Oddball

(A/N: Unless otherwise noted, folks, all stories take place in separate universes. But don't worry! After 'Against the Clock,' things did eventually turn out okay. How? I don't know, it's a mystery. Maybe that's a story for someone else to finish.

This story here is an AU featuring mild crossover with Princess and the Frog and Wreck-It Ralph. Fluff and nonsense.)

"As is tradition, the firstborn of each clan may present their skills and compete, for glory and fame, and to win the hand of…"

Stoick looked to his left, and could barely repress a sigh, "my son, Hiccup."

Hiccup sat up straight – he wouldn't dare slouch on a day like today, even if all that he wanted was to curl up in a ball and roll away like an armadillo. How could have forgotten? Today was the day he was trussed up in full Viking regalia – horned hat, billowing cape he tripped over, bearskin vest, the works – and made to sit down and watch in mute horror while his whole life was decided for him, and his father picked out his bride. If he had remembered that it was today, he and Toothless, his secret best friend and daily risk to his life, would have been far away by now, flying out over the waters, never to return.

Stoick signaled to the leader of the first clan. Lord Lugh beamed proudly beneath his red mustaches, and presented his only heir, Lady Charlotte the Sweet. He listed out her many virtues and accomplishments as the lady herself came into view. She was a round-faced blonde in a humongous pink gown, and currently leaning towards her dark-skinned handmaiden and talking in what she thought was an excited whisper: "I can't believe it, I been waitin' so long fer the day n' it's finally here, I'm gonna be a real princess at last! Now where is this Prince?"

Hiccup gulped. At her father's signal, Charlotte rushed forward and gave an elegant, if overenthusiastic, curtsy, and scanned the thrones. The Vikings were not used to being scrutinized with such happiness. But Charlotte's face fell when she saw Hiccup. Faces usually did.

'Sorry to disappoint… not really,' Hiccup thought to himself. He tried to imagine Charlotte meeting Toothless and wasn't sure whether to chuckle or wince.

Charlotte hustled back into the retinue she'd arrived with, while the aged and venerable King MacKendy stepped forward. He was a diminutive man with a very large, bald head, and an impressive salmon-colored kilt. "My sinceretht apologieth," he said, lisping and twirling his hands artistically, "I, alath, have no heir of my own, but I do have a young ward, who hath been entruthed to my care for many, many yearth. She ith…" A young woman stepped up behind King MacKendy – a woman who, Hiccup could tell, impressed every single Viking in the room. Tall as a sapling, with platinum blonde hair and a stunning figure, she stood like a warrior, and regarded everyone in the room with a mistrustful eye.

'Holy cow!' Hiccup thought. 'She would eat me alive!'

King MacKendy glanced at the woman, and stopped his monologue. "Tamora!" He said indignantly. "You're blocking – ugh!" He reached out and yanked his real ward into sight from behind the bodyguard.

"HI!" squealed Vanellope of MacKendy, a shrimp of a girl whose teal green dress was far too big for her. She waved to Hiccup. "I'm Vanellope! How old are you? Do you like racing horses?"

"Thand thtill, Vanellope!" King MacKendy snapped. "You're embarrathing me!"

Hiccup winced. Being engaged to a hyperactive nine-year-old was a scary prospect enough, but he did feel bad for her being shackled to a guardian like that. He seemed to loathe her – and probably wouldn't make a good father-in-law.

Then, the last lord stepped forward. He, too, was a king. And more than that, he was of the Four Clans that had battled the Vikings a generation ago, before Hiccup was even born. The tension between the Scotsmen and the Vikings was like the air before a thunderstorm.

Hiccup slumped in his seat. This was just a token symbol of the peace that had existed for the last twenty years only because the Vikings had decided dragons were a worthier foe than Scots. There was no way that Stoick would pick this princess for his daughter-in-law, so why even try?

Dragons. Hiccup tuned out the speech that the Scottish king was making, to think back on Toothless. When he married (ugh), his bride would move to Berk. How could he possibly keep Toothless a secret? He would have to start running his own household, and (shudder) siring some heirs. He wouldn't have time for Toothless, hell, he wouldn't have time for running around in the forge and inventing. This was the end of his life, the end of freedom.

"Hiccup! Pay attention!" Gobber whispered from Hiccup's left side.

So he did. He took in the number of warriors that the Scottish clan had brought. He also noticed that, unlike MacKendy and Lugh, the king and the queen had both arrived to present their daughter. The King was a man who might have been even larger than Stoick the Vast, even if his beard was not so impressive. The Queen was the epitome of sternness and grace, with long brown hair that reached to her knees, even wrapped. She pushed forward her daughter, who gave a stiff curtsy. The girl looked pretty in a blue dress and white wimple, but she didn't smile. Instead she coolly looked at Stoick, not as a maiden should regard the king of a rival clan, but as a fellow warrior sizing up the competition.

'Wait for it, it'll turn out she's the bodyguard, too,' Hiccup thought. But the princess looked too much like the royals for that to be likely. He found himself wondering if her hair was brown and as long as her mother's – and if so, how on earth had it gotten crammed into that wimple?

Then she looked at him. Her eyes were sky-blue, and in her gaze was defiance. He was sure that she was thinking, 'I don't want to be here.'

Hiccup shrugged, not breaking eye contact. 'Neither do I.'

She raised an eyebrow at him.

Hiccup pointedly looked at the nearest window, then back at her. 'I'd rather be outside.'

She glanced down, and he saw her clasp her hands, pull her right hand back, then open her fingers, like she was firing an arrow. 'I'd rather be shooting targets.'

So she was a warrior. He kept looking at her, but he wasn't sure where to go from there. He wanted to ask her name – Odin's bones, he'd missed her name, hadn't he? Now her mother was listing out her many accomplishments but not saying her name. Something of DunBroch.

He was afraid to look away from her, lest she suddenly change when he wasn't looking into someone… well… less interesting.

She stuck out her tongue at him. He sat up a little straighter, astounded at her nerve, and gave her a mock snarl. She snarled back, with a sneer that would have done Toothless proud. So Hiccup made the face that even scared Toothless—

"Hiccup!" Gobber whispered fiercely.

Everyone in the hall was staring at him and his grimace. The princess in blue, meanwhile, looked like she was trying very hard not to laugh.

Hiccup sat back, bowed his head, and forced himself – again – to play the loyal and dependable chieftain's son. Who would marry whomever his father picked.

He looked up at the Scottish girl again. She was giving him a smile that mingled apology and amusement: 'Sorry to embarrass you, but that was really funny.'

He scowled at her – but a part of his brain figured that Toothless would have laughed, too. Then he was quick to imagine, if Toothless met this princess – they might not hate each other on sight.

Huh. It was a thought.

Hiccup glanced up at his father, who had moved on to the matter of that night's ball – groaned inwardly – and then looked at the princess in blue again. She was looking ahead, every inch the dutiful daughter – except that she had pulled a lock of hair out of her wimple. The curl tumbled past her eyes, and it was red – red as fire or dragon's scales. And Hiccup, staring at the lifelong enemy of his clan, felt his world tilting.

The girl caught his eye again, and winked.