There was a time when Vikings reigned the Mediterranean sea and dragons ruled the skies. These two species would often clash in a never ending war, determined to destroy the other. For three hundred years this had been going on, and so every now and then the chieftains of the various Viking tribes would come together to discuss a course of action against the dragon scourge as they called it. This particular meeting, however, would change the course of history.
"Either we finish them or they'll finish us," declared Mogadon of the Meathead tribe. "It's the only way we'll be rid of them!"
"And where do you suppose we should start?" Big Bertha of the Bog Burglar tribe stated firmly. "There are hundreds of them, nay thousands of those beasts."
"You sayin' that we hide like cowards and do nothin'?" demanded Ug the Uglithug of his tribe.
"Those who fight against the beasts in their lairs never come back," Oswald the Agreeable of the Berserker tribe warned.
As the solemn meeting went on with still no solution, a stranger entered the building. The man had the build of a grizzly bear, his oil-black complexion marred by huge scars. He had no weapons that they could see.
"I am Drago Bludvist," he stated softly. His voice was deep and rugged. "A man of the people. I alone control the dragons."
Everyone stared at him incredulously.
"And I alone can save you all," Drago went on, "if you will but choose to bow before me."
The chiefs burst out laughing. Stubborn and independent Vikings bow to a single individual like a king, let alone a stranger? Never.
Drago growled. He expected as much. He wrapped himself in his dragon skin cloak as he began walking out of the hall and cried, "Then see how well you do without me!"
The rooftop suddenly burst into flames and armored dragons broke into the hall. Although all of the Vikings were armed, the attack was so quick they had no time to defend themselves before they were either scorched or torn apart.
"And this is only the beginning," Drago called back. "You chose death. Therefore your family lines will share your fate. I will not rest until they do!"
Stoick the Vast of the Hooligan tribe on Berk was the only one to escape the massacre that night. New chiefs had to be chosen for the other tribes, but they relied heavily on Stoick for wisdom and support. A year had passed before he settled down and married a beautiful woman named Valka. Nine months later, they had a small but healthy boy. But Stoick should have remembered the curse.
Not six months after his son was born, his wife was slain trying to protect them both from a sudden dragon attack. He would find out later on that an attempt had also been made on his brother, Spitelout's life. Stoick remembered Drago's words: "Your family lines will share your fate." The chief had brought this upon his loved ones, so it was up to him to protect them. So he hid for about two months with his son before they returned home to Berk while Spitelout changed his family name to Jorgenson. Once the chief had returned, he had all the villagers swear to the great god, Thor, that they would never reveal the heir's existence to anyone else in order to ensure the child's safety. For fourteen years, he kept the boy secret from the rest of the Archipelago, and those who did know of the child's existence only knew him by the family name of Haddock. Growing up, it was clear the child had taken after his mother. Not exactly what you'd call your standard typical Viking, given he was on the scrawny side, but Stoick loved him nonetheless. Maybe this way, the boy would be safe. Because Stoick was so busy with his chiefing duties, the Haddock boy was mostly left to his own devices, trying to hang around the other kids his age or working with Gobber. Gobber was Stoick's friend and right hand man. Despite the fact that he only had one arm and leg in tact, he was a very skilled blacksmith. In fact, it was probably because of his missing arm that he had interchangeable tools to improve his work. Most of his creations were intended for hunting, farming, and battle. But there was one thing he made for a very different purpose.
One day, Stoick confided mournfully to him that that the young Haddock boy had nothing to remember his mother by. Gobber already had a soft spot for the bright lad, so, without telling anyone, he took up a project that would require only his best word. When it was finished, he showed it to the boy.
"What is that?" the young Haddock asked curiously.
It looked like some sort of cylinder with tiny metal spokes sticking out of it and a thin sheet of metal cut into small strips barely touching it; all mounted on a wooden board.
"Look." Gobber inserted what looked like some sort of key into the doohickey and turned it several times. When he let go of it, the wheel began turning, hitting the metal strips next to it that created a musical tune.
"Wow," Haddock breathed, staring in awed amazement.
The chief's eyes started moistening. "Valka's and my love song."
Gobber nodded, shrugging casually. "Somethin' for little Haddock to remember her by."
"Please stop calling me that," the fourteen year old groaned.
Stoick wasn't really listening. He began humming along with the music.
"I'll swim and sail on savage seas, " he sang quietly. "With ne'er a fear of drowning.
And gladly ride the waves of life, if you will marry me.
No scorching sun nor freezing cold will stop me on my journey,
If you will promise me your heart, and love me for eternity."
Haddock stared at his father. Stoick had often hummed that tune when he stoked the fire, but this was the first time his son had heard him sing the words aloud.
"Here," Gobber said as the music died away, handing him the turn key. "Read what it says."
Haddock looked on the flat side of it. "'For Tomorrow,'" he read. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Gobber gave him a wry smile. "You'll figure it out."
Haddock pursed his lips. Why did people have to be so vague at times?
Stoick clapped a hand onto his son's shoulder. "It means whatever you need it to. That's what makes it special."
The boy gave a half smile. He still didn't understand, but he knew they meant well. And for that moment, Stoick was finally at peace.
It's hard to say how Drago found out about the survival of Stoick and his brother's family. Maybe sent a spy of some sort, or maybe word leaked out after all. In any case, Drago knew, and he wasted no time.
That very week, Berk became besieged by armored dragons. Screams of both Vikings and dragons echoed through the night as huts caught fire. The Vikings normally boast how they have no fear and are accustomed to the occasional raid, but this, this was a full out attack to kill or be killed.
