38Dragon Master
Disclaimer: Regrettably How to Train your Dragon is not mine…but I really wish it was.
Synopsis: AU When Hiccup faces the Monstrous Nightmare in the arena Toothless comes to his rescue and in the resulting chaos they manage to escape from Berk and everything Hiccup once called home.
Warning will contain HTTYD 2 spoilers
Prologue I: Stoick
It had all happened so quickly, one moment Stoick was watching helplessly as his only son was left at the mercy of a Monstrous Nightmare the next the entire arena had erupted into chaos as a Night Fury blasted through the caged roof of the ring. All that could be heard was the terrible cries of the battling dragons and all that could be seen was a dark cloud of smoke with the occasional flash of blue light silhouetting the figures of the dragons that snapped and clawed at each other; to Stoick's eyes it appeared as though a mighty thunderstorm had erupted in the centre of the ring.
When the smoke had cleared the two beasts were revealed; both still locked in combat. The Monstrous Nightmare had the Night Fury pinned but the smaller dragon fought back throwing the Monstrous Nightmare off before moving to stand between it and Hiccup. Should the Monstrous Nightmare move to attack his son the Night Fury would intercept it; crouching low and growling as it lashed out at the other dragon. It was almost as if… as if it was defending Hiccup, but that wasn't possible.
With one last slash and an intimidating growl from the Night Fury the Monstrous Nightmare backed down. This was his chance, pulling down a war axe mounted on the wall next to him Stoick charged the mighty beast. Most of the crowd had the same idea; jumping into the arena, drawing their weapons and moving to attack the dragon but many of them now found themselves sprawled across the floor, flung back from a swift slash or a powerful kick from the beast.
Still Stoick charged; he was a Viking after all and Vikings did not run. He raised his axe to bring it down upon the creatures head; in an instant he found himself held to the ground, the dragon on top of him pulling back its head ready to strike; but it stopped.
Looking to the side Stoick could see his son talking to the dragon, telling it to stop and it did. To say that Stoick was shocked would be an understatement. The dragon stared at Hiccup as he ran up to it, moving off of Stoick the dragon walked up to his son with its head bent low showing no signs of aggression. Hiccup ran to the Night Fury's side and to the great surprise of every Viking there threw his arms around the dragons head and hugged it.
The arena was silent, not a single Viking dared to even draw breath at the sight of the spectacle before them.
Taking in the sight of his son and the dragon the numbing shock that had frozen Stoick before began to drain away, only to be replaced by a burning anger as he realised what his son had done.
Slowly standing he watched the look on Hiccups face morph from one of relief to one of despair as he faced him.
"Hiccup!" Stoick couldn't keep the enraged growl that tore from his lips "What have you done?!"
His son at least had the decency to look ashamed as he met his fathers' eyes "I'm sorry Dad but you…" Hiccup paused seeming to choke on the words "you wouldn't listen!"
Before Stoick could say another word Hiccup had leapt onto the back of the Night Fury who then took flight escaping through the hole it had blasted in the cage bars earlier and disappearing into the sky.
"HICCUP!" Stoick voice roared into the now empty sky.
Stoick's eyes shot open as he sat bolt upright in bed, breathing heavily. It had been five years since that day in the arena and yet still the memory of that event sought to torment him.
With a sigh Stoick dragged a large calloused hand down his face as he lay back down, turned on his side and tried to go back to sleep. His eyes had just begun to close again when the sound of an explosion reached his ears, not a second later he could hear the voices of the villagers yelling and screaming only to have them drowned out by the roar of a dragon that tore through the night. How he had not heard the anarchy taking place just outside his door, shaking his house to its rafters when he first woke up completely bewildered him, but it didn't matter.
Jumping from his bed Stoick slipped on his boots and grabbed the battle axe he kept by his bed. Running down stairs he almost fell when another explosion landed right outside, shaking the house to its foundations, regaining his balance Stoick leapt downstairs and threw open the front door.
