Author's Note:

Hello everyone and welcome to another chapter. This one is in the 'Differently Similar' verse and features more Stoick/Snotlout family fluff. Thank you for your continued support and I hope you enjoy the chapter.

I own nothing.


Home to Harp

Stoick entered the house which was far too quiet and cold.

It was once the home of Spitelout, Helga and Snotlout but now it was empty of occupants due to the deaths of the two adults three weeks ago. Snotlout now lived with Stoick and it was officially announced a few days ago that the chief was now responsible for caring for him, he was the closest relative the boy had who still lived in Berk and he'd gladly taken on the duty of being the child's guardian. However that meant that Snotlout's old house was unoccupied and something had to be done with it.

The basic need of survival dictated that it shouldn't simply be left and it had eventually been agreed by the village council that it would be used by a couple whose home had been destroyed in a recent dragon raid. Stoick fully appreciated the thinking behind the decision and it was one he'd fully endorsed but it still felt wrong to be letting someone else into Spitelout and Helga's home.

Spitelout had built it himself for his wife and future family and Stoick had always assumed that the two of them would've lived out full and long lives in it. They were both excellent fighters and no matter how reckless and stupid Spitelout could be he'd always come out of whatever situation he'd ended up in just fine. However that hadn't happened this time and now both of them were in Valhalla.

Snotlout had of course thrown a full blown tantrum when Stoick had told him what was happening to his home and the chief fully understood why. By rights Snotlout should inherit the whole building as Spitelout's only heir but he was far too young to have his own house and they couldn't leave it sitting empty for over a decade when it could be given to someone that needed it now. That was why he was here, to gather Spitelout and Helga's belongings and decide what Snotlout could inherit now, what was to be kept elsewhere for him to inherit at a more suitable time and what was to be passed on to someone else.

He stood in the doorway and looked around the main room. A thin layer of dust had appeared over the weeks and everything was packed neatly away waiting to be used again. Pots and pans sat on their shelves in Helga's classic neat organisation, Spitelout's weapon collection covered one of the walls, each blade well-tended and cared for, a couple of books that mostly contained tales of adventure and heroic battles sat on a small shelf in the corner and four chairs were positioned neatly around the kitchen table ready for their owners to sit in them once more. The whole building was ready for owners that were not going to return and Stoick was saddened, knowing that those who should be here never would be again.

Pushing his feelings aside he set about sorting what was left.

The pots, pans and most of the furniture could stay, they would be needed by the couple moving in. Most of Spitelout's weapons could be returned to the forge for use by the rest of the village but Stoick kept aside a couple of particularly good or special ones, Snotlout could make use of them in the future. The books could go to Snotlout now, which might mollify his current mood a little bit, and Stoick added them to the pile of things for his nephew.

His eyes wandered to the staircase up to Snotlout's old room and he strode up them, eager to ensure that any of Snotlout's own things went back to him.

The small room was surprisingly neat and Stoick assumed Helga had made sure it was clean before she left. Snotlout's bed was pushed against the far wall and a chest sat neatly at its foot. Inside was a variety of toy weapons and Stoick shook his head fondly, like father like son, he shut the chest and made a note to move it to his hut later. The rest of the room had little else in it and the cupboard that held Snotlout's clothes was empty since they were at Stoick's own hut already. Stoick grabbed the toy chest and heaved it down the stairs leaving the vacated room behind.


He dropped the chest beside the door and added the other items he was taking to its contents, then his gaze fell on his last port of call in the house.

Spitelout and Helga's room.

Feeling like he was intruding, Stoick slowly opened the door and entered the room.

It had been left neatly like the rest of the house and the large double bed graced most of the room. Like with Snotlout's room, a large chest sat at the foot of the bed and it was this Stoick headed first.

A variety of items sat inside. A mace, that Stoick recognised as the one Helga had used in her dragon training, a belt complete with buckle that was one of Spitelout's spares, some songbooks and a harp.

Helga had played that harp a great many times before and many agreed that her singing voice was almost without equal, the songbooks contained both her own compositions as well as tunes that had been passed down throughout the generations, from how far back no one knew. The harp itself was another heirloom and likely one of the most precious things the family had owned.

It was made from an elegant, golden frame that curved flawlessly around to form the shape, the tops curved off into a bird head at either side as the strings ran from a single cross bar that ran between the two ends. It was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship and Stoick knew that this had to go to Snotlout along with everything else in the chest.

Decisively, Stoick shut the chest and took it out of the room.


It had taken less than a day to move the couple into the house and Stoick felt like he'd somehow betrayed Spitelout and Helga.

It was hardly the first time something like this happened and it would certainly not be the last but it still felt wrong.

The chief made his way home carrying the chest of belongings he'd set aside for Snotlout, some, like the mace, would be saved to give to the boy in later years but several of the items he could have now.

As he entered he saw Hiccup sitting at the table scribbling on some parchment, the boy looked up and smiled at his father, "Hey Dad."

Stoick smiled and nodded then looked around the room, "Where's Snotlout?"

Hiccup pointed up the stairs sadly, "In bed, he's still upset over his parent's house, he doesn't want to talk to anyone."

The man sighed, of course Snotlout was upset, he was still grieving over his parent's deaths and having their house given away was not helping, "I better go speak to him."

Slowly, Stoick headed on upstairs and quietly pushed the door to the bedroom open.

Where it had once just contained one bed, it now had two. Hiccup's was closest to the door, underneath the sloping skylight was his desk while the far end now contained Snotlout's bed. Snotlout himself was curled underneath the covers, likely hiding from his uncle, and the lack of snoring indicated that the boy was very much awake.

The chief entered and spoke lightly, "Snotlout?"

"Go away!"

The sulky answer shot back at him and the man briefly closed his eyes before putting the chest he'd brought from the house on the floor, "I know you're upset about the house lad but that couple needed it." He tapped the top of the chest loudly, "I retrieved everything from it that belongs only to your family, it's here if you want it."

There was silence for a moment, then a ruffling of bedding as Snotlout sat up and looked at the chest. He stared at it for a while then sighed and looked down, "It's not them though."

Stoick moved across and patted his nephew's shoulder, "I know lad, these things won't replace your parents nor change the fact that you can't go back to the home you knew. However, they can help you keep their memories alive. They would've wanted you to have these things, I know it."

Snotlout still looked downwards sadly and Stoick carefully opened the chest and pulled out the harp, he gently plucked one of the strings and the boy instantly looked up at the musical sound. Snotlout's sad gaze shifted into one of wonder and he reverently took the instrument when his uncle offered it to him.

As the boy stared at the treasure in awe, the chief spoke, "This was your mother's harp. She used to play it a lot and everyone agreed that her singing was some of the best in the village. Her lullabies put you to sleep no problem when you were a baby and you used to try and sing with her sometimes."

Snotlout looked up at him, "I did?"

Stoick nodded fondly, "Aye you did. She used to say you had the makings of a fine tenor, made her very happy indeed." He pulled out some of the songbooks, "She wrote her own songs in these, as well as recording ones which had been passed down through the family."

Snotlout looked back down at the harp again, tentatively, he plucked one of the strings and smiled as it produced a note. He plucked another one, noticing how it gave a different note, and then looked up at Stoick.

"Uncle."

"Aye lad?"

He smiled gratefully, "Thank you."

He looked down once more and gently ran his hand down the harp strings, "I want to learn how to play it."

Stoick smiled and gripped the boy's shoulders fondly.

"I know just who can teach you."


PS-And that is how Snotlout inherited his mother's harp. Please let me know what you thought and I'll hopefully update soon.