AN: For those who are unfamiliar with the His Dark Materials universe, this is basically all you need to know (taken from the wiki)

"A dæmon /ˈdiːmən/ is a type of fictional being in the Philip Pullman fantasy trilogy His Dark Materials. Dæmons are the external physical manifestation of a person's 'inner-self' that takes the form of an animal. Dæmons have human intelligence, are capable of human speech—regardless of the form they take—and usually behave as though they are independent of their humans. Pre-pubescent children's dæmons can change form voluntarily, almost instantaneously, to become any creature, real or imaginary. During their adolescence a person's dæmon undergoes "settling", an event in which that person's dæmon permanently and involuntarily assumes the form of the animal which the person most resembles in character. Dæmons and their humans are almost always of different genders."

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Chapter One: Toothless: The Worst Daemon Ever

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He's possibly the worst daemon ever.

For a while, that's what I thought. Now? I have bigger priorities.

The Island of Berk: Home to big Vikings with big daemons and even bigger tempers. If you're not big, you're hardly a Viking at all. You're more of a… well, a Hiccup. On Berk, size matters.

Take my dad, for example. Stoick the Vast, Chieftain of Berk. Titles are given once daemons take the form that best describes the human they belong to. So, no shock there when my dad turned out to be best described as a silvertip bear; nine-hundred pounds of teeth, charming demeanour, and fish-scented-fur. And that's out of armour. Legend has it that between the two of them they crushed a Monstrous Nightmare and then used its body as a battle-axe. Do I believe that?

Yes. Yes I do.

That earned him his title, and her name. Vast.

She's an example of a good daemon.

Then, there are the bad daemons. The sheep. One sheep, actually. No one in Berk had ever had a sheep daemon until Mildew the Meek. Honestly, I thought that anything my daemon settled as would have paled in comparison to that disappointment. A moose. Big? Sure. Intimidating? Yeah, I'll give her that. Practical on a warship? We've got eight torn sails and five fractured collarbones that'll say otherwise. And we've had our fair share of aquatic-bound daemons. It's all fun and games till your daemon settles as a porpoise, and you have to spend the rest of your life at sea.

And then there's my daemon.

He doesn't have a name yet. We haven't earnt that. For him to settle—for me to know who I'm supposed to be—we have to prove ourselves. I've always thought 'prove ourselves' to be a vaguely ominous term with an unsettling amount of speculation, and I'm pretty sure it's a goal that is forever out of our reach.

He doesn't have a name, that's strike one. Strike two; he's a he. Daemons are always the opposite sex of their people. Always. That makes him different, and if there's one thing Berkian's love, it's not being different. Me? I'm different. He's unconditional proof of that.

Three? Oh yeah, there's a third. There's a whole laundry list of reasons why I have the worst daemon ever. Three is—was—that he's small. When he wasn't settled, any form he took was on the far side of miniscule and barely a sneeze compared to Vast. Polecats. Hares. Birds. Nothing so big that even I can't carry him. Couldn't carry him. Because, as you'll see, we managed to make this third worst thing even worse.

You know, all those things I could have worked around. He would've settled eventually, daemons always did. I figured he might have even settled as something big if I 'proved myself' in just the right way. Just the right way being if I ever managed to kill one of the thousands of dragons that plague Berk's otherwise unplagued shores. See? I kill a dragon, he settles big, he gets a name – all my problems solved.

I could have worked around all those things if I'd just killed a dragon.

But then he settled.

And I, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, son of Stoick the Vast—mighty Chieftain of Berk with the silvertip bear daemon who can crush skulls with her teeth—now have the dubious honour of being the first Viking in the known history of everything to have a dragon daemon.

A dragon daemon.

Yeah.

There is absolutely one thing I am completely sure of now.

Because of Toothless, I am going to die.