There's a deadly secret in Berk, the Chiefdom is under siege and dragon raids are nightly. Can Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III and his unlikely Night Fury friend Toothless stop the raids and restore peace to the barbaric archipelago? What happens when an ancient curse from seven generations mixes up the established order? AU from HttYD1 ONLY (Ignores HTTYD2, RttE, etc) Rated M (just to be safe)
All rights and relevant copyright materials belong to their respective owners, Cressida Cowell and Dreamworks Animation Studios. The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this fan-fic are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.
The barbaric archipelago; a barren, craggy collection of islands twelve days north of Hopeless and a few degrees south of Freezing to Death, they are mostly located solidly on the Meridian of Misery. The night sky twinkling with the light of a thousand stars while the pale crescent moon illuminates the dark, calm oceanic waves.
*Splash*; the silence was broken by a crash of wood against water as sails of red and white crested the horizon, oars dipping in and out of the water, propelling the fifteen longboats across the water; these were Vikings and they had been travelling for two weeks thus far to find a new home for themselves; to which the lands of the barbaric archipelago would seem a welcome relief from the seemingly indefinite time at sea.
A large red-haired man stepped out from within one of the boats and took a deep breath; his brown eyes steeled themselves against the darkness; his breath visible as he exhaled; purveying the best possible island to settle. This man's name was Haddock the Red; he'd been born to a lowly sea-faring tribe in Norway and this was his opportunity to start a new life for himself and his pregnant wife, Asieldr.
Asieldr had long blonde hair and sharp blue eyes and was a shield-maiden of the highest quality; they had already given birth to a son on their journey that they had named Hiccup and were both looking forward to a sibling for the young boy which would be due in a few scant months.
"There" he shouted; pointing to an inlet bay with a very shallow incline onto one of the lesser craggy islands, perfect for docking ships. Suddenly there was a flurry of action; the helmsmen ordered their crews to turn about and head towards the indicated island and the beat of the strokes increased in tempo, the sound of oars striking the water increasing with said tempo.
Within minutes the first ship ran aground; its prow burying into the soft, loamy sand of the bay. Haddock the Red jumped out of his ship and stood atop the sand and proclaimed "I am Haddock the Red and in the name of Vikings, I hereby name this island, Berk". Upon completion, a great cheer sounded from the remaining ships as, one-by-one they docked alongside his, hundreds of Viking men, women and children disembarking to see their new homes.
It is Viking tradition that, in the first few years of any colonisation; they use their longboats as makeshift houses until such infrastructure can be established, so as such, four strong men from each boat hauled their boats out of the water, turned them upside down and followed Haddock the Red up the hill to find a suitable settling location. It would take the Vikings the remainder of the day to find a flat, grassy knoll upon which to settle their boats, therefore they made a campfire and sat around it, drinking mead until they passed out.
Throughout the remainder of the year more Vikings began arriving, landing on islands not yet claimed by the first wave and each island group began expanding into the interiors of their respective islands. On Berk, however, things weren't going well; as they had stumbled upon a nest of fire-breathing dragons within a week and, not knowing whether or not they were friendly, the Vikings on Berk did the only thing Vikings do. Attack.
The battle was long and bloody, it raged for six months and many Vikings and even more dragons had been lain low, struck down in the heat of the battle. In a bloodlust of rage and fury, the remaining Vikings attacked with even greater fervour, killing unborn eggs in their path until naught remained but fire and ash.
Satisfied with their decimation of the beasts, the Vikings returned to pick up the pieces of their community and moved to a more secure location, closer to the bay; all that is, except one; Haddock the Red; who had remained behind to mourn the loss of his wife, the first to die in battle with these beasts and unfortunately had taken their unborn child to her grave, leaving Haddock bereft.
As Haddock inspected the site, a black dragon with acid green eyes with no horns or spikes protect its body, rose from the pile of corpses and ploughed into him, barrelling him over, they both laid there for a moment before the dragon bit into Haddock's shoulder; while Haddock's off-hand; which had been reaching for a long knife, found one and plunged it deep into the dragon's heart, killing it instantly.
Now wounded and breathing heavily, Haddock hauled the carcass off him, carefully prying the jaws open so as to not tear his arm any further and, cradling his arm, he made his way to the tribal healer for an ointment to heal the bite; he didn't even take a note of the dragon's species. Had Haddock remained he'd have noticed a very young six-eyed dragon crawl out from beneath the hole made by the other dragon and fly away; carrying a black, leathery egg with it.
The dragon which Vikings would later call the Red Death, cursed their name and vowed to exterminate the Vikings which had decimated her family and friends. She promised that no matter what the cost to dragon-kind she'd exterminate Every. Last. Stinking. Viking!
Neither the Red Death, nor Haddock had realised that the dragon that had bit Haddock did so with intent; it used its inherent magick to curse his bloodline and family. The curse entitled a horrific prophecy of events to come "Blood for Blood; an Eye for an Eye, from this day 'til Ragnarök; One of your kin shall be mine" The dragon in question was a Night Fury; the last of its kind, save for the egg that had been whisked away in the dead of night by the Red Death.
Though he'd never admit it to anyone else, but the black-winged dragon haunted Haddock for the rest of his days and, although he had two more sons with another woman, none would fill his heart like Asieldr. Haddock passed away at the age of 45, passing the mantle of Chief to his son Hiccup I.
Hiccup I passed it to his half-nephew Jorgen, after Hiccup's only son died in childhood from scarlet fever. From Jorgen the line descended; split, reformed and split again; each time the title of chief either fell to one of the Jorgenson's or to one of the Haddock's and for six generations from Haddock the Red, all seemed well until the title of Chief fell to Stoick the Vast, father to Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III.
Author's Note: Okay, so this is my first attempt at writing a HttYD fan-fic, so please be nice. Also note that I am a UK national and as such I use UK spelling (s instead of z, ou instead of o etc.)