Here's to the start of my next big project! This is the first multi-chapter story I've written for this fandom, and I'm excited to get my feet wet in exploring these characters.

So since the title and the description are pretty vague, I'll just run it by that this is not a steampunk story. It's called "A VikingPunk Tale" because of the fact that this story combines the movie universe, the book universe, and real Viking mythology, making the world this story takes place in "Viking Punk". Also, even though Hiccup and Toothless are the main characters listed for this story, Astrid plays just as big a role as a main character. So, if I could have three characters, it would definitely be Hiccup, Toothless, and Astrid equally, but this site only allows two characters.

But, if you're looking for a sappy romantic story, this isn't gonna be it. I'm really gonna focus on character development and story more so than anything. This statement alone doesn't mean romance can't find its way in the story, though. Just remember, romance is in the story…but, romance isn't the story.

Moving on to the setting, I've made the Vikings more of a network of island villages to make up one big Viking Kingdom. So there are more villages than just Berk, such as Astrid's village. But, Berk is the main village where the Viking royal family lives. So, yes, in this story Hiccup is a real prince, and is addressed in the title Prince Hiccup, or Young Prince Haddock. Also, even though in the movie and books, women were just as equal as men, I'm going with real 11th century Viking standards and making it so woman had those "age old" duties of being baby making machines and leaving the defenses to the men.

But, I think that's enough of an opening note for right now. Onwards to chapter one!

Part One: We Are Challenging Fate

Chapter One: Prevented and Rebellious

His room was the shield to his fiery world. But not of his own accord…it was of his father, the King.

Princes weren't supposed to be out when the town was burning and dangerous dragons flew rampant around the main village of Berk. At least, not princes like him.

Princes like Hiccup Haddock III, the hope and heir to the Viking Kingdom. No one had that hope in him, though. He was sure of that. All the hope to the real ruling went to his cousin, Snotlout. And, as usual, Snotlout was out in the raid fighting and being a hero, while Hiccup was locked in his room sketching, sleeping, covering his ears from the loud explosions…but never being scared.

Princes like Hiccup were small, skinny, weak looking at most, but not scared. He wanted to get out there. Face the dangers Vikings laughed at in a hearty insanity. To prove himself and spill the blood of a dragon he killed with a blade all his own. But first, his father had to let him out in the first place.

Hiccup let out a sigh and collapsed onto the bed of his room. He looked up at the models of flying machines he constructed. "Those aren't possible" he could hear his father say, but what else was Hiccup supposed to do? He dreamed, he thought of things, he envisioned, and he built. Not Viking enough, though. Vikings didn't dream, they went after what they wanted, and more importantly, they got what they wanted. There was no reason to dream with those mindsets.

The models jostled and the room shook, a small wake of dust falling into his eyes. It was either a Zippleback or a Nadder, he figured. A Gronckle or a Nightmare wouldn't climb up on a roof. No, they'd barge right in. And it wouldn't be the first time a dragon had made its way into the castle. Once or twice they'd even made it to Hiccup's room.

He sat up at that noise, a smile crossing his lips. A little excitement never hurt anyone, unless, of course, he got burned again. He looked at his left shoulder, the red flesh was sure to stay for quite some time. And getting a burn would've certainly been cooler if Snotlout hadn't had to come and save him.

"Prince Hiccup, I brought you a fresh bedspread." His maid, Arte, walked in, a blanket of cheer over her scarred voice. The palace was rumbling due to the many dragons that flew about in the early morning, and no doubt Hiccup's father sent her in there to more or less keep an eye on him. Hiccup raised a brow, behind Arte the door was open and he could see the guards rushing about frantically, trying to keep everything calm and safe.

But…the door was open.

"Oh, um, yes Arte. I was just about to wake up, so a fresh bedspread would be fine." Hiccup answered stately, getting up from his bed and not even caring that he was in his sleeping tunic and pants. Arte had been his maid for as long as he could remember, and she had seen him in far less appropriate clothing.

Just to his liking, Arte smiled and walked up to his bed, taking off the old spread and preparing the new one. But, she had neglected to close the door completely behind her. Hiccup never heard the click that he was so used to when he father had the guards lock the door even without him knowing. He knew that click down to a tee by then.

