Over the course of his whole life, Hiccup Haddock had never quite fit in. What a shocker. For Viking children of Berk, grade school consisted of mainly physical exertions such as sword fighting, axe swinging, and bow shooting, along with hunting, skinning, gutting, nauseating stuff like that, and you guessed it, Hiccup wasn't good at any of those things.

It was instilled in the minds of the children at a young age that a fight for their life could always be right around the corner, therefore they were conditioned to be killing machines.

Their training would begin around the fresh age of five and would not end until the age of eighteen. By that time, a Viking should have finished out all of their training, and they would be honored as the true warrior that had been groomed to be all their life, complete with a live audience and award ceremony. Cringe.

Unfortunately for Hiccup, these warrior-required attributes, consisting of strength and combat, were not his expertise, in fact, they were quite literally the opposite, given his scrawny size and timid nature.

Hiccup sometimes imagined he was born into the wrong life, wondering if instead, he was supposed to have been raised by aristocrats in a peaceful setting, who read literature and appreciated art and would never even think of using violence as a way to sort out their problems.

Here in Berk, life proved to be more challenging for the young Viking.

There were very few lessons dedicated to reading and using actual books, which of course happened to be one of the very few things he actually enjoyed in his boring, lonely life.

If they were instructed to read anything at all, it usually just consisted of the so very fascinating construction and description different of weapons and offensive and defensive stances, but on some rare occasions, they would get to read the interesting details about the history of the Viking culture or Berk's origins.

Once, on one of the rare occasions where they would attend an actual class, the instructor mentioned something briefly, that truly intrigued Hiccup.

Though it was only a legend, he talked about these great, scaley, winged beasts with sharp horns and teeth and fire breath—how extraordinary! This irrelevant topic had been glazed over so thinly, that Hiccup decided he wasn't done learning about it, so he spent most of his time with his face buried in a book, trying to learn anything and everything he possibly could about this glorious, mythical creature called a 'dragon.'

He spent a lot of his time attempting to draw too, copying illustrations of dragons from the books. Eventually, when his skills grew decent, he began using references drawn straight out of real life.

Mostly, he would sketch the things he would see during his walks through the forest, like some of the plants with pale blue flowers strung up with delicate chrysalises, or small, furry animals that other Vikings probably would have slain, not to mention the breathtaking, scenic views he couldn't possibly allow himself to forget, and ultimately, Astrid.

The radiant, fierce girl of his dreams and fantasies had come to life, coincidentally in his very life, lucky him!

In the early years of childhood, before anything mattered, they had shared a few friendly quips here and there, prior to the age of ten. Maybe they had another couple exchanges sometime after that, nonetheless, much too soon, he decided and accepted somberly in his own little mind that his luck had run short and she would never give him the time of day, much less spit in his direction.

Despite, the miserable realization that she would never want to be his girl, that didn't stop him from at least looking at her, or rather swooning over her, to say the least.

This fixation on Astrid first started off in the very early years of puberty, as a boyish attraction of admiring the physical things.

He would daydream of kissing the adorable pout to her cherry lips or imagine what it would be like to run his fingers through the soft lustrous shine that caught in her long blonde hair.

On a more shameful note, he remembered one hot summer day when Astrid wore shorts and a sleeveless top to train in, he and the dozen-and-a-half other teenage boys that lived in Berk hung out in the training arena that day, naturally.

Some boys were decent enough to least act like they were training. However, idiots like Hiccup hung out on the arena bleachers and literally just sat and watched, hypnotized—though Hiccup had a book in hand to distract himself and a sketchbook on the seat beside him in case he needed some extra distracting.

Regardless, he had caught himself surveying the length of her beautiful, toned legs, gawking at the slender curve of her developing hips and the way she would move them, but he mentally slapped himself, for being so raunchy, forcing himself to look away. The last thing he wanted to do was disrespect her in any way.

Over time, this little crush had gradually evolved into true desire, the longer he kept an eye on her, noticing and remembering things about her.

While she paid no mind to him, purely unaware of his existence, he watched in awe from a distance, amazed by the agile way she moved in battle, so practiced and quick, like a flexible, little cat.

He was dazed by how much strength and endurance she possessed, seemingly able to train for hours before getting too fatigued. How charmed he was by the way she carried herself, so confident and satisfied, smirking her pretty, little mouth or raising a sassy eyebrow in defiance. He was beginning to find a new appreciation for her internal characteristics rather than just her perfect outer shell.

Per usual, luck was never in Hiccup's favor, when some of the other, bigger, stronger, boys also took notice of these irresistible qualities of Astrid's and did not fail to move in for the catch hastily. What was he supposed to expect to happen to a beautiful girl in a small village with not very many options? Though he never saw her giving them any real affection—she was obviously much too clever for their foolish tactics, he was sure—it was still irritating to see these savages plague around her like hungry vultures.

