All right, new chapter! And 200 follows, woohoo!
This took a while because I'm trying to experiment with my writing style. Reading some of the more popular and well-written fanfics like 'Prodigal Son' and 'The Boy Behind the Mask,' I'm making assessments on my own writing. I'm trying to cut back on all the details, which I feel is necessary upon looking back and seeing how crammed with detail my stuff is and how I feel some stuff might have already been repeated. Somewhere further along the road, I hope to refine this even more. So my work for this, and Dragon's Hero will be of a bit higher quality.
On that note, I'd like to address:
Silverwolf: Constantly posting 'write more soon' in the reviews is not going to get these chapters up any faster. Please respect that I have a life, that every writer on this site has a life, and that every waking moment is not spent writing stuff for this. This is a hobby, nothing more, nothing less; I have other priorities and responsibilities. So please stop posting that, or at least change it up a bit. Sorry if I'm sounding harsh, but I mean it.
That being said, enjoy this chapter. I think it's one of my better ones.
All rights to Httyd belong to Cressida Cowell and Dreamworks. All OCs and original story belong to NightShade248.
Hiccup just remained at the top of the dark stairway looking down even after Alta had descended with the rest of the Berkians in tow. His brow furrowed noticing the off-character behavior of his wife; she never once looked back to give a reassuring glance, not a single smile or word of encouragement.
In fact, the only looks back came from Snotlout who sent him a defiant glare, one he was more than happy to return, to which Snotlout only gave a bored dismissive scoff before turning around. It certainly made him angry that his bull-headed cousin and the rest were still underestimating him in the face of all they had seen. Yet he chose to focus more on the growing pit in his stomach over the safety of his wife alone with his ex-parent, the man who had threatened her and would do who knows what else given her defiant nature.
And based on the way Alvis gripped onto his sleeve, the sentiment was shared. "I don't like that man. Daddy, where's he going with mommy?"
The movement of the small child in his arms brought Hiccup back to focus and drew his attention right to his equally worried face. He gave a small smile and readjusted his hold to carry the young boy bridal-style. "Don't worry, Alvis. They're just going to talk for a little bit. At least, I hope so." He muttered looking back to the steps once more.
"You think something bad's gonna happen?"
"Well, like practically every other Viking ever, Stoick was never really one for conversation. He always preferred to let his fists or hammer do the talking for him." A deadpan comment like that might not have been the best thing to mutter to a son worried for his mother, he thought once he heard Alvis's sharp gasp. Hiccup bit his tongue and fought back both a wince and the need to slap himself in the head for his insensitivity. Fortunately, Toothless beat him to it with his tail, but made sure to keep it light lest he propel his rider and Alvis down the steps. "Hey, don't worry, this is mommy we're talking about. I'd be more worried about him than her." He mentioned while rubbing his head with a slightly pained look.
"You sure?" Alvis said rather torn looking at his father's face.
"Of course. Your mom's got a real knack for telling people off. Just ask Ruoy." Hiccup smiled.
Finally, Hiccup stepped away from the top of the staircase and returned to Alvis' room with Toothless close behind. The room of the young chief/dragon rider-to-be was mostly similar to Hiccup's old room back on Berk was, with a bed, a desk for drawing, drawers for keeping clothes and other basic necessities. However, it was also filled to the brim with books brought in from other countries obtained on their three-year long journey, mostly children's stories, picture books and basic materials for learning to read, write, and do arithmetic.
Hiccup had been eager to promote intellectual skills long before his promotion to chief believing it would help the people in the long run, remembering how education had never been in favor with the Hooligan Tribe, and considering their overall lack of intelligence to be a heavily contributing factor to the continued ruin of their tribe. And lucky for him, Alvis was already an avid reader, at his current age able to understand material read by most adults, although that wasn't really saying all that much. He mentioned how he wanted to study up as much as possible by the time he could enroll in the Dragon Academy and learn to be a rider, he could be the top student and make him proud.
Aside from that, as expected to be in a child's room, there were toys pretty much everywhere, from stuffed animals to wooden swords and balls. Same as the books, toys that clearly had the look of foreign lands were there as well, decorated with unusual patterns and symbols. Hairke and Alta considered Hiccup to be spoiling the boy with all the toys he had gotten him, but he never really listened. Besides, Alvis never complained about it, although Alta said it would be a sign of Ragnarok the day any child anywhere stopped asking for any toys.
Hiccup carried Alvis over to his bed and set the young child down gently, like a priceless and fragile treasure. Alvis's tiny form seemed to dissolve in the mat of soft animal hide, a much more preferable contrast to the hard wood planks that left many a Viking with stiff backs the next day. Alvis stared up at his father, a solemn curiosity filling up the young child's gaze.
"Daddy, is that man really my Grandpa?"
Hiccup paused for a moment, the out-of-the-blue question taking him by surprise, before tucking the sheets in around him. "In a manner of speaking, yes…"
"Why don't you ever talk about him?" Alvis asked.
Hiccup held back the large lump in his throat to keep himself from yelling at his son for his clearly innocent question. Admittedly it was rather hard considering the cut in his sleep time thanks in no small part to an unexpected and unwanted reunion with his former people. The time he spent on Berk was a chapter in his life he wanted to close the book on forever and yet like always, it seemed like fate had preferred to keep him from the easier path. Left with no choice he swallowed back the lump and let the hands that had been tightly gripping the sheets release their iron grip hold.
