First things first, the disclaimer.

I own none of the characters and/or settings in either Rise of the Guardians or How to train Your Dragon. This is simply a work of fiction.

Second things Second, how to read (if it confuses someone).

If any of you have read my other piece, "Funny Name", then you will know how this works. I switch from Jack's point of view to Hiccup's each time there is a line. This will be true for all except for dreams and when I decide to suddenly enter another character's point of view. THERE IS A DREAM IN THIS CHAPTER. It is Jack's. Do not get confused and ask me in a review just because you didn't read this. I will label if a new person's point of view when they are added. This probably won't happen unless later on I feel like it should be added.

Third things third, my gratitude.

Thank you all for reading, following, and reviewing! It means a lot! Also, If you choose to follow or add me as a favorite author please PM me so I can give a personal thank you :)

Chapter 1

I would already be halfway across the small kingdom of Berk when the knights from the neighboring country, Merk, could realize they had lost me. I was staying at a small inn and tavern while I still could. It was nice to take my time when it was given to me. But soon enough they'd let the knights of Berk know I had made it across the border and the chase would begin anew. The woman behind the bar was rather chunky and in her late forties, with crow's feet gracing her cheeks and wild, curly red hair that still retained the shine of its youth. Or maybe that was just the oil coating left from not washing it. I couldn't really tell. "Anythin' I can get for yah, love? Yah didn't come down for breakfast this mornin'… I would remember seein' yah." She said, tapping her head for emphasis. Managing to keep a sigh down, I gave her a small, fake smile of appreciation. "Yes, actually. I've got a bag up in my room. It would be nice to have some things to fill it with before I head out again. Think you could help?" I asked, not wanting to piss anyone off this early in the morning, even though that seemed to be my specialty.

She wiped off a few crumbs from the bar top and smiled knowingly. "You're on the run, aren't you boy?" My eyes widened in surprise at her insight. "Well, I guess I'm not doing a very good job of hiding it, then." I said, finding a new sort of respect for the woman who had been able to pick me out so quickly. She only shook her head. "No, it's not that. I just know the type's all. Get 'em a lot through here. Not very hard, really. You don't go tradin' at the market wearin' that sorta thing." She gestured at my attire pointedly. I took a drink of the water she had brought me and leaned on the back of the tall stool chair I sat upon. I had hoped to look homely with my ratty cloak draped over my shoulders and too-short brown trousers tied up with twine. Guess I'd overdone it. Quite honestly, though, I liked the look. Better than green tights for sure. Those things ride up too much. Not very manly if you ask me, no matter what they say about mobility or whatever else have they.

"Oh well, then. I guess that makes the charade just that much easier. Gives you a better idea of what I'll need I suppose." I told her, bringing us back to the point. She left her towel on the bar top and left to bring me something to stuff my bag with. I sipped on my water again, intending to fully enjoy my leisure before I had to leave again. It was never a good idea to stay in one place for too long, no matter how safe you thought you were. I had learned that the hard way when I was ten, the year I had first started out on my own. The ten day long ride-run-and-hide it had taken to get to Berk was still taking its toll, and the rough mattress I slept on last night had felt heavenly. The good thing was that I'd had a horse for over half the trek, so my feet weren't blistered.

Summer was the best and simultaneously the worst season for these kinds of jobs. On one hand, food was easy to come by and shelter unneeded apart for rain, and on the other hand, the days were longer, hotter, and more humid than the rest of the year, so you had to stay close to the rivers, close to where the guards would be searching. At least it was better than freezing to death in the snow and ice. I blended in nicely with the snow, however, with my white hair and pale complexion that only burned, never tanned, (much to my misfortune). It was hard to think about snow for too long in the heat that seeped in through the wooden walls. Needless to say, it was going to be a long trip.

The woman re-appeared three minutes later with a small basket in her hands. "There yah go, love. That should last yah for a little while." I rifled through its contents and found a handful of hard (but not stale) bread, a jar of fruit preserves, a sealed demijohn of water, some shelled nuts of all sorts, and five apples. Apples were good. Apples would last for some time, as would the preserves. I would save those for last, eating the bread first later that night, I decided. I handed her a few coins that I thought would suffice for the amount, since she hadn't stated a price. I could've easily taken it all and left, but I felt like I should pay when I had enough to, a philosophy none of my former comrades could understand. I thanked her and returned to my room with the basket of provisions in hand.

