~Ouroboros~

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1st – 11. Harsh Decisions

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Stoick nursed his drink as he once more went through his mental list of damages accrued over the course of this latest of dragon raids. Fortunately for them the single fire-pillar that they saw was the only one that had occurred over the course of the raid; and better still, the Nightfury had disappeared after firing several shots instead of sticking around until almost sunrise as it usually did. Of course all of that was offset by Hiccup's blatant disregard of orders and the subsequent cacophony of destruction from the fallen torch tower. He really did not know what he was going to do with his son!

On the other hand, besides the three he had seen in the beginning, only five more Vikings had died over the course of this attack, which was quite good as compared to the losses he had expected due to the early nature of the raid combined with the sheer amount of dragons he saw during battle. Heck, considering the numbers of dragons killed, the next time traders came through the village he would easily be able to barter enough food stock and other necessary supplies to not only offset the losses suffered today, but also have a comfortable surplus – always a good thing considering the deadly winters so prevalent on Berk. Overall, the raid could almost be considered as profitable…

Stoick froze in the middle of taking another sip of his ale and stared into his half emptied mug before roughly shaking his head and downing the rest in one big gulp. He could honestly say that the last thought disgusted him more than any of the bloody scenes he saw while checking the status of his village. He just could not believe that for even a single second he had considered the… tragedy… that had just happened as… profitable.

Just thinking that word in conjunction with the dragon raid left a sour taste in his mouth that even a pint of ale could not wash away. But really though – a single dragon raid with tens of Vikings killed may be considered a tragedy; but considering that they occurred consistently two to three times during the non-winter months of each year for over three generations now, it was no wonder that they have slowly and almost imperceptivity changed into just another aspect of Viking life.

Can't live without them any longer, what with over half of our trade being focused on dragon hide, bone and whatnot else – but at the same time we can't live with them either; the raids are slowly getting worse and the village simply can't handle this for much longer…

He rubbed his eyes with a sigh from the direction his thoughts were heading.

What a foul situation to be stuck in.

Vikings were extremely adaptive – they had gotten used to living on Berk which was until their settlement considered about as uninhabitable as a place can possibly be outside of Hel; and they had even survived when the regular barely survivable conditions of Berk made a turn for the worse with the arrival of dragons. But Stoick knew from the last few years of dragon raids that the addition of Nightfuries to the raids had finally tipped the scale from their favour – if nothing conclusive was done some time soon, it may not matter that Hiccup would never be capable of taking over as chief, there may simply not be a village left to be chief of.

Perhaps that was what the Elder really meant with her words – that the village would be gone before Hiccup had grown up enough to possibly become a Viking.

Stoick was all too well aware of their cursed situation, and while he had never actually told his worries to anyone – had vehemently denied any such accusations in fact – most of the other Vikings subconsciously understood their position as well.

Perhaps it was this more than anything else that had made convincing the others during the latest gathering a few minutes ago to come along on yet another futile search for the dragon nest. Not futile, blast it! This time it will succeed and the village will be safe once more!

Stoick cursed himself for ever considering the searches as futile – after all, if he did not believe it to be possible to find the nest and take care of the dragon problem at its source, how could he convince others to believe in him when he proclaimed them to be necessary? It was of course possible to just stop – to just give up on ever finding the nest and focus instead on simply defending their village, which would naturally allow it to survive for a bit longer as no resources would have to be used up on searching for the nest…

But they were Vikings – things like retreat and giving up were simply unacceptable to them. Each of them would rather die than leave the island in hopes of finding a place not plagued by dragons, and even Stoick himself would rather see half his village burn to ashes than voice the idea of just up and leaving the place due to the – he scoffed at the idea – 'danger' from living here.

Giving up on the searches for the dragon nest – the only actual attack method available to them against the dragons, no matter how ineffective it was – resonated too close within his mind to just giving up on the village and leaving altogether.

Inconceivable really… he thought.

Besides, there is nothing to show that the dragons wouldn't follow after you… the nasty voice in the back of his head added.

A heavy thud was followed by the sounds of pouring liquid, bringing Stoick out of the deep recesses of his mind and back to reality as someone grabbed his mug from his unresisting hands.

"You of all people should know not to drink alone – or worse still to just sit around with an empty mug and a look that could curl water. Especially right after the raid – no matter how often they happen or how used we become to them, we all need someone to talk to afterwards. Here, drink up."

