~Ouroboros~

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1st - 2. Search for Acknowledgement

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It was an unfortunate side effect of having to defend their village from constant dragon attacks for three of the seven generations of Vikings on Berk that the worth of any Viking living there was seen primarily based on their skills at fighting dragons, with other skills such as hunting and fishing coming in a distant second – if only because the dragon raids were the most visible part of their lives and had over time decreased warring between the different Viking tribes to a point that honour and glory along with entrance to Valhala could only be gained through fighting – and dying – bravely during these attacks. The few exceptions to this general rule included the village elder who although not having any abilities in those two areas was valued due to her wisdom, ability to talk with the gods, and healing skills; the younglings who were still too young to engage in the horrifyingly difficult process of not only staying alive when face to face with a dragon but also attempting to be the only one who walk away from the confrontation; and the older Vikings that took up other professions such as blacksmithing, wood crafting or ale brewing after their skills declined due to either age or more often loss of limbs – after all only the strongest Vikings who have survived countless dragon raids lived to old age.

Unfortunately for Hiccup, he was not the village elder – his age and gender prevented that – nor at the measly age of twelve with no dragon kills under his belt could he be considered a retired veteran no matter how one stretched his imagination. On the other hand he would have fit snugly into the youngling category, if it weren't for the combined weight of the village elder, his status as son to the two greatest warriors Berk has ever seen, and the expectation of becoming a village chief in the future upon him by his father.

As per tradition the birth of Stoick's son was witnessed by the elder who informed them that his name and destiny would be revealed in a year's time based upon his survival of the first winter, for it was not uncommon for newborns to be unable to handle the extreme weather conditions experienced at Berk during their winter – which lasted for over half the year with summer being defined as the three months when it does not snow. The winters were so harsh that Vikings have started to use them to measure their age, with their lives measured not in years since their birth, but in the number of winters they survived. Although Hiccup weighed much less at birth than any Viking in recent memory, he still managed to miraculously survive along with eight of the ten nameless newborns that year throughout the harsh winter and was graced by the presence of the village elder once more.

The importance placed on the naming ceremony was even higher than that of the actual birth – as that was the moment when the recently born Viking not only gained the name they would use for the rest of their lives, but also the time when the village elder would impart them with a few words about their future. During Stoick's naming ceremony the elder proclaimed that he would become the youngest chief of the tribe and lead them for many winters. This came true seventeen summers ago when Stoick lost his father who was chief before him, and was thus chosen by the gods to lead the tribe at a tender age of sixteen winters. Naturally those gathered for the ceremony expected Hiccup to receive similar words as his father – for any son born to Stoick and Valhalarama was expected to be a Viking of legendary proportions – both in skill and in bulk. Unfortunately the fates had a different plan and it was with a heavy heart that the elder proclaimed that Stoick's son would never become a true Viking.

In many societies south of Berk a proclamation such as that would result in an instant death for the child, but the harsh winters of Berk had long ago changed the tradition to one where the survival of the child through their first winter meant that the gods have accepted them as worthy of living – and of having a name. Thus not a single Viking entertained the idea of 'trying again', for Hiccup had survived until his naming ceremony and thus would live on until illness, accident, weather, or dragons caused his death.

Perhaps it was the arrival of the demonic Nightfury over the course of that past summer which caused Stoick to take the news so hard – after all with its arrival the damage done to the village during the raids more than doubled and the village needed all the able bodies it could find; or perhaps it was because if what the elder said was true then for the first time since Berk had first been settled the mantle of chief would not be passed from father to son; or perhaps it was that he, just as everyone else, had expected his son to become great – and it was inconceivable for the greatest love of his life, for his wife, to give birth to a… defect.

Thus it came to be that for the first time in his life Stoick denied the elder's words. Even though he knew that the proclamations of the elder during a naming ceremony came directly from the fates dictated by the gods, he was willing to go against it – nothing would not prevent him from making a proper Viking out of his son; even the gods themselves would not bar his son from becoming a Viking he could be proud of.

