So this has been in my head for a while now because of the rather disturbing lack of any good 'Hiccup runs away' fanfictions. So this is my attempt to fix that. Please let me know what you think in the comments or DMs.

And before you say anything, this is NOT a Hiccstrid fanfic. As cute as they are, I wanted to play around a little. It might evolve into a HiccupxOC later, but not with my OC, Liv. I'll put a couple of ideas up as it gets closer in to see what yall think.

Disclaimer: I only own my OC's and portions of the plot that you don't recognize from How To Train Your Dragon.

Serendipity

Ser|en|dip|i|ty

{the phenomenon of finding valuable things

not sought for}

for as long as he could remember, he was different. He wasn't big or strong, and he couldn't wield an axe to save his life. He only wanted to fit in, to be accepted, even it means doing something he may not like. When the opportunity arises… he doesn't take it. Instead, he chooses to find who he is, and what he could be, if given the chance.

Hiccup begins a journey that will take him far from his home. With enemies at every turn and new friends watching his back, Hiccup races to save his old home and protect his new one.

An old friend once asked him, 'How far are you willing to go to prove them wrong?'

He answered, 'As far as Odin will take me.'

PROLOGUE

*Hiccup's POV*

I scrambled down the stairs and threw open the door, only to slam it back with a yelp at the wall of flames.

The dragon flew off after a few moments, and I jumped at the window of opportunity and dashed for the smithy. My back was still tingling from the close call.

Oh! Sorry, I didn't introduce myself earlier. I'm Hiccup, Berk's resident… well… hiccup. I'm five foot nothing and built like a twig. But don't worry - what I lack in size I make up for in attitude.

I know what you're thinking. How does someone like me, get such a great name.

Vikings believed a hideous name would frighten off trolls and gnomes – like our charming demeanor wouldn't do that for us.

We're about as stubborn as they come.

I dodged a few people and swatted out a stray spark that landed on my tunic. The blacksmith stall was within sight when I was grabbed by the collar of my shirt.

"Hiccup?" The culprit of grand theft Hiccup was none other than Stoick the Vast, current chief of Berk and –

An explosion nearby caused flaming debris to fly over the both of us and I flinched.

"Go home." Stoick growled. "And don't cause trouble."

Stoick the Vast. Also, father to the worst Viking Berk has ever seen.

Me.

Dad tossed me to the side, and I landed on my right arm. Scrambling to my feet, I bolted for the stall where Gobber was waiting.

A little background before you meet him. Gobber the Belch – the man who took me in after my mother died and taught me how to do the one thing I'm good at. He's my father in all but blood.

I snagged an apron off the hook and tied it. In my rush, I forgot to look where I was going and tripped over one of Gobber's extra prosthetics.

"Ow!" My mentor chuckled behind me and I snatched the arm up and threw it in the direction of the storage compartment. "Really?"

"Ah! Nice of you to join the party. I thought you'd been carried off." I rolled my eyes and stuck my tongue out at him. "Oh, yea. Real mature."

"look who's talking," I snapped back. "Besides, I'm too muscular for their taste. They'd have no clue what to do with me." I lifted one arm and flexed my invisible muscles jokingly.

"They need toothpicks, don't they?"

The corners of my lips titled downwards in a scowl. "Only because they go after fatty morsels like you."

This was my best friend, and one of the only people in Berk who didn't mind me being myself. Sure, working in the forge – especially with Mr. Learning-On-The-Job over there, - was dangerous but I loved it.

An explosion across the road and I dropped to my knees and shielded my head. The fire started working its way to forge, and Gobber cursed and called for the water brigade.

The group of teens my age each carried a bucket of water. Fishlegs was the bigger, blonde boy pushing the large cask. He and I used to be friends. We would sit in the woods for hours, swapping dragon theories or reading one of the rare books we were able to find in the village. Somewhere along the way, his parents had finally convinced him to become a 'proper' Viking.

Snotlout. A short, stocky teen with greasy black hair. He was ringleader of the 'Let's-pick-on-Hiccup' brigade. He flirted, unsuccessfully, with every girl he met. His father was Dad's right hand Viking.

Oh yeah, he's also my cousin.

The Thorston twins ended up throwing their buckets of water on each other, instead of on the fire, and I rolled my eyes. Seriously, if they were let out there, why couldn't I?

They were a destructive pair who, combined, had the mental capacity of a single chicken. Alone they weren't too bad, but they followed Snotlout everywhere. The blonde teen smacked both twins on the head simultaneously, and tossed her own bucket onto the flaming house.

Astrid Hofferson. Just the name alone made me smile. She was amazing, and a great fighter. She was the perfect Viking girl, and was the pride and joy of her parents. Her blue eyes, the way her hair fell in her face.

Now if only I could get her to notice me as more than a mosquito.

"Oi!" Gobber smacked the back of my head. "Stop ogling the girl and get yer scrawny arse back to work."

"I was not-" I could feel the heat rising up my neck. "I was not ogling anyone!"

"Sure you weren't. You were just admiring the dragons." A female voice spoke up from behind me, dripping with sarcasm. I glared at the amber eyed girl, who only grinned cheekily in response.

