Summary: What happens in the aftermath of a horrifying capture and an arduous escape attempt for our hero, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III? Can he ever recover from the fears of failure and the nightmarish ordeal he has experienced? Will his father be able to offer some much needed comfort as he copes with his feelings? Takes place after an alternative plot line to Wings of War, Part 2.

Author Note: This is actually the epilogue to a larger fanfiction that I plan on writing. The bulk of the fanfiction centers around an alternate plot line to the "Dragons: Race to the Edge" episode, Wings of War, Part 2. That said, you could read this one-shot and still understand what is happening without having read the rest of the story. It can stand alone. I do plan on writing the larger fanfiction eventually. I have a good start to it, and will keep y'all updated when I finally have something presentable to post!

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters mentioned in this story! I only own my choice of words.

Wings of War, Part 2 - Epilogue:

Hiccup had never felt so weak, as he was led out of his cramped prison hold and into the mournful twilight. His wrists were shackled behind him, and a thick, heavy chain was wound tightly around his neck. At the other end of the chain was Krogan, the man's scarred face dark and sadistic as he jerked the boy forward like a sheep to the slaughter. Hiccup bit his tongue, knowing he had no choice but to follow.

Behind him were half a dozen Dragon Hunters, all wielding swords and axes, as Krogan led the procession toward the highest precipice of Dragon's Edge. He was heading to his own execution. Hiccup wasn't sure how he knew it, but he knew it nonetheless. His arms were sore from being pulled behind him for days, his mouth dry from lack of water.

Nausea roiled up in his stomach, as his eyes fell on Krogan's newest fashion accessory - a pitch black cloak, speckled with the slightest shades of midnight blue. Rows of ivory teeth lined the hem of the cloak, clacking against each other like a dull lie. But somehow, he knew it was true.

Toothless was gone.

The dragon who had once protected him from all manner of danger was now reduced to the covering for this murderous marauder. Hiccup didn't even care who saw him anymore. His lower lip quivered as silent tears dripped from his eyelashes. His best friend had been taken away from him.

Forever.

Hiccup's legs wobbled as they arrived at the precipice and he approached the ledge. An axe at his back prodded him closer, until he could look down into the dark, deep crevasse and see the narrow river snaking through its floor. He closed his eyes, knowing fully well that this was the end of the line for him. This was how Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, Son of Stoick the Vast, Grandson of Grimbeard the Ghastly, was going to die. Forced to step off the ledge and fall thousands of feet to his death. If he hit the ground he would break every bone in his body and die of shock within moments. If he hit the water, he would drown within just as many moments. At least, the impact would mercifully render him unconscious for the remainder of his miserable existence…

It was little consolation.

As he glanced back at his audience, he noticed a girl and his heart seemed pinched in his chest. Long tendrils of grimy, dirt-streaked, blonde hair strung into her face. The shine in her blue eyes was gone, replaced with a dull, glossy film, the edges reddened and tired. She was in rags, and her wrists were shackled, as a Hunter held her just an inch closer than was necessary for a simple prisoner of war. An area of bright red, raised skin at her collarbone caught Hiccup's eye and he drew in a shaky breath, gritting his teeth as anger pulsed through his head. Fury burned in his chest, and salty bitter tears stung his eyes. The all-too-familiar symbol was a mark of shame - especially for a proud, independent shield maiden like Astrid. It forever branded her as a slave, as someone else's property - and she could never be taken seriously as a warrior ever again, if she lived long enough to try.

It was his fault, Hiccup knew. He had been her leader and he had failed. He had gone off half-cocked, as stubborn as ever, and had gotten himself captured. If they hadn't been trying to save him, none of this would have happened.

Astrid would be free.

Toothless would still be alive.

And his father…

Oh, Dad… Hiccup swallowed thickly. He wasn't sure how he knew it, but deep down in his gut, he knew that Stoick the Vast was dead. He had the faintest yet most vivid memory of his father's headless body being shoved off of this very cliff. His head, Hiccup vaguely recalled, had been mounted on the stem post of Krogan's flagship.

Apparently, Krogan intended to let him keep his head. At least he would go out in one piece - well, mostly, he thought briefly, as torchlight played across his metal leg. But he would readily choose to die in a hundred pieces if it meant that Astrid would be free. If it meant that his father and Toothless could be brought back.

"Any final words, Haddock?" Krogan asked, a smug smirk on his dark face. "You have one minute of our full and undivided attention to make your peace."

Hiccup pinched his lips together and tilted his chin up toward the dusky sky. He blinked his eyes to clear the tears away, blowing out a cleansing breath. Then, he swallowed and glared squarely into Krogan's cold, mocking eyes. "If you're expecting me to beg for mercy, then you're gonna be sorely disappointed. I have nothing more to say to you, except that you're a monster. A murderer. There's a special place in Niflheim for Vikings like you." He glanced at Astrid and his eyes softened. "I…I'm sorry, Astrid. I…" He choked back his remorse, not entirely sure he wanted to confess his feelings in front of their enemies. She knew he loved her. She had to know. But he still had to say it. "I -"

"Time's up, Haddock," Krogan cut in, stepping forward, his axe blade aimed at Hiccup's throat. "I certainly hope you're dying with a clear conscience today."

