Disclaimer: I do not own How to Train Your Dragon or any of its characters.
Consumed with appreciation for the father/son bond from the first film, I have often wondered how Hiccup and Stoick's relationship mounted into what it became. Exploring the beginnings of the separation between them, Losing Sight was born. (Please note that there are spoilers regarding the second film as well.)
Prelude
The rain drizzled lightly in the dark of the night, giving a faint and too familiar warning of the storm to come. The sky was beginning to gray as the first lights of day tried to squish through the thin rain clouds. In all, it was a dismal sight, but to a quite burly Viking holding a crying infant, it was a depressing view that he could not tear his eyes from. Stoick the Vast was the chief of the small village on Berk, a wide burly man with thick locks of red hair surrounding his tear-stained face. The infant he was holding surprisingly lightly was bundled in green fabric that made his bright eyes of the same shade pop. Blood from a fresh cut on the child's chin slowly ran down his skin and dripped towards the mud below. The baby gave a pleading wail towards the heavens, where his father's gaze was locked.
Around them, many disgruntled Vikings of various sizes and dispositions began heading back to their homes…or what was left of them after a dangerous night. Unlike most places of residence, the island of Berk was prone to dragon raids. The large serpents of all shapes and terrifying skill would consume the night with fire in search for the Viking's most valuable food resources: sheep and yaks. Usually ending with the dawn rising upon the smoking ruins of some Viking houses, these nights seemed to become more and more frequent as the winter came closer. The Vikings, though weary, had determined heads and loyal hearts when it came to defending their home. For generations, they had lived on this island and waged war with the dragons. Stubbornness aside, the Vikings prided themselves with their skills with axes and maces. A dragon-killing Viking was the only Viking on Berk.
Stoick was no exception to this rule. As chief of the tribe, he had even more to live up to than most. And live up to it he did. Never had he run from the dangerous beasts of the sky. Since he was a young boy, it was clear that he was to be a mighty dragon-slayer. Stoick was all too familiar with the crunching sound that pierced through the thick air when his hammer met a Deadly Nadder's tail. On more than one occasion, he had easily torn through the tough skin of a Gronkle with his mighty axe. And even more impressively, he had once triumphed over two Monstrous Nightmares with no weapons except his large and meaty fists. Stoick had always protected his village and his family.
But tonight had been different.
"Stoick! There ye are." yelled a peg-legged Viking man, limping up the hill towards Stoick and the whimpering baby. This Viking was squat and sturdy with a hammer instead attached to his wrist instead of a left hand.
"Waaaahhaaaaa!" the infant roared seeing a new source of potential affection wander towards them.
"I haven't seen ye since that crazy four-winged dragon came swooping down. Left its mark, I see." the blonde, one-legged Viking gestured with a twist of his replacement hand towards the ruins of a smoking house behind Stoick.
Stoick merely stared at the continuing blackening sky as rain started falling more heavily upon them. As one particularly thick drop fell squarely on the baby's nose, another cry burst from his tiny lungs.
"I think Hiccup here could use a warm fire right about now. Don't ye think?"
There was no answer from the unmoving chief.
"Right, well, I'm sure Valka will have something to say about this if Hiccup catches pneumonia. O' course, she'd probably kill you first after what happened with the forge incident. We're lucky the kid still has four limbs attached!" With a raspy chuckle, he blonde took Hiccup in his intact arm, and started heading down the hill.
"Come on, Stoick. Yer wife's surely waiting in the Great Hall. No need to stand here in the rain. Sure, ye gotta rebuild yer house... But it was about time! I'm not gonna lie about that creaky door of yours. Oh-ho! And don't get me started on that fireplace of yours. Quite a bit of handy work that one, Stoick. Hmph, ye should really see about training some Vikings in small home repair... That'd be mighty useful... Hey! You should see the Hofferson's place! Ha! They've got it even worse than you! Monstrous Nightmare set the place afire. Got everyone out alright, but burnt to a crisp is that place-"
"She's not there, Gobber."
At the sound of Stoick's voice, Gobber stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face his friend who was still staring at the sky. "Sh-she's not...?" Gobber closely examined his friend's bearded face, the cold child nuzzling into his chest, and then the smoking ruins of the home. Stoick continued.
