I don't own anything associate with How to Train Your Dragon. It belongs to DreamWorks and Cressida Cowell.
This is my first fic both in this fandom and in first-person, so any tips/advice would be much appreciated. Anyways, this is just an introduction; the official first chapter should be posted later today.
When you think of pests, most people only have to worry about bugs and mice. Some might have to worry about rabbits. But my village? We get to worry about dragons. And not just your ordinary fire-breathing reptiles, but dragons that can shoot spikes, dragons that can spit acid, dragons that light themselves on fire.
And yes, we have fire-breathing dragons, too.
But none are as feared as the dreaded Night Fury, the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself. No one has ever seen one before, except as a blur when it races through the sky. If it wasn't for all the damage it caused, we probably wouldn't know it existed. Because when it came to toppling watch towers, annihilating homes and just being a general pain, the Night Fury was definitely the best of them all.
Yep, the dreaded Night Fury . . .
. . . also known as the dragon I just released.
Yep. I had one right in front of me, completely helpless. Completely neutralized. Tied up by an invention I had made.
And I cut it loose.
And it . . . well, it jumped on me, nearly broke my ribs, roared a bit, and then it . . . it . . . it opened its wings and flew off.
Just like that.
Something tells me I should have thought out that plan a little more.
I probably should have felt guilty. I mean it's not just like I simply tripped and spilled my dad's dinner all over him (again); I just released the most feared dragon known to mankind. The others probably would have given me an award for that . . . in the form of a few fists and lots of blood.
I knew what I should have done, as a Viking. I just couldn't do it. I'm not entirely sure what I had expected to see when I looked into that dragon's eyes, but I knew I didn't expect to see fear and resignation. I didn't expect to see something so human. So like me. And once I saw that, well, that was the end.
So, yes, that's how it happened. I cut the dragon loose with the knife I had brought to kill it, and it flew off into the wild yonder. Now, I had to deal with the fact that I just set loose a Night Fury, and that I had absolutely no stomach for killing dragons, which was practically what my entire village was based around. I guess it's better that I found out now, before my dad let me train with the other dragon-slayers-in-training. Of course, now the question was what was I supposed to do with myself . . .?
Well, we've always needed more bread-making Vikings anyways.