Inside my room, I transferred the goods from the basket to a small bag, which I then threw into a larger sack. I was tempted to take the blanket, but decided against it. It was too hot for the weather this time of year and too heavy to just carry around. Sure was comfy, though, and had I another bag, it would be gone. I slung my bag over my shoulder and exited the room. Walking downstairs, I waved good-bye to the mistress behind the bar and set out on my journey again. It was already hot. Very hot. If I thought I could get away with not burning in the sun I would've taken off my cloak, but if there was anything I hated more than being hot, it was having a sunburn, so it stayed put (much to my misfortune)(again).

The towns bordering the road kept getting larger and larger the closer you got to the kingdom's head, the castle city. The kingdom of Berk was currently being run by Stoick the Vast, a man known well throughout the world. He led with bravery and courage, and fought well in battle. His queen, Valhallarama, kept him in balance with her kindness and grace, even though it was said that she was equally as brave as her husband. Their son's name was Horrendous. A strange name for a prince, I thought, but then again, with a king named Stoick and a queen named Valhallerama, not much could be said. It wasn't as if he'd named himself. I carried my shoes in one hand, wanting to keep them functional for as long as I could. In the tall summer grass beside the path through a mountain meadow, I was reminded just how much I hated climbing uphill the further I went.

It was no wonder that Berk went to war as often as they did. I had never seen a richer, more plentiful country. It was a shame they lived as humbly as they did, but maybe that was why it was still so beautiful. When there was finally some tree cover, I took off my cloak. I knew this stretch of the road well. We had walked it before on our way to the neighboring country of Jerk, a nasty place I never wanted to return to. Too many rude hermits and businessmen that operated on their own benefit. Too bad for them that they didn't think sealed pockets were fashionable. I had made a killing in Jerk. I'd only go back if I was absolutely desperate, though. I didn't take a liking to being looked at as if I were scum by hermits. Tears down your self-esteem, it does.

Before sunset, I had reached the town nearest the castle. I would be able to hide as long as I kept my head down and didn't do anything overwhelmingly stupid.

Easy.

I could see it in my head, at about that very moment a maid would be knocking at my chamber door with instructions to wake me up. She would give an annoyed sigh after about the third try and would open the door gently to make sure I was awake. Then she'd give an exasperated grunt as she discovered that, yet again, her prince had gone missing. Sunlight was cresting over the mountainside as I sat in an old, tall pine to watch it paint colors across the sky. It was lovely, the best thing about mornings, my favorite time of day.

My father, King Stoick, found it strange that his only son was a morning person when neither he nor my mother were. He thought a great deal of things about me were abnormal, actually. I whittled away at a piece of wood in my hands with a small knife. The fat stick was slowly turning into a delicate serpent in my practiced hands. North, my old fencing instructor, had taught me how to carve wood after our sessions in the lawn when we had a little time left. That was when I was nine, though, and as my nineteenth birthday drew ever closer, I knew I wouldn't be allowed nearly as much free time soon. I cherished my freedom while I still had some of it left, before I would be expected to start taking my place alongside my father in wars and such.

It was a strange sort of prison, privilege. I knew not what the real world was like, I had heard only stories from kinder mentors or knights who cared to share a word with me. The world outside the castle honestly sounded like a most terrible place. It seemed like everyone was always fighting in the streets or that there were wars going on everywhere and no one sounded happy in the slightest. So while I wanted to hear more about it, I never wished to be a part of it. That was clear enough to me. You see, I didn't possess the gift my mother or father possessed. There was not a single brave bone in my skeleton. I still shrieked at spiders for heaven's sake! How was I supposed to handle a bloody war?!

I laid the serpent down on a limb beside me and buried my face in my hands. My mother thought that keeping me in the castle for the entirety of my childhood would protect me from the corruption of the outside world, but she was wrong. Horribly wrong. Protect me? Instead it had made me a coward… and a cumbersome one at that. I had none of my mother's famous grace for which she was known in the neighboring kingdoms. I was soft spoken and gawky, with limbs that never went the way I wanted them to and a voice that stuttered when I tried to be affirmative.

