So this story is based of a briliant idea by the tumblr user p-artsypants who kindly gave me permission to turn her idea into a fic of my own. This is my first time taking someone else's idea and writing it out and I am incredibly excited to see how people like it. :)

Author's Note (3/24/15): So I have gone back and done some serious editing to this piece. I haven't changed anything really (maybe a minor detail here and there) but instead just fleshed it out some more. Hopefully it doesn't feel quite so rushed now. I really love all the positive feedback I've gotten, like, REALLY love. Your messages are all so sweet. Thank you.

Stoick raced down the snowy slope of the mountain, praying to the gods for more speed. He watched on in horror as his son slowly backed away from the advancing Night Fury. A bitterly cold wind stung his face, faintly carrying the sound of Hiccup desperately pleading with Toothless to stop. He was almost there; he would make it in time.

He had to.

The dragon opened his jaws, a high-pitched whistle echoing in the air as the impending blast formed deep in his throat. The dark dragon master, Drago, watched on with glee.

"Hiccup!" shouted Stoick, terror seizing his heart as the boy's back bumped into a wall of ice. "Son!"

Hiccup spotted him from the corner of his eye and raised a hand, his voice a cry of warning. "Dad! No!"

Stoick surged forward, so close he could see the freckles on his son's panicked face. Just a few more steps, only a few-

A blinding flash of purple and Stoick was thrown back through the air, the breath knocked from him as he landed on the hard, frozen ground.

A heavy silence hung in the air, save for the deep panting of the Night Fury. Stoick pushed himself to his knees, following the dragon's vacant gaze to giant shards of ice piled where Hiccup had just stood. A small hand poked out from beneath.

"Son," cried Stoick, stumbling over and flinging the ice aside. Hiccup lay curled on his side, motionless.

Lifeless.

A wail rose up behind the chief. "Hiccup!"

Stoick found himself roughly pushed aside as Valka flung herself down beside her son, frantically pressing her ear to his chest. "Hiccup," she pleaded, shaking his shoulders slightly. "Hiccup, please!" Her brow furrowed together, her lip trembling as she raised a soft hand to lightly brush his still face.

Stoick collapsed to his knees, eyes wide with shock, shaking his head. "No," he breathed. It wasn't possible. His son, his heir, his Hiccup couldn't be…

He could hear Drago chuckle behind him, footsteps crunching in the snow as he walked away.

Valka whimpered as her eyes met her husband's. She reached out for him with one hand, cradling her son's lifeless body to her chest with her other arm as her body shook with sobs. Stoick could only stare on in shock.

A confused coo caught his attention. He raised his head to see Toothless' green eyes were fixed on the boy in Valka's hold, his pupil's fluttering wide as the Alpha released his control over him. His head tilted to the side as a pale hand limply slid to the icy ground. The other dragons and their riders began to land around them, but Toothless' sole focus was his human, his friend, unmoving in his mother's arms.

He crept forward, sniffing at the hand. He nudged the fingers, waiting for Hiccup to pat him, to assure him that everything was okay. But the cold hand never moved. His green eyes never opened. His pale lips formed none of those amusing sounds humans used to converse. Toothless crooned, looking up at Hiccup's parents. Stoick had never seen such heartbreak in a beast's eyes before.

Suddenly those eyes narrowed and Stoick, fearing the Alpha had control again, engulfed his wife and son in his arms. But the Night Fury unleashed a savage roar and spun, charging at the retreating form of Drago. Toothless' intent was so focused the Alpha, no matter how desperately he tried, could not gain control over him. The Bewilderbeast howled in warning and Drago looked up, turning as Toothless lunged, strong jaws snapping closed around the man's neck.

…..

The battle was over.

With Drago dead, Valka's dragons (led by Toothless) had easily defeated the lost and confused Bewilderbeast. His last ditch effort to keep his Alpha status had cost him a tusk and he'd slunk off back into the water, disappearing from sight. It was a victory for the small group.

But nobody was celebrating.

The Vikings gathered on the ashy shore, watching the burning funeral ship glide off into distant waters. Stoick and Valka clung to each other. Astrid stood away from the others, arms wrapped tightly around her middle but back ramrod straight. A deep chill sank into their bones, but it had nothing to do with the frozen surroundings. The only sounds were sniffles and shuddering breaths as they each said their own silent goodbye. Valka's dragons gathered on the beach behind them, softly crooning and murmuring.

As the ship faded to a glowing blur on the horizon, Toothless let out a mournful wail, the sound like icy claws tearing at their hearts. The lone Night Fury padded to the edge of the water, watching the ship long after it passed from the other's view.

Night had fallen and the bitterly cold wind tugged at their hair and clothes, numbing their hands. Valka finally stirred from her spot at Stoick's side, wiping at the burning tears still falling down her cheeks. Her maternal instincts kicked in at the sight of the young riders shivering around her and, much as it broke her heart, she insisted it was time they left.