Quickly he pulled on his fur boots and slipped near the door checking once more that Arte was occupied.

Hiccup smirked. If his father was going to keep from the fight, than he just had to keep proving that a little thing like a locked door couldn't keep him from his fate as the next strong fighting king of the Viking Kingdom.

Hiccup slipped between the door and ran deftly between the large pillars around the palace. He had made this maneuver many times before. Go from pillar to pillar and the guards wouldn't notice. Especially since they were thinking more about finding dragons that had made their way into the palace than figuring the useless prince had snuck out of his room. Again. It would only become a problem if Hiccup was to be attacked, but he made a promise to himself that this time…this time he'd make a name for himself.

The back door would be his way of escape, for the front door was no doubt swarmed with guards, dragons trying to enter, and his father. The fierce and strong king Stoick the Vast whom always stood at the threshold of palace entrance, his axe in hand and fire crisping his cape as he defended his palace.

Hiccup swallowed at the thought as he ran. That's what he would be one day, everyone would look to him for protection and he would finally be treated like the prince he always wanted to be. The prince he was, but somehow wasn't.

The back door was in sight, and Hiccup smiled as he saw that it was unguarded. The door was usually guarded, but during raids like these, it was simply blocked by a bar of wood in front and left completely bare to young princes who were supposed to be locked in their rooms.

He carefully lifted the wooden bar, thought heavier than it looked, his determination made it a plausible task. And when he lifted the hinge and smelled that first wind of smoked air it was the last thing on his mind to have a gronckle fly right into the door.

It was a young gronckle—anything bigger wouldn't have fit through the door—and it's small wings and large body mass proved for a clumsy and certainly angered mess flying through the palace, spitting fire and knocking into pillars.

"Gronckle in the palace!" Hiccup heard one of the guards scream.

"It's in the north-west wing!"

Hiccup literally cursed himself. But it wasn't over yet. Okay, a gronckle was in the palace, there had been dragons inside before, but this could be his time to finally get it out. He pulled out the dagger from his inner boot pocket and ran towards the dragon, it was smashing into pillars and blowing fireballs and every guard that came it's way.

He ran upwards towards the dragon, focus pulsing from his heart throughout his entire body. The dagger his father had gave him to protect himself has never pierced flesh before, but all Hiccup could remember hearing from all the warriors in the village was that killing left a strange high of power within them. The thought alone, though, only left Hiccup with nervousness.

Killing. It was a common word, a state of mind really, with Vikings. But the thought always left a bad taste in his mouth.

And Hiccup always figured it was because he had never actually killed something. But now was his chance.

He got the best grip he could on the dagger with his sweating hands before he let out the best battle cry he could possibly muster. All the guards turning to see Hiccup—who clearly wasn't in his room.

But a perfectly timed shot of fire broke Hiccup's stride completely. His dagger was ripped from his hand and pinned to the pillar behind him. Unarmed and on a strange high of anticipation Hiccup stood frozen.

::Humans…:: Hiccup heard faintly within his mind as the dragon stared at him, like a hissing whisper. And it made his blood boil. Whatever it was, it was a mock.

Another battle cry entered the scene soon enough, though. And, regrettably enough, Hiccup knew that cry anywhere.

It was King Stoick leaving his post at the front of the palace to defend his poor, defenseless son from being killed….again.

Stoick swung an axe at the dragon, cutting it's leg in a taut slice of flesh before the dragon let out a cry.

:: Human…pain…::, Hiccup heard again. A fist clenched at his heart. He had never seen his father battle a dragon this closely before. Someone had always come to retrieve him to someplace "safe" before he could get such a better look. But the fire burned in his vision as his father shielded himself from fire blast, and alternatively defended himself with perfected axe swings. Slicing even more flesh, drawing even more blood, and tightening the fist over Hiccup's heart as he heard screams of pain, but none of which belonged to anyone he could see.

:: Pain ::

The young gronckle knocked into a pillar before making a run for it. It's blood spilled shamelessly about the floors as it flew for the back door, but more guards came and surrounded it, throwing ropes to its neck and legs, tying it down and forcing it's flapping wings to buzz to no avail.