And with a soft exhale through the nose, he gave it. "It's complicated." He spoke quietly with a barely noticeable shrug of the shoulders. "Your grandfather and I have never really had the best relationship. Looking back on it, I guess he was always more interested in being a chief than a father. Less emotional involvement for him that way."
"Uhm…" Alvis cocked his head with a soft shift of the pillow being heard. "I don't get it."
"Yeah, can't say I do either." Hiccup chuckled, but in an instant the small sad grin that graced his features was gone. "I don't really remember much about how or exactly when it started; seems like he's been ignoring me my whole life. But I had heard it had a lot to do with the way your Grandmother died."
Alvis only looked down to his tiny hands on the soft cloth blankets. "You said that before, with… Grandpa. But everybody was talking so fast, I didn't really follow… how did she die?" Looking back up to his father, he now saw him with a deeply troubled expression on his face. "Daddy?"
This was it – the dreaded moment that Hiccup had hoped to never really have to come in his child's lifetime, or at the very least to have been put off until he was at least 40. Alvis had been one of the last children born in an era of war, and thankfully had spent the final few days of that war as an innocent, ignorant baby. Running a hand across his weary face, it seemed now more foolish than apparently possible to think he could hide such a crucial, monumental, not to mention longstanding piece of history from Alvis.
Alta too had warned him about it, despite already knowing his intentions in keeping it hidden. One way or another, with the boy's inherited desire for knowledge and understanding, he would have come across it on his own, and where would that leave them then? If there was one thing Hiccup knew, it was that secrets had a way of driving wedges between people. Glancing back at Alvis gave him the clear reminder of how he swore not to let history repeat itself in the case of father and son – that was more than enough reason to spit it out here and now.
"The truth is, Alvis… your mommy and I wanted to wait until you were older to tell you this. We didn't think you would take it all that well, and…" Alvis was left startled by the speed at which his father turned around and firmly grasped his hand in reassurance. "You're happy here, right? I mean, with the way things are?"
As if the last few tense moments had been some harsh nightmare, Alvis let out a bright smile. "Of course I am. I have lots of friends to play with, lots of kids my own age, and the dragons are a lot of fun too! We get to play lots of games and we talk about being riders and-"
"I'm glad to hear that." Hiccup laughed and cut off Alvis' excited spur with a ruffle of his hair. Though even after the laughter ended, the hand still kept its place atop his head. "It makes me… really happy to know that you feel that way. Because, well… things weren't always like this …"
"I don't get it. Didn't you get to play with dragons too?" Alvis asked.
"Actually, no. You see, when I was your age, dragons weren't our friends." Hiccup gulped – the moment of truth, as it truly seemed to be. "For a really long time, in my old village and lots of other places, even here, everyone was brought up to hate and fear dragons. We… fought them. We killed them."
A dead silence filled the room that none of its three occupants dared to break, tension permeating like the odor of an animal carcass left to gather mud and grime. This had been pretty much how Hiccup expected a child born with the idea that dragons were loving, loyal companions would take such an awful truth. He was glad that Toothless had been gracious enough to leave them both to their thoughts without so much as a single warble, long accepting the fact that his rider kept such secrets for noble reasons.
But now he was just wishing that someone, anyone, would break the silence and speak, feeling like a child who had just misbehaved greatly and was simply awaiting punishment in a cold sweat.
"W-What…?" Hiccup finally dared to look up at his son's broken and shuddering whisper of a question, and his eyes widened in pain seeing the look of horror and devastation on Alvis's face clear as day. "What do you mean? W-Why… why would you… you do something like that?"
For a moment the answer seemed to die on his tongue, but Hiccup quickly recovered after another deep exhale. "Well, ask around and you'll get quite a few answers. That is, if you're not tried for treason on the spot." He winced rather noticeably at Alvis's sharp gasp in reaction to what would, to more steeled individuals, would have just been a light joke. With a sigh he continued. "Some'll say it was for protection, some'll say for payback, and then some'll say just because it was cool. We'd been doing it back on Berk for a long time, and I guess at some point, it became the big thing."
"D-Did you ever… kill a dragon?"
"Other than the Red Death? No, but gods know I tried…"
If only that one admission could wipe away the shame he felt for the desperate thoughts he had back then and the foolish actions he performed. Hiccup clenched his fist out of a mixture of emotions: anger, regret, sadness, disappointment, directed at himself more than anyone else. "Like I said, it was the big thing. Nobody really liked how I turned out, and I felt that killing a dragon was the only way I could get any respect. I didn't have the happy life that you do now. I didn't have friends, the kids my age were jerks who just made fun of me because I was different and messed up a lot."
"Those were those other people, right? I didn't like them, either, especially that big guy and the lady." Alvis pouted.
"Snotlout and Astrid? Yeah, trust me; they're worse once you get to know them."
Personal experience made that statement ring true; aside from his father, those two were his greatest tormentors during his days on Berk. His bully cousin was a prime example. Vain, smug, and saddled with a brain the size of a limpet and a heart even smaller so as to believe glory and greatness were served on a golden platter for him to take. He'd think it was his own strength that was the cause of it, enemies would fall because he was a mighty and terrifying foe, riches would fall at his feet because people viewed him as some celebrity, and women would flock to him because he was handsome and heroic. And all long before the subject of chief came into his knowledge and the praising would only be even more fulfilling to him.
