I wanted to give a very special thanks to P-Artsypants who has been offering me advice and helped me get started. This story would not be here otherwise. So please, let's have a round of applause!

Please remember to review! Enjoy and happy reading!

Review Responses:

P-Artsypants: So glad you made it and so happy that you like it! And don't worry, Hiccstrid forever!

Anonymous Noob the 2nd: Yep, I feel like I did a pretty good job balancing character interaction and fluff in this chapter. Also, I totally agree, you can't have a HTTYD story without a Hiccup/Toothless bromance!

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the How to Train Your Dragon franchise, including the characters, settings, plots, themes, etc. from said franchise. I do, however, own this story and the unique characters, settings, plots, themes, etc. contained in this story that do not appear in the franchise as of the date of this publishing, unless otherwise indicated.

Chapter 1

Underdogs and Outsiders

» Heather Hofferson «

She took a single step and the world around her changed. The cozy and warm surroundings of House Hofferson were left behind, replaced by a freezing and horrific battleground. Fourteen-year-old Heather Hofferson looked up into the night sky to see the first wave of dragons descending on Berk. In her hands, she gripped a unique dual sided axe, each end of the handle held a jagged hatchet head. The metal from her armored skirt, pauldrons, vambraces, and kneepads flickered as waves of fire streaked across the night sky. Three parallel streaks of blue warpaint marked diagonally across her left eye and horizontally along her bicep.

"Heather, let's go! The Ingermans were hit by a pack of Nadders," a voice called from ahead. Her blonde cousin turned and tossed a large bucket.

"Lead the way," she replied, snatching it out of the air. The two dodged terrified sheep and disgruntled yaks as they made their way across town, stopping briefly at the well to fill their buckets.

"Hey, babe," said a beefy Viking teen by the name of Snotlout Jorgenson as came up to her cousin, "Fancy seeing you here."

"Muzzle it, mutton-head or I'll muzzle it for you," the feisty blonde snapped at the unwanted suitor. Heather couldn't help but chuckle, knowing that Snotlout would be on the ground with a broken nose if her cousin's hands had been free.

"Still playing hard to get?" He continued, clearly not having learned his lesson from previous encounters, "No problem, you won't be able to resist all this raw muscle for much longer." He looked at the exasperated girl and flashed her a smolder. Her cousin looked like she was about to drown Snotlout in his own water bucket.

"There are more important things to worry about right now!" Heather yelled as she cast herself between the two.

"Who asked you, Berserker swine? You're just a dirty outsider who is gonna end up with the rest of your people." He growled, shoving the raven-haired girl into the ground.

That was the last straw. The other Hofferson glared at the boy before swinging her bucket into his face and dousing him with its contents. Snotlout crumpled to the ground, crying and nursing his broken nose. "Heather, are you okay?" Her cousin asked.

"Fine, I'm fine...ah!"

The blonde frowned, looking at the unstable leg and also noticing the girl's furrowed brows. "This is no good. I'm taking you off of the fire patrol." A sprained ankle wasn't too big of a deal as it would heal but the emotional damage done by Snotlout's vicious comments had taken its toll. "Head over to the forge and see if you can be of any help there. They are probably swamped with repairs. Can you make it on your own?"

At mention of the forge, Heather's face lit up and her spirits were momentarily lifted. "Yeah…erm…I'll be fine." She grimaced as she put weight on her injured side. Nodding to her cousin, she turned and limped towards the forge. Now that she was injured and alone, she did not want to be caught out in the open by one of the fire-breathing reptiles.

Slowly but surely, she made her way to a bustling structure. An endless stream of men and women circulated through the doors and smoke made its way out of the ventilation hatches. The sharp clangs of metal against metal were drowned out by a terrible, Thor-forsaken singing.

Oh, I've got my axe and I've got my mace,

And I love my wife with the ugly face,

I'm a Viking through and through!

Oh, I've got my club and I've got my bludgeon,

And fifteen Berserkers locked in my dungeon,

I'm a Viking through and through!

Oh, I've got my club and I've got my rope

And I smell like a yak 'cause I don't use soap

I'm a Viking through and through!