With that, he kicked Hiccup in the small of the back, sending him tumbling over the cliff. He groaned at the pain in his back, his wrists, his whole body, as he fell. His chest burned as the chilled air entered his lungs freezing them over. He fell aimlessly, helplessly toward the ocean, arms bound, unable to scream, as despair choked him. Unable to call for Toothless. Toothless who was now Krogan's newest accessory. Toothless who would never nuzzle him again, never bark and snarl at his hare-brained plans or tolerate his ridiculous inventing sprees. Toothless who couldn't save him now, as he slammed into the frigid Northern waters like a pebble hitting concrete. His body convulsed violently, lungs burning, mouth gaping as a scream finally tore through his throat.

His eyes were pinched shut, as something warm and scaly nudged his cheek. He flinched, still reeling from the bone-shattering impact of the water's surface. A low, familiar crooning vibrated through the threads of his consciousness and his tense muscles started relaxing. It took him another painful moment to realize that the thick, wetness on his face was in fact Night Fury saliva - Toothless' slimy, affectionate kisses pulling him back into reality.

Lips trembling and eyelids fluttering, Hiccup finally peeled his eyes open, blinking as Toothless once again slopped his sandpaper tongue over his left temple. The dragon's green eyes shone with concern and Hiccup breathed a shaky laugh, cracking the slightest, guarded smile. Swallowing the cottony dryness in his mouth, Hiccup scratched Toothless' chin. "I'm, uh...I'm okay, bud. Just a...a bad dream." He shuddered. "A really, really bad dream…"

Just then, he heard footsteps thundering up the stairs to the loft. Toothless crouched low, his ears pressed flat against his head, growling dangerously. Hiccup tensed, still badly shaken from his nightmare.

"Hiccup!"

He heaved a sigh of relief, recognizing his father's booming, concerned voice. Instantly ashamed of himself for letting fear overshadow his sense of reason, Hiccup pushed himself to his feet, hoping to allay some of his father's worries.

But his muscles were stove up and his knees buckled, sending him stumbling for the floor. Toothless was there instantly, catching the Viking boy before he face-planted. Hiccup rose again, this time much slower and more carefully, testing each stiffened leg before finally standing solidly on his own two feet.

"Son!" Stoick exclaimed, as he raced over the threshold into Hiccup's upstairs loft. He froze when he saw how pale Hiccup was. He was white as sea foam, and though he tried to conceal it, Stoick could read the fear and pain etched into his boy's normally carefree, freckled face. He allowed himself to soften - his voice and his facial features - as he came to a halt just inches in front of his son. "Hiccup…?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Are you alright, son?"

Hiccup drew in a steadying breath, unable to look into his father's calculating, green eyes for more than a second before shifting his gaze to a spot on the floor behind him. "Yeah, Dad. I'll, uh, I'll be fine. Eventually. I just, uh…" He gritted his teeth and gave his head a begrudging jerk. "Nothing. It was nothing."

Stoick frowned, taking his son by the shoulders, the scuffed, brown leather of the boy's shoulder pads cringing beneath the weight of the Chief's calloused fingers. "Look at me, son."

It took a moment, but Hiccup's woeful, forest green eyes finally lifted, staring up at him in silent expectation.

"What did we agree on?" Stoick asked gently. "No more keepin' secrets. You don' have to be strong all the time, son. You can tell me what's on your mind. Remember? We're allies…"

"Peers…" Hiccup mumbled, a small smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. He looked away, but this time, there was a tiny shimmer of mist in his eyes. "I know, Dad. I guess I had to learn that lesson the hard way, didn't I?"

Stoick grunted, his blood still curdling over the memory of his son being forced to hobble on one leg while Ryker shoved him toward a waiting Hunter ship. Watching Ryker stop and sucker-punch Hiccup in the gut before carrying the limp, breathless boy over his shoulder like he was nothing more than a cheap parcel of furs…

"Guh…uh, Dad?"

Stoick blinked, the horrid vision dissipating as his son's face came back into focus. He was wincing, yet his eyes held a trace of amusement. "What is it, son?"

"Think you've got a tight enough grip, there?"

Stoick's frown deepened. "Come again?"

Hiccup cleared his throat and glanced at his arms where Stoick's thick fingers dug into his sleeves. In his anger, he hadn't even realized that his hands had slid down his sons arms and his grip had instinctively tightened.

Stoick jerked back, choosing instead to clasp his hands together before him, channeling his rage into them. He blew out a harsh breath. "Right. Sorry, son."

Hiccup laughed, the smile finally reaching his eyes. Then, he sobered once more. "Nightmare."