"Shall we kill is King Stoick?" One of the guards asked.

Stoick gave the dragon a hard look, it's whimpers of pain were perfectly audible, but Stoick only smiled.

"We need another gronckle for the training ring, take it there." He ordered promptly, and the guards quickly scrambled for the carrying net, dragging the gronckle across the floor in shame and having its blood mark it path to its prison.

:: Trapped :: Hiccup heard another snatch of feeling a desperation for freedom still clenching in his mind, but he wasn't sure if it was his own. :: Sadness…::

And all together as soon as the dragon left his range of sense, the clench was lifted, and his mind was cleared. He shook his head, walking over to the pillar to retrieve his dagger before a large hand slammed against the pillar before he could grab it.

"What in Thor's name were you thinking, Hiccup!?" Stoick yelled. It was an age old script in Hiccup's mind. He had heard this conversation too many times for him to be sane while it played over again. "You're supposed to be in your room!"

"I'm always supposed to be in there, Dad!" Hiccup yelled back. "Why don't you just put me in prison and give me all the benefits of being locked up!"

"I put you in there to keep you safe. A raid is no place near where you need to be." Stoick told him in a hiss, his voice was low and tired, but Hiccup still had a fire in his eyes.

"I'm the prince, Dad. When are you going to let me act like one!?"

"When you learn your place!" Stoick screamed. He had said this before, of course. It had all been said before. But hearing it echo across the pillars of the palace, bounce off the high ceiling, and rack Hiccup's brain. It made him sick and shaken.

Stoick watch Hiccup stand before him in defeat once again. There was an odd glisten in his eyes at his son and he looked up at the burned pillar behind him, pulling the dagger from it.

"This dagger belonged to you mother." Stoick told him softly, flicking a charred speck from the metal.

"I know." Hiccup whispered. His mother was just as much as a figure as his father. A fierce quest-maiden, and a feared ruler alongside Stoick. She was a woman, of course, but had all the respect and power as any man. Hiccup admired her a great deal, she had fought dragons and enemies with an unbreakable force of will and brains. Yet, going on her first quest after having Hiccup was when they'd get the news that she would never return at the hand of a dragon.

He swallowed at the mention of her.

"It's fought in many battles." Stoick continued. "Taken many lives." He placed the dagger back in Hiccup's hands, a weapon that looked so small in his mother's hands seemed so big in his. Stoick sighed. "But just because it has that history doesn't mean you have to act out of your place."

"Then why give it to me?"

"Because you're my son…" Stoick began to turn away, but looked at Hiccup once more. "And I know you all too well."

"Dad…" Hiccup made a half-effort in calling out.

"Hiccup," Stoick turned completely back to him, placing the dagger within a holding gesture in Hiccup's hands. "When you carry this dagger," he started. "You carry all of us with you." He gave Hiccup a stern look. "Me, your mother…you entire Kingdom. It's by means of protection and pride that you use it, not recklessly putting yourself in danger to prove something you can't do."

The words stung hard. Can't do, It wasn't the first time his father had told him he wasn't going to be the dragon killer he always wanted to be, but it still hurt every time he said so.

And with that, his fur cape and all the spikes that shown on his entire whipped away. The guards where left to escort Hiccup back to his room, and he was told to be to the Meade hall of the palace in an hour, no doubt for the reports that always came to follow right after a raid.

Hiccup hated dressing up. He wore his red scaled tunic with a black vest over it, all of which tied at the waist with a belt carrying the Haddock's royal dragon crest. And, of course, he had to wear the crest about his shoulder wrapped cape, that wasn't made of furs like his father's. Hiccup often would've loved to take a nap within in the soft cotton of his cape during report meetings. Napping was certainly better than listening to the damage done to the village, or the snickers of the warriors at Hiccup's less than princely physique. And certainly more exciting than jotting down his father's to-do-list, the only thing Stoick could think for Hiccup to do so he wasn't completely useless during the meetings.

He always felt on display at those types of affairs nonetheless. Hiccup would simply sit in his chair adjacent to his father, trying to look princely even though he knew he always failed miserably while he took his notes on what repairs and jobs needed to be done.

