21It was no ordinary day on Berk, but the first day of spring. The last of the snowstorms had finally melted the day before, and usually the Vikings looked forward to waking up the next morning to stare out at the clear, bright sunrise, the first of the warm months. Snotlout looked forward to such a morning, a morning that signified that change was possible, that the wasteland of Berk would one day rise again to its former greatness.
As he thought these things, the chief stared out at the sea. He had woken up early so as not to miss the sunrise. He was one of the few to see it, as the others did not believe in hope anymore. Even his friend Fishlegs had failed to come up with a good plan for this year, and usually his advice was the best Snotlout had to go on. Even the occasional dragon, which used to feed the village for a good week, had ceased to visit the island for a good year. Ha! Good. As if. The chief as a boy would joke about such things, but he was no boy any longer. Not after his father starved along with his brother, along with the twins and half of Berk. The last Chief had done all he could, even to the point of selling out one of his own, the girl who was to be his wife, to the enemy, who still was not an ally.
Astrid Hofferson was beautiful and strong. Along with Stoick, she had saved what was left of their people. Yet, even she knew that her time was up when the Master came for her. It was a surprise she had rebelled, for while she was known for her loyalty to Berk, she would do anything to keep those she loved safe. Even if that meant surrender; at least, Snotlout the Strong thought she was like that, before she left.
He could remember the day, a year ago, the last time a dragon had ever been seen. The Master landed outside her home on his black demon of a dragon as all those nearby threw themselves on the ground in reverence. The Master, who always wore black scaled armor with a mask the same color, walked into the home of the young woman, who was but sixteen. They came out a minute later, her face expressionless as the Master lifted her roughly and set her on the beast's back. Her hands were tied behind her, and with minimal struggling she appeared as if she were a shrunken version of herself.
She was not the first to suffer at the hands of the Master. Those who conspired were either killed brutally by one of his dragons, or taken by him himself. While her fate was uncertain, a more grusome death than dragon-mauling was high on the list of possibilities.
Stoick the vast followed the Master out of the Hofferson home, kneeled before him and presented to him Astrid's axe.
"You did well to spare your people," said the Master, and many lifted their heads to hear him speak, for he hardly ever did. "Yet, I still cannot tolerate disobedient tribes.".
And with that, the Master lifted Astrid's axe up before ending the life of the chief with one blow. After removing the axe, he set it on the ground and his dragon melted it with one shot onto the stony road. Then he mounted and flew away.
No one knew how she had conspired, but they all knew she was never coming back.
Now Snotlout was the Chief, since the previous heir had disappeared ten years before this fateful day, and few remembered him. A scrawny boy of nine, just a year older than Snotlout at the time, when he disappeared half the village was glad as his cousin had the better makeup to be a chief. But now that he was chief, Snotlout was anything but ready.
But now, hope was all you could hold on to. Even if Fishlegs hadn't a plan and the village hadn't food: Snotlout would try his hardest to save his island, even if it meant dying for it, like Stoick, Astrid, and his Father...
Thank you for taking the time to read this! I will make this into a full-length story ifit is recieved well and gets lots of favorites, follows, and most of all reviews!
And I think you get the general feel for how this story is going to be, and I appologize for the character death, but it's how this story goes, as a slightly darker version of things.