But the most sickening part was how Snotlout would revel in watching the pain and suffering of those like him, weak and left to dig whatever scraps of fortune he could from the battlefield's dirt only to fail miserably. Even when confined to the sidelines to put out stray fires during raids, he'd never pass up a chance to laugh at his dejected cousin for his latest blunder.
"I've never seen anybody mess up that badly. That helped!" Snotlout called out with the other teens by his side, all laughing in cruel mockery following his little public humiliation. Nice to know he could always count on Hiccup the Useless to screw up as always and give folks a good laugh.
Astrid, on the other hand, though she was never as vocally cruel or condescending as Snotlout was, still had a kind of arrogance all her own. The coldness she displayed towards not only him, but everyone, came from that constant subjection of herself and everyone around her to her own ridiculous standards of perfection. She could have been privileged as Snotlout was; she was, in a way, with all her phenomenal battle skills and prowess in the ring as the result of harsh training. Yet she constantly had the nerve to act as if nothing was good enough for her, and punch or yell at anything or anyone that disagreed with her.
In the days he and Alta had together to cement their relationship, he could still think back to how his affections towards that smug shield-maiden wannabe had amounted to little more than a proverbial punch in the face in rejection. It really slowed down how their relationship developed, much to both of their dismay, and sadly it took a long time before Hiccup felt he was ready to trust his heart in another's hands. The way he'd foolishly trusted Astrid and had been left with an axe-chopped mess to hold onto and her harsh words ringing in his ears that he could only try to forget.
"Is this some kind of a joke to you?" She lividly yelled at his crouching form after their training session with the Deadly Nadder, who had already been placed with rage. Her eyes were widened with rage and disgust, looking down on him as if he were just a mindless, wriggling worm. Figures the only time she'd bothered to pay attention to him was so she could angrily scream something so he'd get his act together. "Our parents' war is about to become ours, figure out whose side you're on!"
Unknown to her, he had already had a good idea whose side he wanted to be on once she angrily stomped out. A flash came to his mind, of when he had a certain black dragon bound in ropes on the forest floor completely at his mercy, and then another in which his 14-year old self's hand connected with the same dragon's snout as a sign of their newly formed bond. A subconscious twitch of his hand led to him repeating the motion once more.
"In the end, turns out I couldn't kill a dragon in more ways than one." He stated.
"You mean… Toothless?"
"Yeah, Toothless was the only friend I had. I had the chance to kill him, and I won't lie that there was a part of me that wanted to, but I didn't." Hiccup's hand moved up to pet his loyal dragon right on the forehead, eliciting a purr from the mighty beast. "It turned out to be the best decision I ever made; I came to trust him more than I could really trust any of them."
Alvis could only stare between his father and his father's dragon, completely in shock that such a complex history existed between them. It hurt to know that he was treated so badly by people, those people that had barged into their house; it also might have been surprising to see that the man hadn't been the great hero he'd always known him to be. But if anything, the difficult choice his father made in leaving his home and sacrificing everything he knew in order to protect his friend only made him admire the man more. Alvis only wondered now if he could have made such a difficult decision, even if it seemed like there would be nothing holding him back but his broken ties to others.
"I always wanted to belong, that's what I thought, when really I just tried to please people like my father." Hiccup spoke as he turned back to the child and pushed him back down into the bed. "That's something I want you to remember son – not just for when you take my place as chief, but for the rest of your life. You need to be true to yourself, and make decisions based on what you know is right, even if others disagree. Don't make the same mistakes I did."
Alvis paused in thought before speaking again. "Daddy, I'm glad you're not a dragon killer…"
"Yeah, me too, son…" Hiccup said.
Alvis was happy, truly, yet he still emptily fidgeted in his bed, one thought still bothering him about the whole thing. "Daddy… you said Grandpa started ignoring you when Grandma Valka died. Is… is that gonna happen to me? Are you gonna ignore me if Mommy dies?" He asked in a tiny voice.
Hiccup gasped, his eyes widening in shock at the child's indirect accusation. For Alvis to even assume that he would turn around and emulate any aspect of his father's personality long after he swore he would not seemed unthinkable, even by his younger self's standards. In every possible effort to convey this, he grabbed onto Alvis's tiny arms and moved in close so that their faces were but a foot apart. "No, no, Alvis, don't say things like that!" He muttered while shaking his head. "I'm not like my father, I would… never leave you alone like that. "
He breathed in to collect his thoughts before speaking once more. "You and your mother, you both mean the world to me – it's as much my responsibility to protect you as it is to protect the village, the dragons, everything. Your mother, I love her… and it would hurt so… so much to lose her. But if it did, if something happened, then you would become my number one priority. I'd do everything I could and I'd spend every moment making sure you were happy and safe, and I would love you enough… for the both of us. I'd owe as much to you and to her."
"R-Really?"
"Of course. Alvis, I promise… I will never stop loving you… for anything." Hiccup said quietly, and wrapped the tiny child into a warm embrace. Alvis's tiny body was nearly swallowed up in how Hiccup completely wrapped his arms and head around him. But he was more than fine with it; his father more than proved that he was sincere. He had never once broken a promise to him, and he knew he wasn't about to start with this.
Hiccup pulled away from Alvis and began to rise from the bed. "Alright, come on, bedtime. We can talk about this more in the morning."
"But it technically is morning," Alvis pointed out towards the window. The stars had indeed begun to fade away, and the near blackness of the night sky had already given way to a lighter shade of deep blue.