"We only had two Nightmares this time around," Spitelout, the second in command, reported. He stood tall and at attention in front of Stoick, the King's Warrior's standing proudly behind Spitelout as he spoke. "But their fire still spilled over downwind. Eastern and over about seven homes."

"We'll need repairs on that, as soon as the fires are put out." Stoick reported, looking over to Hiccup, who, of course was jotting in his book accordingly. "We'll need about fourteen home repairers on the job, son, two per house." Stoick added, and Hiccup sighed, writing it down.

"On another note, King Stoick," Spitelout added. "I must commend my son, Snotlout, who I am proud to report fought mercilessly today. He killed both of the Nightmares and four Gronckles." Snotlot took a stand proudly next to his father, a smug smile about his face as everyone clapped.

Hiccup rolled his eyes. Snotlout might as well have been the prince instead of the prince's cousin. He was the strong, merciless fighter everyone expected Hiccup to be, only he wasn't the hope and heir to the kingdom. At least…not yet.

Snotlout already had the most metals upon his warrior's cape than any of the other, and Hiccup had no doubt he'd only continue to get more. Being a strong Viking wasn't the problem Hiccup had with Snotlout, though.

It was his smirk.

Snotlout wanted the throne, he had royal blood, and he was the picture of everything Hiccup was supposed to be. Hiccup's odds of becoming king with his lack of respect and praise were definitely not in his favor, and although it wasn't common, if a better suited cousin was in the picture, the throne was still up for free grabs.

Snotlout was awarded with another metal that day, filling his cape proudly, and after Stoick knighted both of Snotlout's shoulders Hiccup had to do so as well, though it was more for the show and propriety of it all than the actual honor.

"Get those notes to the repairers lodge, Hiccup." Stoick ordered promptly after the report was finished. "And make sure the news presenters have the stats from this raid."

"Yes, father." Hiccup stood from his chair and made quick steps towards the door. His dagger was placed in a gold case strapped to his waste sash, and when his cape flowed out as he walked past Snotlout and laughed.

"Still carrying around the show dagger, huh?" Snotlout asked. Hiccup stopped dead in his tracks, but didn't dare make eye contact. "Just go run your little errands, Prince Hiccup."

Hiccup stood frozen as he let Snotlout's words absorb into him despite himself. His fist clenched the sides of his cape and his eyes glistened with anger. Snotlout only stood behind him, and Hiccup didn't need to turn around to know that that smirk of his was there. It was always there.

And with that, Hiccup walked off in a flow of cloth cape and clacking boots. But as he heard Snotlout laugh and leave, he heard metal clanking, the metals upon Snotlout's cape made for a much more impressive display of leave than Hiccup's.

And in an ironic turn of events, that somehow Hiccup wasn't surprised, for he realized that he snuck out of his room that morning hoping to make a name for himself, but instead he just rejuvenated his old one.

Prince Hiccup…the Useless.

Astrid hated bread.

She hated it with a passion everyone morning she woke up and had to go to work. But what else was a bread maiden supposed to feel about bread?

Ever since Astrid was twelve her mother sent her to work in the bread kitchens. Anything to keep her from "rolling around in the dirt", as her mother said. Though Astrid hardly rolled around. She was practicing. Target practice, summersault practice, and learning how to hold any weapon she could get her hands on.

That wasn't the job for a woman, though. She wasn't to have scars and mud caked clothes. She was to look presentable and attractive to the men around her at all times so a sure marriage was in the future. A woman with no sure marriage at sixteen might as well just commit suicide, after all.

Astrid had only one year left, and it certainly wasn't her looks that had kept her from getting a man interested, but it was her attitude. Playing hard to get was one thing, but actually not wanting to be gotten was another entirely.

It was times like those when Astrid wished she had been born like her brother Atlas. A man. She could fight and protect and be who she was instead of baking bread and baring her belly and legs to attract men. But her mother simply wouldn't have that. No, she'd bake bread and keeping baring herself for the next year until she found a man willing to take her. That wasn't just the fate of the women in the village of Merkskof, but of all Viking women, even ones in the royal isle of Berk.