Astrid stumbled over to Toothless, running a gentle hand over his head. The dragon stared down at her, his eyes storming with pain and confusion. She pressed her forehead to his, letting out one single sob, before squaring her shoulders and climbing onto his saddle.

The two led the way back to Berk.

…..

Lavender.

Pink.

Orange and gold.

A perfect sunset.

Stretching across the sky above.

And a sound.

The sound of waves.

Gentle waves, lapping softly against a wooden hull.

A warm breeze danced across his bare skin, softly tugging at his hair.

He felt calm.

Peace.

He closed his eyes, breathing in the calming sea air.

The boat drifted ever onward, he knew not how long. It seemed both a lifetime and just a brief moment.

But he knew he was nearing shore, he could sense it. He sat up, turning to look, just as a large wave crashed over the boat-

He awoke to pain.

Lots of pain.

It clouded his mind, consumed his every thought. It was all he was.

But then another sensation burst through.

Heat.

Scorching, unbearable heat.

He narrowed his eyes, blinking as his surroundings started to come into focus and another feeling took over.

Terror.

Flames surrounded him, covered him, nipped at his skin with searing bites and burned his lungs with acrid smoke. His left side was in agony, the smell of burnt flesh and singed hair assaulting his nose.

Escape.

He needed to escape.

He forced himself up, gritting his teeth against the waves of pain that washed over him. He slid off the pile crates he'd been on, only to find himself crashing to the burning floor.

No, deck. Burning deck. He was on a ship? And where was his other foot. He clutched at the stump of his left leg, looking up through the haze.

His peg leg was a burnt, twisted heap on the low, burning pyre.

Was he on a funeral boat? But he hadn't died! Had he…? He faintly remembered, as if from a dream, the warm light and a comforting breeze as he drifted along on a calm sea.

A burning timber crashed down beside him, snapping him from his thoughts. He dragged himself across the deck. His body felt as if he'd been trampled by a heard of Gronckles and his left side burned with the heat of a thousand Fire-worm dragons. Every move sent agony through him, but he finally reached the side of the boat. He pulled himself up and gracelessly tumbled over the side.

The plunge into the frigid water below was like being jolted awake from a deep slumber. He struggled to the surface, breaking free with deep, desperate gulps for air. The icy sea quickly began to numb his body, taking the edge off the pain and clearing his mind.

It all started coming back to him.

Drago. The battle. The Alpha.

Toothless!

Toothless had been ordered to attack him.

But he was still alive. At that range, there shouldn't be enough of him left to fill Gobber's mug-hand.

Maybe the Alpha hadn't been as in control as Drago thought.

He glanced back at the burning ship. The others thought he was dead. His mother, his father.

Astrid.

All believing he was gone.

Maybe he had been.

The memory of that calm sea surfaced again. In this freezing water, it wouldn't be long until he was dead and there would be no coming back. He needed to find shore. He turned left and right, but all around him the ocean stretched on as far as he could see.

"Tooth-" he croaked, his voice hoarse from the smoke. He coughed, trying again. "Toothless," he called weakly. "Astrid? Dad!" He looked to the sky, hoping to see the dark shape of a dragon overhead. "Anybody?" He pleaded. "Help."

His weak, wounded body was already beginning to tire from treading water. He searched the waves nearby, looking for any debris. A small log drifted to his right and with the last of his strength, he swam over and clung to it. The icy water that had previously cleared his mind was now beginning to make him drowsy. He knew if he succumbed to sleep, he would not wake again in this world. But he had no more strength left to fight with.

He hovered on the edge of sleep, struggling to keep the memory of a warm breeze and comforting sunset at bay. But he could see that boat sailing from the mist in his mind, its dark bow drawing ever nearer. It was coming to bear him to Valhalla.

He lost consciousness just as strong hands pulled him from the water.

…..

The entire village had been waiting for the return of the chief. A murmur of shocked whispers had spread through the group upon the sight of Valka, followed quickly by wails of grief at the news of Hiccup. The loss of the Pride of Berk, the boy who had united man and dragon and brought peace to their island hit the entire clan hard. A somber mood had blanketed the village. Humans and dragons alike had sought comfort from each other.

That night, Toothless sat at the edge of the village, staring out into the vast sea, waiting for the return of his rider. Astrid tried to lure him back to her house with promises of tasty treats and belly rubs, but the dragon never left his vigil. In the end, Astrid dragged a fur out of her house and curled up between the Night Fury's front paws.

Stoick tried his best to return some order and normalcy to the village. He asked Astrid and the others to continue Hiccup's work with the Dragon Training Academy. Not a single one of them hesitated. Valka joined them, sharing her knowledge and discoveries from her time spent with the dragons.