Heather felt her body tense with the second verse, but she coaxed it back, telling herself that it was only song. A small part of her couldn't help but be put down especially with Snotlout's earlier attacks fresh on her mind. Taking a deep breath to bury the emotions, she entered the forge and approached Berk's legendary blacksmith. "Hey Gobber, how can I help?" She always looked up to the man as he didn't let even the loss of two limbs stop him from becoming the best smith in the archipelago.

"Huh?" The large man looked up, "Ain't ya supposed ta be puttin' out fires, lassie?"

"Hurt my leg," she explained, "So, what can I do?" She knew she didn't have skills anywhere near those of Gobber's, or even those of his apprentice, but she could work her way around a grindstone and tanning rack.

"Lad should be comin' out of the back. He'll give ya a job."

"Thanks, Gobber."

As if summoned, a tiny, runt of a boy emerged from the tiny storage room, struggling with an armful of weapons. His auburn hair was tussled and untamed and his emerald eyes peered at her from behind his cargo. "H-Heather!" He exclaimed, clearly having difficulty with the weapons.

"Hi, Hiccup!" Heather beamed at him. Hiccup was the reason she had any forging experience at all, as she would visit him at the forge very often. Excluding her cousin, the young apprentice was the only friend she had in the world and he was always kind to her. "Gobber said you had something for me?" she asked as he dumped the pile onto a workbench.

"Uh…actually, yeah. Why don't you get the grindstone cranking? Those over there need sharpening." He immediately noticed her heavy limp. "Heather, are you okay?"

She glanced at him to see his eyes focused on her leg. "Erm…yeah, just a sprain. It's noth-"

"Come here," Hiccup interrupted while pulling out a stool. Nervously she complied and took the seat. She fidgeted as he gently removed her boot and inspected the area. The ankle was very swollen and had purple and red tinges. "How'd this happen?"

"Snot-hat."

He nodded, "That'll do it." He pressed on different areas of the injury until she let out a whimper. "Sorry. I'd say you have a fortnight-and-a-half until its fully recovered. Most of the pain should go away in five moons or so." He fumbled around under a workbench, hitting his head as he rose again. "Ow!" Rubbing his head, he turned back to the sprain. "I'm gonna put this brace on your foot. Keep it on until it's healed. Okay?"

"You just had a brace lying around?" She questioned him with a confused look. His eyes immediately went to the ground and it was clear that the question had aroused embarrassing and painful memories. "Hiccup, I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's okay. I just…it's just that…I happen to find myself in lots of…situations…that end up with me needing some sort of brace. Just a fact of life now." He sighed as he redid her boot, clearly wanting to move on from the subject. "There you go, all done."

"Thanks." A genuine smile tugged at her lips.

"No problem. Now back to that grindst-," he stopped abruptly and his emerald eyes shot wide open. A familiar whine filled the sky as Hiccup stared into Heather's equally as shocked eyes. With only a whisper, he uttered the name, "Night Fury."

"Get down!" Gobber yelled into the shop before skipping out with his hammer attachment equipped. Hiccup sprang into action and pulled Heather under a workbench, shielding her with his body. A nearby catapult exploded as the unholy offspring of lighting and death dived and delivered its attack, disappearing once again.

"Stay here!" Hiccup ordered.

"Where are you going?"

"Stay!" He repeated while sprinting out of the shop, a strange cart in tow.

» Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III «

This was it! This was his moment. Hiccup the runt would finally shoot down a night fury and prove to his father that he wasn't a complete failure. He would finally earn his father's love and pride. After fortnights of work, the bola launcher was finally done and this time he had taken it far out to the edge of the cliffs to prevent it from destroying the town…again. Snapping it around, he hit the release and caused the entire contraption to spring into the firing position. Finally, Hiccup stepped onto the deployed weapon and took the handles.

The minutes that passed seemed like an eternity and the ongoing battle was just a distant echo in his ears. He stared into the starry night sky, waiting for his prize. His diligence was rewarded with an approaching whistle. "Come on, give me something to shoot at, give me something to shoot at," he muttered to himself. A commanding roar filled the night and Hiccup frantically searched the sky to find the source. Only a moment after he spotted a dark shadow, a nearby tower exploded as the Night Fury swooped in for the attack. The light from the explosion blinded him and the recoil from his fired weapon tossed the tiny boy back. Immediately recovering from the fall, his eyes followed the bola as it hit its target; a screech cried out as the dragon crashed into a distant swath of trees.