"That four-winged beast took her." The sound that escaped his lips was no more than a whisper and barely audible through the wind that was beginning to pick up.
"Stoick…" Gobber tried wobbling over to the chief, but before he could, the red-bearded man tore his gaze from the now black sky, pulled out an axe lodged in a nearby beam, and threw it with all of his might into the opposite wall. The weapon found its new home with a mighty crack. Stoick, shaking and crying, soaking through his bear-skinned cloak and leather boots, melted to the floor and sobbed.
Gobber walked over and kneeled down next to him. Hiccup, full out of tears to cry, gave a little yell but stopped mid "Aaahhh!" to give a shuddering sneeze that left little green specks on the blond beard next to him.
Gobber ignored the mess as he tried to register what Stoick was saying. Valka. Gone. It didn't seem possible. She was always so bold and daring. The perfect example of a steadfast Viking. Well, except for her empathetic heart. That was not common-place among Viking-folk. She loved so strongly and deeply. She resonated with the whole village. She even spoke up for the dragons...but now... Gobber stared sympathetically at his friend with glazed eyes. "She was a strong woman. And she loved you both very much."
Stoick lifted his head slightly, looking down on the carved wood beneath him. "I couldn't save her. I promised to protect her. And I couldn't-"
Stoick chocked and couldn't continue. His tears fell with the heaviness of the rain, and the wind from the seas blew with a ferocity that could only be matched by the beating wings of a dragon. The village was dark except for a light coming from the doors of the Great Hall. The inhabitants of the village no longer muddled around the ruins of the raid, but sat huddled next to warm fires or slept soundly on fur-covered beds. All of them except for the huddled figures crouched atop the chief's ruined house.
Hiccup sneezed again, the rainwater mixing with the blood on his chin.
Stoick looked down at the boy.
"I was so focused on Hiccup." Stoick whispered. "He was scared. The dragon had already hurt him. But the monster clearly had its attention on Valka. If only I had seen that more clearly and ran for her instead-"
"Then maybe you'd have no family at all! " Gobber spat at Stoick. Gobber continued a little more gently, "Don't go taking any blame. Ye protected her son. Valka would be happy for little Hiccup to be alive." The little Viking in question gave a little sneeze that vibrated his whole little body.
"Though, he may not stay that way for long in this Thor-forsaken storm." Gobber finished.
"You're right," Stoick said as he rubbed his face clean with calloused hands. He reached for Hiccup again and cradled the mushy blob of baby fat and wet sheepskin in his arms. The Vikings rose from the mud and stood against the pounding drops that began to freeze into sleet. "I will protect you, Hiccup." Stoick whispered to his son, wrapping him in the shelter of his cloak. "Nothing can ever harm you. Not while I'm here. I promise."
He then turned towards his friend and said, "Head to the Hall, and round up the council."
"Wha-what for?" Gobber stammered. "It's barely dawn, we've all just gone through one of the longest dragon raids of the year, and we are in the middle of a wailing tempest!"
"Just do what I said."
Gobber was concerned by the quick change of tone in the chief's voice. He was about to question his friend further, but Stoick's stern expression and dedicated gaze sent him uneasily down the hill and towards the Hall.
With Gobber staggering far down the hill, Stoick lent himself one more gaze into the blackened sky and thought of the beasts that roamed in undeserved safety high above the storm cloud.
But they would not be safe for long.
Stoick's mind was sent reeling faster than the gusts that threatened to remove him from his path. Vikings had been searching for the dragon's nest with no avail for centuries so lost in mystery and dangerous waters was the dragon's home. Many a Viking and ship never returned from the various expeditions lead by the chiefs of the past. But now it was his time to attempt the hunt.
Stoick could feel Hiccup nuzzle closer to his chest as they headed towards the center of the village where the Jorgenson's home stood erect and safe in the storm. A perfect place to keep a chieftain's heir…for the time being.
Weaving between homes, crushed fences, and the occasional lost sheep, Stoick the Vast grunted through the ferocious wind, "I promise, Valka. I will find you."