AN: So here's the late chapter three! Computer's all good now, and I'm hoping not to have to miss a week like that again.

I got a Guest comment on chapter 2, saying, "Could you please answer the question as to whether or not there will be Hiccstrid?" I'm gonna be a little rant-y, but I didn't like the comment. For one, it wasn't posted under an account, so I can't PM them (which is the only way I would reply to a comment) and also, why do people ask questions about the future of a story? Can you not wait? I'd understand if I had announced that I was killing the fic, but... ?

To answer the question, yes, there will be Hiccstrid, but there is also a reason why this fic was not categorized as, "romance."

And, sorry guys, but the time has come. This is the first chapter involving domestic abuse. You have been trigger-warned.

Snotlout ran his fingers over the familiar dents and notches in the handle of his bludgeon, preparing himself for the battle he would soon have with the Night Fury. The closer he got to where he had found the dragon, the more he agreed with his father – he needed to train – but he tried as much as could to stop those thoughts.

"I have to prove him wrong," he huffed scaling a hill. From the top he caught a glimpse of where the Night Fury was.

Was.

Was he imagining things, or was the Night Fury actually gone? He ran down the hill, and into the trench, darting over the second hill. He slid down as quietly as he could, in case the beast was still there. He backed against the boulder, gathering his thoughts. If the Night Fury is there, I start my attack before it even notices me. He briefly considered untying it to have a fair fight, but he figured that with the dragon defenceless, and him with no formal training… it was probably fine. And if it's not there… No, it has to be. I can't afford for it to be gone. He took a deep breath, and jumped around the boulder, ready to attack.

But the Night Fury wasn't there. Rage boiled up inside of Snotlout, and he angrily threw down bludgeon watching it bounce over to –

"–Hiccup?"

The older boy stomped over to his unconscious cousin, inspecting him for a moment. Coming to the conclusion that he should probably wake up Hiccup, he leaned forward, and gently, but firmly, slapped the boy in the face.

Hiccup jumped to life, "Ow! What the heck?"

Snotlout straightened up, bolting upright, crossing his arms across his chest. "Why are you taking a nap in the woods? And where did the Night Fury go?"

Hiccup looked down at his knees, trying to think of an excuse, "I, uh, well, you see-"

"Hiccup, are you hiding something?" Snotlout interrupted.

"Uh, yes," Hiccup said slowly, getting up. Snotlout begrudgingly held out his hand to help him. "See, when you came running out of the woods earlier, I thought you had found the Night Fury – and you did – and, well, I guess my curiosity got the best of me, 'cause I really wanted to go look at it – not kill it, no I knew you wanted to do that – so I ran over here, and I saw it, I think you would call it 'bad-ass,' right?" Snotlout found himself smirking, despite how angry he was. "So, yeah, I looked at it, and I – I dunno what I was even thinking, but, I went up close to it, and then it opened it's eyes and it saw me, and it just," he paused for a breath, "it just went berserk, and I mean berserk, like, Dagur would be envious. It broke out of the ropes, and hit me in the head at the same time, and that's," he faked a sigh, "that's all I saw. I'm sorry, I know you wanted it."

Snotlout huffed, still angry, but not at Hiccup, "I really did," he muttered, "any idea where it went?"

Hiccup shrugged sympathetically. "It'll be fine, right? I mean, now you can kill your first dragon in front of the whole tribe!" He tried not to cringe at the words. Hiccup wasn't quite sure if he succeeded or not, but Snotlout didn't seem to notice.

"Yeah, I guess. But a Night Fury is a lot cooler."

"Bad-ass," Hiccup corrected.

"Yeah," Snotlout agreed, "bad-ass."

"Now who's with me?" Stoick's words echoed through the Great Hall. Despite the tribal meeting being packed, there was not a word to be heard.

"Alright," Spitelout called out, "whoever stays behind watches Hiccup."

Stoick watched in disappointed amazement as every single hand shot into the air, offering to go on the expedition to Dragon Island. He dismissed them wordlessly, and grabbed himself a mug of ale. He hadn't sat down two seconds before his brother sidled up beside him.

"He's such a problem, Stoick," Spitelout explained, "Just this morning, he was distracting my boy from his work. Now I know that Hiccup is a runt and all," Stoick rolled his eyes, already knowing where this was going. "So I understand if you're not concerned about any advancement in his future-"

"Here we go," Stoick mumbled to himself.

"-but my Snotlout has the capacity to be something great! That Hiccup boy is preventing him from improving. They should be separated."

"Spitelout we've been over this," Stoick sighed, hundreds and hundreds of times, he added silently, "Snotlout is a good influence for Hiccup. He needs a Viking-like person his age for him to model."

"It's a lost cause!" Spitelout blurted, "And you know it! Why don't you make Snotlout heir already?"

"Spitelout-"

"Everyone's counting on it Stoick!"