"I hit it? Yes, I hit it!" He exclaimed with his arms in the air. Swinging around looking for a witness, he asked, "Did anybody see that?" Hearing a snarl behind him, he slowly turned back around and came face to face with a displeased Monstrous Nightmare. The euphoria left his body and his shoulders slumped as he cursed himself. "Except…for you."

» Stoick the Vast «

Stoick dreaded dragon raids. Sure, the pillaging of food, destruction of homes, and loss of life that came along with each raid was devastating, but they were Vikings. It was an occupational hazard. To Stoick dragons raids only meant one thing: another chance for his failure of a son to screw up. Wait…his son wasn't a complete failure. Hiccup never failed to embarrass the Haddock lineage and he always succeeded in singlehandedly destroying more of the village than the dragons. And? What was a widowed Chief supposed to do? Disowning him was out of the question. The boy was one of two possible heirs to the chiefdom and that idiot nephew of his would run the tribe into the ground after a moon.

Hearing an all too familiar screaming, Stoick sighed as he wrestled a Deadly Nadder to the ground. "Ugh…what now?" He looked towards the direction of the scream to find his son being pitifully chased by a Monstrous Nightmare. "Hiccup!" he yelled out, trying to get the boy's attention. Of course, when being chased by five thousand pounds of flame and muscle, one tends to ignore everything…except for not dying. Thus, Stoick's call went unheeded. Kicking into a sprint, Stoick ran up the hill to save his son from the wrath of the enraged Nightmare. He watched his son take cover behind a rapidly melting pole as the dragon closed in for the kill. It was now or never. Stoick lunged into a tackle and rammed the dragon away from the boy.

The Monstrous Nightmare was not happy as the burly Viking in front of him had deprived it of a desperately needed toothpick. The dragon opened its jaws to vaporize Stoick but only a small ember burst forward. "You're all out," Stoick growled at the beast and leapt forward, hammer in hand. He launched multiple strikes pushing the dragon further and further back. "Any last words, devil?" he asked before charging to deliver the final strike. The Nightmare indeed had something to say as it opened it jaws to fire in a final attempt to survive. "No," Stoick whispered, watching a soft glow appeared in the dragons' mouth. The fireball hit the massive Viking dead center sending Stoick flying through the air. The last thing he heard before descending into darkness was the voice of his son calling for him. His limp figure crashed into a stack of barrels, splintering the wood on impact as he remained unmoving.

» Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III «

"Dad!" Hiccup screamed in horror and watched his father be thrown through the air. He closed the gap and fell to his knees. Tears rolled down his face as he took the man's enormous hand. "Dad, dad, please get up. I need you." The dragons were now pulling away from Berk carrying as much food as they could hold. The other villagers started to gather around the downed Chief, sobs and gasps spread throughout the crowd. Hiccup felt a hand rest on his shoulder and turned to see Heather frowning at him.

"Hiccup…," she started, unable to find the words to comfort him. Looking around she saw everyone else was just as speechless and could only stare at the horrific scene.

A pair of strong arms pulled Hiccup away from his father. "Oi, boy-o, don't worry. We'll look after him." Spitelout spoke with a grave voice that betrayed the words. "Head back up ta yer home." Then he turned and whispered to Heather, "…an' make sure he gets there." Heather nodded and started leading the distressed boy towards House Haddock.

Behind them they heard Gobber's sunken yet commanding voice, "Stop standin' there like a buncha yaks, ya lot. Go an' fetch Gothi." It was the last thing Hiccup heard before Heather closed the door to his home.

» Heather Hofferson «

Heather was speechless as she watched Hiccup shrink into a chair. She had opted to make tea to bring some warmth and comfort to his quivering form. Filling up a nearby mug, it was no surprise her attempt to hand him the serving went unanswered. "Come on," she insisted, "Just a sip?" Still no response. Hiccup was frozen and his eyes remained unfocused, staring into nothing. She couldn't help but feel a bit of irritation, and some of her feisty cousin's temper surfaced. "Either drink it or wear it. Choice is yours." She snapped at him. Hiccup momentarily pulled out of his trance. Opting to not having a scalding hot liquid poured on him, he gingerly took the mug.