Dragons swarmed in the night sky as the Vikings below rushed to their posts, preparing the catapults and torches. Making his way to the lower defences he barked out orders as he ran, half the village was already on fire, but this was nothing new for Berk, like the old saying: old village lots and lots of new houses. Stoick was in sight of the forge when Gobber hobbled out to meet him "So Stoick, what's the plan?"
Without taking his eyes off the gathering horde Stoick answered his old friend "take out as many as we can"
Gobber smiled as he adjusted his hook "ah send them running, the old Viking fall back, nice and simp-" he didn't get the chance to finish what he was saying, all eyes turned to the sky as a high pitched whistle tore through the cold morning air.
"NIGHT FURY!"
"GET DOWN!"
Blue fire hit two of the catapult towers, luckily the men operating them had had sense enough to jump as soon as they heard the telltale whistle, the villagers could only watch as both towers were engulfed in flames as they collapsed.
Stoick's eyes were not on the towers, his eyes were fixed upon the dark skies searching for the dragon, it would be almost impossible to track or even catch a glimpse of the beast in the darkness but he had to see it. Night Fury's were so rare, in his entire life Stoick had only seen one and the memory of that day had been burned into his mind; it had to be the same one and if it was…
The high pitched whistle cut through the air once more stopping Stoick's thoughts dead, following the noise unblinkingly he watched as another tower and one of the torches fell as a blast of blue flame destroyed both their bases. It was then that he saw it; the brazier that held the fire for the torch toppled falling to the ground, for just an instant Stoick could see a dark figure illuminated by the fire as it rained down.
It had only been a glimpse, a mere second of clear view however Stoick knew what he had seen; the dragon carried a rider.
"Hiccup" the name escaped him as a whisper and before anyone could stop him Stoick had taken off at a run, heading towards the cliffs as he followed the fading whistle of the Night Fury. He didn't even hear Gobber's calls for him to wait.
Tearing through the village at a desperate speed Stoick caught snatches of the battle that raged around him. Even with the Night Fury within sight Stoick did not forget his duty, as he ran he dealt with the dragons that dared to cross his path; in one case fighting off a Monstrous Nightmare that had kindly thought to set itself on fire, burning down a house that had only just finished being rebuilt two days ago; like he said 'old village lots and lots of new houses'. Once he had dealt with the dragons, sent them running and given his men new orders his eyes would return to the skies, the distractions only made him more determined to find his target.
The next he saw the beast it was flying just overhead banking sharply and heading straight towards the docks, he was only able to see it due to the torrent of flame it left in its wake after taking out the bridge leading to the dragon arena. Reaching the cliff edge overlooking the bay Stoick could just make out the dark silhouette of the dragon and its rider gliding across the black water. There was no way for Stoick to follow them now but still he watched as the Night Fury almost leisurely glided away from Berk and into a dense veil of sea mist that was quickly approaching.
So focused was Stoick as he watched the accursed demon vanish into the mist that he almost missed the low growl of a Deadly Nadder, before he had even fully turned Stoick was already throwing his axe but the Nadder was quick. Just as the axe was about to leave his hand three spines were already hurtling towards him, on pure instinct he jumped back, he avoided the spines but fell straight off the cliff.
With little more time than to think of a few choice expletives for his own stupidity Stoick buried the head of the axe straight into the cliff side as he fell, with an all too sudden jerk he slowed and then stopped. Coughing as the dust settled Stoick looked below only to be confronted with a drop of over two hundred feet, with nothing but the freezing sea and jagged rocks to greet him at the bottom. Looking up he could see the edge of the cliff illuminated by the fires of his burning village, there was no way for him to reach it as the sheer cliff face provided little purchase with which to climb. To make matters worse the axe held tightly in his hands gave a sudden sickening jolt as the rock it was embedded in cracked, adjusting his hold he searched for something to grab onto. His Frustration only grew as the darkness made his search impossible. "Loki's balls I need some light" to his great surprise his cry was answered… "I take it back" by a monstrous nightmare at the top of the cliff that had covered itself in fire and was now crawling down the cliff towards him.
