Twenty: The New Heir To Berk

Gobber handed the report to the King and watched his face crease as he read the words.

"He's rounding the Seastacks?" he asked, lifting his eyes. "His full Armada?" Gobber nodded as Lord Hofferson arrived. "Drago's fleet is close." The Lord frowned.

"What do we do?" he asked. Stoick pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

"Launch the entire fleet…but bring me the body of his Envoy and one of the copies of the Treaty Spitelout signed with Drago," he said. "Make sure the 'Rumblehorn' is ready and carrying my personal standard. We'll sail out to meet him." Gobber stared at him.

"Anything else?" he asked dryly. "Anyone else yer need?" Stoick nodded and sighed.

"You know who I need," he said. "Fetch him!" And then the King gave a grin. "Drago's fleet can't breach our coastal waters," he said. "Their vessels are too large. And he doesn't want a war with the entire Archipelago. I'm going to broker a truce!"

oOo

The entire Berkian Fleet launched from Berkingham harbour, all fully armed and laden with men, catapults and bola-launchers against Drago's famed armoured dragons. Stoick had also taken the latest weapon…crude mines that Gobber and Hiccup had devised to hole Drago's monster ships if they got too close to the coastline. Resplendent in his armour and helm, the King stood on the deck with Gobber and Lord Hofferson at his side. Hoark and Ack stood behind him, their weapons grasped in their fists.

Drago's enormous flagship was ahead as the fleet sailed forward, their lines tight and standards bravely displayed. Stoick raised his fist and the smaller rowing boat was lowered and pushed towards Drago's ship. The boat sailed straight and true and the King saw men with hooks lean down and drag it in, then haul it up. He hoped Drago would get the message.

The brooding, huge, scar-faced shape of the Prince of Blood walked towards the boat that was sent to them in a pointed message from Berk. He recognised the standard of Stoick the Vast and already realised that Spitelout had failed in his bid for the crown. Drago shifted his dragon-skin cloak and stepped forward, his cold black eyes sweeping over the boat. He jerked his head.

"Remove the tarpaulin!" he growled and his men scuttled to obey, terrified of his ire. The material was pulled away and Drago inspected his message.

The body of Eret was laid in the boat, his hands crossed over his breast. In the centre of his chest, a copy of the Treaty was laid, the signatures of both Drago and Spitelout visible. A dagger bearing the seal of Stoick the Vast was driven through the Treaty and into Eret's heart. There was no blood, showing the whole thing was staged as a warning. Drago flicked his eyes up to the Berk Fleet, waiting and willing to fight for their land. He guessed he could crush them but the people of Berk would resist to the last man and Drago knew the other Kingdoms would unite against him. It wasn't worth it for the wrecked wasteland that Berk would become.

Then he leaned forward and saw a scroll jammed into Eret's dead hand. He pulled it free and inspected it: it was a Truce with Stoick the Vast and Berk, a non-aggression pact. His dead eyes flicked over to the fleet again and just picked out the enormous shape with the flaming hair and enormous beard famous across the Archipelago. The man was a consummate soldier…and his son was also rumoured to be developing into a fine tactician and thoughtful counsellor. There was small gain for enormous risk. There would be better opportunities…one day…

He gestured and a clerk brought up a quill and ink. Drago scrawled his name on the Treaty and pressed his seal into green wax, then nodded to the clerk. The man rolled the Treaty up and tied it with a leather tie. Drago gestured and a trembling small green and red Terrible Terror was brought up. The Treaty was attached to its leg and the dragon was motioned to fly to the Berk flagship. The little dragon took off like a rocket, desperate to get away from Drago. The Prince of Blood guessed he wouldn't see that dragon again…but the small dragon was not his priority: he had far bigger and more powerful creatures at his disposal. He gestured to Eret's body.

"Give it to the sea-dragons!" he growled and walked away, not even pausing to watch his servant tossed over the side like so much trash. "And turn back. It's over!"