"The news presentation should be here soon," Ruffnut told her, kneading some dough before she pulled another one of her braids into her hair tie. Ruffnut, on the other hand, was quite an attraction to the men of her village of Merkskof, and her only problem was picking one. Ruffnut enjoyed messing with men's emotions, and Astrid was sure she had already given up her purity, but that was something she wished not to discuss, and Ruffnut didn't seem to want to tell. Her and Ruffnut were hardly what she'd call "best friends" but when it came to the only girl in Merkskof who didn't whisper behind her back, Ruffnut was a breath of fresh air.

"Really? That's today!?" Astrid perked up. The news presentation was one of the few times she was able to hear about her brother, who was serving as a warrior to King Stoick in Berk. Ruffnut's twin brother Tuffnut was serving as a warrior as well, but he was off questing rather than protecting the royal isle.

"Yeah, the men should be coming in before dusk." Ruffnut got back to her bread, but Astrid simply couldn't concentrate after that. Being able to her about her brother's heroics was the only bright spot in Astrid's otherwise dull life. The only thing that would be better was being able to see him again, but men were posted for years on end before they could visit home, and Atlas had already been gone for two years.

The news presentation itself was a ritual of sorts among the neighboring Viking isles. Men from the Berk were circulate the islands on ships, gathering news and presenting it to everyone so they knew what was going on. Raids, drafts, weather, and the statistics of the warriors.

Everyone was to look their best during the presentations, though Astrid never knew why. Still, she put on her best clothes so her mother wouldn't complain, for she simply just wasn't in the mood for it that night.

"Astrid, pull up you shirt a wee bit." Her mother ordered. "You know all the men will be at the presentation. You must look—"

"Attractive. Yes, mother, I know." Astrid rolled her eyes, but didn't make any quick movements to roll her up her shirt anymore than it already was. She hated that her body was some kind of bargaining tool for her mother.

"Evening, everyone!" One of the presenters announced. "We have come with news of a vast amount of dragon raids sweeping the royal isle."

Astrid felt her mother swallow, knowing very well that Berk was Atlas's post.

"Warrior Duke Snotlout was honored with his sixth metal of bravery." The announcer continued, and Astrid began to yawn. She had heard far too much of the Warrior Duke Snotlout Haddock, nephew to the king and surely the next in line to the throne even though he wasn't the prince. Astrid found herself snorting in a laugh. The real prince was about as useful as a pile of dragon dung. It was almost impossible to believe that Prince Hiccup was the son of King Stoick, or of his mother Queen Valhallarama.

But, Astrid was filled with a swell of determination every time she heard of Valhallarama. She was the only woman Viking who could quest and fight and rule with an iron fist and no one ever said a word about it. She didn't have to bare her skin or hide the fact that she was more than just her hips and her breasts. Astrid looked down at her chest—there wasn't much there as it was anyways.

"In sadder news," the announcer said. "We do have reports from the raids of deaths among our fearless warriors." He opened a scroll and continued to read. "Gothor Jenson, Rengard Ruinfer, Atlas Hofferson, Hoger Grimswor…."

Astrid never paid too much attention to the death statuses, even though her brother served on the royal isle, she knew he would never be on that roster. The only time his name was mentioned was when he earned another metal

But then…

"Atlas Hofferson," she heard the announcer say. And any doubt she had that she had really heard her older brother's name on the death roster were obliterated when she saw her mother sink down to the floor and curse every god for taking her son away from her.

Astrid and her mother were given Atlas's axe as one of his many possessions sent back to Merkskof, but it didn't make the hole in Astrid's hear any smaller. She kept the axe as her own, leaving it near her bed and holding it for comfort whenever she remember Atlas's words before he was shipped off to Berk.

"I know it'll seem like a century, but I will return soon enough, little sister, I promise you that much."

She threw the axe then. It landed right in the wall, sticking perfectly in the middle jut out of habit.

"Liar," Astrid muttered between her teeth as she snuffled back tears that still fell anyways.

"Astrid," She heard her mother call in a whispered voice from the hall. "Ruffnut is here to see you."

"Tell her I'm busy." Astrid rolled over on her bed, tears still falling.

"You are obviously not busy." Her mother sniffed.

"Mother please, I'm just not in the mood for company."

"And it's that attitude that will keep you from getting married."