The Nightmare appeared to savour the moment as it slowly made its way down towards Stoick, digging its claws into the rock it extended its neck ready to unleash a torrent of flames upon him, but this was both a curse and a gift from the gods for Stoick. The flames the Nightmare had clad itself in burned away the darkness that had surrounded Stoick allowing him to see.
Not five feet from where he clung to the cliff side was a rope, one of the many pulley systems that were used along the docks to unload the ships of their cargo. With one last glance at the cliff face and the dragon Stoick wrenched his axe free from the rock face and launched himself towards the rope just as the Nightmare unleashed its flame.
For countless seconds Stoick felt as though he was weightless, but that feeling swiftly came to an all too sudden stop as he grabbed the rope; his fist closed around it in a death grip as he swung wide and clear of the Nightmares flames. Stoick felt gravity take hold and pull him down with such a force that the flesh on his palm felt like it was being burned from his bones, but still he refused to release his grip. After a moment that felt like an eternity Stoick finally slowed and came to a jerky stop.
At some point during the fall Stoick had forced his eyes shut and now he struggled to open them once more, the adrenaline and fear that flowed through his veins conjuring images of the dark freezing water that sought to draw his life breath from him. He could hear them; the sound of the hungry waves crashing beneath him against the spires of jagged rock that rose from the depths of the unforgiving sea. Mentally slapping himself Stoick finally forced his eyes open; he was a Viking for Thor's sake.
He was still a good hundred feet in the air, the sea cliff far to his left and out of reach, but below him he could just make out the edge of the dock. Looking up he could only see light and smoke from the fires that continued to burn through his village but at least the Nightmare had gone, probably to find easier prey. The sound of battle at the top of the cliff that had rung so loudly in his ears when he had been barely hanging on the sea cliff now sounded like a dull rumble far in the distance; the war cry's and reptilian growls now muffled by the mist and smoke that surrounded him.
Making up his mind Stoick slid down the length of the rope, when he reached the end he was still a good 20 feet up in the air. Securing his axe in the holster he carried on his back he began to swing his legs back and forth slowly building up momentum; on the fifth swing he released the rope and fell lithely onto the damp wood of the dock below, rolled once and landed on his feet.
Crouching down Stoick drew his axe back into his grasp, wincing slightly as the leather hand guard chafed against the rope burns. He searched the mist that surrounded him; nothing could be heard and nothing could be seen, but that meant little. Dragons were masters of ambush; even a Gronckle with its large body and sometimes clumsy movements could become a deadly hunter with the ample cover provided by the mist and this set Stoick's nerves on edge. It wasn't a Gronckle he had seen disappear into the mist just minutes ago, it was a Night Fury.
Ages passed but still there was nothing.
Finally letting out his breath Stoick stood to his full height and adjusted his helmet as he gave the swirling mist one last glare. Assured that he was safe for the moment he turned back to the path that led to the village and began to make his way towards the stairs, still careful to keep one wary eye on the ever encroaching mist. If he could get to higher ground, just get clear of this mist that seemed conjured from Hel itself, he might be able to catch sight of it again.
Taking the steps that lined the cliff side two at a time Stoick was making good progress when suddenly he heard something. He froze as he skidded to a stop; it was distant and sounded distorted but he was certain it was there.
Thump!
The noise sounded again, clearer this time.
Thump!
It resounded through the air and drowned out even the noise of waves breaking against the cliffs below him. A cold sweat began to trickle down Stoick's neck, his throat became dry and he could hear the sound of his own racing heart in his ears, but even that didn't mask the sound of the rhythmic thump that seemed to be drawing ever closer.
Clutching his axe he gritted his teeth as he tried to back up towards the cliff side; at least if he had his back against the wall the blasted demon would be unable to take him from behind.