Stoick watched the little dragon flap desperately over and land on Gobber's head. There was a struggle but the little dragon finally relinquished its message-though it refused to let go of the old warrior's helmet. With a sigh, a cloaked figure limped up from the stern and prised the little dragon off his mentor then expertly scratched him at the sweet spot under his chin. Gobber gazed at him and gave a grateful smile.

"Thanks, laddie," he grinned. Hiccup sighed, gently scratching the little dragon.

"I may have had a little more practice than you, Gobber," he admitted, walking up to his father. "Did they go for it, Dad?"

"Yes," the King said, scanning the Treaty. There were no amendments, no deletions…Drago had signed as seen and then returned the document. They watched his men toss Eret's body into the ocean and the vast ship begin to turn away. "He accepted everything you wrote, son. And he got the message." Hiccup managed a thin smile from under his hood. As he was completely dishonoured, he wasn't supposed to take part in battle either but he had been smuggled on board as a 'counsellor' which the crew had tacitly accepted. They were aware that he had helped the King in preparing for the encounter.

"Drago is cruel and direct," he sighed. "As was his Envoy. Subtlety really isn't his strong suit. I guessed he would appreciate his brand of straight talking…" Stock clapped him on the shoulder and he almost lost his footing. "Dad! Shifting decks and a new prosthetic leg aren't a great combination!" he protested.

"Nonsense, son!" Stoick grinned. "You'll be leaping about in no time!" Hiccup looked away and scratched the little dragon absently. It was purring and nuzzling his hand affectionately. "Looks like you've made a new friend," he added. Hiccup nodded, pulling his attention back to the present.

"I can use all the friends I can get," he said wearily. Stoick walked to him and wrapped his arm around his shoulder.

"Hiccup, I will solve this," he said gently. "Trust me, please? Just…do as I ask, this once? No wolves or orphans or dragons or anything wild and unusual. Just for once…trust me!" Hiccup met his kindly gaze and nodded.

"As you wish, sire," he sighed. "But I'm not sure the people of Berk will ever accept me!"

oOo

The next day, there was another celebration to give thanks for the new Treaty with Drago and the town was buzzing with happy and quite drunken Berkians. This time, there was another ceremony being held in the Great Hall, before the assembled nobles, commanders, lead burghers, artisans, priests and staff of Berkingham. The King was back in his throne, draped in his treasured bearskin cloak, his armour otherwise clean and functional. Gobber and Lord Hofferson stood at each side of his throne as his trusted counsellors and Lady Astrid stood at her father's side in a gown of ivory silk, trimmed with azure. A gold belt wound around her slender waist and the little axe pendant was around her neck. She looked pale and worried.

Stoick swept his cool grey-green gaze over the audience. "I must ask you one last time: will you not rescind your judgement against my son?" he said clearly.

"No," the lead Guildsman-the head of the fisherman's guild, a short, round and very hairy man named Mulch-announced. "The Ceremony was conducted as the law and the people had a chance to stand by him or condemn him…"

"Under threat of death," the King growled.

"It was legal. The people spoke…and for a long, long time." That much had been true, Astrid recalled with a wince.

"And my son, who served you all his life…is just ruined because you refuse to admit the whole farce was illegal and coerced?" Stoick growled.

"We only says as we see," the Guildsman said stubbornly. Stoick rolled his eyes.

"Then I will do as I feel must be done in the interests of justice!" he announced. "And that means reversing the judgements of Spitelout against those wrongfully condemned for actions in upholding my rule and protecting my people!" He swept his hand around. "Lord Hofferson was declared traitor and his lands stolen by the crown. I reverse that decision and restore the lands, monies and honour to my loyal servant. Likewise, Major Gobber, who was condemned to be executed and was saved from the block by my son, is restored to his honours and position as my most trusted counsellor and head of security in the castle. My son's sentence for treason is stricken from the record with the contempt such a charge deserves!" He stood and beckoned the group standing awkwardly at the back of the Hall to walk forward between the ranks of the audience.

