Fate Sickness

It is a night like any other in the Norse village of Berk. Its inhabitants are resting as much as they can. It is deceptively peaceful around the village. The Norse are a hardy people, most often revered for their great proficiency in the art of war, though this particular village has exceptionally skilled carpenters and blacksmiths. They are very quick about their jobs.

The houses are sturdy wooden huts of unremarkable shape. While the village itself has been living in the same spot for somewhere around four hundred years, the very oldest building in the village is only six months old.

You might be asking yourself; how can such an old village have so many new buildings? Some might make the assumption that they have the greatest termite problem the world has ever seen, but sadly for the inhabitants, it is an entirely different kind of pest. A pest much more destructive and large…

But besides the pest problem that the narrative tactfully avoided elaborating on, there is something much worse going on. All of the inhabitants feel it, the subtle uncomfortable feeling. The anticipation of something is thick in the minds of every person. Children toss and turn in their sleep, adults stay awake, staring at the ceiling of their relatively new homes, weapons close at hand. That constant feeling everyone felt but refused to speak of started just before nightfall had come, and had only become worse over time. None of them could properly explain it besides the fact that is just felt… off. It's as if their home had been inhabited by an entirely new sense of otherworldliness.

Something is terribly wrong.

This was certain in the minds of all of the inhabitants. But one soul felt it more potently than all others.

Within one of the bulkiest homes, on the second floor, there is a boy. Adolescent, no older than fourteen. He is scrawny for his age, and everyone around him seemed bent on reminding him of this. His eyes are a deep forest green, and his hair is auburn. His name is Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III. This sense of wrongness affects him more than the others to the point where he almost feels ill. He lies awake, staring at the ceiling in anticipation of something. He isn't sure if it is good or bad.

Then a bellowing roar came.

Without a moment's pause, Hiccup leaped from his bed and began to remove his casual sleeping attire. He scrambled around the room, putting on articles of clothing as he found them. Bear fur boots, grey-brown trousers, a large green tunic, brown leather belt and knife holster, and a bear fur vest.

The boy moved fast, as he knew what was coming. Thumping downstairs meant his father was already leaving to help deal with the incoming pest problem.

Oh yes, the pests. Well they still aren't termites. They're a little more on the… scaled side.

The Norse village that has been settled here for four hundred years was just unlucky enough to find and settle the singular spot in the world where the horrifying apex predators of the earth seem to reside. Reptilian, flying, fire breathing pests. Not only did the settlers discover these awful beasts, but they settled here anyway, enduring the constant attacks. Why? Perhaps it was to show their strength, or maybe out of spite. The most accurate theory is that… they're Vikings. They have some pretty breathtaking stubbornness issues.

The arrival of the invaders was already underway, but almost all of the Vikings had woken up already, thankful for the distraction from the strange feeling they all have. Fighting dragons and risking their lives is normal, this feeling is not. They would prefer the familiar.

And so the battle begun outside, Hiccup still rushing around his room looking for his knife. He eventually found it hidden under an assortment of garments. The thing is pitifully tiny, but in good shape and rather sharp. Hiccup sheathed the small weapon, and rushed downstairs. Not paying attention to the rather large amount of noise coming from the very outside of the front door, he opened it.

Several men and women were running past, some with sheep in hand, some wielding weapons. From the left came a large red dragon, with large horns and intimidating spines all over its body. Its neck is long, it walks on two legs, and its wings are absolutely massive. It was in flight, watching the running men and women before its attention turned to Hiccup, standing in the doorway. When it looked at him, Hiccup jumped and quickly closed the door just before a magma-like substance found purchase on his face. The great amounts of the fiery liquid seeped around the door, setting everything it touched alight.

Hiccup silently thanked the gods for his incredible fortune on that one. A moment sooner and he would be nothing but a charred mess that vaguely resembles a bipedal being.

He opened the door a crack, to see that the dragon had left. Hiccup opened the door and rushed out, before the fire made it impossible. That particular house was two months old.

A person from any other land would call the events transpiring outside chaos, but to the Vikings it wasn't bad. A small raid, it would seem.

Though even with the small raid, most houses seem to be alight, and the entire village is out, about, and screaming their heads off. Not out of fear, of course, as a battle cry. A Viking showing fear, hah. That would be ridiculous.