Another cautious step and another resounding thump!
"WHERE ARE YOU?!" His feral cry echoed off the sea cliffs as what little composure he had managed to maintain snapped.
His answer came when a dark form slammed into him from the right. A cry of shock escaped Stoick as he tumbled over the edge of the walkway and back down onto the docks below, the force he landed with caused him to lose the firm grip he had maintained on his axe and the last he saw of it was just as the handle tipped over the edge and fell into the sea.
Regaining his breath Stoick tried to struggle to his feet, but his balance was off making him unsteady. He nearly fell back to the floor when the boards beneath him buckled; the wood giving a terrible moan as something landed heavily on the dock in front of him.
He could hear the dreaded sound of sharp claws tearing into the wood as the creature approached; at first it was merely a shadow; a black form that seemed to shift and fade within the mist, but as it steadily grew closer he could see the cruel features of the demon begin to emerge. Black leathery bat like wings spread out behind the beast as it cautiously stalked towards him being sure to stay within the cover of the mist. Its head was lowered but a pair of deep green eyes that stared at him with a restrained ferocity glowed in the darkness. With a sweep of its mighty wings it cleared the remaining mist that coiled between them and for the first time in five years Stoick came face to face with his son.
Hiccup sat astride the Night Fury's back, from head to toe he was clad in dark tanned leather armour; the mask he wore obstructing his face from view. He was lean but tall and in Stoick's opinion looked nothing like a Viking, however the air of strength that surrounded him gave no signs of the fishbone of a boy that had once been his son.
Thinking fast Stoick cautiously searched for anything within range to defend himself with; from the corner of his eye he spotted a mess of weighted iron netting draped across a wooden post but with the eyes of the beast trained on him there was no way he could reach it.
His despair at this realisation was short lived as the black demon suddenly turned its head; looking away from Stoick and out towards the sea, the rider followed his dragons gaze and his posture tensed. Never one to miss a chance Stoick dove for the netting; as soon as he felt his fingers brush against the cold metal he heard the dragon cry out in alarm as it turned back to face him, but it was already too late.
Grasping the heavy metal chains he whirled upon the charging beast and let fly the knotted iron chains as easily as he would any bola. A fierce grin broke out across Stoick's features as he watched his improvised weapon fly towards the demon.
In the next moment everything seemed to slow; the net was almost upon the beast, from where he stood Stoick could see that it would successfully capture the dragon and its rider, the netting weighing down the dragons wings and tangling its limbs while effectively trapping the rider against the beasts back.
All his plans fell apart though as he gazed horror struck as the rider drew what looked like the hilt of a sword; with one elegant flick a blade donned if fire burst from the hilt and was swiftly brought down to cleave the net in two.
The twisted metal landed harmlessly in a cacophony of sound on either side of the demons crouched form, the cut links still glowing where the blade had easily sliced through them. As the rider dismounted Stoick backed away, he had nothing to defend himself with and he was alone but still he refused to go down without a fight; when he faced his ancestors in the hall of kings he would greet them with pride, not fear and shame, he would fight to his last breath.
The rider faced him, the smouldering blade still tightly gripped in his hand.
The blade was levelled at Stoick's neck, not a trace of remorse or hesitation reflected in the dark green eyes that he could barely see hidden within the darkness of the mask. The dragon stood behind him, its tail wrapped protectively around the boy; all together it made for a sight that was far more terrifying than the gates of Hel.
When the man finally speaks his voice is low and slightly muffled but each word is spoken clearly and Stoick cannot believe what he is hearing.
"Take the villagers and run!"
"…"
The world seems silenced by these words; confusion, anger and a deep sadness all battle for dominance within Stoick's mind but it is the confusion that wins out. For five years his son has been gone and when he returns he has all but levelled the villages' defences and now…
Before Stoick can even begin to form the questions that rage within his mind a deafening roar; louder than anything Stoick has heard in his life tears through the night air.
So there it is, please let me know what you think.