Disclaimer:All fictional characters (except my OC) that make an appearance or are mentioned in this story do not belong to me. They belong to Dreamworks.

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Prologue

Hi and welcome to Berk. It's an island a few degrees – wait, I'm sure you've heard that part before. In fact, I'm pretty sure you've heard the entire story before. But I'm also pretty sure that you haven't heard it from my view. My name's Spitshot. Lovely name for a girl, I know. But my dad always wanted a son and unfortunately never got one. I was my parents' first and last child; they haven't been able to have any more for one reason or another. And my father hadn't been shy about letting my mother know of his preference for another male to pass on the family name Loughlin. He thinks I don't hear him but I do. Oh well.

I guess you're wondering what I look like, huh? Well, don't get too excited. It's not like I'm the most beautiful girl in the village. In fact, I'm pretty average. I've got brown hair that's borderline red, tied up into two untidy braids that hang limply on the sides of my face. My eyes? They're as dark as coal. Something I hated as a kid but grown to live with as I got older. My nose and ears are bit too big for my face but I don't mind. There are others in the village that are a lot worse off in the looks department. I won't call any names.

My role in the village? I just try to get through life as safely as I can. Which – now that I think about it – is pretty hard to do when you're being attacked by dragons every other night. That's why dragon warriors are being trained younger these days. The attacks seem to be getting more frequent. But me, I'd prefer not to confront the beasts. Sure, they're a nuisance but I think I'd rather leave the dragon fighting up to my more "Viking-like peers". They can handle it. But it seems no matter how much I stress that I don't want to fight or kill dragons, my parents won't get the message.

Chapter One: Birthday Gift

Spitshot stretched lazily in her bed and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Though she got a full night's sleep she was still exhausted and a little more than reluctant to get up and do her daily chores. But she knew she had to, so she opened her eyes anyway. She immediately jumped up, startled and pulled her bed sheets up to her chin.

"WHAT IN THOR'S NAME ARE YOU DOING IN HERE?!"

But Spitshot's parents seemed completely unfazed by their daughter's outburst and the smiles remained plastered on their disturbingly over-joyed faces. After she calmed down and got her heartbeat back to a reasonable pace she looked up at her mom and dad, who were still smiling like fools.

"Wha-"

"Happy Birthday, Darling!" Her mother suddenly exclaimed.

Oh. Right.

Today was Spitshot's birthday. Her sixteenth birthday to be precise. Ashamedly, Spitshot had almost forgotten. Birthdays were never that big a deal in the Loughlin household. And she was never greeted with such enthusiasm on her previous birthdays before, so she wondered why they having this awkward moment this year.

"Um, thank y-"

Her father cut her off this time. "And ta celebrate we got ya a present."

A present? Ok, things were just getting plain weird now.

Her father handed her a badly wrapped package and Spitshot took it without saying anything, knowing she would just be interrupted again. She didn't even bother to hide the obvious look of confusion on her face. Slowly unwrapping the present, Spitshot couldn't stop the feeling of dread that bubbled in the pit of her stomach. She finally got rid of all the crumpled paper and lifted the horned helmet with shaking hands.

This could not be good.

"What's this for?" she asked, fearing the answer.

"Dragon training a'course!" her parents responded simultaneously.

The gods help her.

"But I don't-"

"You start today," her mother said, the joy was painfully evident in her voice.

Today? The blood drained out of the young girl's face.

"Gobber starts training the other teens this morning and I managed to get you in," her father said, sticking his thumbs into his fur vest and puffing out his massive chest proudly.

And what better birthday gift for your daughter who hates dragons and fighting than dragon fighting lessons? Spitshot thought miserably, peering down at the iron helmet sitting on her lap.

But she didn't have the heart to tell her parents that this was the last thing she wanted. They were too happy. So when they left her room, she got ready and came down into the living area where her parents were waiting, helmet in hand. She had been tempted to throw it out her bedroom's window and claim it lost… but she didn't have the heart for that either. So there she was, trying to mentally prepare for her first day of dragon training.

