I Knew It. I'm Dead.

A/N
Hiccup can handle dragons, and he's getting better at handling Vikings. But he might not do so well against the adversaries he'd face in our society. Rated K, but it's not really a kid's story. It's not laugh-out-loud humor, but oh-good-grief humor (but if you do laugh out loud, I won't mind).

o

"I knew it. I'm dead," Hiccup said in complete disbelief.

"No, but you gave it your best shot," an almost-tearful Stoick answered as he rested his hand on his son's shoulder. "So... what do you think?"

Hiccup looked around, amazed. His dragon-hating village had been transformed into a dragon's paradise. Deadly Nadders roosted on the peaked roofs of the houses; Hideous Zipplebacks ate their fill from the fish in what used to be night-vision torches; and one building had been turned into a complete habitat for the flying reptiles, with tubular nests for Gronckles on the ground floor and a tiny communal nest for Terrible Terrors on the roof. Vikings and dragons mingled freely all over town, with no sign of the ages-old hostility on either side.

Then someone shouted, "Look! It's Hiccup!" People began running towards him. But they weren't his familiar neighbors. In fact, they didn't look like anyone he'd ever seen before. They were clean-shaven and their hair was neatly brushed. Instead of armor and helmets, they wore tailored cloth coats with matching pants; the men had colored strips of cloth knotted around their necks. They advanced on him, and they did not look friendly.

The first one waved a rolled-up paper at him. "You are Hiccup Horrendous Haddock?" he demanded.

"I think so," he quavered.

"I thought so," he said smugly. "I represent the American Medical Association, and I have a report that you received medical treatment from an unlicensed, unauthorized source."

"I what?"

"That sorry excuse for a prosthetic leg," the man sneered, pointing at Hiccup's new leg with his paper. "You can't convince me that you got that medieval torture device from a reputable supplier of medical appliances! Now, tell me the name of the so-called doctor who did that to you, and the names of all the people who were involved in putting that frightening piece of hardware on you."

"I... I don't know," Hiccup stammered. "I was unconscious through the whole thing. But it looks like Gobber, the blacksmith, did some work on it."

"A blacksmith?" The man was horrified. "Practicing medicine without a license? That guy is going to jail for sure. Now tell me where to find this butchering blacksmith. We need to nip this in the bud, before that fake doctor really hurts somebody."

A stocky woman elbowed the man aside. "I'll give the lectures about hurting people, thank you very much," she said arrogantly. "I'm with the Environmental Protection Agency, as you can see from my official badge, and we have a problem. I mean, you have a problem. Is it true that you recently released a huge cloud of superheated smoke and biologically-generated ashes into the air?"

"No, the Red Death dragon did that when it died," Hiccup tried to explain.

"Technically, that might be true, but I've heard from several witnesses that you were involved in that somehow. You can't go releasing that stuff into the atmosphere without getting permits or filing an environmental impact statement! It causes global warming! It's against the Paris Agreement! It will ruin people's health - breathing that stuff can cause serious lung damage. You could wind up facing federal charges over this."

A heavy-set, muscular man with a scar on his cheek stepped in front of her. "That's nothin' but a detail, lady. I got a real grievance with this kid. Hey, kid, is it true that you killed a really big dragon?"

"Toothless and I killed it," Hiccup admitted. "But we had to! It was going to kill everyone in my village!"

"That's another detail," the man growled. He pulled out a thick sheaf of papers. "Know what this is, kid? It's a union contract. It says nobody in this part of the world is allowed to kill dragons unless they're a card-carrying member of the Dragon Slayers Union, Local #203. You got a union card, boy? I didn't think so. I'm gonna have to bring you up on a grievance before the National Labor Relations Board, and I can promise you, they ain't gonna take your side."

"Never mind that organized-labor stuff," snapped a thin young man. "I've got a very serious issue. See this badge, young man? I'm with the Fish and Wildlife Service. You admitted to killing that big dragon, is that correct?"

