Hey everybody,

So it's been ages since I wrote any fanfiction. For those of you who've read my stuff before, you'll notice that I deleted most of my previous works. I went through a rough patch where I hated absolutely everything that I wrote—and with good reason; it was terrible—but feeling like a bad writer didn't justify giving it up entirely. I've spent the last few years working up the courage to write my own short stories, but I have to admit that I miss the camaraderie of working with other young writers. I want advice and genuine critiques.

All of that, and also the fact that I need an outlet for my fictitious obsessions.

I recently went back and watched the How To Train Your Dragon movies, as well as the six seasons of Race To The Edge. Looking back, it makes sense that Stoick would be so concerned that Hiccup had an interest in dragons, and not simply because he thought of dragons as dangerous. He was trying to protect his son, both from the dragons and from the danger of becoming a new Drago Bloodfist.

This is probably not going to turn into a full-fledged story, since fanfiction isn't my first priority, but I thought it would be fun to put this out there as food for thought.

Edit: My sincerest appologies. I just realized that my line breaks didn't copy the first time that I uploaded the document. I understand if some of you were confused. Hopefully this clears everything up. Let me know if there were anymore problems with the chapter. (Thank you to Lightgiver for drawing my attention to the problem.)

Disclaimer: I don't own the beautiful creation that is How To Train Your Dragon. I've never read the books, but I've heard that they're amazing. Having seen the movies, I have a monumentous level of respect for the writers and animators (seriously . . . Go watch the films again. When Hiccup turns his head you can see the muscles tense in his neck. You can watch his jaw clench and his cute little nose scrunch up in all the right places). Those were a labor of love which I can't possible lay claim to.

Part 1:

The scent of smoke clung thickly to Stoick's chief's cloak—a fresh reminder of the fires scorching his island. Here, in the darkness, he wheeled, looking for some sign of the smoldering village. Hiccup! He had been standing with Hiccup. His son had been muttering some nonsense about shooting down a dragon—a Night Fury, no less!

Stoick rubbed the bridge of his nose, scrubbing it fiercely and sighing in exasperation. That boy. . . . He would be the death of Stoick. Never listening. Always stumbling around, headlong into the danger. Just like his mother.

The chief blinked again into the darkness as his eyes adjusted. Trees. Hadn't he been in the village? The fires . . . The shouting, and-

His head snapped up to the now-empty sky. There had been a dragon—brightly colored and the likes that Stoick had never seen before—and on the dragon there had been a man.

"H-hello?" A voice called out from his left, somewhere in the trees. "Dad? Gobber? Anybody?"

"Hiccup!"

The boy stumbled into the clearing. From all around Stoick, groans and muttering followed.

"Hey, Babe." Stoick recognized the voice of his young nephew. "If you're feeling scared of the dark you can always lean on me. Hold my hand. I'll protect you from any big bad dragons."

A satisfying smack and a high pitched "Ouch! Okay, okay, sheesh." Preceded Astrid striding through the trees, Snotloud tripping along behind her. Stoick turned again. From behind a bush rolled the two bickering Thorston twins and a weary-looking Fishlegs.

"Chief?" Astrid asked, swinging an ax from behind her back and staring around wearily. "Where are we?"

"And what was that dragon?" Fishlegs asked almost reverently, his voice shaking as he stared into the sky. "You guys saw that, right?"

"Yeah, I thought it was going to torch us alive." Tuffnut commented calmly from where he had his sister pinned. "I mean, I'm pretty sure it shot me, but this can't possibly be Valhalla. Otherwise, why would she be here?"

He gestured to his sister, who used the opportunity to flip him over onto his back and smash her head into his, shouting "Hey! What is that supposed to mean?!"

"I heard voices!" A deeper, unfamiliar call came from farther off. "Come! Follow me over there!"

"Um . . ." Hiccup backed up towards his father, staring into the woods. "Dad?"

"Get behind me." Stoick motioned for them to move quietly. He stood, tense and ready.

A group entered the clearing—men and women garbed in black, nothing visible but their eyes. One of the masked men stepped forward and held his torch in Stoick's face. He glanced behind the Chief at the group of young teenagers, blinking uncomfortably at Astrid's fierce scowl.

"Now how did all of you get here without our notice? You can't be here. This island's been set up for the annual meeting of the chiefs; no one else's to be here except with permission."

"The meeting of the chiefs?" Stoick scoffed. "Do you know who you're talking to, boy?"

"Not until you tell me." The masked men laughed.

"Show some respect." Astrid spat out the words, stepping from behind Stoick. "This is Stoick the Vast! Chief of Berk!"

The men around them froze, and then frowned, straightening and glaring hostilely. "How dare you?" The leader spoke. "Stoick the Vast died a year ago in battle. If you were going to impersonate a Chief the least you could do is pick a living one and not dishonor the dead."

Stoick choked on his breath.

One of the men whispered something to his leader. The leader nodded. "You'll have to come with us. This could be a trick, and we don't take kindly to tricks or traitors. You'll see the real Chief of Berk soon enough."

The men whispered and muttered. They moved in towards the group. Astrid stepped out threateningly, but Stoick put out his arm to hold her back.

"Put the axe away, Astrid." He turned back to the man, arms crossed. "And who is this new Chief?"

"Have you been living under a Thor-forsaken rock?" one of the men called, laughing. "Who is the Chief, he says!"

"They call him the Dragon Master." the leader told Stoick as the men surrounded him and the teens. "He controls the beasts, they say. He rides a Night Fury—the last in existence. That which has been called the unholy offspring of lightning and death. All the islands are under this man's protection. And trust me," he laughed. "You don't want to be on his bad side."

Stoick's heart sunk like a rock into his stomach.

