A/N: So, what happens if instead of the father-son crucible producing the happy ending we know from HTTYD 1, Hiccup flees? Not original, I know, but here's my excuse to skip four years and write an epic story of two heartbroken men fighting for what they believe in... on opposite sides. Hiccup & Stoick, at odds over the fate of Men and Dragons. And where does Astrid fit into all this? Mature characters with a dark-ish plot.
I live for reviews, so please, let me know what you think!
And of course, I own nothing to do with HTTYD. Not even a t-shirt.
War never changes… not to a Viking.
Echoes of countless generations of his ancestors called him to battle- charging among the burning buildings as embers rose into the midnight sky. Deep shadows danced as stars disappeared behind hulking black forms- the infernal beasts which plagued both his nightmares and his fantasies.
In his nightmares, they killed him.
In his fantasies, he killed them.
For a moment, Stoick imagined the first chief of Berk- Othin Haddock- standing where he stood now, among identical burning structures surveying identical chaos of war. He imagined every generation of chief in turn for he knew them all by memory, their names and legacies permanently engraved in his heart from their portraits in the Hall. In turn, he saw them each standing here, as identical dragons breathed identical fire, and identical warriors fought valiantly to protect their home. Were the dragons raging now descendants of the dragons his Ancestor battled, just as he was the son of a long lineage of warriors?
The sorrow of the thought brought rage to his eyes as a Monstrous Nightmare fell from the sky into the central square, wing clipped by a bola.
Two figures rushed at the beast, brandishing thick cords meant for tying the beast down.
"DROP THE ROPES!," he shouted them back, drawing his hammer from its shoulder mount. "This one's mine."
Stoick saw the fear in their eyes as they backed away from the snarling beast- but not fear of the dragon…
Fear of him.
The Nightmare whipped its head around to snarl at its new challenger, and Stoick was pleased to imagine that same fear in the dragon's eyes.
Stoick the Vast had always cut an intimidating figure, but it was only in the past four years that he'd commanded the fear of both Viking and Dragon alike.
Firelight bathed him in shadow, the ridges and valleys of his scars pronounced by the graying streaks in his smoldering beard. Blood stained his armor from a dozen battles before, blood of his enemies he left half as a testimony of beasts slain, half from apathy.
Cleaning his gear didn't seem to matter so much anymore.
The red beast roared, but Stoick neither slowed nor quickened his gait, marching inexorably at the flaming monster.
The dragon opened its mouth again, preparing to spew liquid fire, but Stoick nether dodged nor ran.
Instead he thrust his left arm in front of him, draping his thick cloak over his massive frame.
The devil's fire flowed around him as Stoick marched forward still, rolling off the iron plates Gobber had sewn into the heavy furs.
Its fire spent, the beast checked what it hoped to be the ashes of a man…
Only to find Stoick unharmed, not even a stone's toss from its snout.
Only once Stoick could see the yellow of the Monstrous Nightmare's eyes did he break composure.
"AAAAAAAAAAAH," he waved his massive hammer over his head, pouring his anger, his outright rage and assuredness of dominion into his guttural roar. "AAAAAH!, AAAAAAGH!"
The dragon backed away from him, its head low to the ground, fearful of this fireproof Viking who roared like an Alpha…
And that was when Stoick struck.
One blow of his hammer knocked the beast's head to the ground.
One kick forced it to the side.
Stoick planted his heavy boot on the Nightmare's snout, pinning it to the cobblestones of the square beneath him.
Bending down, he stared the beast in the eye as his deep, hateful voice growled from between clenched teeth. "You belong to me, now."
Apparently his voice carried across the square- he heard his men calling for chains to bind the dragon and bring it to the arena.
Stoick looked down again at the beast beneath his boot, then over into the depths of a fire engulfing a nearby cottage. That cottage burned down that night as well….
Four years earlier, the evening after Hiccup won Dragon Training.
The fires roared as Stoick raced past that cottage to the armory.
"Gobber, where is Hiccup?"
"Oh, you mean our wee lil dragon-slayer-to-be?," the resident blacksmith's light-natured accent returned. "Sent him home, looks like we scared 'em off, an' the lad needs his rest before the big day tomorrow."
"Aye," Stoick frowned, making one last sweep of the skies. "I don't get it Gobber, something's not right about this one. It's too soon since the last raid, and nobody I've found has actually seen the beasts. Just a few fires nobody saw start, none anywhere near the sheep or yaks, and only buildings we hadn't fully repaired yet. It's like-"
A familiar whistling split the silence of the night, as calls of "Night Fury, get down!" sent warriors to the cobblestone below in preparation for-
And then the blast…
At first, the distance explosion was so subdued, Stoick thought the infamous Nightfury had outright missed the village.
The horror in Gobber's eyes, however, assured him that the sheer wrongness he'd been feeling all night had just come to horrible fruition…
…as Stoick turned to see his house- Hiccup's house- blown to smoking, burning splinters.
A dark shape sped across the sky, blocking out only the occasional star as it streaked past the village and out over the bay...
Stoick raced to his home, numb and deaf, knocking men, women, and children aside as he fought not to believe what he knew to be true…
That noble line of warriors, chiefs standing as bastions over the Isle of Berk, had just been ended.
His son was dead.
Present Day
The fires receded from before his vision as the memory faded and Stoick became aware again of the square around him, of the dragon under his foot.
And then he heard it.
That sound; that haunting, piercing whistle… the likes of which Berk hadn't heard in nearly four winters…
"Night Fury, get down!"
Stoick didn't flinch as purple light flashed. An explosion at the Arena- the beast was coming for their training dragons…
Scowling down at the Nightmare below him, the Chief growled a deep, rumbling satisfaction.
Finally, Stoick the Vast shifted his grip on his hammer, bringing it up above him. I will kill the Night Fury that murdered my son, and I will end the line of Night Furies, just as they severed mine.
He brought the hammer down on the vertebrae of the Monstrous Nightmare's neck, crushing them and severing everything between its head and its body.
He relished the way the whole beast went limp below his might.
He only regretted the loss of a perfectly good Nightmare for his troops to train on.
I'll have to spare the next one, he summoned a small group of men to march with him to the Arena with a thrust of his arm.
After all, you need dragons to train an army of dragon-killers.
A/N: Okay, there you have it, folks. If you didn't catch it, yes, this is Stoick going "full Drago." Essentially, this scene is a parallel to HTTYD 2, where Drago "tames" Hookfang... except Stoick is even more brutal, because this isn't a kid's movie and I can get away with it. Next chapter will fill in a bit more and is much more original, I assure you.
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-TwistedPremise