"Alright, then, we'll talk when the sun comes up," Hiccup corrected himself. "Now, it's bedtime. Go on, call on your Terror."
Alvis turned to the open window and clasped his hands together. "Fafnir!" Alvis shrieked. Within moments a pure green Terrible Terror flapped in and set itself on the windowsill before flying in and landing next to Alvis.
Aside from being messengers, Terrible Terrors were also useful in that they served as a sort of pre-dragon that children could adopt and live with in order to get used to dragons at a young age before they could enroll in the Dragon Academy and obtain a dragon to ride. It had been proposed by Hiccup some time after development of the Academy started, and Hairke and the others had found sense in it. Terrors were small, less powerful, and rather easy to control and take care of as opposed to the larger dragons that were sure to be more responsibility. Rather expectedly, none of the children complained about the law, even if their parents were less than thrilled.
"Alright, son! Way to go!" Hiccup said, clapping and praising his son's dragon calling skills.
But Alvis had already fallen asleep cuddling the little dragon, and the Terror doing the same. The two were wrapped together in an adorable little bundle of limbs. Hiccup tucked his son back in in with a kiss on the forehead and even Toothless gave his own little lick goodnight. The two quietly tiptoed out of the room and gently shut the door to leave the boy to peaceful dreams of dragon riding once more.
Hiccup and Toothless turned to the hall once more when they both heard the audible thumping of footsteps climbing the stairs. The young chief readied himself with a hand to the sword hilt strapped onto his leg while Toothless crouched down and gave a low, guttural growl at the preconceived threat. Both visibly relaxed, however, to see it was only Ot climbing up the steps, a look of worry etched on his face. By the time he had gotten to the top, he crouched down and propped his hands on his knees, breathing heavily and looking quite exhausted, like he had run a marathon across the perimeter on the island. Guessing there might have been a similar case since his house was pretty far from theirs, Hiccup graciously allowed him the chance to catch his breath.
"W-What's… going… on here? We… heard the yelling!" Ot panted.
Hiccup winced. He'd imagined someone would have heard them, but he never guessed it would go as far as Ot's house. He awkwardly scratched his head. "Ah, yeah, sorry about that. Is… anyone else up?"
"Oh, just about… EVERYONE ON THE ISLAND!" Ot said.
Both Hiccup and Toothless winced at this. "Right, well sorry, and don't worry about it. Just some… unexpected guests…"
"Well, I'd certainly like to know who'd choose the middle of the night to pay a visit!" Ot shouted.
"Shhh!" Hiccup shushed the frantic man, pointing to Alvis's room; Ot thankfully was as sharp as his daggers and quickly got the message. "Eh, well, you know. Consideration for others was never really their strong suit." He said softly with a distinctly bitter undertone too unnatural for his voice.
"'Was?'" Ot questioned before his eyes widened and he began to shake his head. "Oh, no. No way!"
"Yep." Hiccup said. "In fact, Alta's attending to them right now. Hey, can I get you to watch Alvis for a while?" Hiccup said pointing back to the door. He wanted to at least make sure the Hooligans wouldn't try anything underhanded like use Alvis as leverage to get him to come back to Berk. It might have been a bit of a long shot, but he wouldn't really put it past any of them, even his father, at the moment.
"Sure. But where are you going?" Ot asked Hiccup's descending figure with Toothless following close behind.
"To help her attend to our… guests…" Hiccup said in the darkest tone Ot had ever heard him mutter before he had left the house completely with Toothless on his heels. Ot just continued to watch with a shudder running up his spine of pure excitement. Oh, boy, those guys were in for it.
Stoick and Alta walked past the numerous rows of buildings and dragon-friendly contraptions that littered the village of Draak at an even pace. The Berk chief could only guess how long their little reunion with Hiccup could have lasted based on how the black sky was beginning to lighten. Combined with the warming light of the lit torches that stood above, it seemed almost as bright as morning. Daylight had always had a calming effect on Stoick for the fact that it meant his people were safe from any raids – dragons mostly raided during the night for whatever reason.
And yet here, it was the complete opposite; dragons of all kinds were visible, perched vigilantly on the rocky cliffside, in cozy little hay-filled pens for pets, on the rims of the roofs in the case of the smaller species, and everywhere in between. They sat contently on this island like festering pimples on a face, befouling the village with their stench of promised ruin. These people were obviously sick in the head to be content with such dangerous monsters sitting about free, and several of which were beginning to wake at this very moment, most likely from the shouting that had gone on over at Hiccup's 'home.;' Stoick had been more worried now than ever that his companions had been left behind at the house while he was taken ahead to have a chat with the girl.
All the while, the girl, Hiccup's wife as was claimed, just walked on, adding to the tension by simply keeping silent as she led him to some unknown destination. Never once did she look back, she just kept moving with her hands together, at times rubbing her enlarged pregnant belly carrying her and… Hiccup's…
Hiccup's baby.
Stoick never thought he'd see the day that a girl would even look at his scrawny son, much less show an interest in her. Looking at the young woman in front of him, a weak looking thing, he couldn't deny that he was a bit saddened that this was the best Hiccup could do. Next to the Hofferson girl's shining steel, this girl seemed like some rusted mallet at the bottom of the junk pile. Hiccup would have to pick someone just as un-Viking as he was, Stoick thought with a dulled look.
But if Stoick had learned anything from the shock of learning how his son had turned around and become a legendary savior behind his back, it was not to underestimate anyone. Even if he still had trouble believing that. And given how the woman could clearly raise her voice and state opinions clearly in front of him, he certainly wasn't going to make that mistake with her.
"Well?" The girl finally spoke up, still with her back turned.
"Well, what?"
"I'd at least like to hear what you think of our little village." This time she turned, and there was no trace of anger or annoyance. In fact there was no hint of any emotion – if Stoick had to guess, the girl was apparently trying to keep her personal opinions reserved for the moment.
"I came here to take my son back." Stoick scoffed crossing his arms. The glare he gave locking eyes with her was burning with revulsion. "I have no interest in a tour of your little town of idiots."
"I guess that makes your son the chief idiot. He is responsible for creating all this, remember?" Alta asked snidely with a raised eyebrow.
Stoick gave an audible growl while intensifying his glare, only for the girl to turn and continue walking again. He had to admit, way deep down, he would be proud beyond words if even half the stories were true about Hiccup's accomplishments. That is, if those stories could have gone more along the lines of Hiccup wiping all dragons out. "My son's no dragon-lover; he may be incompetent and scrawny but he knows better than to go around with blasphemous ideas in his head such as peace with dragons." He muttered pointing a meaty finger towards her.
"Well, at least there's that…" Alta muttered crossing her arms.
"Watch your tongue, girl. You will speak to me in the proper tone." Stoick said in a voice seething with a clear threat.
"You're trespassing on our island and are attempting to kidnap our chief, not to mention the fact that you threatened residents here, namely yours truly. I think I am using the proper tone for you." Alta said while shooting a defiant glare right back. This imbecile before her was foolish to think his title of chief extended as far as to allow him to set foot anywhere and take whatever he wanted.
"We are not trespassing!"
"Really? Where is your ship again?" Alta looked around in a show of mockery.
By now they had reached the docks of the island. Like everywhere else they seemed to sport strange and stupid-looking machines that could only be his son's contribution. Painted shields that looked like target marks attached to mysterious mechanisms that served whatever unknown ridiculous purpose Hiccup had made for them. The only semblance to a normal Viking village was the number of fishing vessels tied to the posts, with the occasional maintained but unused war vessel nearby. Any brainless fool with one good working eye could see that Alta had raised a point in that a Berkian crest was nowhere to be found on any of the ships' sails or bodies. Stoick might have felt a hint of embarrassment, but his proud nature allowed him to quickly shrug it off.
"Argh, forget that, I'm tryin' to tell it to you like it is! You think you have peace, that there can be peace with those beasts!? They're nothing but vermin that need to be exterminated!" Stoick shouted.
Alta finally turned around in full so Stoick could clearly see the bags of strain under her eyes and the slightly visible veins on her forehead. By now she must have had a migraine the size of a yak, judging from how she gripped her head and massaged her temple. "Oookay, let me see if I got this… dragons will never be anything other than enemies, and if we kill them all, we'll be happy?"
"Exactly." Stoick snorted as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Nodding to the village he continued. "Just look around, how can those monsters be beneficial to any way of life?"
"So to dream of a life filled with anything other than war and conflict would be idiotic?" Alta asked.
"Yer smarter than I thought, girl, for a backwards heathen thief." Stoick said with a smug smile; Alta had to wonder if the baby might have been affected by how her stomach was boiling at the sight of it. "Unfortunately you were still stupid enough to try and bewitch Hiccup. But I'll take him home, and we'll relieve him of these sick thoughts you've shoved in his head. Now if you don't mind, kindly hand him over and we'll leave you… people be."
A sigh laced with frustration and exhaustion came from Alta as she turned back over to the ocean, something she found she did a lot when she became lost in thoughts. "You know, I can't count how many times people have told me stuff like that – that I'm an idiot for dreaming the impossible. They say it's not gonna happen, to stop kidding myself, to wake up to reality…" At that point she became lost in blissful nostalgia, going back to a time she remembered fondly and hearing a voice so warm and familiar to her. A face much like hers, so gentle, if not frail, and radiating with a mature beauty she always admired even long after the day it vanished forever. The words echoed in her head and before she knew it, came bursting from her mouth in a quiet whisper.
"But who are they to say it's impossible?"
Alta looked back to years ago when she was just a child sitting in the room of her beloved mother, who was currently resting in bed. Her mother, Eira, was a kind and wise woman who had come to Draak long ago in search of a new life, after her home had been destroyed during a raid by pirates. The people of Draak, the healers in particular, had treated her so kindly when she arrived in her single tattered boat as one of the handful of survivors, despite her not being one of their own. They gave the woman her own room in the huts, whatever nourishment they could spare from after raids, and plenty of time to recover from her ordeal – never was there a day that she did not feel grateful for their generosity. Battling through her grief took some time, but eventually Eira was able to turn away from her tragic past and begin anew once she and Hairke, recently appointed chief of Draak, fell in love and wed.
Sometime after, Eira gave birth to Alta, and the whole of Draak could not have been happier; the infant Alta had taken almost completely after her mother in terms of appearance. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that she would grow to become a beautiful young woman, and a fine bride for any Viking suitor. That happiness was short lived, as Eira suddenly fell ill and was confined to her bed daily to rest following Alta's fourth winter. Eira had always been very beautiful, and that hardly changed even as the days passed and she continued to grow sickly, her skin becoming pale and her flowing red hair turned unkempt.
Alta chose to remain by her mother's bedside not long after her illness had first appeared, preferring to talk with her mother about certain things. Truthfully it was around this time she had been falling out of sorts with her father, simply running low on things to be talking about. Hairke was simply a strict man who like any chief had to devote a large percentage of his time to his people. The truth was, actually, that his business had caused him to spend weeks at a time away from Eira, which began to upset the young girl. The pair of mother and daughter always had things to talk about, and were always happy to talk about them and leave the woes of the world put aside for a time. And Eira always knew how to console her daughter whenever she had a problem.
And Alta remembered that one day when she had quite a problem on her mind. She sat in that chair by the bed looking down at a painting she had just made. However sloppily done, it clearly depicted a field of beautiful flowers, in a variety of colors. It was set right next to their house, with her and her whole family with big smiles right in front of it. The picture was meant to be happy and cheerful, yet Alta could only stare at it with a forlorn frown on her face.
"That's a beautiful picture, honey…" She heard her mother say while leaning over the edge of the bed to see. Her voice was so soft, almost raspy without the gritted quality – like a quickly dying breeze, Alta recalled in that moment. "Just look at all those pretty flowers…"
Eira had only a second longer to stare at the picture before Alta crumpled it into a ball and tossed it angrily away to the floor. The little girl pouted in curled up on her small chair leaving Eira to stare between her and the abandoned picture. "Alta, sweetie, why did you do that?"
"It was stupid…" She muttered.
"But it was such a beautiful painting. Why on Midgard would you think it was stupid?" Eira asked.
"Because… Ruoy…"
"Oh, sweet Odin, I should have known. That child ought to have his mouth rinsed out for all the things that come out of it." Eira muttered testily with a shake of her head. Her daughter and Ruoy had never had one single moment where they had gotten along. Every day one parent from both of their households had to give apologies for the bitter arguments between them. The boy, she had seen, had a nasty temperament and a habit of picking fights with all sorts of children ever since he was born. She couldn't say she was happy, even if all the warriors were, what with how 'Viking' it seemed to be. "Well, what did he say?"
"Well, it was a dream I had… I wanted to plant a big field of flowers somewhere near the house. But Ruoy said it was too cold to plant flowers…" Alta muttered sadly. "He said I was a dummy, and to quit it with all my stupid dream stuff. Hmph, he's the dummy."
"Darn right he is! You don't listen to a thing he says, dear." Eira said in the firmest tone of voice she could mutter.
"You… think I could…?" Alta asked, finally turning to her mother with eyes full of unshed tears nearly dried. "I could have a field of flowers near the house?"
"Why not? It seems you still think so, if you're puttin' up all this attitude about it. And just as well you should. Where would this world be without dreamers, honestly?" Eira lightly chuckled. She reached out her hand to slowly stroke Alta's short hair with her hand and sooth her distress. Alta remembered the feeling of her mother's delicate hands on her head, and how it always helped calm her down when she was stressed or upset.
"But even dad says it's pointless… the dragons are just gonna burn them during the raids..." Alta turned away to stare back at the picture, almost forgotten on the floor.
"Then plant them and care for them again – just for the sake of wanting those pretty flowers near the house. The flowers may wilt, or be burnt or crushed, but the dream will still endure." Alta turned back to her mother, who was giving her a smile that shone like the dawn. It made Alta happy to know that even sickness could not hinder her mother's gentle soul, and that moments like these could still occur between them every day. "Every great change and every new day begins with dreams… even if people forget that in their day to day lives. They may even speak otherwise, that all of the millions of dreams like yours have no meaning... but who are they to say it's impossible?"
Before Alta knew it, those moments drew to a close.
Months after that day, and Eira's condition had only worsened. She would cough more, deep fevers would come every other day, and her body had been drastically weakened to the point where she could no longer even sit in bed. Even the most skilled healers on Draak with all their remedies and herbs, could do nothing for her. The head healer had finally decided at one point that it was just best to let nature take its course.
Alta was heartbroken, to the point that she spent every waking moment right by her mother's side in the house. Eira spent most of the time sleeping what with how exhausted she was, and Alta would just watch and hope she would awaken again. A clearly distraught Hairke had always told her not to be too hopeful, that she could peacefully pass at any moment. Just days ago, the healers said that would be a likely case, and Eira would likely die any day now. But Alta didn't want to listen to any of them – none of them cared, and no one could possibly understand. A child of nearly five winters being forced to lose her mother – in all rights, they most probably couldn't.
Her final night was a familiar one to her, with a dragon raid occurring in the background. Alta was told mere weeks ago of her mother's past and how her home was brutally taken away from her. Were the Gods so cruel as to make her final night a similar tragedy? It was perhaps in that, along with her daughter's anguish, that she had obtained the needed strength to awaken, only to see her daughter's face stained with tears.
"Mom, I'm sorry…" Alta cried shakily. "I couldn't get the flowers to grow in time. I wanted you to see them… before…"
"It's all right, dear…" Eira voice was only above a whisper, Alta having to lean in close just to hear her. "You believed in your dream, and you worked to make it come true… that was more than enough."
"But it didn't come true… mom, I planted those flowers for you! I thought… the legend…"
Alta had heard of a special legend passed down among the people of her mother's tribe, special to them even if it was not well known among other tribes. The legend stated that if she could plant a field filled with over one hundred flowers, then the Goddess Freyja would smile upon her and grant her a wish. This would come in the form of a hundred and first flower that would come into bloom and a mysterious gale that would carry away the petals of the flowers to her field of Fólkvangr. Alta had decided that she would use her wish to cure her mother of her illness and keep her alive. However, she had too little time and given the harsh environment of the archipelago, even the first few buds would quickly wilt away. Now with her mother slowly fading, she began to question if there had been a point to it at all.