"These people defied the rule of Spitelout and helped countless citizens, chasing off raiding parties, restoring food and money and stolen family members, distributing taxes and trying to mitigate the evil my treacherous brother poured on my land!" the King announced. He swept his hand over the entire, suddenly self-conscious group. "You are all pardoned your crimes. And I am willing to restore your former jobs…or a new one if you prefer…" Fishlegs gulped: he reckoned he should probably go first.

"Um, sire…I used to be a clerk but I think…if you don't mind…I would rather turn my hand to baking…" he said timidly. Stoick gave a broad grin.

"Well done, Fishlegs!" he boomed. "I am certain you will be a great success-especially if your cheese and onion bread is anything to go by! And I think you need a Royal Commission just to get you on your feet…" The husky boy blushed tomato red and stuttered thanks. The twins shared a look.

"Sire, we were both guards and it kinda suited so if you don't mind…" Tuff began.

"We would really like to be guards again!" Ruff concluded.

"And keep being allowed to blow stuff up!" Tuff added. Stoick nodded.

"Gobber-they're all yours!" he said with a grin.

"Is it too late to retire?" the warrior quipped, his eyes twinkling.

Each of the little gang was treated to the same consideration by the King until every last one was dealt with. And then he looked up. "Finally," he announced, "we have your leader-the Outlaw known as Night Fury…"

There were murmurs in the Hall but Stoick silenced then with a sweep of his ferocious glare. "All Outlaws will be pardoned if they swear fealty to the crown. That is my will!"

And at the far end of the Hall, a shape emerged, swathed in a black cloak and hood, his face covered by a tooled leather mask that concealed his entire face apart from his stunning green eyes. He walked with a limp, his gait uneven and pained. His tunic was a deep forest green and a plain leather sword belt was fastened round his narrow waist with a study sword on his hip. His leggings were a dark plain brown and his right boot was a scuffed brown. His left foot was replaced by a cunningly-crafted metal prosthesis. He was lean and lanky and just a little wary as he walked up to the throne. He bowed his head, then dropped to a knee.

"Sire, my sword is ever yours," he announced, his voice muffled by the mask. Stoick laid a hand on his shoulder.

"I accept your loyalty, Night Fury," he replied clearly, "and grant you the pardon your unswerving loyalty deserves. And in recognition of your deeds in protecting my Kingdom and my people…" He unsheathed his own sword and gently tapped it once on each shoulder. "I name you a Knight of Berk. Furthermore, in gratitude for your sacrifices which have been so great in personal terms, I endow you with the lands, honours and titles that once belonged to my own son." The outlaw dipped his head.

"Sire, I am grateful beyond all words," he said, his voice a little choked. The King offered him a hand and he allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, starting as the King's hand tightened round his shoulder in a paternal gesture as the outlaws began to clap and cheer, the twins whooping and whistling. A ripple of applause ran through the room that grew louder until the audience really joined in.

"I really am very proud of you," the King said in a low voice that the watchers couldn't hear before quietening them down and asking more loudly: "Now is there any boon you wish to ask from me?" Night Fury sighed.

"Not you-no, sire," he admitted. "You have been more than generous to this undeserving wretch. But Lord Hofferson?" Stoick nodded. "I am sure I am unworthy…but nonetheless…" He sighed and lifted his chin. "May I request the hand of your daughter, the Lady Astrid, in marriage?" The Lord made a show of considering the request then nodded, his eyes twinkling.

"If my daughter consents, then so be it," he said sternly. The outlaw turned to the girl and he inclined his head.

"Milady? Would you do me the incomparable honour of becoming my wife, of threatening me with your axe whenever you fancy, of enduring my sarcasm and dubious wit and my undying love and affection?" She smiled and sidled up to him, her blue eyes relieved.

"When you put it like that, how could a girl refuse, Sir Outlaw?" she grinned. Night Fury wrapped his arms around her middle and swung her round to a renewed burst of cheering. Stoick glanced up.