Stoick took a deep breath, regaining his composure, "I'm calling your bluff on that one, Spitelout. Hiccup will remain heir, and that's final." Satisfied, he took a swig of ale.

"An heir should be able to fight a dragon," Spitelout commented, as if to himself.

It took everything in him to keep Stoick from spitting out his drink. Quickly swallowing, he argued, "Snotlout hasn't fought any dragons either," though he knew the debate was going downhill.

Spitelout smirked, "Ah, but there's no doubt that Snotlout will. Top of his class, some are saying. But Hiccup? Oh no, we all know that Hiccup could never kill a dragon."

It was at this point that Gobber decided to step forward from the sidelines. He cleared his throat, making his presence known, before adding, "He could if he was put in training with the others."

Spitelout guffawed, "Oh, he'd be killed before you let the first dragon out of it's cage."

Gobber glared at the Jorgenson, "He wouldn't actually," he tried to argue further, but that plan did not coincide with that of Spitelout.

"Yes, he would! Oh, I can see it now-" but he didn't get to finish.

Gobber placed his hand over the mans face, and pushed, sending Spitelout flying backwards. He turned to his friend, "Put him in training with the others."

Stoick looked over at his younger brother, recovering on the stone floor a few feet away. Then, he looked down, ashamed. "As much as I hate to admit it, Spitelout is right."

Gobber shook his head, not going to take no for an answer, "You can't protect him, Stoick. You won't always be around. You can only prepare him."

Stoick weighed his options, and began to smile. "It's a deal. Hiccup will be in training tomorrow." The two brothers locked eyes, the younger glaring as the older smirked.

Snotlout grunted as he thrusted his mace into a nearby tree. He heaved it out, slightly losing his balance, but he recovered quickly.

"You're going to have to do better than that, Snotlout!" Spitelout reprimanded, "An attacker would've seen that moment of weakness! In less than a second, you'd be on the ground."

Snotlout sighed. He was eight now, and in his fathers words, "old enough to know better." It didn't matter what the topic at hand was, Snotlout should have known. He should have known that you must keep your balance at all times. He should have known that you can't just be good with one weapon. He should have known that you can't trust anyone without an alliance. He should've known to still be wary of allies.

Snotlout thought that this was a bit too much to know, but he figured he would remember it all someday.

"Are you going to be like this when you're chief."

"But papa," Snotlout began, choosing his words carefully – he knew that Spitelout had different reactions for different words, and he didn't like Spitelout's yell-y reaction, "Why can't Hiccup be the chief? Stoick said he's, 'the first in nine.'"

"First in line," Spitelout corrected, "and you remember, don't you?"

That was the newest thing to remember. "That the heir isn't always the chiefs son," Snotlout recited obediently.

"Right, and don't you want to be the chief?"

Snotlout thought about this for a moment, "Not right now," he decided.

Spitelout chuckled, "Yes, of course. But someday. Now, resume your training."

Snotlout nodded, and continued his orders, being extra sure to stay balanced. But he couldn't help wondering why Hiccup can't be the chief.

Snotlout ran up to Hiccup after his training that day, and quickly told him what his father said.

Hiccup frowned, "but my dad says that I'm gonna be the chief. Not you!"

"That's what my dad says!" Snotlout exclaimed.

Hiccup giggled, "You already said that."

"Right," Snotlout grinned, "I don't know why he thinks I'm gonna be chief though. He's not!"

Hiccup stroked his chin like he saw his dad do when he was confused, "I'll ask my dad about it tonight."

Snotlout nodded, and waved good-bye. Hiccup reciprocated, and ran towards his house.

"Da-ad," Hiccup sang during their dinner.

"Yes?" Stoick asked, looking up from his chicken.

"Snotlout said that Uncle Spitelout said that Snotlout was going to be the chief and not me." Hiccup took another bite of his bread.

"Spitelout shouldn't have said that, you're the heir, Hiccup," Stoick replied.

"I am?" Hiccup asked with his mouth full, "but why would Uncle Spitey say that Snotlout is?"

Stoick sighed, "Snotlout is a few months older than you. I think Spitelout is jealous – do you know what, 'jealous,' means Hiccup?" Hiccup nodded. "Good. I think Uncle Spitelout is being jealous of you for Snotlout."

Hiccup stared at his plate, thinking this over. Finally, he declared, "Uncle Spidey is weird."

Weeks went on, and Snotlout was still regularly told by Spitelout that he was to be chief. Snotlout would tell this to Hiccup every time, and in turn, Hiccup would tell his father. Hiccup received the same answer from Stoick, though angrier and angrier each time. Hiccup didn't want his dad to be angry, so even though Snotlout still told him, Hiccup stopped telling Stoick about Spitelout's conversations with Snotlout.

