Disclaimer: Because I own HTTYD.
Author's Note: This idea has been lurking in my head for a really long time and so here it is in print. It is unusual but hopefully you find it entertaining. Yes, my updates kind of disappeared but that's what happens when one gets a job and goes back to school. So, who else can't wait for October 15! Enjoy the first chapter!
All he needed to do was close his eyes.
There, behind the walls of his eyelids, it didn't matter that he was completely useless at being a Viking. There, behind the walls of his eyelids, no one bombarded him with taunts. There, behind the walls of his eyelids, he was in a different world, where it didn't matter that he was the son of a chief and hadn't yet managed to kill a dragon. Of that world he was the master.
Frequent were his visits to that world. Every Viking noticed. His lack of presence in the real world struck no one as a surprise. Maybe that's why everyone found him so strange. Not even Fishlegs, the only boy his age worse than being a Viking than he was, pretended to show the least bit of enthusiasm around him.
Everyone pushed him away and whispered profusely behind his back. He never wanted to stick around to hear what they were saying. No one wants to know the whole truth. Not even Hiccup.
"Hiccup? Thor, give me strength, are you even listening to me?" said a voice, pulling him away from his world.
"Wha? Oh! Uhhh… Sort of."
The scowling figure of Stoick the Vast loomed over his son. Frustrated, he continued, "When will you learn to do as you're told and stay out of trouble during the raids?"
"But I didn't mean to cause any trouble. I was just testing out my new invention. You know how a bolas is too heavy for me to lift, let alone throw?"
All he needed was the thought of his new invention to bring him into the security of his fantasy. He even forgot to whom he was talking, and that his father was not the least bit interested. Regardless, he continued rambling.
"Well, I invented a sort of cannon that will throw it for me! Think of all the others it would help! Those with war wounds too severe to go into battle often, teen Vikings, you know, to get them training. We could kill so many more dragons! Think of how efficient it could be! But I digress, Gobber told me not to leave the forge and I didn't. I merely fired my bolas cannon at a passing Gronkle and it would have been-"
Stoick brought his son back to Berk again. "It doesn't matter what you were trying to do! What matters is that you caused so much trouble for the village again! Why on Earth don't you listen to Gobber?"
"But I did listen to him! He never told me not to fire. He didn't even know that I'd made it."
"What?" Stoick boomed, "Why on Earth didn't you tell him that you wanted to ruin all of our lives by "testing out" another one of your useless pieces of junk?"
Shrinking from his father, Hiccup blushed. He mumbled, "I wanted to surprise him with my first dead dragon. I swear to the gods, it wasn't meant to go that far. And all I wanted to do was-"
"First dead dragon? Dragons stopping their attacks on us will happen first! Hiccup, you're just not ready to kill a dragon."
The obviousity of his redfacedness was copious. All he wanted to do was impress his dad. Show him that he could do something right. There must be some way to make it up to him… "When will I be ready?"
"Once you stop all…" Stoick made a face at Hiccup and motioned towards his entire body, "…this."
Frowning and with a sigh, Hiccup retreated to his bedroom. The door closed with a thud. Through it, the dreamer heard his father bellow, "And don't even think of going out of the house until I've gotten this mess sorted out."
Even in his own world, one question plagued Hiccup; why did people treat him almost as badly as a dragon?