And just like that the first cracks appeared between Stoick and his son – cracks that would slowly widen into an impassable chasm bridged only by his wife Val.

Since the moment his son could walk he tried everything to train and force Hiccup to be more Viking like. While the childhood of the other younglings was filled with fun, games, and a sense of belonging both within their families and with the other children, Hiccup's early years were marred with Stoick's attempts at making him faster, stronger and more aware of his surroundings. Hardly a day passed by that Hiccup was not expected by Stoick to lift weights too heavy for him to budge or run laps around the village that he simply did not have the stamina to complete. After all, Stoick was particularly blessed with a strong body and capable of doing those gruelling exercises when he was Hiccup's age – so why shouldn't his son be the same?

Hiccup tried – of course he did – but still, his body was not his fathers – and with his every failing his father's disposition became worse and worse. He wanted his father to be proud of him. He needed his father to be satisfied with him! And yet every time his father looked at him, it was with a perpetual scowl on his face, with his eyes radiating disappointment, and a barely held back (most of the time) sigh in his throat. What made it even worse was that whenever he saw other younglings outside or in the Meade hall with their fathers, Hiccup could not help but notice how the other fathers would glance at their kids with pride, or when asked would make claims of how lucky they were to be blessed with such a kid. There was always a pang in his chest when he compared their actions to those of his own father – and the feeling would sometimes become downright unbearable causing his eyes to moisten with unshed tears when he heard his father reply to that same question with an 'oh, my son? Sigh… Same as always…'

Valhalarama on the other hand seemed to care nothing for the elder's words and could become downright scary if she saw any of the other Vikings giving her condescending looks (or even worse, put them into words). Still, she had expected Stoick to act much better towards his son and was quite shocked to come in a few days after Hiccup first walked around unaided to see him attempting to get Hiccup to lift rocks the size of his head; the argument that followed could be heard throughout the entire village even thorough the gale like winds and pouring rain which made it difficult for even thunder to be noticed unless one tried to listen specifically for it.

From that day Val had done everything to stop her husband's misguided attempts at moulding their son into a carbon copy of himself, but when his bullheaded attitude made that a fool's errand she turned instead to shielding her son from his father's excessive actions. At the same time she was also trying to show her son enough affection to at least offset the perpetual feeling of inadequacy that he had developed and which had spurned him onwards to tackle the increasingly impossible tasks his father set in growing desperation. Really, Val could not decide whether she should feel proud for Hiccup for his nigh indomitable spirit which converted each of his failings into a passion to succeed (and really, a yearning to show his father that he was someone to be proud of, she supposed); or exasperated due to her son's willingness to do anything her husband asked of him – even when she specifically told him not to!

So it came that sometime after Hiccup's sixth winter passed and his mother was away on a hunting trip Stoick took him out to a boulder outside their house and told him to smash it with his head. When Stoick was Hiccup's age his father had done the exact same thing and his attempts resulted in the boulder splitting in half – so obviously, Hiccup being his son should be able to replicate the feat.

Stoick did not spare a single thought to the fact that other younglings, or even most Vikings for that matter, were incapable of such shows of durability – he never knew that even his own father did this to him only after Stoick ripped off a terrible terror's head off when one accidentally climbed into the house. While the attempt was a success for Stoick – to whose juvenile mind the broken rock under him represented the sheer untapped strength of a Viking – his father considered the attempt a failure as he was forced to swallow his lecture about some things (such as dragon killing) being still out of reach until Stoick grew up. After that stint, nothing anyone said or did prevented Stoick from training his remarkably gifted body into the peak of its abilities – so much so that he was already participating in dragon raids at a staggering age of nine when the others of his generation were still a few years off from even getting into dragon training.

