Chapter 7

Gut wrenching dread pervaded the East Wing's study room. All its occupants stared at the brightly lit television screen, watching intently at the emergency news feed.

"A domestic terror attack occurred this morning outside the major Berkian Metropolitan area," a reporter gravely relayed. "Here is a CCTV recording of the whole event..."

The top of the line CCTV tech systems installed in every electricity pole around Berk recorded the entire attack in distinct detail. Two unknown motorcyclists ambushed a lone car. One approached from behind, raining gunfire at the side windows. The other one came from the front, going against the normal of direction of traffic and caused a number of accidents in its wake. Its rider finally broke through the already cracked bullet resistant glass panels with a well-aimed deliberate hit of a crowbar. The first aggressor then took a sharp turn, rubber tires skidding against the pavement, only to return to assail the unprotected broken window with another round of gunfire.

Paralyzing fear struck the formidable monarch to be. For a few seconds, Stoick could not speak a word. His eyes could only widen in shock, his bearded jaw dropping in sharp disbelief. The women standing by his side clasped their hands together while their trembling lips mumbled a litany of words in unceasing prayer. His old friend collapsed upon the couch, looking on in horror.

It was deemed terror attack.

Yet Stoick knew the truth. He construed the situation the moment he recognized the assailed vehicle.

This was an assassination, a bold attempt to kill his son.

The ambush had been expertly executed, too perfect for it to be unplanned. Only the timely presence of the Berk City Police Department drove the assailants away, giving the chance for the attacked vehicle to flee the scene and to enter the underground tunnels.

A ringing sound removed the group from their trance like state. For a moment they all stared numbly at the telephone sitting on top of a desk. Dread pooled in Stoick's gut. His stomach clenched painfully, awaiting and anticipating the worst possible news. Yet the king-to-be visibly stiffened his upper lip, acting determined and nonchalant as expected of his station. He picked the receiver up and set it against his ear, narrowing his eyes as he listened intently. Stoick sat still in his seat then he nodded his head and spoke in a strong determined voice.

"Keep him safe and bring him to the institute. Make sure that no one would link my son to the attack. I'll make arrangements for his protection. Just bring him to school."

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, determined to massage away the oncoming migraine that threatened to split his head into two. Setting the receiver back on its proper place, Stoick re-opened his eyes and gazed upon his family and friends, relaying the much needed news.

"The lad..." Gobber looked at him with a stricken look in his eyes.

"He's safe," Stoick announced, "He's alive. And that is what matters most."

"May the heavens be praised," The chamberlain touched her chest with her hand, letting out a lengthy exhale of breath, relief palpable in her features.

Gothi frowned and thumped her staff. She sat down on the couch next to the blacksmith, exhaustion draining the rest of her strength. Worry still haunted the old woman so Gobber reached out a hand to rub her back. The action earned the blacksmith a soft tap on his forehead although a small smile appeared on the Grand Duchess' wrinkled face. They all returned their attention to their liege, the king-to-be, awaiting his directive.

"What now?" Mrs. Ack asked, wringing her hands in worry. "Whoever attacked the prince must have been staking out the manor, watching our every move. He's not safe here, your majesty."

Gobber nodded his head, "As much as I want Hiccup here with us, tah lad would be better off in a more secluded place fer his protection."

"Yes," Stoick agreed, "We need to plan. We need to keep my son safe and away from prying eyes, concealing him from those who might hurt him."

The red headed man pursed his lips into a thin line. His strong fingers tightened around a pen, almost crushing it in his anger. Stoick exhaled through his nostrils as white hot fury pulsed in his veins.

Someone had the gall, the audacity to attack his child, his son.

And he vowed to make them pay.

-o-0-o-

Hiccup clenched his fists, knuckles bone white with strain. Mind bending fear shook him to the core, leaving him shell shocked and traumatized. He kept his eyes wide open, watching out for any discrepancies in his surroundings, and waiting for an ambush that might not even occur. He couldn't calm himself. His whole body felt like a live wire ready to snap at any moment.

He hated it.

He abhorred the fact that he could have ended up dead, riddled with bullet holes, and drenched crimson with his own blood. He did not want to pretend that nothing happened when he had just experienced a near encounter with Death. Yet Hiccup understood his father's reasoning, accepting that his presence in school could deter any attempt to link him to the terror attack.

It didn't mean that he approved of it.

