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Dragon Soul

Summary:

Hiccup, at his lowest point, utters a prayer to the Gods. Everything changes.
He must save the dragons and the vikings from each other, all while battling this change and trying not to lose himself.
Cross posted from FF.net.

Chapter 1: Careless

Chapter Text

Chapter One.

Hiccup traipsed out of his house and headed into the forest toward Raven Point. For how long, he didn't know. So consumed in thought and feelings, replaying what had just happened in his head.

It's what's inside that he can't stand.

You are many things, Hiccup, but a dragon killer is not one of them.

His eyes were misty and he couldn't find it in himself to wipe them, instead his eyes were filled with memories and sights he'd wished to forget; replaying his life up until this point as his footsteps crunched and swept through the undergrowth of the quiet forest, as if the entire verdant setting was listening to his thoughts.

The words from his father stung the most. All he'd ever wanted was his pride, his recognition that he wasn't this failure, that he was his son, even. Every failed attempt he made only deepened the sinking feeling in his gut that he had no place here, that nobody would miss him if he left, or if a dragon snapped him up in it's jaws much like his mother.

Sighing, Hiccup continued through the forest, crossing the thin, rickety bridge that connected Berk to Raven Point with a deep sigh, walking across it and half way hoping that he'd slip a footstep and fall through, but it would seem the Gods still weren't listening as he reached the other side.

Hiccup didn't know where he was going. His mood had careened off a ledge since he'd left his house, something pulling him down into the pit he usually was able to climb out of himself, but this time he let himself sit in it, too weak to fight it that day. It wasn't one of his worst, but it was pretty close. Usually his father restrained from berating him in front of the entire village , cementing the fact that nobody disagreed or thought differently and it never didn't hurt him.

He'd always been sort of fine with being alone - loneliness wasn't the worst part. It was the social outcasting that hurt him - the fact that even as their future Chief, someone to help in these early years as he struggled, they all passed by him. Not a sympathetic look, not a kind word, nothing.

But he couldn't hate them for it. He was useless, after all.

He wandered and wandered, mindlessly heading forward. Everything seemed quieter, so he assumed the dragon had, on level with his typical luck, most likely slipped its binds and flown off. At this point, Hiccup just wanted to walk until he fell asleep. His father would eventually give up and send out a search party and bring him back, it was nothing he couldn't deal with later.

So, Hiccup walked and walked, deeper into that trail of thought, dragging him down and down as he went. Listening to the sound of the woods and his feet crushing leaves underneath his fur boots, hands limp at his sides, continuing like this for Odin knows how long until he tripped forward. He groaned and grunted as he went rolling down a slope, small nicks on his face and arms until he finally collapsed at the bottom of the small hill, twigs and grass in his hair and mud staining his cheek.

He heaved a deep sigh and shook his head as he got up, dizzied from the tumble and he slowly sat up straight, grimacing, and huffing out the breath he'd held.

Looking up, Hiccup froze, holding his gaze - transfixed on the felled dragon before him, caught in his modified bola net. Hel and Thor's offspring laid out before him, still breathing, trapped, and the rise of hope in his chest was intoxicating. This was it - this was it!

No more 'Hiccup the Useless', no more taunts or jeers or disappointed looks from his father. Hiccup stood slowly, scraping the dirt and tree debris from his body. He reached to his hip for his knife - the tiniest thing, a laughable weapon, but as he gripped the hilt it felt like a battleaxe, his arms lifting and shaking. He had to do this - he needed to. He needed to show all of them that he was a Viking, that he could kill dragons. Granted; there was no... glory in this. No battle.

His brows curved down and he chewed his lip. He'd not fought this dragon, he had not battled it until he proved himself the victor as his people's traditions dictated. Hiccup had created a weapon, a device to steal it from the sky and pluck it out from between the stars it blended into so perfectly because it helped steal his people's food.

Because he was weak.

Because they hated him.

Hiccup's grip on the tiny blade shook fiercely now, and he stomped towards the dragon, scowling at it's unconcious form slumped underneath him, and put a boot on it's side.

A loud chuffing groan left the Night Fury and he almost cried out, fumbling with his tiny blade and looking over the dragon as it seemed to begin breathing again. It was unconcious. But now it was awake; but not fighting him. He heard a shuffle and looked up towards it's head, and saw something that gripped his entire being and forced his attention.

The venomous, emerald green orbs piercing his own soft greens transfixed him. Petrified him to the loam beneath his feet and made him stop.

Hiccup looked into this downed, graceful dragons eyes and saw rage. But also fear, and loneliness; he saw sadness and emptiness in those impossible depths of viridescence. The Night Fury was proud, and ashamed all at once. But most of all, intelligence. Understanding. This dragon, this so-called beast, a monster, hel-spawn knew what was happening to him and understood the consequences of Hiccup's actions. It was sad.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally glanced away, looking down out of some feeling of shame. The Night Fury groaned and dropped his head to the mossy floor beneath him - accepting his fate.

Here he was, feeling sorry for himself, when he had taken this impressive dragon from the sky just to make people who hated him happier. The Night Fury was nothing like any other species he'd ever heard of or seen; sleek and smooth. Pebble-like scale patterns along its sides, fins and flaps, stubby legs with short claws. It was built for speed; for flight. For crashing through the air in a way Hiccup couldn't even understand.

He had done this.

He didn't even need to meet the beast's eyes to know that he couldn't kill this noble animal. So, he turned around to leave, only making it a few steps before his bleeding heart clenched in his chest and he fisted his hand around the hilt of his knife. He turned, guilt in his chest and he wordlesslyapproached the dragon again, crouching down and snipping and sawing at the ropes that bound him down, feeling the beast below his fingers freeze as each bond was removed. Hiccup couldn't meet those eyes again, for fear he'd change his mind, he thought, but in truth, it would only drive him to break him free faster.

The last rope binding the dragons forelegs and neck together came free with a loud snap and the beast was a blur, snarling on top of him in an instant, and he was forced to look into them; but he did not scream or struggle.

Hiccup had never seen a dragon so full of anger; so full of primal emotion that threatened him to his core. Every barely present instinct screaming to him to run, to hide, and pray it didn't find him. Those eyes didn't find him.

Hiccup didn't fight back, however. He panted, the panic of it still reaching him as the towering dragon reared back and opened it's maw, sucking in air. A tell tale sound that signalled his fate. He smiled some, staring at those eyes and wishing to himself, to the Gods, any that would hear him, that he could have another lifetime outside of this one to explore the meanings behind them, to find out more about this noble dragon and it's kind. That he wasn't just a small-minded, egotistical Viking on this rock.

The Fury rocked its head forward and bellowed a roar that had Hiccup fearing he'd go unconscious or deaf at the volume of it, making his ears ring. But all he could do was stare and wait; for something that would not come, it seemed, judging how the massive scaled monster flew off from him and screeched to the open air, disappearing as it soared up into the tree canopy, and Hiccup sighed, feeling so tired now that his heart slowed.

This time, he didn't mess it up. He did something right, and if he was about to die tomorrow, he'd do it all again.