Hiccup rubbed his eyes tiredly and sighed again, pushing himself up against his chair as his back popped and cracked. Discussion between the chiefs had only gotten under way a few hours ago thanks to Dagur's late arrival, but Hiccup couldn't blame him. The great King of Dragons that resided under Berserker Island had taken sick, and Astrid and Valka had gone to see what help they could give. The whole of Berserker Island had been thrown into chaos as hundreds of dragons had flown to the aid of the large king. Dagur had had to travel by ship to the remote island where the chiefs had annually agreed to meet, which took at least twice as long as it would have on a dragon. As the Alpha, Toothless could have drawn the dragons away, but Dagur had insisted he was fine, and by the time Hiccup received his terror mail, the Berserker chief had boarded his ship and was well on his way.

Hiccup stirred as the door to the large hall cracked open. A man in black clothing approached Throk, who was posted by the door. Throk looked up and met Hiccup's eyes, holding his gaze before making his way to Queen Mala's seat at the table and speaking to her quietly. Mala stood and raised her hand for attention.

"Excuse me." the Queen spoke, and a hush fell over the gathered Chiefs, "Throk has brought me some disturbing—albeit curious—news." She gestured to her head guard, and he stepped forward.

"I am sorry to bother you," Throk began, "but my men have told me that they came across a man and a group of young Vikings on the North side of the island. They seemed disoriented and uninformed of recent . . . events." His eyes locked with Hiccup's again. "The man claims to be Stoick the Vast."

Muttering broke across the hall. Hiccup sat frozen in his seat. Behind him, where the dragon had curled around the Chief's chair, Toothless lifted his head and warbled in concern.

"Hiccup," Dagur looked up at him, his face reflecting that concern, "Brother, you don't have to-"

"No." Hiccup breathed, his chest constricted. Toothless nuzzled in next to him, and the Chief placed his hand on the dragon's snout, smiling slightly at the comforting gesture. His eyes shifted back to Throk. "Send them in."

"So," Stoick stared at the guards as they waited for their leader to deliver his message. "You say that Berk's Chief died in battle."

The masked figures stared evenly back at him. The Chief pressed his son and the other Vikings closer behind him and raised himself up to look larger. A hot coal pressed into his throat as he asked the next question.

"A battle against whom."

"Drago Bloodfist, of course." The leader had returned. "We will await the Dragon Master's word. If he wishes to see you, you will come without question."

Stoick breathed out slowly. It was as he had feared. History was replaying itself: he was here on the Island of the Chiefs with that mad Dragon-man. But this time, he had his son to think about. His grip tightened slightly on Hiccup's arm.

"Dad?" the boy whispered, staring up at his father.

"Chief," Astrid stepped forward, "Who is Drago Bloodfist."

Her words were a demand, not a question. She stood, eyes sharp with expectation. Stoick turned, ignoring the black-robed men and women. "Drago Bloodfist is a madman." Stoick rubbed tiredly at the bridge of his nose, then stroked his beard. "I met him once, years ago. He arrived at a meeting of the Chiefs, claiming that he could control dragons."

Snotlout laughed. "Right. Because one man could really control dragons. Honestly, this whole 'Dragon Master' thing sounds like one big hoax to me—something that these two knuckleheads would cook up."

He pointed to the twins who smiled at each other. "It's true." Ruffnut said. She high-fived her brother.

"Oh, we laughed, too." Stoick said gravely. His dark, musing tone quieted the younger Vikings. "Until he brought the wrath of a dragon down upon us. With that beast, Drago burned the hall down to the ground. I was the only one who escaped."

"So, this Dragon Master . . ." Hiccup stared nervously up at his father.

"Is Drago Bloodfist." Astrid finished.

Stoick nodded. "A ruthless, controlling madman."

The door to the hall opened in front of them, and out stepped a man with trimmed red hair and a close-cropped beard.

"Vikings," the man began. "I am Throk of the Defenders of the Wing. The Chiefs would like to see you."

Hiccup stood close behind his father as they entered the hall. The twins shoved each other next to him until Astrid growled at them to stop. In the back, Snotlout clutched at a shaking Fishlegs, although Hiccup was sure that his cousin would deny it later.

Stoick stood in front of them, walking tall and tense, as he did in battle. He was weaponless, and although the men behind them had left Astrid with her axe, he wasn't so sure that would do them much good. Hiccup sucked in a breath and allowed his eyes to wander past the Chief and towards the hall before them.

At the council of the Chiefs sat some familiar faces—one that looked like Camicazi's mother, Big Boobed Bertha of the Bog-Berglar Tribe, now much older than the last time he had seen her—but there were other members at the table that Hiccup had never seen before, and based on his father's bewildered expression, neither had Stoick. A blond woman with short-cut hair gazed at Hiccup curiously from her seat in the hall, her black and golden robes giving her a ghostly presence in the dark, torch-lit room. Looking at the many faces, Hiccup caught the shocked expression of a red-haired man with a scarred face and half-crazed eyes, and at the end of the hall. . . .

The back of the hall was inky dark with night—a place where the torches didn't quite reach. There in the blackness, the light touched upon the outline of a man in a chair, his posture contemplative. From behind him, large green eyes glowed, blinking. The dragon's mouth opened, basking the room in the light of purple flame.

The Dragon Master stood from his chair, striding towards them from his seat of evil. The other Chiefs watched in silence as the man stepped out of the darkness, his Night Fury prowling behind him with a hostile rumble.

And then he walked into the light, and his rugged face had the tired look of a lost child.

The Dragon Master stared at Stoick in wonder.

"Dad?"

There will be a Part 2. It's already in progress. Again, I don't know how far I'll go with this work, since the main part that I'm interested in writing is the upcoming interaction between Hiccup and Stoick. But I'd love to hear back from you guys, and if I have enough encouragement I might consider making it a little bit longer.