"Oh, sweetie… you know, what's a legend but another kind of dream? They might be, they might not be… but people believe, nonetheless. Believing in the impossible… perhaps foolish, but for the hope it gives, it's every bit worth it." Eira reached out with a pale, bony arm that more or less resembled a wilted flower in itself. Alta nearly snatched her mother's hand and interlocked her fingers with her mothers, spindly ones, giving whatever vital warmth she could.
"Believe in dreams… fight for them… until they become reality… and that inspires you to dream once more… That is how to truly live life." She muttered.
Alta looked away for only a moment to the battle raging outside, the village bathed in flames, and the bitter clashes of dragons and Vikings as they fought with claw and sword. "Mom… I have... a dream…"
"Good, now promise… me… promise… yourself… believe… believe…" She whispered, breathing heavily, her lidded eyes slowly closing.
"Until… dreams… are no longer… just… dreams…"
Her eyes closed, her hand fell limp, and she breathed her last.
Eira had received a lovely grave, surrounded with over one hundred flowers made of metal made by Logo with her, Woh, and Nogard's assistance. It seemed a bit stale, but given how little a chance real flowers had against the biting cold, it was the best they could do. It was a fitting tribute, in the end, the metal always looking beautiful when the sun came out, even as they soon rusted and corroded away with time.
She had always regretted that she had never been able to tell her mother her dream before she passed, her dreams regarding humans and dragons. On top of all her sorrows over the loss of her mother, and how distant she had become from her father, she wondered sometimes how she ever got through it. But one thing she did take to heart if only to ease her guilty heart was how she always remembered her mother's words over the importance of her dreams. Alta had grown up becoming more adamant about her dreams and beliefs, and as anyone on Draak knew, gave people – especially Ruoy – all kinds of hell should they ever try to bring her down. She was grateful to Hiccup and Toothless for making that unspoken dream a reality, and she had hoped that her mother, watching from wherever she was, could be happy that a dream of hers had become real.
"A utopia for humans and dragons – that was my dream. But who'd have thunk that somewhere out there, someone else was dreaming it too? What can you say about a dream that more than one person believes in? And for someone to nearly give his life for that dream?" She turned from the horizon to face the exasperated Stoick, crossing his arms in annoyance. "Maybe it's not as idiotic as you think."
"If you believe that, then you're ten times the idiot I thought you were, girl." Stoick said condescendingly.
That was all Alta could take. Before Stoick could even react, she marched with blazing speed and answered Stoick's quip with a powerful slap to the face. The sudden force behind it was enough to send the Hooligan chief reeling.
"And you're a hundred times the daft bastard I thought you were!" She screamed.
Alta's eyes burned through to his skull with a hatred he had only recognized in the most terrifying of his enemies. The striking hand still extended, her other fist clenched at her sides, her face dyed a raging crimson red. "I have dealt with idiots like you ever stinking day of my life, but you are by far the most cruel, most idiotic, most hateful person I have ever met! And I barely even know you!"
"N-Now, hold on, let's not turn this into some pointless argument." Stoick said, still recovering from the blow in part. Despite his own outrage, he could still see how rude he was being. But it wasn't as though he considered anyone here truly enemies in any way other than their choice of lifestyle. At most, this girl was nothing more than a neutral party that would get in his way of bringing Hiccup back to Berk.
"Pointless? I'd think I was raising a legitimate point in how poorly you treat your own son and ignore everything he says and how you don't even seem to care!" She shouted. Her voice was now beginning to attract the attention of people just coming out of their homes to investigate the commotion. Alta, at the moment, could hardly care how tired and cranky they all looked, she wouldn't finish until she gave this oaf in front of her a piece of her mind. "He bled, sweat, and cried to make you proud, and you repaid that by making him feel he was unsafe in his own home, to the point where you drove him away! You should be ashamed of yourself!"
"Look, your sentiment for my son in trying ta make me feel like a monster is appreciated, however fake it might be. But I assure you, I can work out Hiccup's problems with me myself."
"So you admit it. You are a monster!" Alta said placing her hands to her hips. "Heh, you're willing to consider this as more than just some teenage angst. Congratulations, you must feel like father of the year!"
"That is not what I meant, you little brat." Stoick pointed.
"Then what is it? What is it that you mean, what is it that you want? That's the question on everybody's mind, what is it gonna take for you to acknowledge that your son is worth something? What does he have to do for you to at least treat him like a human being?" Alta screamed.
"Shut up!" Stoick screamed back loud enough for all of Draak to hear. "You don't know anything, you impudent little child! Not about me, or the relationship with my son! You couldn't understand-"
"What I understand… is that you think some self-induced guilt trip and one to two words of apology is going to get you out of this 14 year-long crusade of destroying your son's trust in you! Do you honestly believe that it's possible for you to get out of this with both your son and your precious pride intact?" She chuckled.
"I just wanted Hiccup to succeed!"
"Really? Please tell me, is this coming from the mighty chief of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe or Hiccup's role model father? Cause from where I'm standing, I can't really see the difference!" The girl started pacing back and forth along the wooden path of the docks. "All I'm hearing is the ignorant brute, the short tempered moron, the fat son of a half-troll who'd care more to sail off to his death on endless hunts than spend a minute with his awkward child! Would it really hurt that much to at least pretended you care?"
