Stoick's thoughts were deeply troubled as he watched Trader Johann's ship disappear off into the distance. Try as he might, he'd been unable to pry his feet from where they stood atop the docks, feeling weighed down by a new sense of fear.
Dragon poachers had set up camp only a half day's sail away from Berk.
Poachers were nothing new. There had always been a healthy market for dragon hide and bone, though it was far more popular in the northern islands than amongst their closest neighbors. It wasn't too unusual to have a merchant come ashore hawking weaponry or cloaks crafted from the remains of slain dragons, though they usually did not stay long.
Berk had never been a profitable stop for those sellers, as their history with raids made killing dragons an act of necessity rather than trophy-hunting. Few wanted another reminder of the predators lurking in the shadows. Those that did desire trophies took them from the creatures they had personally slain, using the remains as a mark of their own bravery and battle prowess – after all, there'd never been a shortage of dead dragons in Berk.
Stoick had never challenged passing groups of poachers in his territory in the past, believing that any thinning of the dragon population was a benefit for his tribe. He'd simply made it clear that they were not welcome on the Isle itself, wishing to avoid any run-ins between his people and the hidden traps many poachers tended to favor.
Such a lax approach would no longer be enough. Not when his own son was now at risk of being a target.
Johann had given him a brief overview of the new encampment – seven men of varied origin, looking to collect rare dragon pelts for a buyer in the north. They'd recently encountered some resistance in the East – and had been quite tight-lipped about the details – before selecting this new location near Berk.
There was one thing Stoick knew for certain: no dragon was rarer than a Night Fury. Such a catch would be the ultimate prize to these new, unwelcome neighbors.
Hiccup was headstrong, a trait that seemed ingrained in the very DNA of the Haddock line. If Stoick were to insist he stay grounded…he suspected his son would do exactly the opposite, regardless of the looming threat. Or worse, he'd try and get a closer look at the operation himself.
Stoick would have done the same in his place.
While Hiccup had a surprising knack for stealth, his curiosity could very well be his undoing. These were not casual hunters passing through on a routine hunting trip – this was a professional enterprise built upon years of experience. Their base was certain to be riddled with lethal traps to account for any unexpected visitors, whether those be viking or dragon.
Still, keeping the information from him could be far more dangerous. If Hiccup were to stumble across them unaware…
Stoick shuddered, clenching and unclenching his fists as he tried to dispel the thoughts. With a heavy sigh, he finally turned away from the sea and headed back towards town. He needed to discuss his findings with Gobber.
Hiccup's shift at the forge passed quickly and quietly.
With little work to be done, he spent most of his time in the back room working on schematics for an updated prosthetic leg. Though Gobber's clever creation had served him well, it had also made him wonder what else could be done to improve the design. There were so many possibilities to explore.
Until he got the ideas out on paper, he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop thinking about them. So with a stick of charcoal balanced between his clawed fingers, he'd gotten to work breaking down just how the new leg could work.
"If I shifted the gear over there…no, that wouldn't work." He muttered to himself, using his free hand to smudge at the charcoal and correct the mistake.
A throat cleared from outside the door, breaking his concentration.
Hiccup glanced up, finding his father leaning against the doorway, illuminated by the torchlight. He had a pinched expression that Hiccup recognized all too well – there was something the chief wanted, and he wasn't sure how to ask.
"Hey, Dad."
"Son," replied Stoick, eyes scanning over the schematics.
"New leg design," explained Hiccup, gesturing to the art.
"Is there a problem with your prosthetic?" Stoick asked, brow furrowing. "Why didn't you say anything? Gobber can adjust it tomorrow if you leave it out before sunrise–"
"Nothing's wrong!" Hiccup assured quickly, reminding himself that his father did not share his love for inventing. The man was used to tasks of necessity, not those simply born of curiosity. "Just a slow night, you know…looking for a project to fill my time."
"I see."
Hiccup rolled his eyes, knowing his father was only saying that to appease him. Idly, he wondered if his creativity had come from his mother's side of the family.
"So, did you need something or…?" Hiccup asked, trying to cut the awkward tension. Stoick's visits to the forge were not usually this stilted.