Hiccup looked around him as various men and women ran past him. Where should he go?

A concussive blast fired from one of the dragons sent a large man flying into the air, and onto Hiccup, much to his surprise. Hiccup wheezed from the massive man landing on him. The man quickly stood off of Hiccup with a slightly dazed look, and noticed he had landed on someone. "Mornin'" He decided to say, before grabbing his discarded axe, and returning to the fray. Hiccup quickly returned to his feet as well, his midsection now a little bit sore.

It was after that did Hiccup decide he was not standing in a very ideal spot. He quickly chose a direction and began running.

He rushed up the incline the majority of his village is set on, and ran upon a wooden platform allowing access to some of the higher areas of the village. He passed several Vikings, all bellowing at him to get back inside as they passed.

"Thank you for the enlightening advice. I'll be sure to heed it the minute my house suddenly decides to become fireproof." Hiccup mumbled to himself as he ran.

Hiccup continued his stride up the hill, when the ground in front of him suddenly became a blazing inferno. Just before he ran straight into what he assumed was a dragon's fire, he was pulled out of the way by a powerful hand.

The owner of the hand is a mountain of a man, even by Viking standards. He stands at a startling seven feet tall, and seemingly every inch of his form is pure muscle. His hair is red, and his braided beard stretches halfway down his torso. His eyes are a deep blue, though seem to be dark green in the current lighting. He wears a green tunic that goes down to his knees, metal shoulder pads that keep his massive brown bear-fur cape in place, a studded belt with scaled armor dangling underneath, and many studded leather bracers. Most notable of his clothing, however, is his helmet. While the iron helmet itself is rather small at fits snugly on the man's head, the horns protruding from the helmet are massive. The horns are long enough to almost be shoulder length.

"What is he doing out ag- what are you doing out!? Get inside!" The man shouts at Hiccup, holding him by the scruff of his tunic as if he is light as a feather. The man then shoves Hiccup towards the remaining houses that are not on fire.

The massive man's name is Stoick the Vast. He is considered the greatest fighter of the village, and he is chief of the tribe. Despite his brutish appearance, he is a rather wise leader and tactical genius. His expertise in the art of killing is revered by the village. Those who had known him since childhood claim that even when he was a mere child, he had managed to decapitate a fully grown dragon using nothing but his bare hands.

Hiccup gave the encounter no thought as he ran towards the smith. He figured he may as well make himself useful rather than sit in a house and wait to burn.

He sprinted towards the small building, hoping to help the master blacksmith Gobber in whatever he may be doing. That is the duty of an apprentice, isn't it?

Hiccup rushed through the doorway of the smith wordlessly, pulled off his bear fur vest, and rushed to find his apron.

"Oh how nice of yeh to join te party! I thought you'd been carried off!" Gobber said as he ran past him.

Gobber, master blacksmith, expert smart-ass, elite warrior- the titles go on. Gobber had earned the respect of everyone in the village a long time ago. He is a burly man -aren't they all- who stands at a good six foot five. He owns no beard, but a blonde large braided mustache that is almost as long as his gut. His eyes are light blue, and he has a unibrow. His right hand and left leg were amputated by dragons (what else?) long ago. While his missing leg is replaced by a simple peg of wood, his missing hand has interchangeable prosthetics, all of which have oddly specific functions. The one's Hiccup has seen range from an axe, a blacksmith's hammer, a big rock used as a makeshift building aid, a fire poking stick, a hook, small spear specifically for roasting things over fires, and many more. He wears a large bear fur vest (There are a lot of bears here. Did you notice?) a khaki colored laced tunic, laced brown trousers, wrappings on his 'good' hand, and a helmet with vertical horns, unlike Stoick's mostly horizontal horns.

Hiccup put quickly put on his brown apron.

"Wha- who me? Naw, come on. I'm-"

Hiccup lifted a large spiked iron hammer to hang on the wall.

"waaaaaay too muscular for that." Hiccup continued as he struggled with the hammer. He then put it in the place where it belongs.

"They wouldn't know what to do with all… this." Hiccup put, making flexing gestures.

Oh, and Hiccup enjoys sarcasm. Could you tell?

