A/N: Hello again! What did you think of that last chapter? I, personally, rather liked it. This chapter has a little less action, but does provide some valuable insight into the broken relationship between father and daughter. I found this hard to write, because I am lucky enough to have a very good relationship with my dad (we're very similar people, whereas Hiccup and Stoick are not). Hopefully I did a good job, and I think I captured the emotions well enough. This chapter also gives a glimpse of what life was like before Valhallarama died, and my theories on what happened to her. Please review, and let me know what you think.

Disclaimer: I do not own HTTYD


Chapter Three: Forced into it

Slowly, Hiccup's eyes flitted open. Her green irises were met with the sight of green moss, which accounted for the tickle on her face. The dirt that she lay against was cold, as was the surrounding air. The light gray fog that had been hovering around previously had vanished, replaced by the rich, deep blue of near-dark.

She was sprawled on the ground, face-down, breaths slow and even. Her short auburn hair had bits of moss and dirt in it, a result that came from it splaying around her face. With a sudden realization, Hiccup came to notice that her limbs were cold. She was dressed warmly in her boots, vest, long-sleeved tunic, and leggings, but it was not enough. Not when night was approaching in the damp forest. That, and she just plain got cold easily. Yet another non-Viking trait to add to the list.

The last thought brought memories flooding back. She jerked suddenly into a sitting position. Speaking of non-Viking traits, she had freed a Night Fury. If anyone were to ever find out... But no one was around, and her secret was safe.

Sighing, Hiccup heaved herself off the ground, picking up her discarded dagger and tucking it back into her belt. She had to get home; it was still morning when she found the Night Fury, so she must have spent the entire day unconscious. If she was lucky, her dad wouldn't be home yet, and so she could avoid any uncomfortable questions. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility, as there were plenty of times her dad had been out late, tending to one of his many Chieftain duties. She, in fact, felt downright optimistic that she'd arrive first

With that in mind, she brushed a few stray locks out of her eyes, picking her way cautiously through the forest. The last thing she wanted to do was trip, knock herself out again, and delay her arrival further. With her luck, her dad would send out a search party, yell at her for being irresponsible, and she would end up in even more trouble.

Or he might not really care that much. Hiccup wasn't sure which was worse.

Stoick sat in front of the fire in his house. He'd come home early, hoping to catch Hiccup. There were two things that needed to be said: one, he was off to search for the Nest, and two, she was to partake in dragon training. He then paused, wondering when their communication to one another had dwindled to only the barest necessities. Surely, it hadn't always been that way. He thought for a moment. It seemed that they talked less as Hiccup got older; that was certainly true over the past two years. Teenagers were infamous for being uncooperative, and Hiccup had such an attitude. There were days Stoick felt he couldn't even say 'hello' without her talking back and making sarcastic comments.

Maybe that was why he barely bothered to say 'hello' anymore. Or have any casual conversations with his daughter.

What would his wife say if she could see them now? Stoick was swamped suddenly by the desire to talk to her again, hear her sage advice. He really needed it; he knew nothing about teenaged girls. Hiccup baffled him, She was just so different from the other kids her age, he couldn't even ask other parents for advice. But Valhallarama had always known what to do with the girl, had even seen promise in her. The conversation he'd had with his wife over that matter was one of his fondest memories.

Stoick approached the house as the sun hung low in the sky. He'd been at an all day meeting, planning out the trip three of Berk's ship's would make to an island five-days-sail to the south. They needed the timber from that island, and the supply there was almost limitless. He was running over the finer details in his mind – he himself would not be going, but he wanted to make sure they'd covered everything – when a sudden cry interrupted him.

"DADDY!" a young girl shrieked. She ran towards her father, who easily caught her and scooped her up in his arms. The child was very small for her age – at five years old, she was only about as tall as Stoick's forearm was long. Her thick hair hung just past her shoulders. It was auburn color, the perfect mix between his red and Val's chestnut brown. Her cheeks were still round with baby fat, though the rest of her was skinny as a twig. No matter how much they fed her, Hiccup just could not put on weight.

"Hello Hiccup. Have a nice day?" he asked, a smile spreading across his face as his darling little girl buried her tiny face in his beard.

"Yes! I built a city, and read about a new plant!" she exclaimed happily, turning her wide green eyes up at him.

"You'd be amazed what this little critter can build with a couple of wooden blocks and some sticks," Valhallarama said with laughter in her voice. She had been repairing a leak on the roof, and had come down to greet her husband as soon as she finished. Stoick kissed her cheek, before turning back to his daughter.

"Did your city fend off a siege, Hiccup?" he asked.

She looked appalled. "Of course not, Daddy!"

Stoick frowned, puzzled by her reaction. The other kids her age all played battle with their toys – the ones who didn't pretended they were great warriors coming home from a battle. He looked to Val for input.

"She's an inventor, Stoick," the Viking woman said with a broad grin. "Her specialty is making things; not destroying them."