"Aye," admitted his father, wringing his hands against his chest. "There is something I wish to discuss with you, but it can wait until you're done here. I don't mean to interrupt your work."
"Dad–"
"Just meet me at the house when you're finished."
Hiccup watched his father leave, baffled by their short exchange. His father had gone out of his way to seek Hiccup out, only to leave in minutes without saying anything of substance.
What in the name of Thor was that all about?
He eyed his project, wondering if it was a sign to head home for the night. His interest had been piqued – working on the schematics for a personal project could wait. Setting his charcoal to the side, he stretched his arms above his head until his shoulder gave a satisfying pop.
"He sure left in a hurry," a new voice remarked from the doorway, "What was that all about?"
Hiccup shrugged, pushing aside his half-finished drawing and wiping his hands on his apron. "I don't know," he admitted, meeting Astrid's steady blue gaze. "Whatever it is has him pretty shaken up."
"Stoick?" Astrid asked, disbelief leaking into her tone. "Shaken up?"
Hiccup snorted, beginning the task of clearing his work station for the night. "I know – I haven't seen him this rattled since he found out about well…me."
Astrid hummed, wordlessly stepping in to help reset the shop for Gobber's morning shift. She'd spent enough time with him in the forge now to know exactly where everything belonged.
"Did anything happen today that I missed?"
"Things were pretty quiet," replied Astrid, pursing her lips in thought. "I suppose…Johann stopped in to trade for a bit, but he didn't stay long."
"A relief, I'm sure."
"Hiccup!"
"What!?" He threw his hands up in mock surrender, a laugh escaping. "Don't tell me you don't agree! His stories are an ordeal."
"How would you know?" Challenged Astrid with a snort.
Hiccup had been forbidden from interacting with outsiders, including all of the visiting traders. Berk had accepted his secret, but there was no telling how other tribes would react. As such, he'd been forced to observe from a distance, always keeping his more draconic traits out of sight. Stoick had made it clear that he was determined to keep the secret contained to Berk alone.
"Night Fury hearing," explained Hiccup, tapping his ear once before ushering his friend back into the main room of the forge. He closed the door with a click, sealing off his private room for the time being. "Got to admit, not very welcome when he's in port."
Astrid crossed her arms against her chest, a thoughtful look spreading over her face. "So did he say anything interesting today?"
"I don't know, I wasn't exactly here."
"...right."
"Figures I'd miss the one and only time Trader Johann actually says something remotely interesting – ouch, gods Astrid – why would you do that!?"
Astrid ignored him, focused on closing up the front of the shop. She turned her back to him and in a few swift movements, she'd secured the window with practiced ease.
Hiccup grumbled under his breath but moved to finish up the last of the chores. As he was setting aside the last of the cleaned tools, his hand stilled.
"You don't think…" his breath caught in his throat. "Could someone out of Berk have found out? About the curse?"
Astrid's expression tightened as she considered the question. She was never one to just give false hope, instead always taking the time to weigh his words and share her honest thoughts. It was one of things he loved most about her, but it also meant she was quick to admit when she had no answers.
"Only one way to find out – go talk to your dad."
"Poachers?"
"Aye," Stoick rubbed his temple in circular motions as if trying to clear away the thought. "A seasoned bunch – they've taken up residence a half day's sail away."
Hiccup wasn't sure what to make of the news. It wasn't exactly ideal to have the group in their waters, but it wasn't as if they were setting up shop at the docks. He didn't understand his father's panic.
"Ok…?"
"Hiccup, this is serious!" Stoick's tone took on a bit more bite as he regarded his son with sharp eyes. "These men kill dragons for profit – they collect rare hides for trophies !"
"I mean, gross, but why are you so worried about–"
"If word reaches them that a Night Fury has been spotted anywhere nearby, there will be a target on your back," said Stoick, voice grave. "I cannot stress the danger enough – these men are not reasonable. They don't just want to capture a Night Fury for the glory of it, they want to carve daggers from its very bones."
Hiccup felt his stomach twist at the mental image, lips curling back in disgust. "Ew. Thanks for that, Dad."