The car they drove in puttered every now and then; its engine clearly not top of the line. Even so they reached the institute relatively early. A lot of other kids arrived at the same time. Most were dropped off from expensive cars or limousines. Their mode of transportation made his ride looked so glaringly different, so startlingly alien, that those who had been loitering in front of the entrance way gazed upon it with morbid interest. Then he heard the start of cruel laughter and the twitter of gossiping lips as soon as he stepped out of the vehicle.

Second hand cars might be useful for cover-ups but it certainly didn't earn him respect from his peers.

Hiccup lifted his chin, opting to act unaffected. He couldn't let them get to him. Not when he had just experienced a tousle with death and got away with an inch of his life. He oddly felt indifferent and uncaring. As if petty high school drama did not measure up to the terrorizing threat of being shot at several times. In the past he would usually lower his head in shame, letting his auburn fringe to cover his eyes, avoiding anyone else's gaze.

This time he faced them head on, vindicated with the knowledge that he had nothing to be ashamed of.

The truth of his heritage gave him a small sense of strength. He was no longer Hiccup the Useless or Hiccup the Unfortunate; the bullied kid that no one thought would amount to anything. He was Hiccup of House Haddock, heir to the throne if he would only choose to claim it. For the past two days his father and great aunt Gothi drilled that privilege into his head, claiming that he had a right to walk in the hall of kings.

So Hiccup held his head high. He shifted his shoulders back, tilting his chin in a certain way as Mrs. Ack always advised, and straightened his spine. He explored the school halls with a silent pride in his heart, ignoring those around him and focused upon his goal.

The admissions office looked unfortunately empty save for a one man. Hiccup remembered him, recalling that he saw that same teacher last Friday when he had been waiting for any faculty member to cater to his needs. The man looked a bit old with dirty grey hair, a beard, and a big mustache that seems to be growing out of his hooked nose. Walking forward, he rapped his knuckles against the dividing glass.

"I'm a new student. I'm here for my class schedule. Can you hand it to me please?"

"Why should I?" came the snappy reply.

Hiccup cocked his head to the side and arched his brow, "Because it's your job?"

The cantankerous old man curled his lips into a sneer and forcefully opened a filing cabinet to look for the needed class schedule, "Name?"

"Hiccup Cloud," the student replied courteously.

The teacher scoffed at the name, "Never heard of a Cloud before. And it's written in your record that you have switched school eight times within ten years of your educational life. Expelled maybe? Are you a troublemaker, boy?"

"I switched schools because I had to," Hiccup gritted his teeth, "It was not my fault that my mother worked in different countries around the world and that she uproots me more often than I want her to!"

His voice rose to a higher pitch. The teacher sneered.

"I don't like your attitude, new blood. You should learn some respect."

Hiccup ignored the jab and held out a waiting hand, "My class schedule, please."

"That's Sir Mildew to you," The old man slammed a piece of paper and a slim white cardboard box on the counter. He pointed a crooked finger at the door, "Get out of my office!"

"Fine!"

Hiccup snatched his schedule. He opened the box and realized he was issued with his own tablet, similar to Astrid's own. He slipped the white box into his bag and stomped his way out of the admissions office, acting like an immature teenager that wanted to piss off his superiors. No. He didn't have the patience for this kind of bullshit, not after what he had just experienced earlier that morning.

The moment he exited the room his eyes quickly assessed the information printed on the page. The list of subjects included the normal roster of lessons. Mondays and Thursdays had Maths, General Sciences, English, and Foreign Languages. Tuesdays and Wednesdays consisted of Viking History, Computer Science, Music & Art, and Physical Education. Oddly, the schedule on Fridays included courses on Economics, Basic Business Management, and...

Hiccup stilled when he read the end of the list. Forest green eyes widened in surprise, baffled that the institute offered a course only obtainable in specialized universities. Then a joyous smile appeared on his face.

Basic Dragon Training: a subject that he, a kid who had been basically raised by dragons since birth, probably didn't even need.

Yet Basic Dragon Training meant he could study the majestic reptilian beasts that he yearned to interact with

Hiccup missed Toothless, Sharpshot, Grump, and Cloudjumper. He longed to go back to the Dragon Sanctuaries, to fly in the sky with nothing but a leather saddle to keep him safe on dragon back. But he needed to wait patiently until his mother would be able to legally re-locate their dragons to Berk.

Dragon class could also momentarily quell his yearning for his best friend.

He walked around the halls with uplifted spirits, searching for Room 3A where his first class, Mathematics, would be taught in. He found it easily and he silently thanked the heavens that Astrid gave him a quick tour three days before.

Peeking through the glass door, he only saw empty seats. He counted only about ten chairs, quite a small number for a classroom of its size. A large screen and a laptop were situated at the front of the class. Tall floor to ceiling windows let in the bright morning sunlight. Hiccup opted to wait outside, standing beside the door jamb. His observant eyes kept searching for that familiar shade of golden blonde hair. He longed to see Astrid, to talk to her, to have a little bit of sunshine in such a grey looking day.

Soon the other students filed in. Tuffnut and a blonde woman walked by. The girl looked eerily like a twin. The siblings grinned menacingly at him, acting like hungry sharks that detected easy prey.

"Fresh meat," The mischievous glint the girl's eyes sparked nothing but trouble, "I haven't seen you before."

"It's the missing foot guy, Ruffnut!" Tuffnut snickered. "Remember the picture I've sent to like everyone?" The blond pointed at Hiccup's metal foot, cackling with derision.

"Oh a loser then," Ruffnut snorted, "I guess I should go before I get infected by your loser germs." She wiggled her fingers and upturned her nose then followed her brother inside, sitting at the back of the room.

Hiccup clenched his fists. The urge to punch something rose within him. In the end he chose to ignore their heckling and continued to silently observe his other peers.

Snotlout arrived next, growling at him like a rabid dog.

"Why isn't it slim stick. Get the fuck out of my fucking way, new blood!"

The smaller more muscled boy shoved him against the wall before taking a seat at the back beside Tuffnut and his sister. A statuesque girl with long, black hair braided into a plait walked past him. She sat with the group along with a petite blonde with wild unkempt hair. The girls whispered to one another, giving him curious looks, quite interested yet obviously for the wrong reasons.

A tall handsome jock sauntered in with confidence and sat in the middle row. He looked back, smirking at the pretty girls, earning appreciative looks. Tuffnut's sister stood immediately, sitting beside the newcomer.

"Hey Eret. Aren't you handsome." Ruffnut smacked her lips as she reached out a hand to touch the jock's bicep. She bit her lower lip in desire, completely ignoring the handsome male's look of disgust.

Then a husky blonde boy came in and sat at the front of the class.

"I hope I'm not late," he bubbled with excitement, meticulously organizing his e-pad, notepad, and pens on top of his desk. Hiccup decided to finally enter the room to sit beside this student, thinking he could become a potential friend. The other boy looked at him curiously and thankfully did not look at him with contempt.

"Hi there," Hiccup gave a small salute.

"You should move," the husky boy whispered nervously. "You shouldn't sit there."

"But I'm fine here," Hiccup said as he set his bag on the floor. "Why should I move anyway?"

"Because it's my seat..."

Hiccup looked up, his mouth instantly turning up into a welcoming smile. He instantly recognized that girlish voice. His joyful expression faltered when Astrid looked away, avoiding his gaze. She acted so cold, so different. As if she didn't want to see him. As if she couldn't be bothered with his presence. Hiccup knotted his brow in confusion.

"Hey Astrid, I'm glad you're here," he tried to start a congenial conversation, "I was looking for you."

"Don't talk to me as if you know me," she cut him off.

Her words cut deep into Hiccup's heart further spiraling him into a sense of bewilderment.

"You can always sit beside me, princess!" Snotlout shouted from the back. "You don't need to spend time with that one-legged loser."

Hiccup could hear the other kids hooting in laughter. Astrid pursed her lips into a thin disapproving line and glared at clique sitting at the back. She turned to him once more.

"Move to the seat on Fishleg's other side."

This time her clear blue eyes pleaded at him, silently prodding him to do as she willed. The emotion so dissimilar, so different from the coldness she emitted before. Frowning in confusion, Hiccup silently did as he was told. He slid his messenger bag on his shoulder and transferred to the other seat. The husky blonde boy, whom he now knew to be named as 'Fishlegs', gave him a tentative smile. Astrid sat down on her chosen position, quickly pulling out her e-pad from her bag. She stared decidedly at the board just as the teacher walked in and started the lesson.

They treated him like a pariah for the rest of the day, making him feel like an unwanted addition to their class. For now the bullying consisted of taunting and juvenile name calling but Hiccup kept his head down just in case. They called him loser, foot loose, slim stick, and new blood. He couldn't remember how many times Snotlout or Tuffnut made jokes about his metal leg.

The teachers ignored everything. They acted as if nothing odd was happening even if the bullying occurred right before their eyes.

In the end he confirmed one thing.

Snotlout Jorgenson obviously held immense power and influence over the whole school.

The arsehole ruled over his peers and the faculty with ease. The clique followed his every word, every order. The other girls laughed along his unfunny jokes and piled him with compliments while the Tuffnut and the other boy acted as accomplices.

He hoped that the guy named Fishlegs would help him but the husky boy obviously acted too afraid to intervene, too fearful to become a target. Hiccup could remember the palpable pity in the boy's eyes. Fishlegs stayed silent, avoiding talking to the new student even if he obviously allowed Hiccup to sit by his side.

But what cut him the most would be Astrid's avoidance.

When Hiccup would look at her, Astrid would turn her cheek as if he didn't exist. He tried to start a conversation in the hallway after the class ended but would be shut down by her unwillingness to talk to him. Astrid acted as if she didn't see him, skirting away from him for the rest of the class and even the classes after that.

He thought his day would get better, that this school would be different.

Every hope Hiccup had nurtured in his heart crumbled into dust.

-o-0-o-

"Sir, are you okay?"

Hiccup looked up only to see his guards studying him with concern. Mulch and Bucket still wore civilian clothing, camouflaging the fact that they were actually employed as palace guards. The second hand car had been parked in the nearly empty driveway. Most of the other kids already left fetched by expensive looking cars. He currently sat alone on the top step in front of the institute's entrance way. Loneliness crept into his heart and he just wanted to go home.

His definition of the word 'home' used to be a tent located in any Dragon Sanctuary his mother would be stationed in but now it pertained to a extravagant manor where his father lived. He couldn't believe how much his life had been turned upside down.

Yet some things stayed the same.

"Are you okay?" Bucket repeated once again.

"No," Hiccup snapped in frustration, "I'm not."

He wanted to cruelly laugh, to cry, to rage at the situation that he had been thrust into. Yet he only felt helplessness. The cycle of abuse started once again, capturing him in its evil jaws, and crushing him with the weight of his grief. He yearned to be free, to prove them wrong as his father challenged him to do.

But how could he do it when most of his peers already treated him like shit? How could he change the minds of those who wouldn't think twice about calling him names when he couldn't even tell them the truth?

"Time to go, sir," Bucket said, breaking Hiccup away from his troubling thoughts. The older man gave him a kind smile, ignoring the teenager's outburst by patting the boy's shaggy head with a prosthetic hand.

Hiccup smiled gratefully, appreciating the kind gesture. He brushed away the bubbling frustration from his mind, yearning to come back to the family that supported him fully.

"Let's go home..."

He followed them to the second-hand vehicle, feeling much better already. During the ride he silently pondered upon his situation, wondering how he could break away from the cycle to change it for the better. Suddenly, it dawned upon him that they took a different route, an alternate road that would take them away from Raven's Point Manor, far away from the house that he now called home. Instead, they entered the metropolis. The city that captured his imagination the first time he entered Berk.

Sky rises and commercial buildings were separated by wide intersecting streets. Busy citizens roamed the sidewalks, quite cozy in their coats and jackets while mingling and entering a variety of shops and cafes. Hiccup noticed a mall, a variety of government buildings, and several casinos and hotels.

One hotel establishment stood out from the rest. The name Thorston Towers displayed proudly in gold letters on its front. The whole building had been built with reinforced glass tinted with a gold sheen, making it shine and glisten when illuminated by the bright late afternoon sun. Mulch parked the car in front of its entrance doors while Bucket got out of the front seat and opened the door by Hiccup's side.

"Why are we here?" Hiccup asked in puzzlement. "I thought we were going home?"

"Trust us, sir," Bucket said as Mulch exited the banged up car and gave the keys to snooty looking valet. "You are here for a reason. We will keep you safe."

They entered the lavishly decorated hotel. The gold theme carried over into its interior. Lush lime green carpets with gold detailing covered the floor. Grand crystal chandeliers hung in the high ceilings. A gold plated statue of a two-headed Zippleback had been displayed in the middle of an indoor fountain. Everything looked blatantly expensive. Even the people who lingered in the lobby gave the aura snobbery while dressed to the nines in clothing he had only briefly seen in magazines.

The guards herded Hiccup through the lobby, ignoring the concierge, and escorted him to a private elevator located far away from those usually used by other clients. Bucket slid a slim gold card against a scanner then pushed the button for the 45th floor. The metal doors slid close and Hiccup could feel the solid metal shake underneath his feet as they ascended towards the highest floor of the hotel.

His hands shook in trepidation when the elevator's doors opened once more. When he stepped out, Hiccup saw a long hallway with only one door. Bucket once again slid the gold card against a scanner built into the door knob. A ping sounded and the guard twisted the knob, making the door swing open.

"Hiccup!"

A pair of beefy arms surrounded him, dragging him inside, and crushing him into a smelly, musky male body that obviously belonged to his pseudo uncle. Hiccup laughed and hugged the man back with all the might his thin arms could possess.

"Yeh're alive," Gobber crowed happily, "Yeh're alright, lad!"

The blacksmith lifted him up and swung him in a circle. Relieved laughter sounded in the enormous living space. Hiccup grinned when he once again stood on solid ground.

"Why are we here?" He asked. "Where's dad? Is he here too?"

"No, lad," Gobber shook his head, "Yer father won't be seeing yah here fer some time until we're sure that yer safe. Stoick's investigating who attacked yah this mornin' so yeh better be living here than in the manor until were sure tah coast is clear."

Hiccup frowned. He only known with his father for a few days yet he already felt disappointed. He wanted to talk to his dad, to ask advice, and have a good sparring session to sweat out his frustrations.

But that could only be done if he was in the manor. This new living space felt completely alien to him.

Looking around, he studied his surroundings. The room was not a simple hotel accommodation. It mirrored a two-story loft complete with a living room, dining area, and well-equipped kitchen. The stairs leading the second floor probably led to bedrooms and other needed facilities. He took a short walk towards the balcony and was surprised to see an infinity pool complete with lounging chairs. The space might be cramped compared to the manor yet it emanated the same aura of overt luxury.

"This will be yer temporary home, lad," Gobber said as he steered the boy towards the dining area, "Come. Let us eat our fill! I've ordered some sustenance for tah evening."

True to his word, the entire table had been laden with various dishes. The blacksmith gestured the guards to dine with them. They ate silently, fatigue making them too tired to do anything else. Mulch gave Hiccup a smart phone after dinner ended. The boy almost dropped it when he saw his father's face. He pressed a finger on the screen to play the video.

"Hello, son," Stoick said as the recorded video began to play, "I hope you are safe. You are to stay in this place until we can uncover the culprit who instigated the attack. Bucket and Mulch will continue your training. I have instructed them to teach you martial arts and, if it becomes possible, to teach you how spar with a knife and how to fire a gun."

Hiccup's eyes widened at this declaration.

"Your life is in danger," his father gravely continued, "We cannot let you be unarmed when your guards cannot be with you at all times. There are unknown assassins aiming to end your life. Mrs. Ack will visit you on Tuesdays and Thursdays to continue your etiquette and history lessons. And I will only contact you through this phone until I am assured that everything will be alright."

Stoick let out a sigh and he looked older and so tired.

"I wish I could be there with you, son, but I cannot lead them to you. Whoever planned this would be watching my every move. Be safe. Be armed. Learn all that you can."

The video ended. Hiccup could only stare at the mobile's darkened screen. A part of him yearned to have his dad here with him yet he understood why they needed to stay apart.

But he wanted that sense of comfort. He wanted his father's presence.

And most of all, he began to realize that he also missed his mother.

To be continued...

A/N:Sorry for the delay. I've been having major writers block and had to take a short break so I can have fresh ideas for this story. I really don't want to post a half-assed chapter where it's all fluff and nothing really happens plot wise. I really admire authors who can churn out fast chapters because I certainly couldn't do it. I've been asked to do a new story and I even have some ideas for other fics but this one is already eating my time. So I'll focus on How to Train a Prince for now. Maybe if I have a beta reader it would help me write faster. The problem is that I don't know how that system works.

Fun fact: Berk Institute of Higher Learning is inspired by a real school named Institut Le Rosey. It is the most expensive boarding school in the world.

Astrid has a reason why she's avoiding Hiccup for now so don't hate her behaviour. I really don't want to make characters act in a certain way without a proper reason. I feel the same way for Valka. I haven't really expounded on her character yet so I understand when people don't like her but she has a reason for everything she has done and you'll find out why soon.

I like characters that are flawed and have weaknesses. It makes them more human, more fleshed out, rather than empty vessels without value.

Thank you for your reviews because it really helps to keep me motivated especially during tough times when I'm experiencing writer's block. I keep forging on even when real life is tough.