Hiccup's dilemma was all to familiar to her. About ten years ago, her adoptive father, Fearless Finn Hofferson had been killed by the decennial Flightmare attack. He had gone to face the dragon alone, but, when the moment came, he froze in fear and just stood there as the dragon took his life and destroyed the village. Of course, Heather didn't believe it because her father was the bravest Viking ever to walk the Isle of Berk. Her belief didn't stop the entire Hofferson clan to become shamed and lose all standing in the town. Gunnar Hofferson, her uncle who had taken her in after Finn's passing, had even been removed from the council. The shaming mixed in with her Berserker blood had resulting in the entire town shunning and ridiculing her. The only friends she had were her cousin and Hiccup, who was equally, if not more, as disliked.

Half-an-hour passed with Hiccup passively sipping the tea and Heather refilling the mug when it ran dry. The door to the home was kicked open, and Spitelout barged in with Gobber on his tail. Spitelout wordlessly entered the Chief's bedroom while Gobber took a seat next to his apprentice. "How ya doing, lad?" He asked Hiccup.

"I-I don't know…where is he? Is he alive?" Hiccup replied without looking up.

Gobber nodded. "Gothi, an' the other healers are bringing him 'ere." Gobber answered, " Me 'n' 'Lout came first to make some space and check up on you."

Spitelout had made his way back to the door and stuck his head out. "Everything's ready. Bring 'im in." He shouted, stepping back to allow Gothi and several other healers entry. Following them were two beefy warriors hoisting Stoick in a makeshift stretcher.

Heather could only look at the ashen and pale man struggling for life. She could feel the pain Hiccup was going through at the moment. Tears had started to return to his eyes and the slump in his shoulders became greatly exaggerated. She got up, moved toward the blacksmith, and whispered to him, careful to not let Hiccup hear. "This isn't good for him. He needs to get out and occupy his mind with something."

"Aye," Gobber agreed. Gently slapping Hiccup on the back, he raised himself from the seat with a grunt. "'ight, Hiccup, get up. Got a lot of damaged weapons in the raid 'n' they ain't gon' repair themselves. You two get to it now. I'll let ya know how he's doin'." With that Gobber ushered the two teens out the door.

Heather followed Hiccup back to the forge, frowning as she noticed the heavy drag in his feet. Upon reaching the smithy, she sighed and gathered some extra hides to prepare on the tanning rack. It was going to be a long night. After a only a few minutes of work she heard footsteps enter the shop.

"Hey," her cousin's voice rang out, "can I get this sharpened?"

"A-Astrid! Hello, Astrid. Astrid. Hi, Astrid." Hiccup started to blabber. His face had lifted and a blush was working its way up his cheeks.

"Right away," Hiccup agreed, nearly dropping the axe when she abruptly placed it in his hand. "Okay. Razor-sharp battle axe, coming right up."

"Careful! That's my mother's." she scolded with narrow eyes.

Heather found amusement in Hiccup's awkwardness and discomfort. She watched Hiccup place the axe aside to spin up the grindstone. Unbeknownst to Astrid, Hiccup and the axe had been acquainted a couple years before. The axe had been shattered during a raid on Snoggletog Eve and Ingrid Hofferson, Astrid's mother, had brought it to Gobber. The blacksmith had immediately deemed it beyond repair and tossed it in the scrap pile. Hiccup, however, had reclaimed the broken pieces and re-forged the entire weapon by himself, reusing all the original materials in addition to some new high-grade iron. He had even put in the time to engrave "ASTRID" into the head. Heather had caught him trying to sneak into House Hofferson in the middle of the night and had forced him to tell her everything. After hearing his explanation, she allowed him to place the axe next to Astrid's Snoggletog helmet and promised not to say anything. The next morning, the Hofferson clan had gathered to open their Snoggletog presents and Heather had never seen a happier Astrid. The moment the blonde realized the axe was hers, she covered her mother with a barrage of kisses, in a very un-Astrid-like manner. Ingrid was dumbfounded and believed that a Snoggletog miracle had occurred overnight.