Liv Harcon, AKA: the prodigy. Her family were warriors, not dragon killers, and she her training proved it. Her father, Rune, was one of the best in the village. Her long dark red hair was loose, with a few small braids keeping it out of her face.

Gobber sighed as her handed her an apron. "You had better pull your hair back, girlie. Before your parents see."

"Then they see. What are they going to do – kick me out?" She grabbed a broken axe from the pile, her strong arms visible. I still didn't know how she worked in the hot forge with her leather armor.

I heaved a sword onto the sharpening block. Arguing with her was like trying to argue with my dad – impossible. "Just leave it, Gobber." Liv loved to go against viking tradition – her favorites often being leaving her hair down, and wearing pants and armor instead of skirts.

Liv and I have worked for Gobber since we were little … er. Dad did it to get me out of the house and out of trouble. Liv's parents handed her off as a way to work off excess energy, as well as a last ditch effort to see if Gobber could 'rehabilitate' her.

There was another large explosion outside, and I flinched.

"And me house is burning again," Liv's words rolled off her tongue with a tiny bit of an accent shining through. "Three guesses on what I'll be doing tomorrow."

"We should be out there," I muttered.

Gobber answered without looking. "Not a chance in Hel."

"But I need to make my mark, Gobber." I begged. "Please."

"You have made yer mark, in all the wrong places."

"Just give me two minutes!" A nadder flew close to the smithy and I had to resist the urge to duck and cover. "I'll kill a dragon. My life will get better and I might even get a date."

"Two minutes, and the dragon with kill you, Ren."

"Thank you, for the vote of confidence, Liv." I deadpanned. "Really appreciate it."

My mentor grabbed me by the shoulder and spun me to look at him. "Ya can't swing an axe, ya can't lift a hammer. For the love of Thor, Hiccup, ya can't even throw one of these." He lifted a bola up to emphasize his point and Sven snatched it, tangling a Gronkle with one toss.

"Okay, so I can't fight like you, but –" I smiled, wheeling around my recent invention. "This will do it for me."

Liv warily eyed the contraption. "So it's a giant mousetrap?"

"No! Well… yes?" Did that matter. "Sort of. What's important is that I can help. Just watch!" I pressed a lever on the side and a bola flew out, entangling a nearby viking. "…oops?"

"Hiccup!"

"Sorry, Ulf," I called out, before turning back to Gobber and Liv's raised eyebrows. "Mild calibration issue."

"If ya every want to fight dragons, boy, ya need to stop all of, well, this." He gestured at me vaguely, and Liv giggled.

My heart clenched painfully in my chest. "But… you just gestured to all of me."

"Exactly! You need to stop being all of you."

Something in my stomach sunk. Even he agreed with my dad. I glanced over at Liv, but she was placing a new axe head on a handle and refused to look at me. "Oooohhh," I playfully growled, swallowing the fire creeping up my throat. "You, sir, are playing a dangerous game. Keeping this much raw… vikingness… contained."

Liv's red lips twitched upwards in a smile, and I felt a little better. "There will be consequences!"

Gobber, however, was unimpressed. "I'll take my chances. Sword. Sharpen. Now."

He dropped the broadsword into my arms, and I struggled under the weight for a heartbeat, then placed it on the grinding wheel.

Liv continued to avoid my line of sight, and Gobber went back to pounding away at dents in various weapons. My thoughts traveled to the raid outside. To a vikingr, killing a dragon was everything. Nadders, Gronkles, Zipplebacks. Any of them would make my dad happy. Just one might make not hate me. A Nightmare was sure to get me noticed. The nasty habit of lighting themselves on fire made it nearly impossible for all but the best to get close enough. But the dragon I want is the ultimate prize – the one no one's ever seen.

I dropped the sword to cover my ears as a loud whistle started, increasingly growing into a shriek as the dragon grew closer. The banshee cry bounced around my head and made me dizzy.

"Night Fury!" Gobber shoved a curious Liv back into the smithy and shouted. "Get down!"

A massive explosion shook the village as the plasma blast decimated the catapult.

Night Fury. The dragon never steals food, never shows itself, and never misses. If I ever wanted an iceberg's chance in Hel with Astrid, or any acceptance from my dad, I needed to get that dragon.

Seeing the damage done to the defenses, the blacksmith snagged his hook and took off through the door. "Man – er woman – the fort you two. They need me out there."

And he was gone.

This was my chance.

My face split with a large grin and Liv scrutinized me out of the corner of her eye. "No."

"What?"

"I know what yer thinkin and I'm saying don't do it."

I paused, stared at my friend, then took off towards the cliff, contraption in tow.

"Odin's underpants, Hiccup!" Liv hollered behind me. But by then I was darting around vikings, ignoring their warnings. I would kill that dragon. I had to. I couldn't stand to see the expression on Dad's face again when he comes home and sees me as his son. The disappointment.

I would fit in. I would be a viking.

All I had to do was kill that one dragon.

I think that one of these days …

you're going to have to find out

where you want to go. And then

you've got to get going there.

JD Salinger