Stoick dropped his arms and studied his son carefully. He could tell it was painful for Hiccup to admit his fears. Hiccup was a small Viking, scrawny and vulnerable, by anyone's standards, but Stoick especially worried for his son, who internalized everything - his vulnerabilities, his differences, his own failures.

But Stoick had also seen the hidden strength his son had summoned on multiple occasions. His bravery in fighting the Red Death. His simmering anger when he had faced Alvin on Outcast Island three years earlier. Even his collected calm when he had been passed from bounty hunter to bounty hunter in Viggo's sickening attempt to capture him a few months back.

Where others valued their muscles and battleaxes, Hiccup seemed to pride himself on his wit, his creativity and his unyielding bravery - even in the face of the most vicious marauders. His incongruous fortitude never failed to amaze the Chief. In fact, it made him proud.

"Do you want to talk it out?"

Hiccup sighed, turning away from his father. "Not in so many words." He crossed his arms over his chest and shuddered. He inhaled sharply through gritted teeth. "Let's just say that…Krogan won. Toothless…" He trailed off, digging his nails into his elbows. "Astrid was…taken. You…" He gestured absently at his father. "You were…killed. They, uh…" He broke off, not quite sure he could make himself explain that his father had been beheaded. "They threw your body into the ravine. And…and then, I-I was to be executed. They…pushed me off the Edge. I woke up when I hit the water." He swallowed hard. "Toothless was gone. Krogan had him…his skin…I…I couldn't stop them. I couldn't save anyone. Everyone suffered because I wasn't smart enough, or strong enough, or - "

In a rare moment of emotion, Stoick wrapped one of his beefy arms around Hiccup's shoulders and smothered him in his arms. Hiccup groaned at the sudden movement, feeling his ribs pop at the ever-tightening embrace.

"Gah!" Hiccup gasped, although it was hard to speak clearly when his right cheek was smooshed against his father's hard chest. "D-Dad? I - ugh - I can't, um, breathe!"

Stoick loosened his grip just enough for Hiccup to pull back and look up at his father. He quirked an eyebrow. "What was…what was that for?"

Stoick blew out a long breath and Hiccup could feel the air whoosh through his auburn hair. "You are strong enough, son. You have more strength than any Viking warrior I've ever known."

Hiccup started shaking his head. "Dad, you don't have to lie to make me feel better. I know I'm not exactly the model of a mighty Viking chieftain's son that I should be. I'm -"

"You're stubborn as a boar in a grease pit, you've got the brains of a seasoned marauder and you've got more guts than a yak in a slaughterhouse."

Hiccup grimaced.

"Sorry. Bad example." Stoick admitted. "But it's the truth, son. I wouldn't lie to ya about somethin' so important."

Hiccup bit his lip and Stoick could see the moisture in his eyes brimming on his lower lids. He drew his son close again, and this time, Hiccup melted into his embrace, clenching his small fists together underneath his chin. His breathing had slowed, the color had returned to his cheeks and he had stopped shivering.

"You've done me proud, son," Stoick mumbled against his hair, and Hiccup could hear his voice rumbling in his chest. "And you will continue to do so. One day, you will be an honorable Chief."*

Hiccup's eyes leaked tears against his will, and he tried to brush them away with his knuckles before his father noticed. Three years ago, he would never have dreamed he could be having this conversation with his father. Stoick the Vast, Mighty Chieftain of the Hairy Hooligans, and one of the fiercest warriors on Berk, thought that his runt of a son, the little embarrassment - the "hiccup" - was strong? He actually believed in him? It was almost too much.

Hiccup swallowed back the tears clogging his throat, forcing his voice to come out steady. "Thanks, Dad. I…you don't know…how much it means to hear you say that."

Stoick's big hand came to rest against the back of Hiccup's head, the calloused fingers brushing through tangles of unruly auburn hair - hair so much like Valka's. So much like his mother, he was, that Stoick almost felt as if she had left a small piece of her spirit nestled in that cradle when she was taken.

In the boy. In his eyes. In his soul.

Valka would be so proud if she could see Hiccup now. How he had grown up. How he loved dragons. How he had become the most passionate dragon trainer the village of Berk had ever known. How he had become the fearless Viking explorer they had always hoped for.

"Oh, my son," Stoick whispered. "You will do great things. Much greater than I could ever imagine." Toothless joined in the embrace, squeezing his snout up between Hiccup's interlocked arms and nuzzling his face with his nose, crooning softly. The sound of Hiccup's lighthearted chuckles was like a balm to Stoick's heavy heart. "Yes. You and your dragon. You will do mighty things for our tribe."

THE END

A/N: The quote "One day, you will be an honorable chief," was one that I ran across while surfing Pinterest, so it doesn't belong to me. I don't know who first said it or where it originally came from, but whoever said it, the credit is yours. Thanks, y'all! Constructive criticism welcome.