"I need you to understand the gravity of the situation – until they leave our waters, exploring outside of Berk is not safe."
Hiccup froze, narrowing his eyes as he processed the comment. It seemed to imply that his father was about to forbid him to leave the island, taking away his newfound freedom to explore. It sounded a lot like hiding, something that he'd been forced to do for five years already.
The idea of returning to that kind of life, even with his village by his side…was unthinkable. Surely his father knew that?
"This new threat has also reminded me of the gap in your training," continued Stoick, either oblivious to his son's inner turmoil or choosing to ignore it. He leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands tightly in his lap. "I'm going to arrange for you to make up the time."
"Training?" Asked Hiccup in surprise, shifting uncomfortably in his own chair. "I thought we were done with dragon training – with the queen being dead, and all."
"What? No, not dragon training," corrected Stoick, looking horrified by the suggestion. "Weapons training. I would feel better if you know how to defend yourself."
"I mean, a plasma blast usually works just fine–"
"Hiccup, every viking should know how to wield a blade!"
"With what?" He snarked, raising an eyebrow. "My teeth?"
"Not every opponent will strike during the day," remarked Stoick, impatience rising in his voice. "You cannot always rely on your dragon form to keep you safe. Please," his voice softened, "Hiccup, I know that I cannot force you to stay put on this island. I promise that I will not ask that of you…but in return I–I need to know that you'll be safe wherever you do go. Please do this for me."
Hiccup felt some of the fight drain out of him at his father's quiet plea. "Fine," he relented, knowing that it was a fair exchange to keep his freedom to explore. If a few weapons classes would put the chief's mind at ease (and perhaps spare Hiccup another lecture) so be it.
Stoick exhaled heavily, relieved. He pushed himself up from the chair, moving towards the entrance to his bedroom. "Speaking of training – I have something for you," he called out over his shoulder before disappearing momentarily.
Hiccup's attention drifted to the fire, idly watching the logs smolder. In the next room, he could hear his father rustling about in the room, evidently looking for something.
"Aha!"
Stoick shouldered back into the room in a few quick strides, arms filled with a bundle of clothing. He dropped it in Hiccup's lap, beaming with excitement.
"What's all this?"
"It's tradition to receive your own set of armor when you come of age," explained Stoick, nodding towards the pile. "Since you were…gone at that time, I never got a chance to give it to you properly. Now seems like the right time to fix that."
Hiccup fiddled with the armor in his lap, untangling it until he could make sense of it. It was a mixture of black and brown leather, comprised of several pieces that were meant to be layered. A set of buckles ran across the front to help secure everything in place.
The leather was dusty, likely having been left untouched for years, but the quality of the craftsmanship was undeniable. It was clear that his father had wanted to gift him something special – even back when Hiccup had felt like a disappointment.
"Thanks, Dad," said Hiccup, genuinely touched by the gesture. Knowing that his father had kept this, even after he'd believed Hiccup to be dead, spoke volumes of the man's love for his son.
Hiccup twisted the set further, freezing as he regarded the right shoulder pad. It had been decorated to match the sails of Berk's fleet, depicting a dragon being impaled with two swords.
His breath hitched.
Stoick followed his gaze, confused by the shift in his son's expression. His eyebrows knit together as he puzzled out the reaction, blanching when the implications of the design finally clicked.
"I forgot about that bit," he admitted, hastily reaching to take back the armor. "I'm sorry, son– I'll have it replaced with something more...ah, appropriate for you. It won't be ready for your first session, but you shouldn't need to wear armor just yet. Gobber will be sticking to the basics of weapon handling before starting any real combat training."
"Wait, it's okay," assured Hiccup, eyes still fixed on the shoulder pad. It was a common motif found throughout Berk, almost synonymous with the village. He knew his father had meant no harm. "You don't have to–"
"I do," insisted Stoick, depositing the armor by the door and wiping the dust off his hands. He cleared his throat. "Besides, it'll be a good excuse to have this set properly cleaned. Now, as for your training. I've spoken to Gobber and we'll start with sessions every other day so that you still have time for the forge. We'll start tomorrow at sundown."
"Can't wait."