And welcome again for the last prologue. The foundation setting of this story is now finally complete, and will move on to the main plot starting next Friday.

Berkian Eddur - 1

Becoming Lífþrasir

Future

People would look back later and marvel at how precise and perfect gods' plans were, and how they always seemed to know exactly which snow to shift to cause an avalanche. Most of the people of Berk still winced, however, at the first part of the tale – especially the ones who had seen it unfold.

There were many who had wondered what had kept the boy going during those early years, some less generously than others, as they dearly wished - while counting how many sheep heads were missing, or how many trees to cut down for a new house – that he really would just stop. It wasn't until later, after all was said and done and the answer was known, that the marvel at the gods and the wincing began. Because after all, what kept Hiccup Haddock going during the years of his young adulthood was one of his best guarded secrets.

It was the belief – actually, the knowledge and certainty beyond doubt – that his dad loved him.

Beyond the mad face and the knotted eyebrows, the frown and the habit of listening only to himself while they spoke, Hiccup knew that his dad loved him. It came out in the small things – how there were always Hiccup's favourite jam preserves about the house, no matter how busy Stoick got. How Hiccup always somehow found himself in bed, no matter where he'd fallen asleep. How Stoick tended to need his sword sharpened more often than was strictly healthy for the metal. It was annoying sometimes, and others it was demeaning and even humiliating, because Stoick made no secret of the fact that he thought his son incapable of protecting himself with the spidery arms and legs, but it was also part of Hiccup's daily routine. Wake up, wash self; know father loves you.

It was how he faced the village every day, never mind the general popular opinion on the village screw up. And even when he got discouraged, and when his father's disappointed scowl got so bad he had to whinge about it with Gobber, he strove to do better, to get over it quickly, to stop being 'all this', because he had something to get back to, something important, and that was to make his dad proud. As long as his dad loved him, it didn't matter that he couldn't get a word in edgewise – when they spoke at all – that he got reamed regularly and that his peers and villagers thought little good of him. He had a goal, he would strive to achieve it, and he would prove himself to be worthy of his father's love and name, or die trying. Because damnit, he loved his dad and his village just as much; he just needed to show them he was worthwhile, and since he hadn't managed it yet, there was no blaming them for getting ticked off. Which was why he wouldn't stop till he managed. He was a Viking, after all. He had … stubbornness issues.

His house of cards received its first blow to its foundations the first time they let the Nadder out. Some strong winds had already been rocking the structure, with his time divided as it was between his original goal of gaining his father's respect and deserving his love, and the growing feeling of curiosity he was experiencing with his new fascination. The dragon was enticing him so much, making him rethink the world as he had known it to be since he was old enough to remember words. He had begun thinking dangerous things.

Hiccup's perspective had already started to wobble and shift, warped like a hunk of metal in the smithy that was being pounded relentlessly so that it didn't look like its original shape anymore, but it didn't look like any finished product either. Then Astrid had opened her mouth, and the ground rocked beneath his feet.

After storming out of the arena, stomping aimlessly through the village while ignoring and being ignored by everyone, a number of sharp, pointy thoughts kept prodding at his mind. The disappointed scowls and the silent meals and the very public reprimands took a different light, or tried to, because the only thought made him want to be ill. So he shoved the thought aside, forwent his cold empty house and went to the smithy. A few productive hours were spent there, before a shield and a fish were selected and taken to the cove where, unknown to him, his future lay waiting.

After that, his thoughts of dangerous things only increased. He began to think things like – their knowledge was wrong, their behaviour too. Things like, perhaps, love could be earned differently, or that there was another, different solution, a third option in the endless war to survive waged with the reptiles. All things that required change – and change was not something Vikings appreciated overly much, especially not with those stubbornness issues that tended to run in the blood. As his love grew for the playful, incredible dragon, and his relationship with Berk grew more and more distant due to his guilt at hoodwinking everyone so thoroughly, Hiccup's heart began to be more and more divided, polarised between his natural desire to be loved which Toothless was satisfying in oodles, and his natural belief that he needed to earn that love – the love his dad had for him, which still kept him cemented to Berk at the roots.

Then his dad came back, and for the first time in such a long time – perhaps ever? Hiccup was sure there had been a time, before his mum was gone – Stoick looked down on his son, bursting at the seams with pride, and Hiccup really felt ill. He had worked so hard to earn that expression and make his dad laugh like that that he'd leapt on the hope that his dad, at least, had seen through his ruse, because he was his dad after all. That he really knew about Toothless, and would support him on this.

It was stupid, really. The axe fell with a mighty blow not a few sand grains later, leaving Hiccup's house of cards to flutter to the bottom of his belly, and keep going down to his feet.

All those years of the worst Viking Berk has ever seen! Odin, it was rough! I almost gave up on you!

Hiccup couldn't quite recall a time when he'd hurt so much. Even after his first few tumbles off the dragon-in-flight, his bruises and contusions seemed less painful now. Astrid's words, and many others', seemed to rise through the water of his mind like oil to taunt him – he truly had been only a disappointment. It really wasn't what he looked like, but all of him that his dad couldn't stand. It was sharp and all-consuming and terrifying. It was also so very sad, he realised in a corner of his mind that wasn't busy making his face neutral, because he really did love his dad very much. And Berk. But it was stupid now not to accept that the feeling wasn't mutual – clearly had never been.