"Do we have a Priest of Freya in the Hall?" he called. There was a scuffle between three priests all fighting to reach the dais first and claim the honour and eventually an older man with thinning grey hair in the familiar robes pushed through the laughing and cheering crowd. The people of Berk loved a show. The outlaw snapped his head round to stare at the King and his green eyes widened behind the mask.

"Er…sire?" he murmured. "Isn't this a bit…impulsive?" Stoick just grinned and in desperation, the young man turned to his prospective bride. "Astrid?"

"Are you chickening out on me, Mister Outlaw?" she teased him, hearing the uncertainty in his voice.

"Um, I think it's Sir Outlaw, but I don't want you to feel you have to do anything you don't want to…especially just for me…" he replied in a low voice. She snuggled against him and stared into the angst-ridden eyes.

"This is what I want," she said slowly, "but are you telling me that you don't want to…?" He shook his head frantically.

"No. NO!" he protested. "This is everything I could ever want…but I have so little to offer you now…it wouldn't be right to impoverish you when you are a Lady…" She took his hands.

"Apart from the fact you have just been awarded half a dozen manors and titles and a fifth of Berk, you are all I could ever want," she assured him. "The rest can take care of itself." He bowed his head in defeat, knowing there was no way he could dissuade Astrid Hofferson.

"I'll have to refurbish the Cove," he sighed as the Priest walked forward.

"Firstly…in front of Freya, Odin and the Aesir, does anyone assembled here have any objection against the union of this man, the former outlaw and now Knight of Berk, Night Fury to Lady Astrid Hofferson, heir to Scauldron Bay?" the man announced, his dry voice cutting through the hubbub. His glacial blue eyes swept across the room and there was no reply. "Who stands with this man?"

"I do!" Ruff called, followed by her twin.

"I do!" Fishlegs announced and stood by Ruff with a small smile. She elbowed him lightly.

"I do!" Gobber called and limped up to stand behind the cloaked shape. Night Fury started and half-turned to his friend. Gobber offered a broad grin.

"I do!" the King announced and stood behind the young outlaw to the gasps of the crowd. He gulped and stared at his bride to be. She was grinning broadly.

"And who gives this woman?" the priest intoned.

"I do!" Lord Hofferson announced. The priest took the couple's hands and tied his sash loosely around them, binding them together.

"Who bears the rings?"

"I got them right here…" Gobber announced and Night Fury's head snapped round to stare at the old warrior. Gobber produced a soft leather pouch from his pocket. "I may have been a bit busy last night in the forge…" Gobber mumbled. Night Fury could hear Astrid chuckling now and turned back to his wife to be.

"Keeping secrets, Milady?" he asked in a low voice. She nodded.

"Only important ones…" she giggled and tightened her grip possessively on his hand.

The ceremony went smoothly and there were cheers when the rings were exchanged and the Priest raised his hands, the tail end of the sash still in one.

"Before Freya, Odin and the Gods, this man and this woman are joined in marriage, to love and support and honour each other for the rest of their lives!" he announced and pulled the sash away, leaving their hands clasped. Cheers roared through the Hall and Astrid leaned closer to the outlaw.

"I think you're supposed to kiss me now," she murmured. He pushed his hood back, revealing his tousled auburn mop and sighed.

"I know this part," he admitted and flipped the mask back up onto the top of his head, then leaned closer to pull her into a very deep and loving kiss, his arms sliding down her back to her waist and her hands clasping his cheeks. Finally, they broke apart and turned-to the gasps of the crowd.

"What is this?" Mulch and a dozen others asked. Stoick gave a broad grin.

"You have cast out and utterly and wrongfully dishonoured my son, Prince Hiccup, and refused to allow me to welcome my boy back to his rightful home-despite his innocence," he announced. "But you welcomed my pardon of all the outlaws-including the Night Fury. You cheered as he was honoured with a knighthood and bestowed with all the lands, titles and honours that my son once owned. You cheered as he was wed to the Lady Hofferson. And now he faces you. The dishonour that you so unjustly levied on my son Hiccup has nothing to do with Sir Fury." The Guildsmen stared.