He considered himself lucky enough if he got to hear her gorgeous, exciting laugh, though regrettably, the cost to hear it was putting himself in the same vicinity as some of the older guys that could actually manage to entertain her.

Way too old for her,Hiccup would always think to himself, seeing them tower over her, considering she, like himself, was only fifteen years old and these guys he sent glares at were at least eighteen and some even a little older.

Subsequently, when his infatuation got a hold on him, he began drawing her, never in person, he was way too choked up by the fear of someone catching him (he would be so mortified he would probably die), so he would mainly draw Astrid alone in his room. He would usually draw her by herself but sometimes with other women, well, actually fairies, goddesses, and angels, but mainly Astrid. Though, in his eyes, and he wouldn't doubt other people's too, she was one of these magical entities.

One of the luckiest days of his life didn't start off so well. Little did he know, the day would take a turn for the far better.

It had rained the night before so the earth was damp and the leaves jingled with teardrops.

The kids had the day off from training, so taking advantage of this freedom, Hiccup did what he normally did in his spare time when he wasn't helping Gobber at the forge, and hung out on the outskirts of the village.

He sat criss-cross on a flat boulder, that had dried quickly in the morning sun, some of his books sprawled about a neighboring log, flipped open to pages of dragon illustrations he was revamping in his own sketchbook. He was no longer copying these dragons, only using them as inspiration for his own creations. Not to brag or anything, but Hiccup felt at this point, his ability to draw had surpassed the level of the illustrations in the book he once used as a learning reference. He no longer found enjoyment in copying others' art even just for learning purposes. Now he craved to fabricate his own visions onto paper.

This was the part where things got shitty for no reason. Hiccup was always minding his own business whenever these guys decided to muck up his mood.

He was sketching the detailed wing of what his version of the Night Fury would look like when the approaching sound of obnoxious laughter and yelling suddenly grew audible enough for Hiccup to lift his head out of the book in alarm.

Around the corner, came tumbling into view a few boys possibly older than him but definitely bigger than him. He recognized their faces from simply growing up locally in the same small village, but he could not pinpoint any of their names.

"Oh great, it's the chief's kid," he heard one say.

When the approaching guys were only ten steps away they seemed a lot taller and definitely at least a year or two older than him.

"How's it going Haddock?" hissed the one with almost white hair, his words were passive however there was a malicious undertone that promised Hiccup he was in for something good.

With an exaggerated sigh, Hiccup snapped his book shut, mentally preparing himself for the abuse about to come his way.

Uneasily, he got to his feet, attempting to stand his ground, but when they towered over him like this, their size differences truly began to sink in.

"What is this shit? A dragon? You know those things aren't real," scoffed one of the other ones, picking up a book by one of its pages.

"Hey, gimme that back!" Hiccup made a snatch for the book but the hulking idiot dropped it before Hiccup's hand could close around it, merely catching thin air.

"Whoops."

What were the chances it landed in a puddle of mud with a wet splatter? Hiccup glared down at it in disbelief before their skin-crawling voices were speaking again.

"Get out of here, kid, this is where we're training," said the one with sandy blonde hair wielding a two-handed battle axe.

Wondering what gave them the right to tell him what to do, he debated keeping his mouth shut, but never.

"I was here first," Hiccup meant to sound intimidating, but his voice faltered and he sounded like a territorial child on the playground.

"Alright, then," growled the one with black hair, his icy eyes piercing with impatience as he stopped in front of Hiccup, "You'll just have to watch us train because Thor knows your puny arms can't lift a weapon!"

They all shared a nasty laugh.

Hiccup's chest felt heavy with embarrassment but his blood also boiled with hate. He wanted to cuss them out so badly, but he knew they would most definitely kick his ass, so he settled for rolling his eyes and, "I can find better things to do with my day than watch you sweaty guys roll around on the ground together."

This seemed to piss them off more than he thought it would.

Hiccup did not have time to think before the white-haired guy had grabbed him by the shirt collar, nearly yanking him off his feet with a small yelp, drawing their faces only a couple of inches apart.

He was far too close for comfort, so close that Hiccup could smell the morning bacon still on his hot breath, and he struggled to lean his face away, screwing his eyes shut, but the other boy's grip was unrelenting.

He realized he would have been better off just cussing them out.

"I don't know who the fuck you think you are, talking to us like that, or what the fuck you're implying," he snarled, sounding all tough at first but it withered away as he paused, trying to think of something to say in his big, stupid head.