Once his father had left, Hiccup looked at the tiny room he was in blankly, not sure what to feel for a few moments. His sketch book stared back at him, pictures of Toothless so blatantly obvious the expression he had drawn on the dragon with his own hand seemed to mock him; his dad only saw in Hiccup what he wanted to see. Even if it was staring back at him, right there not three feet away in the form of tail-fin plans and night fury sketches in various poses, Stoick would never really see Hiccup – never had. Stoick wasn't holding out for Hiccup to prove himself; in fact, Stoick had all but given up on his son becoming anything but the worst Viking Berk had ever had. The silent understanding Hiccup thought they'd had, where he worked harder and harder and finally managed to prove himself, while his dad kept loving him till he managed, had all been in his head. The disappointed scowls and the silent meals and the very public reprimands finally managed to take on the other, sickly light that Astrid had first shone on them; his dad hadn't been encouraging him in the only way he knew – with tough love that was lots of tough and little outward love. He'd just simply been fed up of the boy who kept screwing up and making his life miserable and his job even harder than it had to be.

For a few moments, he wept bitterly. It wasn't every day someone realised that they were so very unwanted, and it wasn't every day a boy found out the dad he adored didn't really love him. But he didn't let himself do that for long – it had been a point of pride that he hadn't cried since his mother had gone, and at least in that, he was a Viking. So he dried his tears, took a deep, shaky breath, and started thinking.

He wrote three letters. One he left for Gobber in the smithy. The other two would be delivered to the proper addressees personally. He cleared out everything from his tiny workshop which he could carry, and hid in places he knew only he could reach the things that he could not. Knowing that he had little time, as his father was busy but also tired, he headed first to the docks to release a boat he knew was always there as a diversion, then quickly home, combing through the room in the house loft he had slept in since he'd left the cradle, and removing every trace of himself he could find. Most of the things he could carry, and the rest was piled neatly in a corner, to be disposed of. One of the letters was placed on the bed's wooden frame.

For a moment, he was seized by the temptation to go to the arena and free the dragons, especially the nightmare, before the winter forced the Vikings to do what they did every year, but he threw it off, the regret welling with the other feelings in his chest as he hurried on. The danger of being discovered was too large, and then Toothless would never make it on his own. After delivering the other letter, Hiccup simply steeled himself, shifted his wicker luggage and small bag of supplies on his shoulders and headed towards the cove. His dragon friend was both amused and confused to see him at the wrong time of day; and then alert to his mood, because he began nudging him comfortingly as he whispered some of his thoughts to him. Toothless had proved he could understand him perfectly more than once, and his comforting groans, at that moment, where what began to keep Hiccup going.

Because it was for the best. Berk didn't care for him – no blame to them, he did mess up pretty bad often enough. And his dad … deserved so much better than a burden for a son instead of the valid aid and support he should have had. Hiccup had thought he was supporting him; that if he kept trying, and in the end proved himself, he would earn the right to take his place by his dad's side. A small seductive voice still whispered in his ear, telling him to forget all this, to go back to the village and take his chance in the arena – his dad had spoken so proudly of him after all! It had almost seemed like he'd made it at last – but that illusion had been shattered, now. Hiccup knew that Stoick's pride was misplaced, and that their perspective if their relationship was different.

So Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the third nodded resolutely and urged Toothless upwards, because there was still one thing he could do right by his dad and his beloved home – he could remove from Berk the worst Viking it had ever seen. If he held on to Toothless' harness so hard it bruised his hand, and if he wept all the way to the next tiny, deserted island, it was of no consequence. Something new would keep him going now – Toothless seemed to be offering himself up for the job – and there was always his new knowledge on dragons to work on. Perhaps if he changed enough people's minds, the raids could be fought differently. Better. With less victims and injuries, on both sides.

When the following day dawned, the gods' plans had already been set in motion, or so the people decided once they looked back. But so it had to be, because after all, Asgard took care of its heroes, and Hiccup Haddock certainly was one.

=0=

This story was born because of this scene. I have always been impressed by the resilience given to Hiccup's character in this film, and after re-watching it countless times, I always wondered what kept him going. The scene at the docks seemed to indicate quite clearly that it was his dad's love and regard, and then on one re-watch, I noticed that for a split second as Stoick utters that line, Hiccup's face looks completely heartbroken. The idea was born that if the line had come after Hiccup's fate was shaken more than the film, a break would occur where the narrative would split off in a different direction.

I hope you have all enjoyed the last prologue. A number of sharp readers pointed a few things to me that were partially answered here. I am always very excited when my readers catch the small clues and hints I leave, so feel free to go to town with speculation. I find that it increased my reading pleasure, when I'm devouring a novel, when I could read on one level for the plot, and on another for linguistic hints or references embedded in the text that I can recognise on a first or second read, so I strive to write in that way with the humbler tools given to me.

Updates will occur every Friday from next chapter onwards: The next update will take place on Friday 31st January '14.