Apparently Gobber had noticed the gloomy atmosphere surrounding his friend and decided to help out in the standard Viking fashion – with a small 20 pint keg of ale or two (or three…) and a warm body to talk to – or 'talk at' depending on their state of consciousness. Grabbing at the recently refilled mug Stoick glanced at the blacksmith that he had shared uncountable battles with, and practically inhaled the entire mugful before passing the now empty mug for Gobber to refill yet again.

"So… What's biting ye this time?" Gobber said in a casual tone that sounded only slightly forced as he poured ale into both of their mugs and passed Stoick's back.

For a moment Stoick entertained the idea of ignoring the question with a gruff 'nothing' as a reply – as he would have done had anyone else posed it – but ultimately decided to just go along with it. After his wife's death, Gobber was left as the only one he could truly open up to and reveal the doubts hidden behind his stronger than steel exterior to.

Taking a glance around to make sure that no one was close enough to listen in on the conversation, Stoick started to pour his concerns onto his age old friend. "Am I really doing the right thing Gobber? Going out on yet another expedition to find the nest so close after the dragon raid? With the state the village is in we may not survive another one if it comes before we come back."

The words 'If we do in fact come back…' remained unspoken between them. They both knew that there was a chance of no one returning from such expeditions.

"Ah, don't you worry – it was probably just a one off thing due to our success during that raid a month ago. Considering our –cough– unfortunate losses of sheep, the beasties won't be back for a while. We'll be back long before then – and between the two of us we'll keep most of the others safe on this expedition."

Stoick chuckled. He knew that Gobber would try and go along on the expedition.

"Well, hopefully I can do as good a job alone as the both of us in keeping the crew safe." He shot back.

If it wasn't for the fact that Stoick could clearly remember talking about this topic earlier and explicitly telling Gobber that he was going to remain in the village as he had during all the other raids after he lost his arm and leg, Gobber's genuinely surprised expression as he pointed to himself would have looked completely sincere.

"Ye want me to stay?"

"We talked about this Gobber; I need you to stay and train the younglings – unlike last time we've managed to capture a live Nightmare this raid so you can get this year's group started. Long past time for them to start carrying their weight in the village." He replied, trying and failing miserably to not let any of the amusement he felt seep into his voice.

"Fine fine…" Gobber replied with a grin. "Can't blame me for trying to get out of it though can you?"

It wasn't that Gobber was all that thrilled for the expedition, but it was widely acknowledged that he would follow Stoick into Hel itself if Stoick asked him to. Sometimes he wondered if he would be able to do the same for Gobber as well were he asked; but with his son to take care of the answer just wasn't as black and white as it was for Gobber.

"No, not really…" Stoick said while chuckling softly into his beard.

"Still, you want me to train all of them? They're a rather small group this time; six compared to the twenty of last year, so I can probably train them all at once – make things easier for myself. What with Astrid and her, ahem – situation, it's really only five that truly need training. Besides we only captured one Nightmare this raid."

Something about that innocent question just did not sit right with him – Gobber was up to something… and six? Stoick was quite sure that there were only five younglings at the correct age, but it was always possible he miscounted. From what he could remember Elsa wasted away a couple winters back while Belch was lost along with his father on one of the ill-fated fishing trips leaving only five. Still…

"Yes, all of them. What, you expected something else?"

"Even Hiccup?"

Ah – so that's what he was going for. Stoick had completely forgotten to count his son among the younglings, and now that Gobber had mentioned it that did make six. Not that he was ever going to let Hiccup in to dragon training – life was difficult enough without the death of his son on his hands. Not that Hiccup ever understood that – asking to join training on an almost daily basis. As if that wasn't enough, now Gobber joined in as well?

"You know I can't! I mean – he would be killed before you let the first dragon out of its cage!"

"Ye don't know that."

"Yes Gobber, yes I do actually! Just look at him – nothing I have ever done had made a single difference! When I was his age, I was already out there killing dragons, heck – sure I know I am not the best example, but even the other younglings manage to help out during dragon attacks! Hiccup on the other hand is just… different… The one time I took him fishing he got pulled in by the first fish he hooked and I had to save him!"

"So he just has had some bad luck, that's all. All of us had at one point tried to catch something beyond our skills, not his fault that happened the first trip out for him."

