Heh. This happened by accident. I'd just been thinking about HTTYD2. Oops. I will update this, just not as fast (probably) as my Avengers fic.
This is an AU in which Hiccup was taken by Cloudjumper too. There are some spoilers for HTTYD2, but it's not the huge spoiler. I think most people would have seen that by now anyway if they're looking up HTTYD fanfiction, but it's not going to be mentioned.
Stoick
The figure stretched out a hand, to pacify, to calm. In different circumstances, Stoick might have immediately listened to what the figure had to say, but the dragon behind the rider obscured all his vision. It just stood behind its master, patiently, loyally, as if it was some kind of pet. And that- that thing, he recognised it, oh he most certainly did.
Red-hot fury burned behind his eyes. It was an anger that might not have taken over him if his family hadn't been taken; Valka, his beautiful, enigmatic young wife and Hiccup, his son, barely two months old. And it had been by that creature. Stoick remembered everything about that moment. The fire, the frightened cry from Valka, the wail from his son as the four winged dragon snatched them both out of his life to inevitable ends.
Stoick's axe was in his hands before he remembered pulling it out and pointing it directly at the masked figure. He could see the mask properly now, as Gobber and Spitelout moved in closer, torches high above their heads. It was crude, like a child's drawing, with spines crookedly erupting from the head. Splashes of bright paint flecked the pines, swabs of blue and yellow. They flickered in the firelight like coloured fish in clear water at sunset.
The dragon stayed behind, solemn and staring. Its eyes in its wide face looked directly at him, knowing, recognising.
It knew what it had done.
It knew what it had taken.
And it wasn't sorry.
Splinters of wood from the axe handle feebly pressed against his calloused palm as his grip grew tighter.
"Wha' do yeh want?" He yelled at the figure. The person retracted their hand sadly and wrapped it around the staff held in the other arm, in such a way it was as if they had hoped for a different greeting. The figure didn't stand like a human, it crouched and swayed like a kind of animal. Gobber pressed forward until he was closer than Stoick was. He raised his arm, the one missing a hand with a torch plugged into the socket.
Shi-i-i-ng. Spitelout pulled out a sword and held it pointed, unwavering, at the dragon rider. The firelight flashed menacingly on the blade. His son, Snotlout, the- replacement heir pushed forward, eager to get a glimpse of the action. Behind him trailed the other young Vikings; the obnoxious twins, Ruffnut and Tuffnut; a great big mess of cowardice and unneeded intelligence, Fishlegs, and- Where was Astrid? Stoick decided it didn't particularly matter.
The sight of youngsters usually calmed him slightly, making him behave better in public in the knowledge that children were present. But far from pacifying him this time, his rage increased a hundredfold.
Hiccup would have been there age. If it wasn't for that dragon. Hiccup would be a grown man, grown out of his infantile frailty, a tall, strong man worthy of leading the world. Stoick sometimes imagined what Hiccup would be like if he had lived past that day. Built like him, he assumed. With his mother's humour and intelligence. The model of what a male Viking would be. He'd have been the leader of all those his age from when he was young. He'd have been taller than Snotlout, of course, but that wasn't a particularly difficult feat.
That dragon was responsible for the loss of a great man and woman.
Stoick shook himself out of his reverie. "I said, 'wha' do yeh want?' And why do yeh have that- tha' demon with yeh?"
The rider flinched as a Viking, presumably Erik Hofferson, prodded them with a spear. One of the twins, presumably the female one, let out a cackle.
"I need help," the rider said, voice muffled by the mask. "Yer help." The voice was unmistakeably female. And quite familiar, but Stoick ignored that. Possibly she was a traitor from a neighbouring tribe that he had met a long time ago.
"What?" Snotlout asked, as literate as he had always been. Stoick, under his surprise and fury at the impertinence of the rider, hoped that Snotlout's verbal skills would improve before he became chief.
