Yeah, a new story!
This is the story of Hiccup II, which is taken from the books. However, I have tweaked certain elements, so you can picture Hiccup II as Hiccup III, our lovely movie Hiccup, or Furious as Toothless, Chinhilda as Valka, and so on.
NOTE: Stoick and Grimbeard the Ghastly are not parallels of one another. While they share some characteristics, they are certainly not meant to be interchangeable in this story.
But if you want to picture Stoick as a drunk, greedy, Viking Lord I guess you can.
Chapter 1: Fate
He did not realize that he was not destined to enjoy the world for very long. For he was too small, you see. He was a runt...
...if a runt survives till adulthood...he brings with him an unlucky fate, the fate of changing the course of history...
-Legend of the Lost Throne of the Wilderwest
If only he hadn't been so small.
If only he hadn't been born so early, if only he hadn't been a runt, if only he looked a little more like his father.
Maybe he wouldn't have been named Hiccup.
Because Hiccup's left a wake of tragedy behind them.
They brought destruction.
They brought war.
They brought death.
It was the shaking of the bushes that gave him away.
Furious smiled, revealing his pink, toothless gums. He crouched down, his tail sweeping back and forth before he pounced. He landed atop of a young human child, who screeched. The two wrestled, the dragon pawing at the boy, the boy clinging to whatever appendage he could. This lasted only a few moments before Furious pinned his human brother down.
He roared his triumph, while Hiccup flailed beneath him, protesting and squirming until Furious stopped him with a large, well-placed lick on the face. Hiccup gasped, sputtering, wiping his face against his brother. "Ewww!"
The Night Fury threw back his head, snorting with a rumbling laughter. He got off of Hiccup, who barreled into him. Furious fell onto his back, moaning. "I'm dying! You got me!" The dragon fell still and Hiccup stopped his assault.
"You're lying!" The child proclaimed. He tried tickling the dragon, which invoked no response. Hiccup stuck a hand into Furious' mouth, and still the dragon was unmoving and silent.
Hiccup leaned close, trying to detect breathing. One acid green eye popped open, and Furious grabbed his brother with his paws, and smothered him against his chest. They continued on like this, until Hiccup was wheezing and breathless.
A dragon and a human playing together was a rare sight in the Archipelago. There hadn't been a fight between vikings and dragons in many years, not since Grimbeard the Ghastly had enslaved the dragons.
However, none of that mattered to the young pair as they played around. They knew nothing of the world, or of slavery.
Slavery was what would destroy them both.
Five years earlier...
The land of Tomorrow stretched out as far as the eye could see. It claimed all of the islands in the Archipelago, as well as a large part of the mainland. All of this was Grimbeard the Ghastly's domain.
Grimbeard had been the chief of the Hooligan tribe. However, when he became the King of the Wilderwest, the island of Berk had become too small for him. So he had burgled and conquered and pirated his way throughout the Archipelago, killing or enslaving any people who weren't Vikings. It was with the land he conquered and the people and dragons he enslaved that he built Tomorrow.
Tomorrow was glorious, a land that rivaled Rome in all of its splendor.
Grimbeard was observing his world, and took another sip of his beer. Today had been the naming ceremony for his youngest son. He smiled. In a few minutes, the one problem in his life would be gone, and he would be celebrated by his people even more than before.
The boy was his son, yes, his own flesh and blood, but allowing a runt to survive would be suicide. The boy, as all runts were, would be given back to the gods, and Odin would continue to smile upon Tomorrow.
The King of the Wilderwest turned to his wife, cradling the baby in her arms while she slept. She had rushed around like mad, preparing this and that for the naming ceremony, and between that and taking care of Thugheart, Chucklehead, and the new baby had completely worn her out.
Carefully, he lifted the boy out of his mother's arms. Neither woke, much to his relief. He wasn't quite sure that Chinhilda was going to take to well to her third son being sacrificed to the gods.
Grimbeard placed the baby in its basket, and walked out of their house, wondering if he should get an ale or not on his way down to the dragon stables.
It was a delightful day for a flight. It wasn't too cold, and a warm breeze was in the air. Grimbeard saddled his Rumblehorn, holding the baby basket in his lap, and was off.
And that's that!
I have nothing else to say.