My only good point was my brain, really, and perhaps my kindness, even though that wasn't as up to par as I'd have liked it to be. I was good at chess, riding horses, and carving small figures out of wood. That was the extent of my talent… apart from when you gave me a machine. Sometimes I hated how well-made everything in the castle was. There was never anything to sneak away to fix. Anytime I found a mantle clock ticking off time or a wheelbarrow who's wheel was soon to fall off, I would quietly mend it while no one was watching.

I peeled my hands away from my face and looked up to see that the sun had fully risen. Time to go. I swung my legs over the side of the tree to see if I could spot the small pack of maids that would be out hunting for me in the main lawn. Sure enough, they were there like a gaggle of geese across the courtyard. Looked like I'd be sneaking in today as well. Just as I was about to jump down from my perch, the castle doors opened to reveal some knights with a new prisoner in their midst.

The prisoner looked raggedy, with brown trousers tied up with twine and a cloak that had seen better days. His hair, though, was pristinely white, like the clouds that gathered above on a clear summer day. It sparkled slightly, with a natural sheen to it. Or perhaps that was oil from not bathing. I couldn't tell.

The prisoner made a nice distraction (much to my good fortune), and while the maids were all preoccupied with gossip over the man, I snuck down from the tree and into the garden. Aster, the main gardener, was already waiting for me. "Yah never learn, do yah, my prince?" He asked, a small smile on his face. He was a foreigner from a country I had never heard of in my studies, and spoke like I had never heard anyone speak before. I enjoyed his company more than almost anyone else's. He spoke to me like he would one of his mates or when addressing someone he was fond of. It made me feel… whole. I was used to people treating me with indifference or being too careful to say almost anything around me my entire life. Apart from Aster, North, and Earl Sand, I had never really connected with anyone. But I was fine with being alone. I'd had a long time to get used to the silence. I'd learned long ago how to think.

Which made being social hard, by the way. I had attended balls and thrown balls and learned to dance at balls and so on and so forth, but they were never fun. I think they might have, had I been allowed to just sit in the corner and admire all of the gorgeous gowns and glass chandeliers that were only lit on special occasions. If anything, a ball was magnificently elegant. I wasn't a bad dancer, trained as I was from age five, but I wasn't a spectacular one either. At least I had never stepped on anyone's foot (much to my good fortune)(once more). Soon I would have to attend another for my long-awaited nineteenth birthday. A sort of coming-of-age. Not a month after my birthday, I would be sent on a brief tour of the kingdom and then shipped off to the warfront.

Responsibility for the kingdom was one gift I had hoped to avoid until I was at least twenty, but my father had other plans for me. I wasn't ready. It was as simple as that. Whist in front of my parents I made a good thespian, pretending to be brave, listing the accomplishments I hadn't actually accomplished in my fencing and fighting lessons. I was a wonderful liar. They had never once questioned me, mostly because they, too, wanted to believe it was true. Perhaps if I played the part for long enough, my role would become a reality. That was in the best case scenario, really, but there was always hope. "So, tryin' to make all the girls swoon in that handsome nightshirt yah got on there now are we?" Aster asked, taking note of my unchanged attire. "Bettah get in there soon or they'll all go into a fit. Yah'd think your breakfast was somethin' more important than the king's death by the way they react when you go missin'. Oh but um… long live the king, though."

His little slip-up made me smile for some reason, and it was a good day. All the previous troubling thoughts were washed away, for which I was grateful. We said our good-mornings and I crept up the servant's staircase to my room. The maids had already hung out my robes for the day. By the look of them, it seemed like I would be doing something athletic. I mentally cringed. That meant my uncle, Duke Pitch, would be coming later that day. I groaned loudly and slipped the garments over my head. After dressing, I took a route less travelled to the dining room and waited for the maids to get back in from their wild goose chase.

They walked in like waddling ducks all swarmed in a group, complaining loudly and being overall obnoxious creatures. I waited patiently for them to calm down enough to notice I was seated at the grand table, reading.