"Well they need toothpicks, don't they?" Gobber humorously jibbed, while he changed his prosthetic to tongs to hold a blade that needed reshaping.

A Viking then rushed to one of the windows, dropping several rusty, broken, and bent hammers blades and other such weaponry. Hiccup quickly grabbed all of it at once, and brought it over some burning coals, where he then started to feed the fire with the nearby air pump.

While he worked, Hiccup felt the overarching sense of dread much stronger now that the outside adrenaline rush is over. He feels it, like an incoming tsunami. Something will happen. Something should happen, he knows it. He is anxious, he feels like he must do something. A sudden urge came over Hiccup.

A dragon. The dragons. The feeling comes from them, it must be! He felt this sense as if he knew they were going to attack! Is it the god's calling? The feeling of destiny approaching?

Hiccup suddenly felt very enclosed. He has to get out of the forge to do… something. He has no plan, he just knows he has to get outside.

Hiccup was about to climb out of the smith window, when a pair of tongs that caught the scruff of his tunic halted his progress.

Oh, Gobber.

"And where do ye tink you're goin?"

"Please let me go out. I-I need to do something!" Hiccup pleaded. He then got a sudden wave of wrongfulness, as if the conversation shouldn't be taking place.

"Do what, get roasted? I've got better uses for yeh, Hiccup." Gobber said, before depositing Hiccup back into the smith.

Hiccup was at a loss of what to say. Suddenly his head was empty, without a thought.

"You don't feel that too?" Hiccup said, making eye contact with his mentor.

Gobber faltered for a second, seeming to understand what Hiccup meant. The feeling plagued him too. Maybe there is something wro-

Gobber dismissed the thought. "That feelin is called stupidity, Hiccup. It would b' best if you ignored it."

"Stupidity isn't a- never mind. But you feel it too don't you!?"

"What? Stupidity? Y' sure it's wise t' be insultin your boss, Hiccup?" Gobber said, giving Hiccup a dangerous look.

"You know what I mean!"

"Ye know what I mean; stay inside. Sword. Sharpen. Now." Gobber said as a final word before he thrusted a sword into Hiccup's arms.

Hiccup begrudgingly went to the grindstone to begin his work. Fine then, maybe he can find solace from this horrible feeling by thinking. Thinking always helps, much to the disappointment of the village.

Hiccup decided to avert the attention of his mind to his enemies, and the shapers of the villages lifestyle. The dragons.

Right, dragons, things about dragons. Types of dragons, weaknesses…

First there was the nadderhead, arguably the most common dragon. Its appearance resembles a giant scaled bird, standing on two legs and two wings. Its size is roughly five times larger than that of Hiccup. It has a large beak-shaped head usually with a horn sticking out the front of it, with protruding teeth about as big as an average knife. Their scale patterns vary most greatly by standards of known dragons, most of the time being blue, but sometimes green or yellow, rarely red. They have long tails, with massive quills running all along it as well as on his back and on his head. nadderheads are unique, because they are the only dragon species capable of flinging quills. It can flick its tail with deadly speed and accuracy towards any target, though a good shield can successfully block the quills with minimal force. Their fire is worth mentioning, as it is considered the hottest of known dragon species. It fires it in small bursts, perhaps to conserve energy. The fire is hot enough to melt steel within seconds, and can disintegrate flesh and bone in the blink of an eye.

Then there is the gronckle, brutish even by dragon standards. These things are simply thick. They are durable enough to need three Vikings to take it down. They are slightly smaller than the Nadder in overall size, but are much, much more armored and stronger. Their scale patterns are usually yellow or red. They stand on four feet unlike the nadder, and have a head bigger than most Vikings. There are dulled spikes on almost every inch of its body, making one of its favorite methods of attack ramming into Vikings, which is almost always fatal to the one in its path. Its wings are tiny but powerful, capable of moving the dragon around like a humming bird, often hovering just out of reach. Its teeth are massive, and strong enough to chew through stone. Gronckle fire is unique, because it relies upon the consumption of stones. The Vikings have a limited understanding of how it's done, but somehow the gronckle is capable of melting down rocks in its stomach at incredible speeds. It then fires the resulting magma, making quite the mess and a bad day for any Viking caught in it.

