Author's Note:

This is my very first HTTYD fanfiction. I loved the movies and also Dragons: Race to the Edge so I hope I do the series justice. The story takes place in the same universe as that of the movie, but follows a significantly different timeline. The plot will be entirely different, but I will retain the personalities of the characters. (I'm terrible with author notes sorry guys D:) Let me know what you think after this first chapter! Constructive criticism is always appreciated :)

Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me; only the plot.

A little boy sits on the planks by the docks, his little legs hanging over the side, just shy of the water surface. His bright green eyes are shining as they focus intensely on the parchment before him. His left hand tightly grips a charcoal pen and he scrunches his nose in concentration, the tip of his tongue sticking out from the left corner of his mouth. He glances briefly upward at the ship and then back down again, furiously scribbling once again. His hair is windswept and it is particularly chilly in the cool morning air, but the child remains warm in his brown fur tunic vest. His thick brown boots serve him well; he only wishes he has a pair of gloves to keep his hands from the chill. His lips are chapped and he darts his tongue out to wet them, only to have them remain numb and dry once the temporary moisture has seeped into the harsh wind. The boy sits there, largely unmoving, till the sun begins to rise in the horizon and he stops scratching on the parchment to watch in silent awe.

He likes this time of the day. The village is largely quiet, the Vikings still snoring away in the warm comforts of their homes. In the distance he sees a dragon land on a sea stack. From his vantage he can barely make out the silhouette of a fish for a split second before it is guzzled down by the large beast. The horned animal soars away with a loud call, and the little boy strains his ears and barely, just barely, hears an answer. He looks down on his lap and sees a near perfect replica of the dragon that he had just observed. He sometimes finds himself doing that - observing something beautiful, and his hands would act on their own accord and sketch out what his eyes could see. He doesn't remember much about his earlier years, save the memory of his mother teaching him to draw.

His mother was strong, beautiful, and independent, everything that he was not. Valka was a mother, a Chief's wife, and so, so much more. She was eccentric, many would agree, but her heart was big and so full of love. Valka brought his son up to be obedient, gentle, and loving. She taught him how to draw, how to walk, and how to talk. She was always there for her family; she was there to cook their meals, to give her husband a gentle massage after a hard day of chiefing. The family would sit by the fireplace, all three of them, the little boy cuddled in his mother's arms as his father told them of the hilarious disputes that he had had to settle. The Haddock family was always meant to be three, and so everything crumbled when it became two.

Stoick was never quite the same after Valka left. It had taken a toll on him, and he blamed himself for not being there for his wife. The previously hardheaded chief became even more protective of his village, and for an entire year Berk was in mourning. The village closed itself off to outsiders and that winter was bitterly cold. Strangely enough, it was as though nature sensed their grief, and dragon raids that year were few and far between. When they did return though, the Chief, fuelled with hatred and bitterness, ordered every dragon to be incapacitated, dead or alive. Stoick was never around anymore, and Hiccup found himself entrusted into the care of Gobber, the town's blacksmith, more often than not.

It was at the age of five that his father had dropped the hammer on him, literally. Hiccup found himself staggering from the weight of the massive weapon, and he floundered for a bit before falling onto his back. His father brought him into the outskirts of the village at the crack of dawn every day for the following weeks, trying to train his son to wield the mighty hammer. It was all for nought; Stoick soon realized that Hiccup was terrible at fighting, and that that was an understatement. Shaking his head, the chief had walked away. What a hiccup, he thought to himself. Since then Hiccup was left alone. He didn't mind that all that much. He loved his solitude; it was good to escape the stifling air of disappointment around his father. Hiccup was young, but he was not naive. He knew he could never be the son that his dad wanted him to be.

Which brings us back to the present. Hiccup's ears prick up at the sound of footsteps thundering down the docks, and he sighs.

"Ooh look who we have here. It's Hiccup, the...well...hiccup!"

Hiccup winces slightly and looks at the water, refusing to meet the gaze of his obnoxious cousin Snotlout.

"What do we have here, wimp?"

Snotlout rips the parchment from right under Hiccup's hands, and it takes all of Hiccup's willpower to not burst into tears.

"Still drawing like a child eh? When are you going to grow up, Hiccup? When are you going to learn to wield a weapon like a real Viking? Oh wait. You can't."

The other children burst out into uproarious laughter, and Hiccup is suddenly seized with a burning fury.

"You'd...better watch what you...you say," he stutters, "my dad is the chief."

Even as he says it, Hiccup knows that it's an empty threat. Snotlout simply laughs and thrusts his arms out, sending the defenceless boy into the water. Hiccup tries to grab onto the platform but the other children are now stomping their boots around the edge, preventing him from getting a firm grip. Tears of hopelessness gather in his eyes.

"Hey Snotface! Leave him alone!"

Snotlout's demeanour immediately changes and he drops his voice to a lower register, turning around and cocking an eyebrow at the newcomer.

"Why hello there, beautiful."

The aforementioned girl, Astrid, with blonde hair tied neatly into a braid, rolls her eyes and steps forward, punching Snotlout in the gut.

"Leave. Him. Alone."

The beefy boy stumbles slightly but manages to catch himself, puffing out his chest.

"Fine. But only because you say so, lovely."

Hiccup manages to grab onto the docks and begins to hoist himself up. He is sent reeling back into the water, though, as Snotlout suddenly bends down and grips onto Hiccup's collar.

"And between you and me, Hiccup", he spits out, "you are no son of Stoick's."

Astrid drags him away by the ear then and the rest of the children disperse. The twins Ruffnut and Tuffnut head off presumably to blow something up, and the chubby boy Fishlegs seems to shoot an apologetic glance Hiccup's way but wanders off also.

Hiccup hoists himself out of the water and gathers his parchments, stuffing them into the pocket in his tunic. He is soaked and he dashes through the village and into the forest, tears already threatening to overflow. He will not give them the satisfaction of seeing him cry. Snotlout had hit him where it hurt. On any other day he would have stopped to admire the flora and fauna around him, but today, he runs blindly, twigs crunching beneath his feet, tripping over stray logs and branches. He can hear their laughter ringing in his ears and he pumps his legs faster. He finally collapses in an opening and kneels, letting the tears flow.

"Why," he screams, "why do the other children hate me so much, mum? I know what you would say; you would tell me that I shouldn't let them get me down, that you were proud of me no matter what. Why did you leave, mum? I need you so much right now. I just want to be loved. I want to be the son that Dad wants me to be. But I am not. Why can't I have someone who accepts me for who I am, just like you did? I want to be so much more than just a hiccup. I just...I just want a friend."

Hiccup buries his face into his hands and cries quietly, his shoulders wracking with sobs.

And in the silence of the clearing, a growl sounds.

So, let me know what you think (: