Chapter 10 : Facing Fear

-SwT-

Hiccup stopped his climb to look out over the forest. He and Toothless had been retreating into said forest for maybe half an hour, ever since he'd grabbed his dad's reply off the door. Better safe than sorry when they read the note, right?

They were partway up the mountainous terrain in the middle of Berk, on the western side. Down below, to the north, Hiccup thought he could see the cove they'd spent a few days confined to. He reminisced momentarily on that place, back where he and Toothless had broken the language barrier, at least a little bit.

He sat down on a rock. Toothless sat behind him. He was tired. All the running around and clambering and moving was stressing his arms and legs, especially his upper arms and thighs.

"Whaddya say we read his response now, bud?" he asked. Toothless chuffed, clearly annoyed Hiccup was talking when he still couldn't understand. Still couldn't. Only a matter of time now. Does Toothless know I'm changing? Hiccup chuckled at his friend's predicament (mostly to get away from thoughts about what was coming for him) and pulled his dad's reply out of his vest pocket. To Toothless' obvious chagrin, he read out loud.

"To Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, Friend to Dragons,

"I can't say I agree with your choice of friends, son. However, I very much would like this whole situation to be resolved.

"I've talked things over with the influential parties of Berk. We agree to your terms. At dinner tonight, I will announce to the village our truce with your particular dragon.

"I look forward to having you home.

"Chief Stoick the Vast, Tribe of Hairy Hooligans on the isle of Berk"

Hiccup almost bounced up and down where he sat. "We're going home bud! Oh, this- this fixes everything!" Hiccup wrapped his arms around his dragon's neck. His dragon purred at his human's happiness. Hiccup's happiness faded quickly, though, as he remembered what had been said in the cove when he broke the language barrier. What he'd done to Savage, and to himse- don't think about it.

The dragon's purr suddenly stopped as he sat up and looked downhill, ear plates raised. "Toothless?"

Hiccup followed the Night Fury's gaze. There was nothing there. Just rocks lit up in the moonlight and…

Wait, something moved. A rock shinier than the others suddenly ducked down. "Hello? Who's there?"

Silence. Whoever it was, they didn't respond. Hiccup's breathing quickened. "We know you're there! Come out! Y- you can't sneak up on us."

More silence. Hiccup thought perhaps he and Toothless were getting jumpy, seeing things. He was about to give up and return to climbing when suddenly…

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!"

A flash of polished iron shone in the moonlight. The figure came charging up the hill toward them, bellowing at the top of her breath.

Toothless responded immediately, charging and releasing a blast of purple fire: "SSREEEEAAAAACHOO"

-SwT-

"ssreeeeaaaaachoo…"

The sound echoed off the cliffs and spires surrounding the dragon training arena. The twins looked up at the night sky, which for a moment had noticeably brightened.

"What do you think that was?" Ruffnut asked.

"Don't know, don't care. C'mon, let's go see a dragon really up-close!"

"Okay…"

-SwT-

"ssreeeeaaaaachoo…"

"Mulch, what was that?" Bucket whimpered.

Spitelout, along with many of the other Vikings in the crowd milling about outside the great hall, looked up the mountain at where the sound and a preceding flash of light had originated. "I think that's our undeclared truce ending…"

-SwT-

"SSREEEEAAAAACHOO"

Stoick and Gunnar looked up at the flash of purple light that shone through the trees.

"Astrid…" Gunnar gasped. He took the lead, sprinting through the trees toward the source of the flash. Stoick followed.

-SwT-

The plasma blast flew down the hill and struck a rock just in front of the charging figure. The rock exploded, tiny pebbles raining down all around her. A large chunk collided with her gut, sending her rolling a half-dozen paces down the slope. The double-bladed ax she wielded clattered off a lot further, almost to the tree line.

Toothless leaped to a rock just above the fallen figure, spreading his wings intimidatingly. Hiccup hopped down after him, ducking under the dragon's wing. He winced as sharp pebbles and dust scattered everywhere from the exploded rock dug into his bare feet. He reached the fid…

"Astrid?!"

"RAAAGH!" Astrid bellowed, leaping up from the ground and tackling Hiccup. They wrestled on the ground for a few moments, Toothless too afraid to interfere for fear of hurting Hiccup.

"A-Astrid, what in Hel's name are you do-"

"WHAT LOKI-DAMNED MAGIC DID YOU DO TO YOUR OWN FATHER?!" she shrieked, "A TRUCE WITH A DAMN DRAG-?!"

Her tirade was cut off as Hiccup, with strength he didn't know he had, got his left leg between their wrestling bodies and shoved, throwing his attacker off. He grabbed at the leg, groaning from a massive pain in his thigh.

Toothless leaped at Astrid as soon as she was off Hiccup, slamming her back into the rocky ground and knocking the wind from her. A purple glow built in his throat and-

"Toothless! No!"

Toothless paused, again, swallowing his fires. Hiccup ran over and pushed Toothless away, leaving Astrid to roll away and clutch at the back of her head, which had hit the ground really hard after the dragon's tackle.

"It's okay Toothless, it's okay." Hiccup calmed the dragon.

"What... the Hel... Hiccup?" Astrid gasped, gulping for air. Most of her aggression was drained after the sound defeat.

Hiccup put himself between the two, a hand out blocking each from the other. "You just scared him"

"I... scared him?!... Him?!... That's a... dragon!..."

"I kn-"

-SwT-

Gunnar broke the tree line first, emerging onto the rock-strewn hill. Up above, maybe five hundred paces up the hill, a great black dragon stood with threatening wings over two figures wrestling on the ground. The angered shrieks of one echoed down the slope.

"...DID YOU DO TO YOUR OWN FATHER?! A TRUCE WITH A DAMN DRAG-?!"

The tirade was cut off as the figure on top was thrown from the wrestling match. Just as quickly as she was in the air, she was slammed into the ground as the dragon pounced on her.

"ASTRID!" Gunnar shouted. He began to clamber his way up the hill, tripping over rocks in his haste. Stoick broke the tree line and, seeing the situation, followed.

Another shout echoed down, this one distinctly male. "Toothless! No!"

The dragon paused. The figure that had kicked the other off rose from the ground and stumbled over to the dragon, pulling it away from the downed Astrid. Gunnar spotted Astrid's ax, not fifty paces above him.

The two figures exchanged a few more words, Astrid stumbling away. Then Gunnar reached the ax.

"Gunnar, wait. Astrid attacked fir-" Stoick began, finally catching up. Gunnar, still mad with worry for his daughter's safety, threw the ax.

-SwT-

"I kn-" Hiccup began. He was cut off when, unexpectedly, Toothless grabbed Hiccup's vest in his mouth and rolled, pulling the teen to the ground. Something large, double-bladed, and glinting in the moonlight flew through the space where boy and dragon had once been. It clanked loudly against a rock and ricocheted off elsewhere on the slope.

Hiccup scrambled to hands and knees and looked down the slope. There, a hundred and fifty paces down, were his own father and Gunnar Hofferson.

What would the best dragon slayer in Berk, the best dragon-slaying protogé on Berk, and the chief of Berk all be doing out at night?

Hiccup stumbled backward and leaned on Toothless' neck as the dragon rose back to his feet. He looked at Astrid with new fear in his eyes.

Astrid's eyes were equally wide with fear. "Hiccup... I-"

"Were you hunting us?!" he asked, pointing down the hill at Gunnar and Stoick.

Astrid's head whipped around to look, then she turned back. "N-no… I didn't-"

Hiccup snorted, then turned to his dragon. "Toothless, we've gotta get out of here bud." He took off across the rocky slope, wincing as the rocks pressed sharply into his bare feet.

-SwT-

Below on the slope, unheard by the two escapees, knuckles met flesh. Gunnar stumbled to the rocky slope, more from surprise than actual harm.

"You could've hit my son!" Stoick bellowed at the downed Viking. Gunnar, too surprised by the punch to act, lay on the ground. Stoick continued to run up the slope, toward the retreating forms of boy and dragon. "HICCUP! WAIT!"

Hiccup and his dragon descended on the far side, disappearing into the northwestern Berkian forests.

Stoick came to a halt. This late at night, against foes built for hiding in the dark, he didn't have a snowball's chance in dragonfire of catching them. He rounded on Astrid, now joined by her father. "What were you thinking, lass?"

Astrid stared at where Hiccup disappeared into the forest, then looked up at her chief. Voice wavering and still breathless, but with strong conviction, she spoke. "That... was not... your son."

-SwT-

Stoick, Gunnar, and Astrid slowly made their way back to the village. Gunnar had to support Astrid as they moved along. The hard tackle from the dragon left her breathless and gasping for air, even half an hour later when they finally broke into the diffuse torchlight.

In front of the great hall, the three discovered a much larger group of armed Vikings. Spitelout stepped forward as they approached. "Brother! What happened? Are you alright?"

Stoick nodded silently, not trusting his voice. Gunnar spoke for him. "Astrid followed Hiccup and his dragon out into the woods. They attacked her."

Astrid took a breath and clutched her side as her diaphragm twinged in protest. "I… attacked… first."

Spitelout shook his head incredulously at the tale, then turned to Stoick. "Brother, after you stormed out of dinner, I had the other men set up a perimeter and move everyone from the village inside."

Now it was Stoick's turn to shake his head. "Spitelout, it's Hiccup and a single dragon, not a damn raid-"

One of the villagers in the crowd cut the chief off, drawing everyone's attention as he pointed into the night. "DRAGONS!"

Several other villagers joined in the call as they spotted the dark specks blotting out stars.

Gods damn it all, Stoick thought. "You three," he shouted, pointing out three Vikings on the edge of the crowd, "Light the torch towers! The rest of you, defensive positions!" He turned to Spitelout. "What happened to the twins?"

"Seabreath and Gobber caught them on the bridge to the kill ring, dragged 'em back here," Spitelout answered.

Stoick turned around to Gunnar. "Hoffersons, get inside. Tell Gobber to let the twins loose, and that Fishlegs is leading the fire brigade."

Astrid's face spoke volumes of consternation. "All due… respect Stoick… I can still… lead the-"

Gunnar cut her off. "No, you can't." He turned back to the chief. "Stoick, I'll get it done."

"Thank you." Stoick turned to the remaining villagers, those who didn't have specific defensive positions during a raid. "All of you! With me! Let's move!"

-SwT-

I flew through the night, approaching the specks of light on the island below. Something about them seemed familiar, as if I had seen them not even a day ago. The feeling, whatever it was, died away as She told us to dive, to break, to rend…

And we dove… All of us. Uncountable numbers of all our kin, working together as of one mind.

Her glorious army.

Fire lashed out from the mouths of the first few Flamescales to land, and the humans' tree-nests burned.

-SwT-

Gobber was working at a fevered pace. Without his usual assistant around to help him swap hands and do some of the lighter menial tasks, keeping his weapon repair line going was an exercise in futility and haphazard piles of dangerous objects.

And also, occasionally, some very stupid - or stubborn - Vikings. Case in point…

"Astrid? What're ya doin' here? You're supposed ta' be restin' in the great hall!"

"I… needed… to help… and… Hiccup… did some… something… here…. Right?"

Gobber was about to tell her off for being stupid on the battlefield. His retort was cut off, though, as another Viking dropped a bent blade on the pile in the shop window, and said pile promptly collapsed into the smithy.

"Fine, Astrid! Fine. Move all these weapons onto the coals, and try to keep the fire on the blades rather than the handles. After that…"

Astrid set to work immediately clearing the weapons from the floor. Gobber sighed in relief at the recovered floor space.

"Okay…. Next?"

"The bellows, over there. Pull them until the weapons glow orange, like the setting sun. Don't let them get white, like parchment, and don't bring 'em to me if they're only blood red."

She was a quick study, and only ended up damaging a single weapon. He managed to get his line running almost as well as he liked it. The Vikings milling outside were pleased to actually be getting weapons at a decent pace.

As the raid died down in the early morning light, Gobber grudgingly admitted that even injured, for the menial tasks, Astrid was almost equal to Hiccup at smithing.

-SwT-

The fire brigade was awful. That wasn't just his opinion, his sister totally agreed. They just sorta knew that, tonight, they were doing worse at putting out fires than literally ever before.

It was a good thing that this raid happened, though, or they'd never hear the end of the lectures from the adults. Gods above, they must've wasted half an hour listening to them talk about how stupid and irresponsible it was to try to see the dragons in the arena. Jeez, it was an arena. It was supposed to contain the dragons! If it wasn't any good at that, why build it?

Tuffnut looked at his sister, who seemed to at least be having a similar internal dialogue. She rolled her eyes at Fishlegs as the portly Viking tossed another bucket of water onto a house that had been burning for several minutes now. Tuffnut nodded.

It was a great plan his sister concocted, he grudgingly admitted inside his own head. Sneak away from Fishlegs, then see a dragon anyway, but one that was totally not contained. One of the attacking dragons. How awesome would that be?

Together, the twins slipped off with buckets of water in tow, leaving Fishlegs to ineffectually fight out-of-control blazes.

They found out how awesome a dragon was up close really quickly. In an alley between two houses, a tiny green dragon shot to the ground in front of them, hissing menacingly. It had flecks of something Tuff couldn't make out in the firelight under all of its scales. Ruffnut stumbled back in alarm.

"It's so tiny! What's that all over its-"

The dragon leaped from the ground and onto Tuffnut's face, biting down hard on the unwitting teen's nose.

"Aargh! Get it off! Get it off!" Tuff stumbled over backward in pain, and Ruff did the first thing she could think of.

She tossed her bucket of water over the dragon, leaving the bucket hanging off her brother's face. He spluttered for a moment, then shouted. "Aaaaaaagh! It's even more on my face!"

Remembering his own bucket, Tuffnut swung it around and hit his sister's on the side, knocking bucket and dragon off his face.

Tuffnut clutched at his nose, tripping over himself and crawling away. "Oh I am hurt. I am very much hurt."

The dragon ended up face-down in Ruffnut's bucket and worked frantically to right itself and escape the tiny wooden space. Ruffnut took the bucket from Tuffnut's still flailing hand and put it down rim-first on the other bucket, throwing all her weight onto both.

To the twins' surprise, Ruff's weight contained the dragon. Tuff, holding his bleeding nose, laughed out loud. "Hah, I always knew you were fatter than a dragon!"

Ruff kicked up at him from her place on the ground. She managed to catch him on the thigh, which sent him sprawling. Not quite between the legs, but she'd get him next time.

"So… What do we do with the dragon now?" Ruff asked.

-SwT-

The catapult swung, protesting unhappily at its sudden and extended use. Stoick pinched the bridge of his nose, expecting the rock to miss any and all targets once again. Surprisingly, there was a loud squawk of alarm as a Nadder was nearly struck by the hurtling stone. It dropped the two sheep it had been carrying and flapped hard, swinging out of the stone's trajectory, which arced out over a cliff into the sea. No hit that time, but they saved another two sheep.

Stoick turned away from the catapult, surveying the village. Most, if not all of the attacking dragons, had flown off into the early morning light. Over half of their dark silhouettes left empty-clawed.

The dragons had done a worse number than usual on Berk's houses, shops and storage sheds. On the other hand, they didn't escape with nearly as much livestock as in raids past, thanks to the catapults not being blown off their mountings by a Night Fury. He thanked the Gods that the dragons didn't seem to have any more of the black devils among their number than the one… The one that… Well.

Stoick,out, and another Viking whose name Stoick didn't bother to recall descended from the catapult and returned to the village. Stoick made straight for the smithy. Gobber - being at the center of town and in a place almost every Viking visited at least once per raid - usually had the worst of the casualty reports prepared by the time the chief got there.

He looked in through the shop door and found two people working the smithy. "Astrid? What are you doing out here?"

"Had to… help… sir," she said, breath coming more easily than at the start of the raid.

Stoick shook his head, a mix of emotions washing through his mind. He turned to Gobber, pounding away at a blade. "Gobber, what's the damage?"

"Apart from maybe ten houses," bang, "one storage shed," bang, "and the seamstress'?" The sword hissed as he dropped it in a water trough. "Not much. We lost almost none of the sheep, so I hear, thanks to your men on the catapults. Meanwhile, at the docks, we had nary any fish left for the dragons to take. Traded it all to Johann."

"Really?" Stoick said, surprised.

"Aye. Tha's the truth. Also, the Twins managed to catch themselves a Terrible Terror with their buckets. I've got the poor wet thing stuck under a table, 'round 'ere somewhere."

"Over there." Astrid gestured with a hand to a table at the back as she carried a deformed mace over to Gobber.

"Yah, tha's it." Gobber nodded, then set about rounding out the mace.

"That's fine. Gobber, when you're done with your weapon repairs, get the Terror stored in the kill ring. We can use it during dragon training in a few days time. Do not let any of the teenagers near the arena when you're working with it." Stoick turned to the Vikings milling about the village square. "All of you, start triage repairs of houses. If all it needs is a roof tile or two, fix it. If it needs a new roof, let it sit. I want as many houses as possible livable again by this evening!"

Some of the villagers grumbled at the damage the dragons had caused, but almost all of them set to repairs.

Stoick crossed his arms and frowned. Any villager outside Stoick's inner circle would think the chief was thinking up new ways to protect the village and slay dragons.

Any villager would be wrong.

-SwT-

Hiccup wasn't emotionally distressed. No, not at all. He and Toothless spent almost all night crossing and re-crossing their tracks, taking a looping, impossible-to-follow path through the woods. Eventually, they returned to the cove where Toothless had been trapped. They approached it from the north, opposite the village.

And now he was perfectly fine. Not having an emotional breakdown at all and…

Dammit.

Mr. Hofferson had thrown that ax right at Toothless' head. If Toothless hadn't seen it coming, it would've killed him. If Toothless had seen it but hadn't grabbed Hiccup and dragged him out of the way…

It would have killed me.

How many more people had been hidden in the trees, ready to join the attack?! If he and Toothless hadn't run when they did, one of them would be dead for sure.

He wanted to return to Berk, to leave another letter, but what do you say to that? What do you say to nearly being killed by the people you want on your side? What do you say to people irrationally trying to kill your best friend?

That wasn't the worst thing, though. No, the worst thing about today - and the one thing that really had him in this upset state of mind - was that he had a scale. He had a damn scale, on his chest, right there, where he could see it, where it was difficult to hide with his vest. He couldn't deny it anymore; something was happening to him. He was turning into a dragon, somehow.

The only good thing was that the scale was black. If he was turning into a dragon, at least he seemed to be turning into a Night Fury. That's a bit of consolation, at least. I'll get to understand Toothless better.

But he didn't want to be a dragon. He wanted to go home, to the people who just tried to murder his best friend. He wanted to end the damn hostilities and have the best of both worlds: his smithing, his best friend, and his life as a human.

Why were the Gods doing this to him? Why couldn't someone else deal with magic and dragons and being useless? Why couldn't he have been a breadmaking Viking or a small home repair Viking?

Why did he have to have magic?

Hiccup continued to cry as Toothless curled around him, protecting him from the world as daylight began to rise. Eventually, Hiccup managed to fall asleep, looking far more peaceful than he had awake when awake. Toothless hugged him tighter and fell asleep as well.

-SwT-

I slammed again into the wooden walls of the trap, but they didn't budge. If I hadn't been completely drenched with water I could've burnt my way out in moments. As it was, I was trapped like…

The analogy had been on the edge of my mind, but it slipped away. I thought it weird for only a moment, then was distracted by Her voice.

Oh how I wanted to free myself, to claw apart these tree-made containers and fly back to Her. When I escape, perhaps I'll even claw up a human or two. I'll slash out their throats and bathe in the sweet, dark blood. That was what I did, right? I looked down at my forelimbs, invisible in the dark space. When I had gone to Her, I was covered in blood. I bowed down before Her and sung out my praises, and She accepted me. Then…

I can't recall what happened. After that blank space, though, I was sent here on my first raid. The joy of flying, the rush of attacking…

The fear of this entrapment.