"It's too persistent to be just bad luck! And even if it was, what makes you think it won't come again when he comes face to face with a dragon during training? Heck, he might just beat all odds and skewer himself by falling on his own axe even before that! I just…" All the steam he had gained throughout his rant seemed to leave Stoick as he sighed and continued in a much more subdued voice.

"I just don't know what I will do if I ever let him die Gober – After Val's death, he is the only thing I have left…"

Gobber suppressed a sigh at that. With Stoick, it always came back to that, and personally Gobber always thought Stoick only further stinted Hiccup's growth with his strange protectiveness.

"And yet he'd already managed to survive several close calls during the raids – what with his 'need' to test out those contraptions of his"

"…and every time he does that I fear it may be his last! If I could I would just lock him in during the raids and not let him out, or chain him in your forge or something – but with the amount of damage usually caused that would more likely than not be more dangerous still. I mean what if I locked him away in my house this time? I would have come back to his burnt corpse!"

"You can't protect him forever Stoick. It could be the next raid, or the time after that, but one of these days his survival may depend on him being able to fight. Better he start off under my supervision than be thrown into the chaos of battle without a leg to stand on. Perhaps even literally the battle after that."

"So what? You think just throwing him at the blood thirsty dragons in the ring would somehow be safer?"

"Don't say that – both of us know that for some reason the dragons that we keep in the ring are usually less dangerous than they are during raids. If it wasn't for that we would have a much higher death count during training. You and I both know that if Hiccup has to learn to handle himself, the training at the dragon ring is possibly the safest solution – no matter what ye think of his skills. Besides – don't you trust me to look out for our budding Viking warriors?"

He would have tried to argue some more, but Stoick knew that he had lost this argument. Gobber was right – he really was, damn it all. He just could not keep going with the hopeless attempts to keep his son away from any danger; one of these days he will be incapable of protecting Hiccup, and preparing him for that day was the only thing Stoick could do…

"… Fine…" Stoick's resigned voice was barely heard, even with Gobber sitting right across from him. "…Just – Keep him safe… From that dragon especially." He hated himself for sounding so… defeated when he said that, but Gobber being Gobber did not comment on it.

"I will Stoick; don't worry about it – I will." This time Gobber's voice was dead serious, and Stoick used that to try and push down all the reasons his mind came up with to back out from his decision.

With that Stoick stood up and left the Meade hall. There was nothing more to say between them, and the knowledge that in a few days his son will be in very real danger of death while he himself was far away on the nest hunt had soured his thirst for any more ale.

For better or for worse, he had made his choice – and he would have to live with it no matter the outcome.

It was highly doubtful that Hiccup would be at Gobbers at this time, but he hoped that his son would come back before he completely lost his nerves to do what had to be done.

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The sun had long since settled down into the ocean, leaving the darkness to blanket the village; and yet Hiccup had yet to return from wherever he was. It was really just the knowledge that if he were to go to sleep now and postpone talking to his son until the next day then he would likely just scrap the entire plan altogether that kept Stoick sitting in front of the firepit at Gobber's house and idly stroking it with a poker.

When he had left the Meade hall he had made the decision to send Hiccup off to dragon training, and with every second that he sat here waiting for his son to come back he found yet another reason why he shouldn't.

What if Gobber was just not fast enough to prevent Hiccup from getting crippled? What with there being several other younglings to take care of, he could not very well expect Gobber to focus on just his son…

And as he knew from many other situations; even a single moment of inattention was usually more than enough for a dragon to cripple someone – especially someone like Hiccup.

Where was the boy anyway? Stoick was sure that if anyone saw his son wandering aimlessly around the village he would have already been informed… Which really left only the forest behind the village – not a very safe place to be, even though strangely enough Hiccup would often enough wander around there; making Stoick worry even more about his safety.

Hopefully nothing bad had happened this time as well…

It would be perhaps another half an hour before the soft creaking of the front door would inform Stoick that someone else had arrived. Considering that the door would be opened slowly in an attempt to be stealthy, it would be obvious to him without looking up that it was his son instead of any other Viking that was more likely to slam the door or at least simply barge in heedless of the noise.