"Why should we give yeh help?" Stoick snarled. "If it's help killin' that monster, I'd be more'n happy to oblige."
"Cloudjumper is no monster," the rider said firmly. "E's as intelligent as yeh or I." Vikings murmured and more weapons were directed her way. Her grip on the staff tightened. "An' yeh should help me because it concerns yeh and yer tribe." Erik Hofferson tapped her mask with the end of his spear. "Stop tha'!" she chided.
"How?" Stoick growled, refusing to lower his axe. He couldn't remember hefting it up, but there it was, in perfect position to make a killing blow to the woman standing calmly with his family's killer. "How does it concern us?"
"Two words. Drago Bludvist."
Spitelout dropped his sword. Stoick axe nearly slipped from his grip, but his warrior reflexes made him wrap his thick fingers around the handle all the tighter.
"Why's everyone so horrified?" the male twin asked loudly. Tuffnut? That was the male one, wasn't it?
"Drago Bludvist," Stoick spat, "is one of the greatest monsters to walk Midgard. He is bloodthirsty, insane and a murderer." He focussed his glare upon the dragon beside the woman. It stared stonily back. "A murderer," he repeated. "As much as tha' demon."
"He's nae-"
"A murderer?" Erik prodded her with the spear again.
"I toldja to quit it!"
"Why'd'yeh need our help?" Stoick boomed. The woman pushed away Erik's spear with visible annoyance.
"It's mah son. He's trying to talk sense intae Drago. Yeh know wha' Drago Bludvist is capable of, Stoick the Vast. Mah boy will be slaughtered." Stoick recalled returning home to Valka, covered in burns and tiredly recounting the attack, and then tearfully recalling the deaths of his kin. Perhaps he should aid this woman. She appeared to despise Bludvist. Each time she mentioned his name, Stoick could practically hear the lip curl.
Gobber apparently didn't think it was a wise idea. "Talk some sense intae yer kid," he suggested, waving his torch around. "T'aint our problem yer boy's not a sharp blade."
The woman hissed defensively. "Mah boy's plenty intelligent, Gobber. 'E's done a be'er job wha' with his leg in five years than you have in twen'y!"
Something in what the woman said started a warning in Stoick's head, but he couldn't for the life of him think of what it was.
"How are we supposed to help yer son? I'm assumin' he's hoppin' round on a devil too!" Gobber seemed to be unable to come up with a retort about his prosthetic leg.
"Why nae just tell his dragon to take him away? Dragons've always been good a' tha'." Stoick sent another glare towards 'Cloudjumper', the monster gazing calmly at them.
"Why'd'yeh hate Cloudjumper so?" The woman asked angrily. She placed a covered hand on the dragon's nose. It made an appreciative purring sound in its throat. Stoick felt sick at its visible contentment.
"Tha' pet o' yers took mah family," he shouted. "It killed mah wife Valka and mah son Hiccup. And yeh treat it like it's family. Yer a traitor to humankind!" Out of the corner of his eye he saw the teenagers and younger Vikings perk up interestedly. He never spoke about Valka and Hiccup. It was too painful to discuss, and so many of the younger Vikings weren't aware of what had happened.
"I ne'er thought about it like tha'," the woman muttered to herself quietly. There was a prominent pause in which she seemed to contemplate saying something, but she shook her head. "No. The past is past."
The sun was coming up, and the torches were hardly need to light the scene anymore. The silhouette of the woman had turned from a sinister, shadowy figure into a skinny woman with a scary mask. The dragon remained the same, eyes lingering on Stoick with occasional flicks back to its mistress.
"His dragon is loyal to mah boy," the woman eventually continued. "Tha' dragon wouldn't listen to me. It's as stubborn as mah son is. I cannae force them away." She sighed. "I cannae believe I'm askin' this, but I need the force from yeh and yer tribe to stop Drago and pull mah stupid son out o' the fight."
Stoick's axe dropped slightly. The woman noticed this.