In the tiny space, I twisted around to get good leverage on the walls. I began scratching, trying to make a hole or a break in the structure.

"Stop tha' you damnable li'le thing."

The voice rang in from outside, so many guttural tones and hums and hisses. Strangely, though, I knew what it said. Words came back to me, slowly, as though repressed.

I didn't have time to think about it, though, as suddenly my container was hoisted into the air. My head slammed into the top as it suddenly came to a halt, and I growled at the damnable humans outside.

"Feisty li'le bugger, alright. Astrid! Take a few buckets of water from the well and toss 'em over the coals. I'ma take this li'le annoyance up to the kill ring."

Kill Ring? What could that be?! They weren't going to kill me, were they? They couldn't! I had to escape, to return to Her!

I scratched feverishly at the walls, trying to escape again. The human outside shook the container, hampering my efforts.

"Li'le guy just doesn' give up."

The human flipped my container, causing me to fall and land on my head. I twisted and squirmed, trying to right myself and resume my escape.

Turning over was easier said than done. It had to have taken me at least five minutes. Right as I went to attack the walls of the container again, it rolled over once more. I landed chin-first on the side I had been about to scratch at and whimpered pitifully.

Suddenly, the wall behind me disappeared. I scrabbled backward, trying to leap out before I could be re-trapped.

My flank collided with a piece of wood and I pushed harder, trying to get away from the tiny container. The wood slid aside and I popped through…

Into a massive, rock-hewn dark space. I scampered about, finding the wooden swinging thing I had entered through without difficulty.

I pushed against the wood. It didn't budge.

No! Let me out! Let me back to Her!

"Silly li'le Terrors, always happy to jump any direction inta any situation. Ah, classic."

Damn you human! Open this door!

Clomping footsteps - one wooden and one hide - retreated from the other side. I deflated. I was trapped, still.

Hello?... Are you new?

Who is there?! I squeaked.

I'm the Stonetail in the cage to your right, facing the entrances.

I turned to face the door. Her (his? No, her) voice came from the right, echoing outside. A low rumbling voice sounded from the left. Stonetail, stop trying to be nice to the newcomer. It's a Tinywing; it probably doesn't even know right from left.

HEY! I shouted, I can tell the difference between right and left!

Two more voices joined in from further left, overlapping and finishing each others' sentences. Oh really?
You do?
Where are
The two of
One of
Us?!

A final voice echoed dimly from farther off to the left. Now you've done it. The Twinhead takes forever to shut up.

The Stonetail is to my right, the Twinhead and… I think a Preenscale are to my left. I'm not certain what you are low-voice.

The dragon with the low voice rumbled out a low, humorless laugh. You're a strange Tinywing. Have you not met a Flamescale before?

I thought about it. I couldn't really remember anything before meeting Her, and afterward, I didn't spend much time talking to other dragons. Or, for that matter, talking. Not as I recall, no.

Hmmm… The Flamescale hummed, a low and sorrowful note. That does not bode well for the rest of my kind, if already the Tinywings forget them so easily.

Well, I added, I only arrived at the nest under a day or so ago. I don't even recall speaking with other dragons; we were all too busy preparing for the raid.

What about
about those
of our kind? The Twinhead asked.

There were a number of two-headed dragons among our number. Yes.

Good!
Excellent! They replied simultaneously.

Are you all still talking over there? You're distracting me from picking the dirt out of my scales. The Preenscale's voice echoed.

That shut all the other dragons up. I tried to ask another question, but the Stonetail shushed me, and the Flamescale growled.

I guessed none of them wanted to deal with an irritable Preenscale.

-SwT-

Once again, the chief's house managed to avoid all damage in the raid. It probably had to do with being so far from any storehouses, though Stoick wasn't sure.

The chieftain sat at the kitchen table, trying to think of what to write to his son. What did he say? "Sorry a good friend of mine tried to kill you for trying to kill his daughter for trying to kill you last night"? That seemed like something Hiccup would say if he were in Stoick's position.