"Oh," he replied. What did she mean by that? He was confused. If Hiccup wanted to be a warrior, he was the best father she could have. But Val said she was an inventor. Did that mean he wasn't a good father?

His wife must have picked up on his worry, for she said, "You and I are both warriors, so it's going to be hard to understand where she's coming from sometimes. But don't you worry, we'll figure it out together – having an inventor-child – and mark my words, one day she'll create something truly great."

But Valhallarama hadn't been able to make good on her promise. Only three weeks later, the fateful dragon raid occurred, and Stoick was left with a daughter that he found difficult to understand on his own.

And now, nine years later, he wasn't any better at understanding Hiccup. If anything, he was worse.

But that wasn't important at the moment. He could worry about the state of his relationship with his daughter later. Right now, he had to focus on telling her what was coming in the next weeks.

Where was Hiccup? She wasn't in the house, nor the forge. He supposed he should be angry – for one, he'd told her to stay in the house. Furthermore, were it not for the thought of her entering dragon training while he was away, he'd have been ready to reprimand her further for the stunt she pulled during the raid early that morning.

Sighing, Stoick got to his feet, and strode to the door. He opened it, only to see Hiccup herself reaching for the doorknob. Startled, she jumped, and then looked at him guiltily. He noticed dirt smeared across the side of her face, in her hair, and on the sleeve of her shirt, but didn't bother asking. He'd long since learned that asking only led to her giving a very long, rambling explanation that he just didn't have time for.

"Hiccup. There you are," he stated, turning back into the house. She followed, scuffing her feet along the floor in a reluctant manner. "I need to talk to you."

"Yeah, I kinda have something important to tell you too, Dad," she sighed. "I really don't think I want to go into Dragon Training after all," she blurted.

Simultaneously, Stoick said, "I've entered you in Dragon Training, finally."

They both paused.

"Huh?" Hiccup asked.

"Dragon Training. You're entered," Stoick conceded.

"Oh. Oh! Oh, no, Dad, that's what I was trying to tell you, I...uh..." she scrambled for words, biting her lip and running a hand through her hair anxiously. "I've kinda changed my mind. I mean, I'm not really cut out for Dragon Training, I think we both agree on-"

Stoick cut her off by grabbing an axe that hung from the wall and dropping it into her grasp. She couldn't hold it's weight, and it slipped from her hands, embedding itself into the floor.

"Dad, I really don't want to fight dragons," she countered, half timid, half irritated. When there came no response, she continued – this time tugging futilely on the axe to avoid eye contact with Stoick. "I'm no good at it."

"That's what the training part is for," he replied, easily yanking the axe free. "You improve."

"But I can't kill dragons!"

"You will."

"No, I really, really don't think I will! I'm certain, actually!" she retorted. Stoick ignored the comment and the attitude that came with it.

"This is not up for debate. You're training."

"But Dad, I just said-"

"You will train, and you'll train hard. This is important Hiccup, and it's time you learned. Enough of treating things like a joke."

"Do you even hear me, or is my voice just a buzzing in your ears?"

"See, this," he gestured at her. "Is the problem. I want it to stop, right now. The axe is to be your weapon during training," he thrust the axe at her. "Use it well. Our way of life depends on the proper use of weapons like these," Stoick heard his voice boom across the room. Hiccup looked as if she wanted to protest further, but then her expression crumpled. Her shoulders slumped, and she hung her head slightly, dropping her gaze to the floor in defeat. "Do you understand?"

"Yes," she whispered, almost inaudibly.

"Good. Right, then I'm off. Another Nest expedition. I'll be back...probably," he informed her, putting his helmet on his head and picking up his supplies. He noticed that Hiccup looked morose, but had no idea what to say to her, so he just turned to the door.

"Yeah. And I'll be here..." he heard as he exited the house. Well, that went about as well as he could have expected. With that, he turned his mind away from the trying conversation he just had with his daughter, and onto the voyage ahead.

"...I think." Hiccup finished after the door shut. She let the weight of the axe pull her arms down, and her whole body sagged under the strain of it. Sighing, she dropped it on the floor. How could a medium-sized axe possibly weigh so much? It just didn't make sense. Surely, it didn't need to be that heavy to complete its function.

Well, that attempt to talk to her father just failed miserably. How quickly things changed; that morning, she would have given anything to be a part of Dragon Training, and only a few hours later, the thought of it repulsed her. She couldn't do it. She wouldn't do it! It was ridiculous, the whole thing. And furthermore, she knew she wasn't cut out to kill dragons, the morning had proved that much.

Hiccup couldn't bring herself to be upset over this fact. It was almost a relief, somehow.

Well, it had been, until her dad ever-so-considerately shoved her into Dragon Training without so much as listening to any of her protests. Yup, that exemplified a typical conversation of theirs.

Suddenly exhausted, Hiccup plopped onto the bench that sat beside the lone dining table in the room. She slumped forward, propping her elbows on her knees and cupping her chin in her hands. Her hair fell into her green eyes, which she struggled to keep open.