"Please. Yeh said a dragon took yer family. Don't let Drago take mine."
Her voice no longer had that calculating edge to it. It was pleading now.
"I'll have ta think abou' it," Stoick said coldly. He began to walk away. "Pu' er and tha' dragon under guard in the Kill Ring."
The woman allowed herself to be pushed in the direction of the arena. Her dragon initially snarled when a Viking prodded it none-too-gently with an axe, but a few words from the woman calmed it. As they passed Stoick, the woman kept looking directly ahead. The dragon gave him a suspicious, calculating look from the eyes set deep in its wide head.
"Mah son is barely twen'y," the dragon rider said. She didn't say another word, and soon disappeared down the hill with her dragon.
That half made up Stoick's mind. But the main question lazily spinning in circles in his brain was did he hate Drago more than dragons?
That was a question of which he was uncertain of the answer.
Fishlegs
All four of the teens (they still weren't sure where Astrid was) had volunteered to escort the dragon rider to the Kill Ring. This had to be, far and away, the most interesting thing that had ever occurred on the isle of Berk in forever.
Fishlegs was torn between terror, interest and something else he wasn't quite sure of the name of. His eyes kept flicking back to the dragon, the Storm Cutter, analysing it, taking in its features.
Four wings. Best at flying. Powerful chest muscles to act upon wings. Small eyes, wide mouth and small teeth. Relies on hearing, but eyes work well as they are defended by large horns. Does not eat large prey, teeth too small and mouth an inconvenient shape.
His obsession with knowing everything about a dragon's features should have been of benefit to him, but no one had ever thought of it as a good thing. Thanks to the dragon rider, there was now a new focus of attention and the others were laying off harassing him.
He'd always been the one that was mocked. He often wondered whether it would have been different if there was another one of them.
The woman walked silently, as did the dragon, but when Tuffnut lazily stretched out his spear to poke the lady in the back, the dragon snarled and made a grab for the spear. It would have succeeded too, but the woman spun around and calmed the dragon. Fishlegs took a step back.
Fast. Easily strong enough to carry us all away at once. But it doesn't…
"Easy, Cloudjumper," she murmured. "Don't hurt the children." She pressed her hand against the dragon's nose.
"Children?" Snotlout said indignantly. "Lady, I'm the future chief and the bravest warrior in the village. I'm not a child."
"Neither am I!" Ruffnut announced.
"Same here!" Tuffnut interjected. "We could kill you with a dead leaf." He skewered a leaf with his spear and held it up triumphantly.
"Doubtful, considering that the leaf-" Fishlegs began, but he trailed off as the other sent him ferocious glares. They turned away and focussed on the dragon rider again. He forced his attention to her too.
Her clothes were some of the weirdest things Fishlegs had ever seen. They were like a second skin, a shell that surrounded the fragile flesh underneath. He found himself instantly thinking of dragons and their scales. Her mask was like a dragon's head, rearing up out of the armoured body.
That was what she was. A dragon.
The others weren't focussed on what Fishlegs was, though. Snotlout attempted to spin his hammer around his fingers. He nearly dropped it, and smiled when he caught it and raised it, boasting his incredible talent. "Scared yet?" Fishlegs wasn't.
The woman, however, laughed. "Definitely. Confidence is an admirable trai'."
"Oh, I know."
"Overconfidence is actually the opposite-" Fishlegs attempted to get another word in, but sceptical looks from the three others silenced him. Oh, it would be nice to actually have a bit of respect for once.
"Overconfidence is a flaw, I agree with yeh there," the woman said thoughtfully. "It's somethin' Drago Bludvist has." Her smiling voice steeled when she mentioned the man that everyone was so desperate to learn about. Their steps began to make crunching sounds as the path turned to gravel as they approached the Kill Ring.
"What's the big deal with Dargo Blood-fist? I mean his name's kinda cool, but you said that the chief knew what he was like."