"Now wait just one-"
"Hiccup can't help the way he was born, he can't help that he's small and skinny, but he still has so much to offer regardless, and you're too… too Viking-ly to see that!"
"Okay!" Stoick finally managed to spit out. "So, I'm not the perfect parent! Who is!?"
"Newsflash, mighty Stoick the Vast, Oh-Hear-His-Name-And-Tremble! Nobody's the perfect parent, certainly not my father. But he at least tried to make an effort in loving and raising his child. Now what do you think that says about you!?"
Alta suddenly let out a small scream upon feeling a small shot of pain and clutched her stomach. Her increased agitation must have been working up the baby, enough to, literally put, get a kick out of it. Bracing herself, she grabbed the thick, rough rope hanging from the pole and leaned against the word to brace herself. Stoick gave a look of mixed shock and confusion, but otherwise stayed in place. She gave herself a few moments to breathe in and collect herself while she pressed tightly against her belly to settle her child's nerves. When she finally recovered, she braced her hand against the pole and with a final deep breath, she resumed in a tone that, as opposed to her previous fiery screams, was unnervingly cold:
"I cannot even count how many of Hiccup's ideas, the same ideas you and your people called ridiculous, have turned out to be beneficial to Draak. But let me give you a little look at it from his point of view. Do you know how many times he had hoped, when he was younger, that one day you would see what he had accomplished and he'd finally hear the words he had broken himself to get out of you? Or on the other hand, how many times he screamed in agony when visualizing the fear of losing his best friend and eternal damnation at your hand? Every day he would see this beautiful paradise and could only feel torn over whether or not you'd approve!"
Having recovered more of her strength enough to finally stand upright again, she stomped towards Stoick in a cold manner that made him shrink. "Look, I get it, the word 'sweet' isn't exactly in any Viking's mental dictionary and emotions are more or less a losing battle for you. But understand, if not by my feelings, then Hiccup's, that what you have done to him, the child who has always trusted you, admired you, emulated you, is nothing short of unforgivable."
"But I," Stoick wanted to scream, though he couldn't think of anything to complete the sentence. All of a sudden he just felt smaller and smaller with all the girl was saying to him.
"From the moment Hiccup came into this world, you've been crushing his spirit, his hopes, and his innocence. You and your precious little tribe of warriors, all of you just went and turned your backs on him because of a little thing like appearance. And now, twenty-one years later, you come around expecting him to clean up your messes. And you're surprised to find that he refuses and prefers to stay here where people give him the respect he deserves because he's made such a huge positive difference?"
Her voice had returned to its screams of pure anger, rivaled only by the anger in his own son's voice. And now, here, in the eyes of a stranger, Stoick could truly feel the torturous heat of all that hatred, all the anger and shame, burning his entire form black. Even being reduced to ashes by the flames of every dragon he had ever killed in his life seemed to be unable to compare.
"Seems to me you didn't need that jerk Snotlout to ruin everything – you did that all on your own! Now do us all a favor and STOP TRYING TO BLAME EVERYONE ELSE!"
With that, Alta left as quickly as she'd come, tears streaming down her cheeks, leaving Stoick standing there, in utter shock. Left completely frozen in the wake of that anger shared by not only Hiccup and his family, but perhaps all those here who had come to respect his son as their rightful chief. Stoick knew he had made mistakes in his life – he was man enough to admit that. But having them all shoved in his face right in that very moment made each and every form of rejection he had ever given to Hiccup ten times worse than it actually was.
For the first time in his life, Stoick had to question who did deserve the title of 'devil.'
What had he done?
Well, that wraps it up for this one. For those that read the original, I decided to take the conversations here in another turn. For Hiccup, I felt it would be a good chance to invite in some drama as well as heighten the bond he has with Alvis. Alvis does seem like a sweet kid, and you can't really imagine him holding that kind of innocence knowing that he was born during a war. He's only ever known dragons to be good and loving thanks to his father.
As for Alta, I felt this was a very good chance to get some backstory in on her and explain her actions. That's a little tip for you that in order to make a character pop, especially an OC, some background is crucial to have. Remember, we only know characters like Alta from these stories, without a clear picture of what they look like or how they react to things in their environment. Backstory helps explain everything. And in fact, that's a good thing for you to do in case you ever get writer's block – just come up with a backstory for your characters.
For a bit of extra feels, listen to the part with Alta and her dying mother while listening to the somber part of 'Po Finds the Truth' from the Kung Fu Panda 2 soundtrack. Music really helps me in writing out those kinds of scenes. Also, for those that might notice - yes, the legend of the flowers is based off of the Thousand Paper Crane legend in Japan. It really just came to me.
With that, some exciting news. In case you haven't been to Wondercon or just haven't heard, the finally released details on Season 3 of the Dragons TV series! The season is called 'Race to the Edge', and here's what we now know.
The season takes place about one year before the events of the second film. The teens are all aged 18/19.
- The series revolves around a mysterious artifact known as the 'Dragon's Eye.' It is promised by the creators to be a real 'game changer.'
- There will be new species of dragons, one of which is known as the Deathsong.
- The third season will be 26 episodes long, with the first thirteen premiering on Netflix in June.
- That's about all we know so far. But get pumped that now we have a bit more set of a release date for the third season.
As always, review, favorite, follow! Till next time!