"But…but…"

Stoick folded his arms. "It is, as you would say, the law," he growled. "Night Fury has all my son's lands and honours…including his title as Prince of Berk and Heir to the Throne." Hiccup spun to face his father, Astrid still clutched in his arms.

"WHAT?" he gasped. Stoick grinned with Gobber winking and Lord Hofferson nodding proudly behind him. Suddenly, Hiccup knew who had contrived the whole thing. Toothless poked his head out from behind the throne where he had been ordered to stay, his mouth open and teeth showing in his familiar smile before walking to press against his master's leg. Hiccup automatically rubbed the wolf, feeling a little light-headed.

"Prince Fury, I presume you and Princess Astrid will reside here in Berkingham until you build yourselves a small Hall of your own…" the King asked them. Hiccup's jaw dropped.

"H-Hall? As in…building?"

"Mmm…Princess Astrid…I could get to like that…" Astrid murmured, smiling at Hiccup's astonished face.

"I suppose the Cove is definitely out the question now?" he sighed. She tightened her grip on him.

"I suppose Prince Fury…and King Fury…are much better than Prince Hiccup…" she smiled as the crowd began to clap, deciding they admired the determination to honour the man who had restored taxes, released stolen children and thwarted the evil Sheriff and Spitelout. It was a good show and the people of Berk were suckers for a happy ending. Even the Guildsmen were grudgingly clapping now.

"I liked being Prince Hiccup," he grumbled lightly. "I mean, not the greatest name but I was kinda used to it…and it suited my general uselessness…"

"And while Fury is a much more Kingly name, you can still be my Hiccup," she hummed into his neck. He kissed the top of her head lightly. Behind them, the twins were chanting:

"Prince Fury…Prince Fury…Prince Fury…" And the crowd were taking up the chant as well. Stoick winked at his son and Hiccup turned back to his new wife.

"You were in on this?" he asked her quietly. She grinned and nodded.

"Best friends," she reminded him. "And now you are all mine!" He leaned towards her and stared into her triumphant eyes then he finally gave a small smirk.

"And I'll always be yours," he said softly. "If I'd known it would end like this, I would have got condemned for treason years ago! You are worth everything I had to go through…my Princess Astrid, Milady Outlaw…"

She felt her eyes prickle with tears at his tone and kissed him once more, reading the happiness and gratitude in his luminous green eyes. "Oh no-you're not getting up to any more shenanigans…" she warned him. He smirked and gave her a very self-confident smile.

"At least for this afternoon…" he muttered in her ear and she blushed furiously at the implication. "Milady…" he purred and she buried her face in his chest, a smile stretching her lips. This was the cocky outlaw she had fallen for.

"My husband…Sir Outlaw, my Prince of Thieves," she whispered to the cheers of the people of Berk.

The End.

Supplementary A/N: I have had a number of queries about who is who. So here is the Cast:

Please note-not all of the characters here completely align with their counterparts in the Original Robin Hood story…because it's a 'reimagining' (horrible term). For example, Fishlegs fulfils some of the Little John role but not all. And there is no one who would fit the twins! But these are who I feel the characters are more closely aligned with. I'm sure you have your own opinions…

Robin Hood - Hiccup

Marian - Astrid

Marian's Father- Lord Hofferson

Tuck - Gobber

King Richard - Stoick

Prince John - Spitelout

Sheriff of Nottingham- Alvin

Guy of Gisbourne- Dagur (+Eret)

Will Scarlet - Toothless (yes, really)

Much - Gustav

Little John - Fishlegs

Alan-a-Dale / other outlaws- Ruffnut and Tuffnut

The traditional story doesn't really have an equivalent for the Heather or Snotlout characters in this tale.

See you soon! - harrypanther :)