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Hiccup woke up to the biting coldness of Berk's nights. It was only due to the moonlight shining through the forest canopy that he was even able to see anything around him, as the sun had set while he had been lying unconscious in this clearing. For a second he wondered what he was doing here, in the forest, all alone – especially at night! – but the next moment his memories of this day crashed back into him.

He had gone out to find that downed dragon that he had shot down during the raid – and not just any dragon, but a Nightfury – and fortunately (or unfortunately, he hadn't decided on that yet) he had found it.

He did not know what possessed him to let the dragon go, but he knew that with that single action his life was over and done with. It did not matter that the dragon had not killed him the moment it was free – the simple act of releasing it had brought about a realization that he simply could not bring himself to kill a dragon – even when it was lying in front of him waiting for death. With that came another realization, this one much darker than the last – it was obvious to him that he would always remain at the periphery of the village - fated to live in the village but never truly be a part of it – fated to never become a Viking.

He could only hope that the others would accept him just remaining in the background, hiding away during dragon raids, and perhaps taking over after Gobber as the blacksmith of the village. His father would obviously be disappointed, but then again, he had years of practice for that.

Standing up and brushing some of the dirt off of himself Hiccup froze when his hands encountered a rough patch on his shirt along with a dull pain from his chest as his hands brushed over it. Gingerly pulling away his shirt away from his skin, Hiccup winced as it tore away at the dried blood and opened some of the wounds on his chest.

Puncture wounds – from what he could feel along his chest – puncture wounds from the dragon's claws.

Disregarding the biting cold of the air around him, Hiccup removed his sleeveless fur vest and his shirt leaving him bare from the waist up. Under the nigh-dark conditions his chest looked worse than it probably was, considering that he had not bled out during his stint into unconsciousness.

Ignoring his wounds Hiccup instead focused on his disheveled clothing – while from what he could see of his vest it was in acceptable condition and any bloodstains on it would not be easily noticeable on its brown colors; it would be impossible for him to go back to the village with the obvious dark splotches of dried blood on his light green shirt along with the slightly less noticeable but never the less quite visible rips and tears from the dragon's claws.

He shivered as another gust of wind blew around him making him realize just how cold he was getting while wearing barely anything during the freezing nights of Berk. Quickly checking the back of his shirt Hiccup noticed with some satisfaction that it was relatively clean there and pulled the shirt backwards onto himself. It was slightly uncomfortable, but at least it no longer looked like he had just survived a… well… an encounter with a dragon.

Putting his vest back on, Hiccup absentmindedly searched around himself for his dagger, and finding it sheathed it into the inside of his vest before setting off towards the village, not noticing that his newly reopened wounds were slightly staining his shirt.

Getting back was not as difficult as some may have found it, as he had been almost living within this small part of the forest since his early childhood – usually as an attempt to get away when his father's disappointment got unbearable. Once he was in the village proper he let his feet take him home as he tried to decide how to break his decision to his father. Perhaps it would be better to talk to Gobber first and then… His thoughts ground to a halt as he found himself in front of the ruins of his house. Berating himself for not focusing where he was going, he turned around to head over to Gobber's. If he was even a tiny bit lucky he would be able to sneak into his room and take care of both his clothing and his chest without anyone else noticing.

Carefully opening the doorway and looking inside Hiccup barely held in a sigh as he noticed the outline of his father sitting directly between him and the firepit. How could he have even entertained the thought that his luck would allow him to pass through unimpeded!

Although it was futile by this point, he still attempted to sneak by his father and up to his room. Naturally this did not work.

"Hicc-" Stoick's voice froze the moment he noticed his son's disheveled appearance, messed up hair, and small dark stains on his shirt which his mind instantly recognised as blood.

"Hiccup! What in Odin's name happened to you!?"

Hiccup's attempts at replying were battered away as always as Stoick almost literally threw himself at him and was about to start tearing away at his shirt to get at whatever mortal wounds had been inflicted upon his son. Hiccup desperately tried to come up with an explanation while simultaneously pushing himself away from his father and ignoring the stabs of pain from his wounds.

"Nothing happened dad! I was just – you know – went hunting in the forest to calm my mind – and, well… messed up slightly in cutting apart a small deer I caught. So, yes – got some blood on myself, I'll wash it off later. Anyway – I am perfectly fine!"

Cursing himself for such an obvious lie, made even more so by his own winces of pain, Hiccup was surprised to notice his father stepping away with a quiet "Oh, that's good then."