The strangest of dragon species, is the zippleback. It has two heads, and is almost always green in color. It moves on four legs, has a tail that splits into two, and a wingspan almost bigger than its body. In relative size, the zippleback is bigger than the nadder. It also has ridges going down its necks and spine, and long vertical horns, two on each head. The zippleback's fire is unique, because one head emits a noxious and flammable gas, and the other ignites it. A viable strategy for the average Viking is to attempt to wet the igniter head, to keep it from igniting its gas.

The most frightening of the known species of dragon, is the monstrous nightmare. It is the largest of known breeds, being a whopping eight times larger than the average Viking. This thing was properly named, as it is the stuff of nightmares. Almost every part of its body is specialized in killing. It stands on two legs and two foreclaws that act as his wings as well. Its claws are massive and razor sharp, its wings have massive spines capable of impaling a human being, it has four curled horns on its head, and spines going down its neck, back and tail. Its face and jaw is startlingly long, with especially long teeth. Its fire is a liquid runny and hot substance, capable of spreading fire very quickly. It also is capable of setting itself on fire as either a defensive or intimidation tactic.

There is, ah, one other species of dragon that attacks this island. It appears to not be here this night, but the thought of it makes Hiccups spine shiver. It's as if the dragon he thinks of is the very reason he is feeling this anxiousness. The dragon is called the night fury. There would be a physical description, if anyone had ever seen one before. Said to be the offspring of lightning and death itself, the night fury has by far the largest body count. It only attacks at night, and stays shrouded high above the village, unseen. It attacks by firing heavily concussive blasts of fire so hot that its lavender. It is surgical, precise, and efficient. The night fury has never missed its intended target. If you are its intended target, not even Odin could help you. You can hide behind your shield, your house, other people, it doesn't matter.

Hiccup abruptly stopped sharpening the sword as he finished that thought. The night fury, it's supposed to be here. This feeling intensifies at the thought of a night fury, or rather, the absence of one. Hiccup occasionally thought he heard a night fury, but no one else reacted. Is he going mad?

The answer lies with the night fury. His heart leapt at the thought.

Night fury, night fury, what about a night fury. The absence of such? The coming of such?

Hiccup's eyes suddenly felt very tired, and he looked to the corner of the smith. It's as if the only thing that existed is the object lying in the corner. Something he had been working on for a very long time…

He called it the bola-ballista.

Now, it looks like a barrel on two wheels and handles. However, it opens up. Hiccup designed it to close safely to avoid breaking it when he is not working on it. It works well.

When the ballista is open, it is very similar to that of any other ballista, though the launching mechanism differs greatly, modified to fire bolas. The overall look is that of a sideways ballista.

Hiccup feels it's time to test its… range and accuracy.

Yes, that's a viable reason to go out. Doesn't mean he'll be let ou-

"Man the fort Hiccup, they need me out there!" Gobber said, breaking Hiccup from his thoughts. He shifted his gaze to Gobber, changing his prosthetic from tongs to a large battleaxe.

He stopped briefly in the doorway, and turned to Hiccup.

"Stay. Put. There." Gobber said, pointing in the smith.

Hiccup glanced at his feet, and back to Gobber as if to say 'this exact spot?'

"Ye know what I mean." Gobber said, sensing the incoming jibe of literalism.

With that, Gobber limped off raising his weapon and firing off a war cry.

Hiccup glanced around out of the smith, noticing things were looking pretty good in comparison to most nights. He figured Gobber was just fishing for reasons to join the fight. Hiccup's eyes were brought to the ballista.

As was he…

An invisible force seemed to move him, and he ran to grab the ballista. He grabbed the handles, and wheeled it out of the shop as fast as he could with frantic desperation he didn't quite understand himself.

So he ran, with determination and fear in his heart. The unknown feeling was getting more intense, and it almost felt as if there was a theoretical blade on the surface of his skin waiting to be pushed in. He quickened his pace, his legs moving faster and faster towards his destination. Where was he going? He followed his gut, he almost felt as if he had no say in the matter.

He ran to the outskirts of the village, where he found a small rise on a hill. He felt right to drop the ballista there, opening and preparing it to fire. His heart beating fast and hard, he needed this. Whatever it was, he needed it. It's as if his life depends on it!

