boy flinched and stared up at the Chief. His father was mad beyond anything he had seen and he felt his pulse fluttering in his chest. Memories of Stoick's cruel verbal dismantling of his son raced through his memory. "Enough!" the Chief repeated. Hiccup squared his shoulders, preparing himself for another dressing down. "Every time you come outside, you cause disaster!" Hiccup swallowed anxiously. "Can't you see that? Winter is coming and I have whole village to feed!"

Hiccup glanced round at the assembled villagers. Not one of them looked starving: all of them would make three of him. "Between you and me, the village could do with a little less feeding, don't you think?" he said in a low voice. Stoick's scowl deepened and he knew his feeble quip had been ill-judged.

"Go back to the house and STAY THERE!" he snapped. He turned to Gobber. "See that he gets and stays there!" The blacksmith came up behind the boy, cuffed him on the back of the head and pushed him up the hill. The villagers were still muttering and the Chief could sense an ugly mood. Spitelout marched up to him.

"Is that it?" he asked, his voice angry. He had been very vocal over the last few months-both in private and in council-about punishing Hiccup. His demands had been more determined since the boy had ceased being Stoick's heir and the Chief knew his brother had a point. To all intents and purposes now, Hiccup was expendable. He got that know

"I know your view about him," he said heavily. Contact the Council, we will decide what we come of him. "You know, what they will do, he'll be either banished or killed. No matter what you do, your boy will always cause trouble. Look I know he the last thing you have to remember, 'Valka' but he will never become chief, just bring him piece to a lonely awful death.

"Ok, you get your wish, brother." Stoick said with no emotion

"Wait you me…" Yes brother, your right, he will never become chief. The village will never allow it and then he will live a terrible lonely life." Stoick said interrupting Spitelout

"Inform the village, he will be put in jail until the trial and then he will be killed for attempted destruction and death of his tribe." Stoick said, "Yes sir" Spitelout had done it finally, his son would now become the hair, Hiccup would die and Stoick would become so depressed, he would kill himself and to think of it, none of this could have been done, if Hiccup didn't miss up again.

Ok, next chapter should be up on Friday, I hope you liked it and I would love feedback, good and bad. Just don't be hurtful. Next chapter will be about Hiccup trial and of course his escape, but like always with a twist. Also yes, I'm a Hiccstrid fan, love through and though so this will be a Hiccstrid but mabey with some other ships