"Well, yes," Hiccup said, growing more unhappy by the moment.

"I'm sorry to hear that," the young man said with a shake of his head. "Sorry for your sake, that is. Dragons are an endangered species, in case you were unaware, and I'm afraid you just made one subspecies, the Seadragonus Giganticus Maximus, commonly known as the Red Death, extinct. Kaput. Gone forever. Wiped out of the ecosystem. That is a Class B felony, punishable by up to one year in jail and/or a fine not to exceed one hundred thousand dollars. As soon as I get back to the office, I'm going to have to obtain a warrant for your arrest. I hope you've got a good lawyer."

"You're going to need a great lawyer before I'm done with you!" a man with a slight Spanish accent cut in. "I'm with the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission, and I want a word with you about the total lack of diversity in this village. Are we really supposed to believe that everyone on this island is a fair-skinned Caucasian?"

"Well, yes," Hiccup admitted. "I mean, we're Vikings! That's what Vikings were! Anything else would be unrealistic."

"I'm concerned with fairness, not realism," the man retorted. "Why are there no women in leadership roles? Where are the African-Americans? Where are the Hispanics and the Asians? For that matter, where are the gays?"

"I think Dreamworks is working on that last one, but you'd never find any of the others in a Viking village! Women weren't leaders in this culture. As for the other groups, we're all descended from Nordic peoples! Those other groups just weren't here!"

A man in a shiny blue helmet with no horns and "UN" on the sides stepped up. "Speaking of Nordic peoples, young man, are you aware that you crossed your national boundaries to fight that dragon? The island where the dragons were, and everything on it, are the lawful property of Denmark, according to the Treaty of Westfail of 1793. They were planning to harness the dragons' fire as a clean, renewable energy source. But by taking all the dragons away from their island, you've not only destroyed that island's ecosystem; you've ruined Denmark's economic development. The Danes have registered a formal complaint against you with the World Court in The Hague, and the UN Economic Commission for Europe is also going to take up the matter at their earliest convenience."

"Before you do that," shouted an angry woman in a pink hat, "I've got some real issues with this guy! I'm with the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, and I want to talk to you about that poor Night Furry that you've got locked up inside your house."

"That's 'Night Fury,' and he's not locked up!" Hiccup protested. "He stayed inside because he was worried about me! He can come and go as he pleases!"

"Oh, really?" she said patronizingly. "Then explain why you imprisoned him inside that horrible mess of metal rings, rods, leather straps, and a saddle! You took away his freedom!"

"But he needs that stuff to fly!" Hiccup exclaimed desperately. "Without it, he's grounded, and he'd be as good as dead!"

"Don't give me your mansplaining!" she snapped back. "Have you no regard for animal dignity? He'd be better off dead and free than alive and enslaved to you! Now let him go before I print your name and address all over Facebook for the whole world to see!"

"Okay, okay, if you insist," Hiccup said softly. He turned, pulled the door open, and rather than letting Toothless out, he dashed inside (ignoring the pain from his new leg) and slammed and barred the door. He could hear the people outside hammering on the door with their fists; he ignored them. He could hear his father protesting about how a hero deserved better treatment than this, but they were ignoring him, too. Toothless looked at him curiously. Hiccup threw his arms around the thick black neck and just held onto him for a few seconds. The dragon crooned deep in his throat, trying to reassure his friend. Hiccup had been badly shaken by this unexpected encounter. Then he saw the house's back door, and he finally smiled.

"Toothless, since you can't fly, let's go for a walk, just you and me. Quietly!" They sneaked out the back; no one noticed them. Walking hurt his leg terribly, so after a few steps, he climbed onto his friend's back and held on with his knees. Toothless seemed to know where he wanted to go. It looked like they were headed back to the cove where they'd first met. He could still hear the bureaucrats shouting and arguing about him at the front door.

He finally muttered, "I knew it. I would have been better off dead."

THE END