Suddenly, there was a very, very unwelcome silence. Hiccup felt as if he had gone deaf, if it weren't for the constant beating in his ears because of his heart rate. He scanned the sky, knowing what he was looking for. A night fury, a night fury should be there.

The feeling intensified tenfold, and it felt as if that theoretical blade had begun to slowly push its way into him. His eyes went wide, his hands shook, and he desperately looked for something, anything to shoot at. His teeth clenched hard enough to hurt, his knees felt weak, and a minor headache was coming. Suddenly there was nothing but him, the ballista, and the sky.

"Give me something to shoot at…" He pleaded.

"Give me something to shoot at…" He begged.

"Odin damn it all to Helheim, give me something to shoot at!" He demanded.

But nothing was there. He felt a ringing in his ears, he felt his eyes hurt.

The feeling was getting worse, and worse, and worse with no relief. When suddenly, a crescendo came.

Hiccup clutched his head, as the ringing became louder, and the worst headache he has ever had wracked him. His eyes hurt to the point where he felt as if there are daggers in his sockets. He clutched his head, moaning loudly as the immense pain seared in his head.

Then, there was nothing.

All of the feelings went away, as if they were never there. Hiccup's hands fell to his sides, as he examined his surroundings.

What happened?

Nothing happened. That's the problem.

Hiccup now had a terrible sense of emptiness, and he somewhat missed the feeling he had before. It was almost as if something had been ripped out of him. Everything was normal again, yet it wasn't. He noticed a drip of blood came from his nose…

Before he had time to investigate, a very large scaled head came over the ridge of which his ballista is stationed on.

A monstrous nightmare!

Hiccup reacted without thinking, and fired the loaded bola straight at the creature's head. The force of the launch sent Hiccup flying from the ballista- and good thing too. The bola wrapped around the dragon's neck, with both iron balls slamming into the sides of its head. This disoriented it, and it shot its fire forward, setting the ballista and the ground Hiccup just stood on alight. The dragon's head snapped forward with intent to kill, and Hiccup leapt back. Panicking, Hiccup withdrew his knife in his left hand and thrusted it forward without looking.

A fleshy tear was heard after.

Hiccup withdrew his knife and stumbled backwards as the dragon screeched in fear and pain. Hiccup caught a glance at his knife, and saw that it was now coated in red. Hiccup looked at the dragon as it used one of its wings to cover its face. When its head snapped out from under its wing, and quickly snapped back within the safe confines did Hiccup see the damage he had done.

He had stabbed its right eye.

The beast continued to backpedal from Hiccup. Hiccup, with a newfound sense of pride and courage, waved his knife threateningly while walking slowly towards the dragon. The dragon in response backpedaled faster giving a pitiful roar. Hiccup smirked, this time running forward giving his best battle cry with his knife in the air.

The dragon screeched, before retreating into the air with the bolas still dangling from its neck. When he was certain the dragon was out of sight, Hiccup sighed, and relaxed a little…

…Before an overwhelming sense of accomplishment filled him.

"Yes! Did anybody see that!?" He shouted, his arms in the air jumping excitedly. He wounded and scared off a dragon! A monstrous nightmare no less! Sure, it's not dead but this is a major victory for Hiccup.

Hiccup turned around to see he is completely alone.

"… of course no one saw that." Hiccup sighed, but he quickly discarded the disappointment. It doesn't matter if anyone saw that, that is major progress! It won't be long now before he kills his first dragon!

He shifted his gaze towards the disintegrated ballista.

Well, obviously he'll just have to come up with different methods of killing dragons. Stabbing seems to work quite nicely. Hiccup is far too ecstatic to care about the ballista, no matter how long he worked on it. He has the designs, he can make that again. This moment though, lasts forever.

Hiccup off handedly noticed there is still blood coming from his nose. He was suddenly reminded of why he came out here.

Was that fate calling him? To wound that dragon? Why were night furies on his mind then? Why did that awful pain happen, and why is his nose bleeding?

…and why does he have the unnerving feeling of being watched?

The chaos in the village is receding, with seemingly minimal casualties on the humans end.

A silhouette of a beast lies upon a distant column past the shores, the only thing visible is two large green eyes. The eyes were keen, focused on a single target. The eyes were filled with longing.