It was a firm belief of Stoick's that if his son followed the same training steps that he himself did when he was young then no matter the will of the gods his son could only grow up to be the same as him – a true Viking. This was one of many such attempts, but as with the others Stoick could feel apprehension dawning on him as he saw Hiccup just stand in front of the boulder staring at it with incomprehension. This was one of the simplest things for him – just smash your head against the rock and look at the results! Heck, he didn't even consider this as training, more of a show of what Vikings could do if they set their mind (or more often than not, body) to it! Why couldn't his son just do the same?

Stoick was about to yell the instructions at him again when he saw Hiccup move his head back and smash his forehead solidly against the rock. All the apprehension evaporated from him as pride for his son welled up. Finally one of his attempts has borne fruit! – His son was taking his first steps to becoming a real Viking!

Sure, when Stoick himself did this for his own father the rock split in two under his head, but then again he understood that Hiccup was not quite that good. Looking critically at his son he could not help but notice a distinct lack of muscles on the almost skin-and-bones body. Still, he was sure that just a few more training exercises and everything would be right again!

Then Hiccup turned around and looked at him.

For Stoick it was as if all the pride he felt inside him turned to lead and hooking his heart, stomach and voice sunk down to leave behind an emptiness that nothing could fill as he saw with dawning horror the unfocused look in his son's eyes which stared off blankly into the distance, and the blood running down his face to steadily drip down his nose and chin to stain his son's vest and the ground below.

With his mouth grinning in a strangely lopsided manner Hiccup managed to lisp off "I did good – right dad?" before his knees buckled and he fell to the ground with a thump.

Stoick could do nothing but stare uncomprehendingly at his son's still body. After a few seconds the adrenaline in his body got to a level capable of offsetting the lead based concoction in his chest enough to enable him to regain basic motor functions. Scooping up his son and hurrying to the village elder for her to take a look at his son's injuries, Stoick's mind was working overtime – for the entire sprint he could not help but wonder why things have gone so wrong – he knew that just like him Hiccup smashed his head against that rock for no other reason than to feel his father's approval. Why was it that the end results were so drastically different? And though he wished to be proud of his son – after all that was the entire reason he tried so many times to train him – how could he with his son like this?

How could he possibly be proud of having a son like Hiccup?

In the end the elder bandaged up Hiccup and berated Stoick for such actions exclaiming that his son would never be the same as him. Perhaps she was trying to get him to understand that the same training that he did would not work for his son, but to Stoick it felt like her every word was a long and rusty spike that pierced deeply through his heart and stuck there, slowly shattering his hopes for his son and further hammering in that his son was fated to never be a true part of the village, fated to never become a Viking. Such was the shock of the day's events that Stoick did not even take in any of the words Valhalarama yelled at him when she came back the next day from the hunting expedition to find her son still unconscious with a bandaged up head.

How could he when his heart was alive only in the physical sense of the word?

Contrary to Stoick's immovable belief that the other Vikings could not help but look down upon his family for the failure he perceived Hiccup to be, the others simply continued their wait-and-see approach to Hiccup – after all the other Viking children were still comparatively the same at that age as training did not usually begin until they were through their ninth winter (and usually begging for training to become like the other Vikings). In fact Hiccup and his 'fate' were only brought up when all other gossip grew stale – and what with the nearly weekly arguments between Stoick and Val that shook up the village like a minor earthquake, fresh gossip was not too hard to find.

Although Stoick never repeated the incident with the boulder and had in fact stopped his misguided attempts at training his son altogether, Hiccup had never received acknowledgement that he thirsted for from his father and slowly gravitated towards his mother from whom he could always expect kind words and love. It was Valhallarama that got Stoick to recommend Hiccup to Gobber as his apprentice a year after Gobber's son (and previous apprentice) Eagleeye died during a hunting expedition, and it was primarily under her encouragement that within a single year Hiccup breezed through his first steps to mastering the blacksmithing trade until he was downright good at it with his greatest weakness being his lack of strength – which for a youngling just barely entering his ninth winter was extraordinary!

