Hi everyone! I'm here with a story that I adopted from The Amber Fury. I honestly hope I can live up to the standard that was set by the first 5 chapters, which have been uploaded here as well.

No promises of a new chapter for a while, I'm currently studying engineering at university and there are a great many things that have to take precedence over this. Sorry. I promise that I'll upload something when I get the time, but my semester/exams finish in November so it may not be for a while.

Anyway, on with the story.

The Wings of a Demon

Hiccup's POV

I suppose that even if I didn't have my little, well, problem, I still would've been an odd kid. For one thing, I'm scrawny, with arms and legs that seemed too long for the rest of me. I possess virtually no body muscle, and am a few inches shorter than anyone else in my age group.

On top of that, I have a knack for messing things up, always managing to find a way to set something on fire, destroy a precious family heirloom, or cause a building to go tumbling down. Some could even say that it is a talent of mine, if screwing up horribly is a desirable trait in some circles.

I guess it is just icing on the cake that I was born with the wings of our greatest enemy. Lucky me...

It wasn't the fact that I had wings that was extraordinary; everyone did. Wings are what define a person. Everyone on Berk has wings, some variation of the great feathered limbs used for soaring through the brisk, Icelandic air. Wings can be any color, from a gleaming gold to a jet black, the color palate ranging indefinitely.

Only one thing was constant: feathers. Every wing was an intricate pattern of feathers, each unique. That's what made me such a freak. No one had ever seen wings like mine before. They weren't beautiful, they weren't elegant, and people thought I was cursed, a demon because of their presence on my back.

See, while most people have the wings of an eagle, or a parrot, I, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, have the black scaled wings of a dragon, and not even the wings of a common dragon like a Nadder or a Skrill. As far as anyone could tell, my wings were those of some rare dragon designed for stealth, one that no one had ever seen before. Even though they didn't know what wings I had, I was still marked as extremely dangerous (probably 'kill on sight' in some of the more superstitious Vikings' books). I had always wondered if this was the gods' ironic brand of a sick joke; give the runt the power to decimate the entire tribe. Oh yeah, I'm so laughing. Ha. Ha. Ha.

It wasn't just the wings, either. Some of Berk's other residence had just a few feathers of the same color as their wings scattered throughout their hair, some even growing down a bit like bangs. Not me! Instead, the same ebony-black scales that covered my wings dotted my cheekbones like freckles.

And if that wasn't enough, there was the matter of my eyes, an unnaturally vibrant green, the pupils becoming long and thin like slits when I am angry or scared.

Like I said, I'm a freak.

"'iccup! What're ye doin' out there?" the gruff voice of Gobber shook me from my thoughts. I looked around. The village was partially on fire, and bola's were being shot left and right, attempting to take down their barely-visible targets the the skies.

So basically, just a typical day on dragon-infested Berk.

I dodged angry Vikings as I made my way down to the forge where the Blacksmith, Gobber, was. I've been his apprentice ever since I was little.

Well, little-er.

Gobber handed me a huge broadsword, one which I could just barely support the weight of. "Hurry up now, lad!" he instructed. "Get that sharpened!"

I shuffled over to the grinder and threw the sword upon it, flapping my wings once for balance. Say what you will about their appearance, but they were strong.

Sparks flew around me as the sword brushed against the stone of the sharpener. A couple hit my arms, but they didn't bother me much.

"Y'know, lad, if ye were friends with any o' the other kiddies, I'd let ye go out on fire brigade," the Smith said, his small, orangish-brown wings twitching behind him.

"Nah, they don't like me," I said. "Demon blood, remember?"

That was a bit of an inside joke between us. Nearly everyone in the village thought that I was either possessed by some evil spirit or a wicked spawn of Loki, which eventually evolved into everyone calling me "Demon Boy." I could kinda see why, as a boy with the qualities of the creatures that raid the tribe almost every night could seem sort of suspicious. Gobber shrugged and went back to his work.

The sword sharpened, I placed it on the counter, where it lay ready for some Viking warrior to grab and fly off with.

I took advantage of this short break and leaned over the counter, watching the battle engulf the island. Most of the fighting was done in the air, the Vikings winging after the dragons, which were in turn carrying off food. I suppose it was sort of valiant to watch, a brutal battle fought in the sky, but my mind was centered more on how to take one of the beasts down rather than the beauty of it.

Gobber was occupied with tending to the flames of the forge, so I slipped of my apron and snuck through the tiny back door of the Smithy, carrying my little 'invention' with me, and into the chaos outside.

Giant torches were being raised all over the village to light the battle above. The light of the flames bounced off shining metal armour and shields, making them look like moving stars above.

Luckily, my invention was not too heavy, and I was able to easily carry it with me. The design resembled a crossbow, except where a bolt would be placed rested a rolled up ball of weighted spheres and rope: a bola. The net was rather compact, and probably couldn't take down something big like a Nightmare or a Thunderdrum, but it would be perfect for a Nadder or a Gronckle, and really, that's all I needed.

I ran to one of the only peaceful areas currently on Berk, a small cliff where an old catapult stood, unmanned. I threw myself straight off its side and flapped, catching the cool night air beneath my wings. I couldn't take off during a raid where the Vikings were because their was always the chance that one of them with particularly bad eye-sight would see the outline of my wings and try to shoot me out of the sky.

Believe it or not, it had happened before, and I still have a scar on my arm from where my skin hit a jagged rock upon crash landing, tangled in the net of a very confused looking man wearing a bucket on his head. Luckily, I was only a couple feet off the ground at the time, but it still stung.

I flapped higher, my obsidian wings blending perfectly with the black of the sky. I raised my sorta-crossbow hesitantly, waiting for the flash of scales to streak through the night, decimating all in it's path.

That's right; I was after a Night Fury.

No one had ever seen the dragon, other than the streak of black illuminated by the explosion of a catapult. It was the ultimate prize, the way to get my name in Berk's history books and to alert the villagers that "Demon Boy" might be an asset after all.

I waited in almost silence, the quiet flapping of my wings the only sound in the air.

I focused on the sky.

Something caught my eye, a movement just to the left of me. I turned to see that it wasn't a movement after all. There was a patch of stars that was blinked out by some...shadow, a shape that was swiftly and silently making its way across the sea of silver lights. I raised my bola launcher, aiming at the strange dark spot, ready to fire.

I shriek pierced the air, the shriek of a Night Fury. This was it. This was the day to prove that I wasn't useless, I wasn't cursed.

That I was one of them.

After the catapult behind me burst into flames, I fired. The creature was close to me, and I heard the net of the bola wrapping around the nearly invisible beast.

Before I could celebrate, thought, something rammed into me with the force of Thor's hammer. I yelped and dropped the crossbow in surprise as I realized that I hadn't known just how close I was to the creature. I felt my hand get trapped between a rope of the bola and what I assumed was the its wing.

Oh gods.

We were falling, and falling fast. Desperately, I yanked at the bonds, trying to get free and fly away as fast as I could, but to no avail. My own invention dragged me down with it, and the dragon and I fell deep into the woods of Berk. There was a sear of pain, and everything went black when we hit the forest floor.