𝐊𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐈 ━ how to train your dragon²

8│AS YOU ARE

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❛ ᴋʜᴀʟᴇᴇsɪ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ꒱


❝ WHOA. WHAT HAPPENED
TO HICCUP? ❞

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Daenerys knew that she was quite lucky in the parental department. She could have been stuck with parents who expected her to be worthy of the family name, forcing her to prove herself over and over again, like Astrid. She could have been subjected to critiques of every action she did, resulting in her relying on obnoxious comments to get any attention, like Snotlout. Her parents might deemed her too troublesome to bother with, like the twins. And— perhaps worst of all— she might have been forced to fill shoes that were far too big for her to ever hope to live up to, like Hiccup.

Ingrid and Randolf expected nothing more or less than the best she could do, whatever that may be. She was very grateful for their acceptance as she stared up at the portraits of all the past leaders of Berk. The sons were all well-muscled and stocky as they stood proudly next to their fathers. The chiefs held various deadly weapons, from swords to mallets, while their heirs were usually shown with a shield.

The other teens were standing around her as they admired the paintings as well, and it was Astrid who spoke first: "look at all these great leaders, and tomorrow, your picture's gonna be hanging right next to them."

Snotlout scoffed. "And there goes the neighborhood."

Dany frowned at him but didn't say anything; clearly not everyone thought that Hiccup would be a good chief, but she did. It didn't matter that he wasn't as bulky as the other heirs— she'd bet every last penny that he was smarter than them. She knew he had trouble seeing that himself and a part of her hoped that tomorrow, seeing his portrait with the other leaders, would encourage him to be more confident about looking. . . different than the other Vikings.

The teens walked down the row of painted shields to the blank spot that would soon be filled with the newest image.

"You're part of an elite group now, my friend," Fishlegs commented. "And one of the few who wasn't killed by their successor."

"So far," Tuffnut sneered to his sister.

The Targaryen's gaze narrowed on them. "And he won't be, ever. I'll have Drogon see to that."

That shut them up for a few minutes and she smiled in a self-satisfied sort of way. Hiccup glanced at her a little nervously— he could never tell when she meant her unusually violent words or not. "Um. . . thanks, Dany, but I don't think it will come to that." He quickly returned to the previous subject as he referenced his portrait: "I guess. . . it is a pretty big deal. I mean, it's like being a part of history, right?"

"Yeah," Dany agreed, her expression easing as she looked over at him. "It's a way of preserving your legacy for generations to come. Just think about it— you'll be the first chief to have ever made peace with dragons. That's something worth remembering."

He felt his face heat up at her words and a faint smile curled on his lips. She played with the ends of her fur vest as she avoided his eyes, feeling her own blush the longer he stared at her. Dany winced suddenly as she felt a sharp, pointy elbow dig into her side. She glanced up to take in Astrid's amused expression before she quickly looked away again.

"That's not the only thing he'll be remembered for," Snotlout spoke up. He gestured to the paintings above them. "History of goofballs. He'll be the next in a long line of clowns."