Unfortunately even this did not gain him his father's appreciation and pride that he so desperately wanted…

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Everything changed during that same winter – for while it was during this winter that Hiccup became proficient at smithing enough to complete most jobs unaided as long as they did not require heavy hammer-work; that high point of his life was tarnished by the loss of his mother.

It was widely accepted that dragons do not attack during winters, although no one knew why. The dragons that were kept in the kill ring for training up younglings did not show any signs of hibernation and in fact looked unfazed by the extremely cold temperatures that Berk experienced during the coldest winter months. Still, being Vikings they never cared for the reasons behind such behavior and simply accepted the blessings of not having to defend their homes during the winters – which were difficult enough to survive even without any attacks. Thus it was quite a shock when a horde of deadly Nadders and monstrous Nightmares descended upon the village during the night after a particularly bad snowstorm.

It is fortunate for Vikings that it was inconceivable for the village to not have at least some look outs defending it; even during the widest storms or winter months when it is taken for granted that no attacks will occur there are always at least two Vikings in one of the guard towers overlooking the docks – after all as the beginning of dragon raids three generations ago and the arrival of the Nightfury eight summers ago had proven, it was better to not get too complacent. It was not a glorious job to sit outside with temperatures cold enough to freeze your spit before it reached the ground – but it needed to be done, so they did it. Unfortunately not expecting any attacks during the winter they were only able to warn the village seconds before the dragons descended upon them – and yet it was still better than the alternative.

While Stoick and Valhalarama were surprised to hear the warning sound of the horn signaling an incoming dragon attack during the heart of winter, this did not prevent them from donning their winter jackets, grabbing weapons and running out the door within half a minute of hearing the warning. By this time the dragons have already landed among the village houses and were proceeding to grab whatever food they could find. Quickly deciding on a course of action Stoick ran off towards the sheep pens where they were kept during the winter as the sheep where what dragons usually targeted during their raids; while Valhalarama kept back to protect their house along with Hiccup inside and the frozen fish hanging outside.

It was a true testament to Viking strength and tenacity that even wading through waist high snow banks to fight off the only winter dragon raid in their history they still managed to do well enough that more oft than not it was dragon blood that stained the pristine whiteness of the snow.

The actual attack was rather small as it did not include any Gronckles or hideous Zipplebacks, but unfortunately for Stoick a group of them that were raiding the village instead of heading towards the sheep had stumbled across Valhalarama. When Stoick arrived back he was greeted with the dead bodies of three Nadders and one monstrous Nightmare lying haphazardly around his house, the snow so stained with blood that the few white patches looked out of place. However it wasn't any of that that caught his attention; no – it was the human body in front of one of the Nadders that held his gaze and hitched his breath.

His dear Val, lying on the ground with the furs along her back ripped off exposing the mangled flesh beneath and the quills sticking out like arrows in an overused target; her blood dripping off the tips of the quills and mixing with the red snow.

Stoick did not even notice the small form of his son shaking with disbelief in the doorway, and by the time he was capable of looking at anything but his wife's body, his son had already disappeared in the house.

In the years following her unfortunate death it became apparent to anyone who bothered to look (and unfortunately no one did) that Valhalarama was the only thing keeping their dysfunctional family from tearing apart at the seams. Without someone to act as an intermediary between Hiccup and his father, Stoick found nothing in common for them to talk about. Hiccup on the other hand saw that his father was gradually distancing himself from him and tried with increasing desperation to receive acknowledgement from his father. It was this and the familiarity between his father and the other dragon killing Vikings that caused Hiccup to believe that the only way for his father to be proud of him was to do what the other Vikings did: kill dragons. Now Hiccup was not stupid, he realized that he could not kill a dragon the same way the Vikings did, after all as Gobber would ceaselessly remind him later on in his life – he could not lift a battle hammer, swing an axe or even throw a bola – thus he needed some help.