But that wasn't the case, and Stoick had to look at all sides of the situation. Most specifically…

A chief protects his own.

Hiccup… When did you stop being in that number?

He sighed, and put pencil to paper.

The letter was concise, saying exactly what Stoick meant, and stating it once. He stood, the chair creaking as his weight left, then went to the back door. He opened it and looked at the mark where the dagger had been stuck in previously.

He'd had a weapon, last night…

...and he didn't use it.

Stoick picked up a rock from the ground outside and set it on top of the page, on the back steps. Anybody going up or down the steps would see it there, by the foot of the door.

He turned and shut the door, retreating back inside.

The letter flapped in the wind under the stone, charcoal lettering smudging slightly. It read:

"To Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third,

"I'm sorry. I had indeed planned to announce the truce at dinner that night, but Astrid saw you leaving with the letter and took it upon herself to remove the threat to the village posed by your friendships.

"When we realized she was gone, Gunnar and I followed. After seeing Astrid attacked, Gunnar overreacted.

"We were raided by dragons immediately after our return to the village. While I hope you can still come home, working out a truce now would be less than optimal.

"Please, keep writing letters. I want you home, son.

"Stoick."

-SwT-

Snotlout winced as, once again, that decrepit old man's voice shattered the dim atmosphere of the great hall. "Two days, Stoick! Two days I've been cooped up in this hall! Either bring your damn son in here and lop the head off his damnable Night Fury or just let me get back to my cabbages!"

Stoick slammed his fist into the stone ring surrounding the hall's central fire pit, where he was discussing village repairs with a number of adults. "Mildew, it's been a day and a half! Viking law states we have five days to bring the accuser to-"

"Five days!" Mildew spat on the floor. "When was the last time anyone actually had to wait that long for a trial? Has it happened ever?"

Snotlout tuned the argument out. It was stupid, Mildew complaining about his trial. He never got a trial, and he was pretty much the heir now! No, instead Mildew finds out about everything like a seeming magician, then he's accused, then he's stuck on great hall duty for - like - ever! Why did all the adults get to decide what happened to him?

Crawling under a table, Snotlout picked up a half eaten chicken leg and set it on a plate, grimacing in disgust. Lunch was just the worst because nobody actually ate anything; it all ended up on the floor!

Oh, his dad and Ruffnut and Stoick were all, "be glad you aren't exiled!" and stuff, but that was just stupid. They kept him so busy, he never got to leave the mess hall anyway. He might as well be exiled, for all of Berk he saw. There was a dragon raid last night - a dragon raid! The adults were all like, "No Snotlout, you stay in here and do all the dinner cleanup yourself."

It just made him so mad.

And then, AND THEN! Hiccup came back as best buds with a Night Fury! A dragon! What does everyone do? They let his traitorous dragon-loving behind run off into the forest! As if all that wasn't enough, Astrid goes out and practically gets mauled by the dragon and Stoick doesn't lift a finger to help her! Beautiful, perfect Astrid!

When did Useless get the power to take on Astrid? What the Hel? It so wasn't okay, not when Snotlout's babe was getting beaten by dragons and village idiots. The only person who should be beating Astrid at anything was him, Snotlout, because he was the best at everything.

Instead, it was like Berk had gone to Hel in Loki's hand basket, along with a half million servings of chicken legs off the floor. Ugh.

He crawled under another table. This time, blissfully, there was no food left lying on the floor. He crawled out the other side and stood with his plate of cleaned-up food…

...Which was promptly overturned by a particular, long-haired, blonde Viking. Tuffnut grinned like nothing was wrong, but there were scars on his nose. "Hey Snotlout, what's up? You'll like never believe what me and my sister did last night in the raid."

Snotlout groaned as the half-eaten chicken legs he'd just cleaned up off the floor clattered back under the previously pristine table.

Dammit.

-SwT-

A/N:

Snotlout Jorgenson, getting his just desserts! Er… Such punishment. Much wow.

Hope you're all having fun reading!

=Anonymous Replies=

GUEST:

The story description does say "Transformation." Sorry m8. Thanks for reading!

-SwT-

Thank you all for reading!