"Put it on!" her mother squealed.

Spitshot gave her mother a weirded out look. She wouldn't have expected a sound like that to come from such a threateningly large woman. Inga was almost as tall and wide as her husband, who was no lightweight himself. She had long blonde hair, piled on top of her head in a series of intricate plaits. Her face was worn down from years of the lovely Viking lifestyle. Her eyes, though, seemed to be the only warm thing about her. They were two bright blue orbs that showed a certain motherly kindness, despite the years of hard living.

Spitshot definitely took after her father, Dearlaf, though; with his dark auburn hair and beetle black eyes there was no doubt that she was his daughter.

Without saying anything Spitshot put the helmet on. Which she now realized was a bit too big for her after having to push it back just to be able to see.

"Perfect fit," Dearlaf said, beaming. The man was in obvious denial.

"Now off to the Great Hall, Dear," Inga said, ushering her out of the front door. "You get a nice big breakfast so you can have enough energy to train."

Spitshot nodded as her parents gave her their goodbye hugs. When she was a few feet away from the house, she turned back to wave and she could have sworn she saw her mother wiping away tears.

Rolling her eyes, Spitshot continued on her way. That's when she started to formulate a plan. What if I broke my arm or my legs? Then I wouldn't have to do all this dumb training. How about I just don't show up? Yeah, it's less painful and -

But Spitshot was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn't see the boy that was running in her direction, he was also not paying attention to where he was going. Inevitably, they collided and both fell to the ground with a loud 'oomph'. Spitshot sat up – her head in her hands – and groaned loudly.

"Hey, watch where you're going!" she heard a familiar voice bark.

She looked across from her at the blonde boy that was getting up off the ground and dusting his clothes. Tiny black spots occupied her vision and she had to blink a few times to get rid of them. "S-sorry?"

Tuffnut sneered. "Who are you anyway? I've never seen you around the village before."

Spitshot got off the ground and retrieved her fallen helmet. "I'm Spitshot, remember?" she said, adjusting her helmet on her head.

"Who?"

"Spit. Shot." She repeated her name, this time more slowly as if talking to a child. Tuffnut mumbled something about not being stupid. "I've been living next door to you for the past ten years?"

Tuffnut just gave her a look that obviously showed he had no idea what she was talking about.

Spitshot let out a sigh. "Uh, where's your sister? How is she?" she asked. Since she was here, she thought she had might as well be more neighbourly. They were going to be classmates during dragon training after all.

"What do I look like? Her keeper?" Tuffnut grumbled while walking away. He was clearly finished with the conversation.

So much for being neighbourly…

Spitshot had to almost drag herself out of the Hall after breakfast and towards the cliff that held the training arena. Saying that she was dreading the moment was the understatement of understatements. But she made it. Somehow, her legs managed to carry her up the stone staircase and over the bridge towards her doom. As she neared, she could see the other teens – her classmates – and Gobber. They were all waiting as Gobber fiddled around with the lock on the arena gates.

Standing there was Snotlout, Astrid and Fishlegs. And finally her eyes landed on the Thorston Twins. Apparently they noticed her too because Tuffnut whispered something to his sister while pointing at Spitshot and they both let out howls of laughter.

This got everyone's attention and Gobber looked behind him to see a blushing Spitshot. His face brightened and he gave her a wide smile.

"Ah! Lassie, I was wonderin' when you were comin'."

Everyone turned their eyes to Spitshot and her face flushed. She really wished she were somewhere else right now. Anywhere else. But no one really paid much attention to her anyhow. Snotlout went back to trying to get a date out of Astrid, Astrid went back to ignoring Snotlout, Fishlegs went back to being…well Fishlegs. But the twins continued to look at her and smile nastily. That was never a good sign.

"Alright, get ready!" Gobber said, opening the gates.

Happy Birthday to me…