From there Hiccups split off from the others of his generation was complete. While the others gradually trained up their bodies knowing that once they reached the proper age they would be put into dragon training and someday be allowed to fight dragons; Hiccup could not wait for that long and instead tried to compensate for what he felt (with apparently his father's agreement) as his failings by coming up with a weapon that his body could use so as to be able to kill dragons NOW, not some time in the distant future.

It was that decision that cemented Hiccup's position in the village and caused the other Vikings to look at him with distaste while also ostracizing him from others of his age group. After all, no one else had any need for methods to kill dragons that children could use – so Hiccup had to create his own. Naturally expecting a child barely past his ninth winter, even with Hiccup's imagination and impressive smithing skills, to come up with never-before-made working weapons against dragons would be foolish; the fact that his attempts did not outright kill him when he was building, testing, or trying them out (both in the 'safe' confines of the forge and against dragons during actual raids) was a miracle in and of itself.

The villagers however did not see Hiccup's continuing attempts at killing dragons and successes at defying death in the same light. Due to his contraptions causing more collateral damage during the dragon raids than a pack of monstrous Nightmares; it was understandable that the Vikings instead began to consider him as an active negative. Furthermore, seeing the dismissive actions and hearing the snappy comments of the other Vikings towards Hiccup caused the other children to see him in the same light – especially seeing that Stoick did nothing to help out his son and was several times heard (quite loudly) berating him in front of all the villagers after yet another spectacular failure. This unfortunately made the others believe that Stoick disapproved of his own son and would turn a blind eye on the children's attempts at making Hiccup's life worse.

Overall life fell into a set pattern after Hiccup's first few attempts at killing a dragon – with the adults silently disapproving of him, the other younglings considering him as a laughing stock of the village that they could use to take any frustrations out on, Stoick continuing his life having sadly accepted that his son would never become a Viking, and Hiccup attempting to earn his way into everyone's graces and his father's love through increasingly deadly and more elaborate contraptions, naively unaware that even if he somehow managed to kill a dragon with his contraption it would do little to remove the stigma others have placed upon him. After all, considering the staggering amount of destruction caused by his previous attempts it was simply a matter of time that a dragon got killed as collateral damage – they would think.

The only person in the village that ever looked at Hiccup with approval was Gobber. Hiccup reminded him of his own son Eagleeye and what with the way the others were acting towards Hiccup, Gobber considered it his duty to try and be a friend and someone who would listen to all the frustrations that Hiccup felt in his life.

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Thus when Hiccup woke up into the darkness of his room to his father's voice yelling out below him about the incoming dragon raid, he did not feel fear. After all, what is there to fear in a life like his, other than the continuation of his existence in the same manner as before? For he couldn't say that he was alive – after his mother's death everything that made his life worth living disappeared and he just continued to exist, hoping that someday he would be able to do something that would make others look at him in a positive light and allow him to truly start living his life.

What he felt instead was a sense of hope which boosted his determination. This time… This time for sure. The last attempts were failures, but this one WILL work. I WILL shoot down a dragon, and not just any dragon – NO! – I will bring down the one dragon that no one has ever seen; the one dragon whose name alone forces half of all Vikings to fall down on the floor in fright – The Nightfury! And then… And then perhaps for once my dad will be proud of me… for once in his life, actually proud of me… I may have been dead up until now, but if all goes right, after today – I will be able to live once more…

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A/N

Just a little backstory (most of it invented by me to provide some depth for the characters and show how Hiccup's live was until the official start of the story.)

Anything that detracts from 'cannon' facts… Just go along with it, please. Although if you do review, I don't mind knowing which parts differ from the original, and if they are not important for the story I do not mind changing them (Valhalarama's name is canonically Vahalrama I think. For me Valhalarama just sounds better, besides Val is such a good nickname that even though I found out the correct spelling for her name I decided to leave it as Valhalarama for this reason.)