Heir Of Berk | A HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON FANFICTION |

Eleven | Humiliation

"No buts. You're staying here and that's final. I'll make sure-''

He was cut off by a sudden thunderous horn outside.

"A raid!" Stoick screwed on his helmet and rushed towards the door.

Hiccup furrowed his brows, "What? Another one?"

"Quick! Go to the Great Hall with the children and families. And make sure you stay there," Stoick ordered, drawing out his battle axe, "And please learn to follow orders,"

Hiccup froze, hesitant to move. Confusion formed in his eyes.

Just a second ago Stoick told him to stay in the house. Now he wants him to go to the Great Hall? The man seriously needs to make up his mind.

Stoick glared at his son's incompetence. His patience was wearing thin as ice.

"Well, what are you standing around for? GO NOW!"

He shoved Hiccup out the door, and then dashed towards the burning homes in the village below.

The village was truly a chaotic scene. Homes were engulfed in flames with screaming children and mothers evacuating towards the Great Hall.

Warriors poured out of their burning homes, raising war axes and swords while hollering war cries as they fought off dragons.

Dragons were scattered around the village, swooping livestock and destroying carts and obstructions in their way.

Being an island infested by dragons - on a regular basis - Berk was used to raids as horrible as this. Fighting dragons had been woven into the Berkian's old Viking culture.

Spilling dragon blood and witnessing burning homes was normal to Vikings, and nobody was bothered by it.

That is nobody except Hiccup.

As Hiccup ran towards the Great Hall, he heard an agonized roar nearby.

He spun around to watch a Viking drove his axe threw a wounded Deadly Nadder, spilling out its guts.

A sickening feeling tightened around his stomach. His green eyes widened, horrified as blood pooled around the dragon's lifeless body as the Viking ambled down the hill, shouting a fierce battle cry.

For some reason, Hiccup felt some kind of sympathy for the Nadder.

To Vikings, feeling sympathy for dragons was very strange and completely out of the ordinary.

After all, they have been at war with dragons for many generations.

How can one sympathize a beast from Helheim who has murdered their families and forefathers?

Stop it, Hiccup. That dragon doesn't need your sympathy, Hiccup's conscience told him, Dragons are mindless, bloodthirsty monsters. They killed your mother for gods' sake! It deserved that death.

Hiccup gave one last look at the wounded Nadder. Something about the way it laid there helpless; left to rot, made Hiccup's heart ache with sadness.

Just look away, he told himself, Ignore that dragon. You're a Viking - you're supposed to kill dragons, not feel sorry for them. Killing dragons is everything around here. It's our way of life.

Determination burned inside him. The thought of shooting down that elusive Night Fury has been something Hiccup craved for these past few days.

Although his contraption needed some tweaking, there was no reason why it couldn't work.

When it works, and he shoots down that dragon, Hiccup would be over the moon. He will finally prove his worth and have a purpose in his Viking society.