Hiccup opened the slightly charred door to his house, entering quietly. He didn't feel like answering any of his father's questions about where he was today, seeing as he didn't want anyone knowing what he did. He still felt like what he had done was the right thing to do, but…

It's not the Viking way of doing things, Hiccup thought sadly to himself.

His dad was sitting in his chair, stoking the fire. Maybe I can get upstairs quietly enough, Hiccup thought desperately. He started climbing the stairs silently, in his opinion, but his father sensed his presence.

"Hiccup," Stoick muttered, and Hiccup stepped down a step.

"Yes, dad?" He asked, hoping he didn't sound guilty of anything.

"You get your wish," Stoick gave a small smile, "You start dragon training tomorrow."

"What?" Hiccup asked, trying to keep his voice down.

Stoick gave a small laugh, "I know you weren't expecting it, but Gobber talked me into it."

Hiccup ran his hands through his hair, "when have I ever told you wanted to join dragon training?"

Stoick looked puzzled, "Are you saying you don't want to?"

Hiccup weighed his options. If he told his father that, yes, he actually hated the idea of learning how to kill dragon; he doesn't want to go near the kill ring, much less go inside of it, Stoick would be extremely disappointed. He'd keep me locked inside during the attacks for sure. But if he said, no, he wants to join training… he'd have to learn how to kill dragons, and he'd probably be the worst in class, and everyone would mock him – he'd be a laughing stock. Well, more than he is already.

Hiccup sighed, "You're right," he said carefully, "I wasn't expecting it."

Stoick grinned, and picked up the family axe, "You'll be needing this."

Hiccup stared at the axe, slightly horrified, knowing what the axe had done before, but slightly awed as he realized what it meant. He was a Viking now, or at least, he would be.

"That means you walk like us, talk like us," Stoick tapped him on the head, "you think like us." Hiccup shrank back, knowing he was already failing miserably at those tasks. Stoick picked up his bag, "I'll be back, probably."

Hiccup mustered up a smile and a nod. "And I'll be here," he waited for the door to close behind his father, "maybe."

"So boy, did you kill the Night Fury?" Spitelout sneered upon his son's entrance. Snotlout had tried to enter quietly, but he should have known that his father would be expecting him.

"It was tied up in the bolas, I saw it!" Snotlout begun explaining, trying to make himself sound as little at fault as possible, "I, uh, went to grab my bludgeon, you know give it a nice painful death, and uh, realized it was missing," he mumbled the last part as quietly as he could, but Spitelout still heard.

"You went to kill the Night Fury," his father mocked, "and you forgot your weapon?"

"It slipped my mind, okay?" Snotlout begged quickly, "When I got back it was gone."

Spitelout backed him into a wall, grabbing his collar in his fist, lifting him inches off the ground, "You let a Night Fury escape?" He growled, punching the boy in the face before he could block it, "Or are you lying?" He reared back to punch Snotlout again. The boy quickly held up his arms to block his face, and Spitelout punched him in the stomach. Spitelout dropped his son, "Get out of my sight," he muttered angrily, and Snotlout ran out, ducking his head to avoid eye contact.

"How many times have I told you to stop hanging out with that Haddock rat?" Spitelout bellowed at his son.

"I'm sorry, daddy! I didn't mean to!" Snotlout cried, tears flowing freely down his face.

"I think you did mean to, even though I've told you countless times, he's making you weak!"

Snotlout feebly pushed some tears off of his cheeks, "But mommy says I can play with h-him!"

"Don't you use your mother against me!" Spitelout yelled, pulling his arm back threateningly.

Right at that moment, Eira walked through the door, "Why is my name being used in an argument?" She stared at the two, the father ready to strike, as her son cowered in fear, tears streaking his face. "What is going on here?" She demanded to know.

Snotlout ran from his position, hugging his mother tightly. "Papa's yelling at me because he doesn't like Hiccup!" he cried into her side.

Eira rubbed her sons head comfortingly while glaring bullets at her husband, "I told you, it's good for them to be together."

Spitelout dropped his fist and sighed, "I'm sorry, Eira, I don't know what got into me."

"You have to control your anger, Spite, you're scaring our son." She knelt down before Snotlout, "Snottie, daddy's sorry, aren't you dear?"

Spitelout stepped forward to hug his son, but Snotlout recoiled, "I'm sorry, son, it won't happen again." Snotlout examined his father. He wasn't sure the apology was sincere, but he nodded in acceptance anyways, and ran up to his room.

"Good-night, mommy," he called from the stop of the stairs. He closed the door before he was asked to say good-night to his father.

AN: How were the flashbacks? I usually won't do as many in a single chapter again, but with how I planned everything out, there just had to be a lot of flashbacks at the beginning.

Leave a comment! I mean, not a guest one with a question about future events of the story, especially if you are expecting some sort of a response, but… All the other comments I really appreciate, okay? They really do *cough*remind*cough* encourage me to continue writing.

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