"You oughta shut that mouth of yours before I shut it for you," he decided on before stupidly adding, "with my fist!"

His friends' laughs for moral support were awkwardly delayed.

This guy really thought he was clever, huh? Hiccup wanted to laugh in his face or say something sarcastic and make him feel incompetent, but he figured his big mouth had already gotten him into enough trouble.

To his greatest relief, the bully released his collar, giving him a little shove of closure.

Hiccup nearly lost his balance in the unstable mushy earth, regained his footing right on time, and began working quickly to gather his things under their daunting smirks. He wouldn't waste another second in their presence. They had won but he didn't care.

With all his stuff, even the muddy book cluttered in his arms, he started on the trail that led out to the woods, but before he could make it a couple of steps, their apparent leader shoulder slammed past him for one last blow, nearly knocking everything out his arms again.

"It was fun playing together, this time, huh, Haddock?"

Hiccup ignored their scornful snickers as he distanced himself quickly, but not too quickly. He didn't want to look frightened or anything.

He was headed to the forest, where he knew no one could bother him way out there.

Puddles collected in the dips of terrain, sloshing muddy sheets against his fur boots.

He felt like crying but he wouldn't allow himself to—he was much too old for that, and decided those morons weren't worth wasting tears over anyway. This still didn't stop him from wallowing over how much he hated his dreadful, lonely life.

He had lost all hope for himself, deciding much too soon, that the gray clouds would never clear up, not in this lifetime, at least. It only took a couple of hours for fate to change that pitiful theory of his.

In hindsight, he was so glad those guys bullied him into the woods because he would have never stumbled across the very thing that gave him life.

What were the incredulous odds that his typically unsuccessful stream of luck brought him right to her?

He had been drawing for a good part of the rest of that day, sitting up in a tree on a thick, sturdy branch, when a glimpse of blonde, drifting below the branches caught his eye.

His first reaction was irritation, when it occurred to him there would neverbe a way to escape everyone. Someone would always find a way to harass or interrupt him in the middle of his—

His breath hitched, stomach lurched in his throat, as he realized who it was.

Astrid. He tried to remember how to breathe, as she wavered for a moment beneath his tree, then continued on.

Hiccup composed himself, then cautiously leaned over the branch, to see past some leaves where she was headed.

She was walking kind of fast, but Hiccup could tell she was only wandering and didn't really seem to know where she was going. She clutched her axe in one hand every now and then swinging it absently.

She stopped to interrogate a tree, pointing her weapon at it as she threatened something inaudible.

Gods, she's so cute, Hiccup couldn't help but smile as she gave it a mighty hack complete with a high-pitched battle cry.

He silently thanked the gods for allowing him to see such a precious moment, how playful she was acting with no one around for her to aim to impress.

He debated hanging out up here and watching her undetected, to witness some more silly behavior.

It occurred to him that if she didn't know anyone was watching her she might accidentally do something suggestive, like take off all her clothes? What! He mentally slapped himself. He was really going to give himself a nosebleed. Why in the hell would she take off all her clothes all of the sudden in the woods? As much as he hated to admit to himself, a shameful part of him would really enjoy to see that, but Hiccup reminded himself he was a gentleman, and his morals were stronger than his guilty desire.

The stronger, wiser part of him felt watching her was too wrong, like inappropriate, like he was no better than those other dumbass guys that lusted over her. Instead of sitting here, like a little sissy on the sidelines, he was going to take initiative for once in his life and go talk to the girl he has been so down bad for.

Without any further consideration, he tucked his books away in the small leather bag he had brought and began climbing down the tree trunk.

He would casually walk past her, like an 'oh what are you doing here,' type of thing. He had the whole sequence of events planned out carefully in his head, but as he drew closer to her moving figure, his certainty began to diminish.

This would be another one of the very few, very rare conversations they would ever have together, so he better not screw this up.

Still utterly unaware of his presence, she continued practicing military battle stances, never missing an opportunity to swing her axe when she could, as Hiccup approached hesitantly from far behind.

Astrid lunged forward, to slice the mangled trunk, but when she sprang back, she must have miscalculated her footing. It happened in a flash, so he couldn't be sure, but it looked like she landed on her ankle or the side of her foot, only breaking the impact of her fall by throwing up her forearms in front of her.

Hiccup did not waste a second of time to assist her, seizing the opportunity the gods had so generously granted him. His luck had just begun to take a tremendous turnover.

There was a saying he had heard from grownups throughout his whole life, and after reading immeasurable amounts of literature, not even on purpose, he found out that it was Greek philosopher, Aristotle, who came up with this overlooked concept. However, Hiccup never really did see any truth behind it…until this very distinct moment. The phrase goes, 'everything happens for a reason.'