The silhouette of a man appeared behind the beast, unidentifiable in the shroud of darkness. The gaze of the beast shifted to regard the man.

"What are you doing here? If memory serves, you were shot down this night." The man said, his voice young.

I-I couldn't.

"What? You didn't-" The silhouette clutched his forehead in a fit of frustration.

"Do you have any idea what you may have just changed!?" The man shouted. The beast did not react.

When no response came, the silhouette continued.

"Why did you do that, with knowledge of events to come? You knew it would be fixed!"

It was not for me. He was so… guilty.

"You prevented this to help solve his guilt issue? You have seen his memories; you know what led up to your meeting. Tell me, how will you get to him if he does not seek you out first?" The silhouette paced back and forward, though no footsteps are heard.

I will find a way. Circumstances may be different, but he is still the same.

"You may have just changed him." The silhouette groaned. He mumbled something about how this will be the last time he ever has sympathy for someone.

The silhouette composed himself, and turned to the beast.

"I will travel to Berk, to ensure you have not caused any harm. But you" the silhouette pointed at the beast for emphasis "had better fix this. There's no telling how many lives could be lost at the slightest mistake."

The beast nodded. I understand.

"No, I don't think you do. Meddling with time is like walking on very thin ice; one wrong step and it shatters, leaving you to the depths. It may not be possible to resurface from a mistake like this."

Could you not just-

"No, don't even think about it. This is a onetime thing. No trial and error. Any changes you make are permanent. Now fix this, while I observe the damage done."

With that, the silhouette disappeared. The beast turned its gaze back upon the village. Its mind reeled with all of the memories given to him long ago, village layouts and mannerisms of the humans. All of this old information was suddenly renewed. It dawned on the beast that it may be the only one of its kind to truly understand humans, to the point of understanding their language.

Longing plagued the beast, and it took massive amounts of self control not to just fly down and swipe the object of its desire. It had been so long…

I missed you.

The beast was filled with happiness and anxiousness as it looked upon its target, seeing the little human so clearly and with detail despite the distance. The scrawny human, so eager to please those around him, despite their constant hatred and neglect of him.

I missed you a lot.

That didn't do it justice. The beast was lost, without purpose. The event that was burned into its mind has plagued the creature for so long.

No mistakes this time.

They had just discovered something new, something extraordinary. The knowledge and memories were supposed to be the precursor for something greater.

I was given a second chance.

It was such a normal day, despicably average. Nothing should have gone wrong. It was so sudden…

I won't fail you this time.

The days, weeks, months, and years spent alone with sorrow and regret. Thoughts of self harm had surfaced, but were beat down in honor of the fallen. It isn't what he would've wanted.

Things will be different.

The beast patiently waited as the sun rose. It watched the scrawny human he knew as Hiccup wander back through his village, perhaps to his house.

But we will be the same. No matter what happens.

The beast was excited. Thoughts of their previous memories being revisited warmed its heart to no end. A happiness it had not felt in a long time consumed it. It almost seemed too good to be true, and yet it was true.

We will soar into the horizon together.

It will happen as it should have. No regrets or pain. No misunderstandings or lack of trust.

Forevermore.

But as optimistic as the beast was, even it knew things often don't go as planned.

Author's Note

First of all, this fiction will assume the only thing that had happened in-universe is the events that transpired within the first film and nothing else. So if at any point during the reading of this you go "Hey that isn't right, such and such was in the Book of Dragons" you now know why. This is partly because it gives me more creative freedom, but mostly because all of those little spin offs show tell-tale signs of DreamWorks attempting to wring as many pennies out of the franchise as possible. These are just my feelings of course, but I feel as if the movie was beautiful on its own, and doesn't need some stickers added onto it to make a mess of things… says the FanFiction writer currently making a mess of things. But at least it isn't cannon, and can be disregarded at will.

Anyway, I'm writing this because I really wanted to see the tables turned in terms of Hiccup gaining Toothless's trust. Now Toothless is going to have to gain Hiccup's trust, before it is too late. I write this because I have yet to see any stories that really explore this, so I decided to take matters into my own hands because of my own breathtakingly selfish and impulsive needs. However if there is a story that explores this that I apparently missed, please feel free to link me to it in the reviews.

Oh, and any reviews are welcome. Criticism is appreciated.