They all stopped dead in their tracks and cleared their throats when they had taken a breath for long enough to look up. They all smoothed their dresses and hair, stepping over quickly to my side. "Prince Horrendous! You weren't in your bed this morning… again. That's the second time this week!" Elizabell exclaimed. "Third. It's the third time this week, Elizabell." Susalina corrected her. "Oh… really? Hee hee! Silly me, I must've miscounted again. But back to my point. We were really worried! Where on Earth did you go?" Elizabell asked me, her frizzy blonde curls cascading down from her attempt at a bun. I sighed to myself, and put on a face I knew would save me from all their questioning. I slathered on the typical charming prince facade and stood up to face them. "Oh no! I've gone and done it again, haven't I? Ah, I hate when I do trouble you so… it's just that the flowers smelled so lovely this morning as their scent filled my room from the garden below that, well, I just couldn't resist! I snuck out early to surprise my wonderful girls, who work so very hard to make me happy, with a small gift, a token of my affection."

I was laying it on thick, yes, but they wouldn't know the difference. I pulled a few flowers out of my coat pocket that Aster cut each morning for this very purpose. "The blossoms below reminded me so much of my own beautiful little flowers, my own private garden in the castle, my lovely maids. So I picked only the best for each of you… I hope you are not too angry with me." I said, giving them an apologetic pout. It took all of the strength their slight forms could muster not to swoon. That would be enough. Elizabell, Isanna, Juiliara, and Susalina all grasped at their chests and squealed silently, overcome with emotion. Once they had all somewhat gotten ahold of themselves, they looked back at me. Juiliara was the first to speak, a head below all the others, her voice was high and soft. "Oh, I'll forgive you most definitely, our sweet prince!" she said, followed by Isanna's "Of course! How could I not!" Then came Susalina's usual, "Oh yes, yes, yes! Um, I mean no, no, no. I'm not mad, no!" and finally, Elizabell again. She seemed close to tears, a true romantic. "My! How beautiful! Of course I forgive you as well… just… leave us a warning next time." She said, bushing heavily.

I pretended to heave a heavy sigh of relief. "Oh, I am so glad! Do you like them?"

I had asked as a formality, but once more I was bombarded with vigorous repetitions of "Yes!" and "Oh, of course!" Eventually they left to retrieve my breakfast, giggling excitedly and comparing their flowers. I could already tell it was going to be a long day.

All right. Just because I jumped off a roof after being chased by a mad chicken on the loose does not mean I tried to steal said chicken. It wasn't labelled after all. I just thought it was free range. How was I supposed to know it was part of the king's flock? You'd think that would be closer to the castle at least. It didn't really matter what I thought, however. People didn't tend to listen to the protests of prisoners. The dungeon was dark as night when compared to the brilliant courtyard they had dragged me through in order to get me down there. The entirety of the castle city had been like that, as clean and bright as sparkling brook. I had fancied staying hidden there for maybe one more day if not for that damn chicken.

But instead, I now shared a cell with a man that had a long, jagged scar across his left eye. He was huge. No I mean really, he was monumental, this guy. He stood at least two feet taller than me (which was saying something) and had enough muscles to lift the whole castle. He took up about half of the small cell just by sitting down. Sleeping was another thing altogether. When he sprawled out across the floor for a nap, I would have approximately three square feet in which to curl myself upon the stone floor. His name was Putrid. A fitting title.

I was beginning to think that the whole odd-naming thing was just some strange tradition in Berk. This theory was confirmed when I learned that my jailor's name was Gobber. After a few days in the cell with Putrid's solemn silence, I had turned to him as he picked at his supper of gruel. "What you lookin' at, boy? Think I got a funny face or somethin'?" He had asked. I shook my head. "No, my good sir. I was admiring your hook actually. Reminds me of a friend I had once, only he kept his… addition in this wonky crook shape that he never found the time to fix. Friend isn't the right word, though… compatriot seems more appropriate. He was the one who helped me escape from my old country when the crusades were just beginning. I was still just a small thing then, just seven years of age… Strange how time passes so quickly."