Stoick began to train Snotlout the duties of being chief. For all his talk about how he'd have been a better choice for heir, it was painfully obvious that Snotlout was reluctant about taking on the role that had always been meant for Hiccup. He kept glancing apologetically at Astrid when he would return from a lesson with Stoick, until she finally told him that Hiccup would be proud of him. The look of shock on his face didn't completely hide the swell of emotion in his eyes.

He threw himself into the training with great enthusiasm after that.

The entire village had banded together to care for Toothless, trying to coax him out for flights, giving him extra-long chin scratches, sneaking special treats from their tables. But he was deteriorating. He rarely left his spot at the edge of the cliff, gazing out to the sea. His usual sleek black scales had begun to lose their luster and he stopped eating their offered food. Stormfly and Cloudjumper hardly left his side, talking to him with small chirps and croons, trying to help him.

The young riders feared they would lose Toothless as well as Hiccup.

This thought was too much for Astrid and she broke down into tears one night while cuddling up to Toothless. This shook the dragon from his endless surveillance. The pale-furred human never cried and the dark beast knew it was for him and for Hiccup. If Hiccup were there, he would comfort his mate. But Hiccup was gone and it was the least Toothless could do to comfort her in his stead. So he curled himself around the crying girl, nudging her damp cheek with his great, scaly nose and cooing at her, trying to let her know it would all be alright.

He never refused their offers to fly or a basket of fish again.

Time moved on and the village began to move on with it. Spring had arrived and there was much to be done in the few short months before winter returned. Crops to grow, buildings to repair, and provisions to collect.

So when a ship appeared on the horizon, the sail bearing the crest of a slaver merchant, Stoick allowed it into their harbor for the sole purpose of seeing what other wares they may have. Slavery was despised upon Berk, made illegal many generations before, but the ships would be stocked with many other useful resources the merchants had received as payment for the poor souls they sold. And Berk was in desperate need of those resources.

The Vikings gathered around as Gobber lead the merchants up to the plaza in the center of the village, the slaves carting their goods. The slavers shouted commands, whipping those not moving fast enough. The Berkian women ushered their young children inside. Astrid helped Gobber haul out a selection of his finest weaponry to bargain with, sadness lining her face at the sight of the thin men and women struggling to do the merchants' bidding.

She set down the bucket containing several swords and walked over, helping an elderly woman free a cart wheel from a muddy patch of ground. A loud commotion broke out behind them, the old woman flinching and flinging her arms over her head. Astrid patted her back, turning to see what was happening.

"Enough!" bellowed Stock, as a large man shoved a thin boy who was struggling to push a heavy cart over a large rock protruding from the ground. The boy stumbled, failing to catch his footing with the crude, wooden peg leg sloppily attached to what remained of his left calf. He tumbled to the ground with a cry. The slaver yanked his whip from his belt, the end cracking through the air.

But before he could swing, a black blur raced from the crowd with a roar. The Night Fury flung himself over the boy, snarling up at the man who'd shoved him.

"Toothless!" shouted Stoick, striding forward and grabbing ahold of the dragon's saddle. "Crazy dragon."

The Night Fury let out a pitiful croon as the chief pulled him off the boy, struggling to get back to him.

The slaver lifted his whip, ready to strike the slave still on the ground, but Stoick called back over his shoulder, "Hurt that boy and I will release the dragon!" The slaver stepped back with a huff.

The villagers moved forward to browse the offered wares as Stoick dragged the dragon from the plaza. Astrid gave the old woman one more reassuring pat on the back and slowly moved over to selection of fabrics in a nearby cart. She tried to make herself look through them, but found her gaze drawn to the thin boy, no, young man still sat on the ground, watching the retreating form of the Night Fury.

Wide tear tracks sliced through a thick layer of dirt and grime, leaving two pristine white columns on his otherwise ashen skin. As Toothless let out a mournful wail in the distance, the young man's face, left side covered in fresh burn scars, contorted into a look of pure anguish and pain, his frail body shaking with suppressed sobs. Astrid's heart broke at the sight.

The young man collapsed in on himself as Stoick returned without Toothless. The slave pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping thin arms around them and dropping his face until all that was visible was a head with dark hair roughly hacked as close to the scalp as possible. His bony shoulders shook with the force of his tears.

Astrid stared at the youth, wanting to wrap him in her arms and comfort him, protect him. She wanted to see the brief glimpse of pure joy that had been on his gaunt face at the sight of the Night Fury, not the agony that had replaced it. Her eyes flashed dangerously as a slaver passed the young man, giving him a swift kick for sitting on the ground.

Squaring her shoulders, she dropped the piece of fabric she'd been holding and strode to the slaver now standing a few paces from the thin youth. "How much?"

The merchant glanced at her. "For the cloth?"

"For him." She pointed to the slave still sobbing into his knees.