Hiccup's voice snapped her back into the present. "So..uh…I saw you guys on fire patrol last night." Hiccup commented, "Looked like a good time."

"Yeah," Astrid acknowledged, "I didn't get burned though. It's only fun if you get a scar out of it."

"Yeah, no kidding." the boy said in an artificially deeper voice, "Pain. Love it." Heather snorted at his attempt to put on a macho façade. "Yeah," he continued, "I would've been there, too, but I was out downing a Night Fury. So, yeah, pretty busy."

Both girls' eyes widened at the news since no one had ever taken out a Night Fury before. "Really?" the blonde asked, "Where-where is it-"

"Uh…no, it got away…erm," Hiccup interrupted, "but it won't be back anytime soon, believe you me. Heh. Yeah, you know, this apprentice thing is just my, sort of, on the side…uh…I'm mostly here to bulk up. Lift some iron and stuff. Become one with the steel."

Heather had moved next to Hiccup to watch him masterfully sharpen the axe, hoping to improve her own skills. Good thing, too, as Hiccup had started to stare at Astrid, oblivious to the drooping axe. She quickly pulled the axe up and away from the grindstone before it was damaged and hissed at Hiccup, "Careful, mutton-head."

He looked at her, his face redder than melted iron. "Uh…thanks," he whispered. Then he turned back towards Astrid who was making her way to his curtained off nook in the workshop. "No, you're not actually supposed to…" he exclaimed, too late, as Astrid pulled back the curtain. Heather realized that even she had never been in there, in fact, Hiccup was probably the only one in the entire village.

"What…is all of this?" Astrid questioned with hesitation.

Hiccup started blabbering to cover his embarrassment. "Those? Nothing. Just some stuff I'm working on. It's just…confidential, upper-level development. I-I can't really talk about it, so…"

"'The Mutilator'" Astrid read from a piece of parchment.

"Yes, yes. Basically, it uses twin-weighted, counter-levers to launch crisscrossing blades in four different directions." He explained.

"How do you hold it?"

"Well, you don't. You shoot it."

"Oh, well…I'm more of an old-fashioned, 'take it down with an axe and then lop its head off' kind of girl. It's kind of the Viking way, right?"

Hiccup looked gingerly at the axe he was sharpening before nervously saying, "Go, Vikings."

"Astrid!" an impatient voice from outside called, "You coming to practice with us or what?"

The blonde held out an open hand to Hiccup, who placed the freshly sharpened axe in it. Swinging it a couple times and tossing it from hand to hand, she was satisfied with the results. "Hmm…thanks." She complimented.

"Sure." He said, letting out a sigh as he watched her walk away with the more Viking-like teens. Turning to Heather who was engrossed with a job at the grindstone, he asked, "Aren't you going to go train with them, too?"

"Can't," she lifted up her injured ankle, "besides, they don't want me and I'd rather be here."

» Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III «

Another couple of hours passed as the damaged weapons in the shop were repaired and retuned. Heather had gone to fetch dinner for the two and Hiccup was left alone with his thoughts. The boy could not stop worrying about his father and the slight reprieve that Astrid had brought him did not last. He knew that she would probably never speak to him again or acknowledge that he existed. Hel, Astrid wouldn't come near him if she was on fire and he had the only bucket of water in town.

It was then that Heather came hobbling in as fast as her injured ankle would allow. "Hiccup!" she gasped, "He's awake!"

Hiccup dropped the hammer without a word and sprinted to his home, but when he got there he could not bring himself to open the door. What if his father hated him? What if he was going to be thrown off of Berk for getting the Chief injured? What if Snotlout was made the heir and Hiccup was demoted to be his cousin's thrall? He would have stayed at the door forever running countless scenarios through his head if someone hadn't opened the door from the inside. To his surprise, he came face to face with Gunnar and Ingrid Hofferson.

"Aaah…M-Mr. Hofferson, Mrs. H-Hofferson, can I-I help you?" he stammered, turning white from the shock.