Gobber looked at me like I had gone mad. I stared back, wanting to hold his attention. Any words would've been fine, even insults welcomed. At least it was some human conversation. Things got lonely in the darkness. You could still hear the howling and curses of real mad men and murderers echoing, yes, but that became nothing more than background music after one got used to it. Which was quickly, if you wanted to sleep (which I did). Gobber stared like that for a long time and then suddenly grinned. "Ah, What are yah, boy? The only reason anyone ever speaks to their jailor is to complain… but instead here yah go tellin' me about some old compatriot o' yours? You're a strange one, son, I'll give you that much."

The words were pleasant enough, so I would try to hold the conversation for as long as possible. It felt nice to work my underused vocal cords, having been silent for three days. Or at least, I thought it had been three days. After talking with Gobber for a good while longer, I learned that I had actually been in there for five days already and the only reason I couldn't tell was because my meals had been irregular. After a while, each day would pass exactly like its predecessor in the dirty place. I feared that I would grow ill before I even had the chance to ask for a pardon and thus my freedom. I talked with Gobber every time I got the chance. I told him of my travels across the world and how I had eventually wound up in the dungeon. He laughed when I recounted that bloody chicken. We became good friends before long, which was nice. I hadn't had much constant company in some years. When he would visit we'd talk of the matters of the world outside and such. Putrid usually took a nap during these talks.

By the time I had been in the dungeon for two weeks, and when I was sure it was safe to do so, I complained to Gobber for the first time. "There's not many things I miss, you know, about the world outside, but I can tell you this much; I should've enjoyed sunlight more. You don't realize how much of a joy it is until it's been taken from you."

Gobber frowned at me and plunged into a look of deep thought. He flicked his eyes at me after a few moments as he stood back up. "…Wait here for a moment, lad. I'll be back in a minute." Wait? Well, what else was I going to do? I watched as he carefully ascended the stone steps, disappearing from sight. I leaned against the cold bars of the cell and attempted to get some rest while I waited…

I was back at the pond, a gorgeous silvery blue in the summer sun. My sister's slight form was beside me, wading at the water's edge. A strong sense of nostalgia washed over me, pulling up an ancient pain in my chest. Before long, she was tripping back towards me, beginning to cough.

No…

When she was fully out of the water, small red bumps began plaguing her pale skin.

Please no…

She started shivering as she collapsed into my arms. "Jackson… it really hurts…"

No! Stop it! I can't do this again!

Suddenly her shivering stopped and her eyes closed.

No… no… please… not again….

I woke up in a cold sweat, the familiar nightmare replaying in my head. I rubbed at my temple with two fingers as I stood to shake the visions out of my head. The worst thing about silence was that it forced you to think. I had managed to keep the dream at bay for two weeks. Why now? Why did I have to remember her right when I had found a small bit of hope? Fortunately, I didn't have much time to recount it. Before long, I could hear Gobber's voice combined with someone else's. "I promise yah, he's fine! He'll make one hell of a stable boy I tell yah… Weren't yah lookin' for one not too long agoo?" I heard Gobber ask.

A male voice answered in some strange accent not even I had heard before. "Oh come off it, man. You're getting' soft, that's what this is. Yah've nevah asked for the release of no prisonah before now… what's got you so worked up about this one?" The voice asked. A small bit of radiance shone at the entrance to the stairs and I could hear their footsteps as they drew nearer. I quickly swiped at my hair and face, trying to look at least half decent for the man that would probably determine my fate. When they came around the corner, there was Gobber, as usual, and a tall, lean man with short-cut gray hair and tattoos up his arms. He was wearing an apron that looked more for gardening than cooking and an icy stare that struck you to the core.

By the saints… how was I going to get out of this one?

So, first chapter!

It feels great to be on a new story... *breathes in fresh mountain air* Now that I know what I'm doing I think this one will go a little bit smoother. I'm going to update every weekend (probably Saturdays, but Sundays if I'm running late) unless something happens like my recent hospital trip in the middle of FN.

Thank you all for reading! A special shout out to HoneyBeez, thesamaritan, JMarieAllenPoe, sword slasher, kitty.0, shadow lunar heart, and Kigen Dawn for their kind reviews and patience from the very beginning of my first piece, they are really awesome :)

I promise you, I do have the end of Funny Name finished, but I am currently in the editing process. It will be out tomorrow.

Love to you all!