He thanked all the gods that were listening to him that his father was apparently barely awake and had accepted his lame excuses for his appearance. Perhaps the situation was not as bad as he had first thought.

"So… Can I go now?" He asked. With what he had been through today he needed to talk to his dad about deciding against fighting dragons (not that his father would ever allow him in any case, but still…), but in the condition he was in right now he really did not want to give his dad enough time to truly take in his appearance and start asking very awkward questions like 'why do you have a wound on your chest that looks to have been inflicted by a dragon?'

The awkward silence stretched and Hiccup was just about to take it as a 'yes' and climb up to his room when Stoick replied.

"…No, not yet son. Uh – listen… About dragon training… I talked to Gobber today, and having seen the danger you have been in during the raid I just thought, well…" Stoick paused for a second to stroke his beard and Hiccup could feel his heart beat increase. His father never brought up this topic and would instead simply shake his head and reply with a resolute 'No' whenever asked – so for him to bring it up now…

"I think it's time for you to learn to fight dragons."

"What?" Oh gods no… Please let this be a dream – just a really horrible nightmare. I just can't take this on top of everything else thrown on me today.

"So while I'm gone, you will be in dragon training along with the others. You start in the morning."

Yep, Hiccup was right. The gods truly hated him. Why else would they finally grant his long standing wish to join dragon training so as to take one more step to being accepted – on the very same day that he had finally buried that wish due to the knowledge that he simply could not kill a dragon.

Taking his son's stunned silence as acknowledgement and disbelief at his luck, Stoick picked up a small axe from Gobber's stockpiles and thrust it towards Hiccup, who scrambled to prevent it from falling down to the floor. This turned out to be enough to bring Hiccup back to the world.

"Dad – Listen – I don't want to fight dragons anymore."

Stoick naturally took this as a joke and continued after a small laugh. "Of course you do! You've been begging me to get you into training for several years now! And you know what, you were right. It may have taken Gobber to make me see it, but I concede – you get your wish."

"No dad – you don't understand! I can't kill dragons!"

"Well, perhaps not yet – I quite agree that you may need to train harder than the rest, but I have no doubts that you'll be able to at the end of it!"

"That's not what I meant dad! I mean that I just can't kill dragons! I am quite certain of that! That it is-"

"Hiccup! Stop. I can understand that you may be slightly nervous about this, but this is not up for debate. Every Viking had to go through dragon training, and so will you." Stoick overrode all of his son's protests.

"But!-"

"No buts – this is serious son! We have already lost eight Vikings just during this last raid alone, and there are only the six of you to take their place! The survival of the village depends on us beating back those dragons, and it's time that you understood that. Its time you stopped tinkering around with those contraptions and doing whatever it is you are doing with those notebooks. The moment you were put into Dragon training and given this axe, you became a Viking – you became one of us. Do you understand?"

Hiccup knew that there was no point in arguing. As always his father had completely disregarded all of his thoughts and sarcastic comments and instead simply kept pushing his point forward expecting his son to agree. And really, Hiccup could not do anything but buckle under the pressure and accept his father's decision.

"Yes…" His dejected reply could be barely heard, but Stoick took it as if it had been an enthusiastic response.

"Good. I'm off to lead yet another nest expedition, and with our house gone you will have to stay with Gobber. I'll be back… probably."

Hiccup just stood rooted to his spot while his father grabbed his helmet off of one of the wooden beams above them and placing it on his head heaved the supplies he would need on the journey over his shoulders. Hiccup knew that with the conversation over with, his dad had once again put him out of his mind.

It was almost funny just how little he really meant to his father – nothing more than an annoyance to be rid of, or perhaps worse, a burden to carry.

As Stoick opened the door Hiccup replied with a simple "Goodbye". He would usually try for a snappy comment at this point to at least try and convince himself that he had not completely lost the argument; but this time he just could not bring himself to do it.

Everything was just too much.

The only reply from Stoick was a single grunt followed by the door slamming shut.

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A/N

Some slight exposure into interactions between Stoick and Gobber; including the much needed talk about putting Hiccup into Dragon training. I thought of originally skipping this part, but ultimately decided against it as it really fleshes out both Stoick's and Gobber's characters and will be important later on (I seem to say that a lot don't I?)

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Saienai signing off