The couple smiled at him and Gunnar put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "No need for that, son." He beamed, "Go see your father, he wants to speak with you."

"Yes, sir," Hiccup nodded, "Uuuh…may I ask…how is he doing?"

"As well as can be expected," Gunnar answered honestly, shaking his head. "Go on now, lad. Best not to keep him waiting."

"And. If you need anything, Hiccup, let us know." Ingrid interjected, "You must be having a very hard time."

Hiccup bowed his head. "Thank you, both." Saying goodbye, he creeped his way inside towards his father's bedroom.

"Hiccup!" Stoick's booming voice resounded inside the house despite his injuries, "Is that you, son?"

"Yeah…uh…it's me," Hiccup squeaked, his entire body shaking as he entered the room.

"Come here. Are you hurt? Still have all your limbs?" The large man painfully craned his neck trying to get a glimpse of the boy.

"Uh…I should probably be asking you that. You know, considering…" Hiccup walked up to the side of the bed. His father's chest was heavily bandaged being the place where he took the brunt of the attack. His arm had been broken from the landing impact and his entire body was covered in cuts and bruises. Any normal Viking would have been killed instantly, but Stoick the Vast was no normal Viking, as even the most ignorant of bystanders could tell from his six-foot, nine-inch body. Hiccup looked into the man's eyes and saw the pain of his injuries reflected in them, only overshadowed by the worry for his son. The boy dropped his head in shame and spoke softly and suddenly, "D-dad…I'm sorry. If I hadn't been such a failure and an idiot none of this would have happened. It's all my fault. I don-"

"Enough!" Stoick silenced his son, "This is not your fault." He pondered for a moment. "Although…I have to admit. If you could just follow orders and stop trying to get yourself killed, things may have turned out a bit better." Hiccup's shoulders had drooped again and he refused to make eye contact out of shame. "But. How is this your fault. Did you release those devils from Helheim? No. Did you breathe the fire that caused my injuries? No. I am your father. You are my son. No matter how many stupid things you do, it is my duty to protect you. And only Odin knows how many stupid things you do."

"Dad-"

"I do not want to hear another word of this. Do you understand?"

"But-"

"Do you understand?"

"I understand." Hiccup's eyes were still focused on the ground, but the slump in his posture straightened.

"Good. Now sit." He looked at the edge of the bed as Hiccup complied. "I have something to tell you."

"Yeah," Hiccup said, nodding his head, "Gunnar Hofferson mentioned that you wanted a word, but he didn't say what about."

"Well, son, I am no longer a young man and my injuries have reminded me that I am not invincible."

"Who would of thought…" Hiccup muttered under his breath, his sarcasm not deserting him. Stoick glared at his son with eyes that could melt Gronkle iron. "Uh…sorry."

"And in light of this," Stoick continued, "I have decided that I need to secure the future of Berk and ensure my lineage is strong." The man eyed the boy, "This…" He used his good arm to indicate Hiccup's entire being.

"You just gestured to all of me." Hiccup scowled.

"…is not strong. Son, apart from the children, you are the smallest, dare I say it, Viking in the Archipelago. You can't lift a sword or throw an axe or swing a mace or…well, you get it. And every time you try to fight a dragon, you end up destroying half the town."

"If you are trying to instill an unbreakable confidence in me, let me tell you, you're doing an amazing job."

"But. But. Thank Thor. You aren't stupid. If that idiot nephew of mine, Snotlout, had an inch of intelligence, I would have disowned you ages ago."

"Gee…thanks."

"And, most importantly, you already know the most crucial thing that anyone could teach you."

"A Chief protects his own." Hiccup interrupted again but this time without even a hint of sarcasm.

Stoick nodded once. "That is why I know, with a great deal of help, you will be able to lead. You care for the people and will always put their needs above your own. I know this. But you do not have the strength to protect the people. I mean look at this." Stoick gestured to his son again.

"Again, with the all of me."

"So, I have decided that, with someone strong and Viking-like by your side, you will be able to lead the people together. And, who knows, I might even get some grand-heirs." Stoick said that last bit with a little too much cheer in his voice.

Hiccup's eyes narrowed as he put the pieces together. "Wait just a-"

"You're getting married!"