She just couldn't stop thinking about the Night Fury. She'd seen the fear so clearly in it's eyes, the fear that she felt at the time, perfectly mirrored. And more than that, the Fury seemed so...intelligent, somehow. It had not struggled desperately like a wild animal when she moved to kill it. Instead, it had lain still, as if wishing to die a noble death. Such an action seemed so human, so understandable to her.

She wondered just how intelligent the Night Fury was. Could it understand language? Did it have a thought process similar to a humans'? Did it have emotions, feel happiness and anger and sadness? Did it just fly, or did it know how it was able to fly?

If she had to guess, she'd hazard that the Fury was just as intelligent as a Viking, from what little she'd seen of it in the forest. (Such a feat was, in actuality, not saying much. Vikings, typically, were not renowned for their brains. There were some she knew – four of her childhood bullies, in fact – that made her wonder if they even had a brain.) No other dragon she'd ever come across had seemed like that before...then again, no other dragon she'd seen had been at her mercy either.

It still shocked her that she took down a Night Fury. Her, take down the one thing all Vikings feared! Her, the most useless person in the village, the screw-up, the accident-causer, down a magnificent, fearsome beast like that. The idea was ludicrous, but somehow, she'd done it – shooting at a black dragon in the dead of night, no less.

Hiccup paused, glancing down at her hands. True, it was an incredibly lucky shot, but surely she had to have some skill to pull it off? No one had ever given her a bow and arrow before – for fear she would accidentally kill herself or someone else, somehow. Should she try shooting one now? No one was here to stop her.

She was going to do it! She would shoot an arrow – just to see what happened! She needed a bow, and an arrow, and then –

Her father had no bow and arrows. Hiccup stopped short. Of course he didn't have them; he preferred closer-contact weapons. Swords, hammers, daggers, and axes were more honorable weapons – and they were more Viking-like.

Hiccup sighed. Even if she did find a bow and arrow, it wouldn't do her much good. She wasn't allowed to bring them to training. Close-quarter weapons were the only effective ones when trapped in an arena with a caged dragon: after all, the dragon wasn't going to wait patiently while she took aim.

Plus, she was exhausted. She needed to sleep; she could seek out a bow and arrow sometime later.

Hiccup trudged up to her bedroom, feet dragging. She was really hoping tomorrow would never come, but that wasn't going to happen. Shoving open her door, she washed the dirt from her face and hair with water from the rain-filled water pail by her window (she'd designed a little pipe and funnel to get the rain to fill the pail). Once that was complete, she yanked a comb through her tangled auburn locks, then stripped off her clothes, replacing them with a nightgown. It wasn't particularly thick – she was already shivering, what with her wet hair – but it was comfortable, and anyway, she would be nice and snug under her welcoming blankets.

She threw herself onto her bed, plopping face-first. Hiccup lay still for a moment, green eyes closed, relaxing and taking the chance to just forget all about the day and enjoy the softness of her blankets. Dragon training, and how she was going to deal with it, would come in the morning. For now, sleep was the foremost thought in her mind.

Soon, she was bundled up underneath her covers, on her side and curled up into a ball. Her eyes fluttered shut, and her breathing evened out. She slept.


"Set off!" Stoick bellowed. It was nearly midnight, but the ships were finally prepared to set off. He walked up to the bow, crossing his arms as he stared off to the horizon. This time, they would find the Nest. He just knew it. He could feel it in the very marrow of his bones.

Still, his mind wandered swiftly back to his house, back to Hiccup. Was it wise to leave her, right when she was to start training? What if she got hurt? He would be so far away, and wouldn't know anything for weeks.

But Gobber promised to make sure that she would be okay. Stoick trusted him with his life – he would have to trust the blacksmith with his child's. Plus, Gobber had been looking after her for years, what with her blacksmith-apprenticeship. And the man had been overseeing the trainees for more than a decade, so he would be more than able to keep Hiccup from getting eaten.

But still, Stoick couldn't help but worry. Hiccup was his only child, and she was so different from the other children, who didn't need much protection. She was so small, so weak – from birth until now. The girl was quick of mind, sure, but to live long in Berk required some brawn. This, in turn, resulted in Stoick's constant worry over his daughter. She did have a knack for getting herself in life-threatening situations – be it by fire, dragons, drowning, sickness, name it, and Hiccup had nearly gotten herself killed by it.

The gut-wrenching panic he felt everytime it happened never lessened either. It made him angry, which led to him yelling at Hiccup for her carelessness, which made her more stubborn than ever to put herself back in those situations. Stoick was sure he was aging prematurely. Why couldn't she just do as she was told?

"It's going to be hard to understand where she's coming from sometimes.", Valhallarama's words echoed in his head distantly.

Stoick snorted. Well, that was an understatement. Sometimes? He couldn't understand his daughter any of the time! All the same, Val was certain Hiccup was destined for greatness. Maybe, now that she was going to train, that greatness would start shining through.


A/N: Rate and Review! Also, if you want, you can check out some artwork I've done for both this "canon", along with other HTTYD fanarts (and some other genres too). look under the username "silkenstarrs"