The slaver sneered at her, eyeing her up and down. "What d'ya have to offer?"

"Astrid!" Stoick stepped up beside her, staring between the two of them. "You know slavery is banned on Berk."

"Stoick, please," pleaded Astrid, motioning to the frail slave. "Look at him, he won't survive if he stays with them!"

The merchant shrugged his agreement.

"Astrid-"

"We can always use an extra hand on Berk. With summer coming, we'll have enough food to nurse him back to health. He could help out on the fishing boats, or up in the fields. Or he could help at the Academy, Toothless obviously already likes him." She saw the slave's head perk up slightly at the mention of the dragon.

Stoick stared at her, his expression unreadable.

"Please, we can't just leave him to d-die," she whispered, stumbling on the last word.

Stoick's gaze softened, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder.

The merchant watched the exchange, brow raised. "Tell ya what, my friend," he said. "Ya can have that one, free of charge, if we can make a deal to return to your port once a year to do trade." He held out a hand.

The chief eyed the man distrustfully. His gaze quickly flickered from the slave still curled up on the ground to the whip in the man's other hand, before he slowly reached out and shook.

"We have a deal. So long as no physical punishment is used on anyone while you are on my island," he added with a growl.

The merchant shrugged again and hooked his whip to his belt. He strode over and seized the slave under the shoulders, dragging him over and dropping him at Astrid's feet. "He's all yours."

The young man pressed against Astrid's side, wrapping his bony arms around her knees. She reached down and awkwardly patted his stubbly head as the slaver marched off. She could feel his heart beating wildly beneath the ribs digging into her legs, his arms around her trembling.

She tried to step free of his grip, but he wouldn't relent, as if afraid if he let go he'd be taken away. "I'm just going to go look at the dishes," she said, glancing over to the cart Valka stood by. The only response she got was his frantically shaking head. She looked down, but he had his face pressed against her leg.

So they stood like that as the villagers concluded their trading and the merchants ordered the remaining slaves to haul the carts back to the docks. As the last echo of the slavers' voices faded, the youth at her side suddenly shot up, engulfing Astrid in a crushing embrace.

"Thank you," he sobbed, face pressed into her neck. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

Astrid froze, eyes widening.

She knew that voice.

Bracing her hands on his shoulders, she slowly pushed him back. Bright green eyes rose to meet hers and the air in Astrid's lungs vanished. Beside her, Stoick gasped.

"Hiccup?" croaked Astrid.

She stared at his face, freckles just peeking out from beneath the dirt, the thin scar on his chin easily overlooked with the swirl of burn scars covering the other side of his face.

"Stoick, I got these for-" A crash to the right caused them all to spin.

Valka stood amidst the shattered remains of dishes she'd just purchased. Her chest rose with great gasps as she clutched over her heart, her green eyes wide in her pale face as she stared at the young man still clutching to Astrid.

"Son?" she breathed.

"Mom," Hiccup sobbed.

Valka surged forward, yanking Hiccup into her arms. She cried into his shoulder, running one hand along his back, the other over his sparse hair. Hiccup turned his head, staring up at his dad through watery eyes. Stock's breath hitched as he fought back a sob of his own and he stepped forward, wrapping his large arms around both of them.

When Astrid made no move, the chief reached out and yanked her into the hug as well. The action sent a weak chuckle through the group.

The villagers had begun to gather around them, whispers already spreading through crowd. Hiccup was alive. The Pride of Berk had returned.

A loud explosion suddenly rang through the air and the crowd gasped as a plume of smoke rose from the chief's house. A cry of "Night Fury!" sounded from the crowd mere seconds before the black beast hurtled over the backs of the villagers to land in front of the group wrapped around Hiccup.

He gently untangled himself from his family and limped forward as Toothless sat, his whole body wagging in excitement.

Hiccup raised a hand and ran it over Toothless' face before wrapping his arms around the dragon's neck. "I've missed you too, bud."

The dragon draped a paw around him, nuzzling the back of his head with his great cheek.

I loved the idea of Hiccup coming back to life after being blasted by Toothless. In my head, the roar Toothless does before attacking Drago is what started Hiccup's heart again.

It is always so interesting to listen to people who have died and been resuscitated. One of my friends had died for a few minutes before they started his heart again with a shot of adrenaline. It was moving to listen to him explain what he experienced in that time. That's where the idea behind the warm breeze and the calm sea Hiccup remembers came from. (My friend's experience was very different, but it was personal to him so I didn't want to copy.)

Edit: I've had several requests to add more chapters (recovery, what happened while he was with the slavers, etc). I've not been ignoring those requests, I just have not had the inspiration for those parts of the story yet. I won't promise I will, but if the muse comes along and gifts me a plot for those, I will write it. I hope this one, with a little more to it now, is a better stand alone piece for the time being.

As always, thank you for reading. Tell me what you think. xoxo