Haddock opened the door to find out what was going on. One of the dragons shot fire at him. He quickly shut the door. Flames came in through the cracks, but the worst of it was blocked. The boy opened it again. Hundreds of them filled the sky as they made the houses burst into flames and carried off several people. Haddock ran out the door to find Gobber. Something was wrong. He had never seen so many dragons come to attack the village at once. Why now? What were they doing here? A shock wave from a gronkle blast knocked him over. He got up again. Pushing through the screaming crowd, Haddock noticed that a lot more people were running than fighting. He saw Gobber bolting out of the forge as it exploded into flames. At last, Haddock reached his mentor's side.
"Gobber," he called. "What's happening?"
"Dragon siege!" Gobber cried. "We have to get to the ships!"
"Where's my father?" The boy demanded.
"We don't have time," the blacksmith said, grabbing Haddock by the arm. "We must go now!"
An explosion erupted from the plaza before a large shadow flew in.
"Dad," Haddock cried, pulling out of Gobber's clutches and ran towards the Great Hall.
"Haddock, no wait," Gobber called, trying to follow him through the crowd. "Come back!"
The boy ignored him, squeezing his way through the oncoming crowd.
Meanwhile, the Vikings inside the plaza were doing what they could to fight against this new dragon.
"Lead the others out," Stoick ordered Spitelout. "I'll take care of this."
Taking his ax, he charged the beast, shouting out a battle cry. The dragon hissed as he bounded toward the chief. Using its tail, the creature knocked the Viking against the walls. Stoick quickly recovered and landed a blow onto the dragon's tail fin. It shrieked in agony, firing another blast at him. The chieftain dodged just in time.
"Dad!"
Stoick turned to see his own son heading towards him. The dragon also fixed its attention on the boy and got ready to pounce. Realizing its intent, the chief dove onto the creature before it could do anything. His eye caught sight of the Hofferson girl making her way outside.
"Get him out of here!" Stoick ordered. "Find Gobber!"
"Come on," she said, dragging the boy as she ran towards the exit.
Haddock looked back at his father. The man clung on to the monster's jaws as it kept flailing around the hall.
"Go, son," he called. "Run!"
The dragon shook itself free and and shot another deadly blast right into Stoick's chest. The chief moved no more.
"DAD!" the boy screamed, trying to get out of the girl's grip.
"Haddock, we have to go now!" she said, dragging him out of the hall. "Come on!"
Ignoring the tears, they fled the scene.
The screaming continued on as dragons tore up the village. One that was completely doused in fire landed in front of the two kids, poised to strike. They cried out as they stumbled backward. Before the flaming dragon could do anything to them, something hit it in the face. Snotlout, Spitelout's son, charged at the beast with his mace. He hit it again on the snout.
"I've got this," Snotlout assured them. "Now get out of here!"
"But-" the girl protested.
"Go!"
Now it was Haddock's turn to drag the Hofferson girl away from danger.
At the edge of the village, Drago swung a spear at them. The duo stumbled. He then picked up the boy by his throat.
Hofferson swiped her ax toward the big man's leg. "Put him down!"
Drago kicked her in the face then pinned her down with his foot.
"Leave her alone," Haddock choked, struggling to get free.
Drago tightened his grip around the boy's neck. "I'd worry less about her fate if I were you." He pinned him against a hut wall, holding his spear over the kid's heart. "Now, it ends here."
Haddock paled as he struggled to get free, his eyes wide with terror. Before Drago could make the death blow, an ax blade swiped down onto his left arm. He howled in pain as he dropped the boy, his spear scratching Haddock just above the heart. Another ax swipe and scream, followed by a dull thud. Haddock closed his eyes as he gasped for air. He did not want that horrific image in his mind.
"Come on, laddie!" Gobber bellowed, picking him up. "We have te get out of here!"
Drago continued to scream in agony as the trio fled the scene.
"Drago!" A guy with dark hair and tattooed chin cried, rushing towards the wounded man. Putting Drago's good arm over his shoulder, he dragged him away.
At the docks, Gobber and the two teens ran towards the remaining ship as it hoisted anchor. "Get on," the blacksmith cried, pushing the kids ahead, "hurry!"
Haddock and Hofferson quickly boarded the ship, Gobber close behind. The Vikings below pulled the oars with all their might, getting the vessel out to sea in minutes. The dragons, however, weren't having it. Several of them opened fire at the fleet, either torching them or making them jerk back and forth. Following the others, Haddock made his way to get below deck. Just then the ship gave a violent lurch that spilled him over the side. He grabbed the edge just in time.
"Gobber!" he screamed, clinging on for dear life.
The blacksmith dashed back up the stairs as fast as he could, but kept stumbling over his wooden leg. Hofferson ran right past him and toward the edge of the deck, grabbing the boy's hand before it could slip.
"Don't let go," she told him.
"Not planning on it," Haddock cried, taking her other hand.
Gobber had finally reached their side. "Hang on, lad," he said, grabbing the boy's fur vest.
Just as they were pulling him up, another dragon fired, making the ship rock. Haddock's hands slipped out of their grasp, and he hit his head against the side as he fell into the sea.
"Haddock!" the girl screamed, preparing to dive in after him.
"No, don't," Phlegma warned, grabbing her around the waist.
"We can't just leave him!" Gobber shouted, trying to break out of Much and Bucket's grip.
"I'm afraid we have no choice," Mulch said sadly. "We'll only lose more lives if we go back."
The Hofferson girl's eyes filled with tears. All of them running for their lives and lots more dead; what did they have to show for it? As if hearing a signal, the dragons flew off as the ships continued to flee the burning village.
So many lives were slaughtered that night. Those who were imprisoned on Berk knew it would never be the same. And the young Haddock boy, the heir of Stoick the Vast, was never heard from again.
And that is where our story begins.