Fishleg's ears perked up.
The dragon lady remained silent for a few moments, and only the crunching of their feet could be heard. She stayed quiet until they reached the great Iron Gate that led into the arena.
"When yeh were all babes still, Drago Bludvist was an unknown name. I weren't there, bu' I know tha' he killed a lo' of chiefs of different tribes. When they were all gathered in a meetin', he set the dragons he was controllin' on them. Yer chief, Stoick the Vast, was the only survivor."
They all remained silent as they began hoisting the gate up. Except Fishlegs.
"If you hate him so much, why do you have a dragon like him?"
The dragon woman stroked Cloudjumpers small nose. "It's nae the dragons' faults they're a' the mercy o' tha' man. Good dragons in the control of bad people do bad things."
Snotlout seemed to realise suddenly that they had let all their weapons drop. He hoisted up his hammer. "In."
"O' course," the woman shrugged. She stepped into the arena, which was already occupied by someone.
"Astrid!" Snotlout yelled delightedly. Fishlegs and the twins rolled their eyes and looked away. Even from the distance they could see Astrid preparing herself to punch the future chief.
Astrid
"For Thor's sake, Snotlout will you stop-" Astrid began, but she realised that it was not just the group of teens.
There was woman with them, a dragon rider, and her dragon, a Storm Cutter.
Her heart nearly stopped.
Ruffnut
Astrid's fist was already closed, ready to knock out a few teeth, but when she saw the dragon rider, her arm dropped. She didn't even seem to realise.
The others pushed the woman and the dragon into the ring and let the gate slam shut, making clouds of dust billow into the air.
"Who's this?" Astrid asked.
"This is…" Ruffnut began, but couldn't bring up a name. Had the dragon lady introduced herself? She knew the dragon's name, which wasn't helpful. "A cool dragon lady," she finished.
"Which we have to guard until the chief decides whether to help her or not," Tuffnut interjected.
"'Who'," Fishlegs corrected quietly. "'Which' only applies to-"
"Shut up, nerd," Snotlout said.
Astrid's eyebrow raised. It looked like she was putting on her typical 'I don't want to deal with you guys' face. It looked a bit wrong, though. "Why does she need help?"
Ruffnut shrugged. She had been about to tell Astrid she should have been listening better when dragon lady said it before, but then again, Astrid hadn't been there. "Her dragon riding spawn is trying to take on some dude who killed some of the chief's friends. Dragon Bloody fist, I think."
Astrid's eyes flicked nervously to dragon lady. Nervously? Nah, Ruffnut must have mis-seen. That was suspicion.
Right?
Astrid turned to dragon woman. "So your son is trying to talk to Drago Bludvist?"
How did she know his name? Then again, it was Astrid. Astrid seemed to know everything about everything without looking as nerdy and loser-ish as Fishlegs.
"Yes. He thinks he can convince Drago tha' dragons aren' bad. Bu' Drago Bludvist cannae ever have his mind changed. No matter tha' my son is right."
"Right."
Ruffnut tugged on one of her braids. Five years ago, she would have expected Astrid to react completely differently, most likely screaming with an axe and lots of threats. Then she changed suddenly, and no one was sure why.
Still, it was kinda frightening to see Astrid so calm.
"I have to go," Astrid announced. She shoved past Snotlout, who had attempted to sling an arm around her shoulders. She left a small trail of grass behind her, presumably from her boots. She trained in the woods a lot.
They all turned to watch her leave. She levered her axe under the gate and hoisted it up by about two feet, and then nimbly bent under it. She pulled her axe away and more clouds of dust rose into the air as the gate shuddered to a close on the earth.
"Ugh, she's so perfect," Snotlout said dreamily. "She's so gonna be my wife."
Ruffnut snorted. "She said no twice, idiot."
God I love this franchise. My deepest apologies for the poorly written accents. Updating will most likely be slow. Most likely. My priority right now is a different fic.