"Mother!" Astrid yelled. It had only been three days since the news presentation and the men were still there collecting new drafts for protection and questing warriors. But, even since they had learned of Atlas's death Astrid' mother was especially keen on getting her to marry. She only had two children and wit her 'prided' child, Atlas, gone Astrid was the only one left to carry on the Hofferson name. It was a huge burden to shoulder, and frankly, Astrid didn't know if becoming a wife and mother was what she wanted at fifteen.

She wanted to fight, to protect her people. And what's more, she wanted to avenge her brother.

Astrid's mother sent Ruffnut in anyways, who, ironically enough, had her own sob story to tell.

"You finally picked a suitor?" Astrid questioned from Ruffnut's story.

"Yeah," Ruffnut nodded. "But…"

"But you don't love him?"

"N-no, it's not that. Well…not just that."

"Then what is it?" Astrid sat up. If she was going to have company she might as well allow it to get her mind off of Atlas as much as it could.

"Tuffnut's gone missing." Ruffnut said slowly. "The news presenters said his questing group went missing."

"Well, a lot of questing groups get lost at sea and always find their way back eventually." Astrid tried to brighten the mood for her. "It just takes some time."

"I know…but they said that last time too. And the time before…."

"Oh," Astrid lowered her eyes and place a hand on Ruffnut's shoulder. "He's alive Ruffnut. Don't give up on that."

"I'm not." Ruffnut said strongly, she placed her hand over Astrid's, squeezing it. Astrid could feel her determination creeping into her blood, and it only made her the gears in her mind begin to turn. Astrid was reminded of how her, Atlas, Ruffnut and Tuffnut used to play together. In a way, the two were always promised to each other brothers, but things has quickly changed when they were both sent off on the warrior draft.

"I'm going to find him, Astrid." Ruffnut told her sternly, the force in her eyes was contagious and fiery, and it steamed away the tear trails plastered to Astrid's face. She sniffled and nodded, it was all becoming clear to her.

"You're going to the draft aren't you Ruff?" Astrid asked.

"Yes," Ruffnut nodded. "But, I need Atlas's axe…to cut my hair."

"Of course." Astrid got up from her bed and walked over to the axe, pulling it from the wood of the wall in one twack. She stared down at it, running her hands over the metal, and smiling sadly to herself. Nothing was more painful than knowing Atlas had held that axe with the lively vigor of his fighting spirit just a little while ago.

The fighting spirit he had passed on to her.

Atlas knew Astrid dreamed to fight. How she read the stories of the fierce warrior Queen Valhallarama and the fictions of the distant knights and fighters of other cultures. As she sat on the bed next to Ruffnut she looked down at the book she had been reading while mopping.

"The Fearless Knight, Alistair" was the name of the book. Atlas had always read it to her at a young age. Countless tales of a foreign knight who traveled the world in chainmail and carried his sword. In many ways was Atlas like Alistair in Astrid's mind. He was strong and brave and everything she hoped she could be one day.

But she could never be. Unless….

Ruffnut's long locks fell to the floor one by one as Astrid cut them with Atlas's axe. They were both quiet as they performed the task, for even Astrid knew how much Ruffnut loved her long hair.

But she loved her brother more. And Astrid knew that even though her and Tuffnut fought to no ends when they were around, both of them would jump through rings of fire to make sure the other was safe. Astrid could only concur, though. For she felt the same of her brother. Sadly, though, no quest to find him would ever bring Atlas back.


"There," Astrid whispered. "It's finished." Ruffnut walked up to the mirror, laughing at herself. Even Tuffnut didn't have as short of hair as her, and even though Ruffnut's hair still met her shoulders, she pulled it back into an hair tie, pulling the hair out of her face and showing that a quick cut could take her from woman to warrior. Luckily—and like Astrid—Ruffnut wasn't 'blessed' with a large bust either.

"I'll be leaving tonight." Ruffnut said. "Or, I suppose 'Rune Thorston' will be leaving tonight."

"Rune?" Astrid smiled a little. "Nice name."

"It was my uncle's name."

"Oh…" Astrid bit her lip. She didn't exactly know what to make of the moment. Ruffnut had cut her hair and was defying laws by joining the warrior draft as a woman in disguise. But there was something oddly thrilling about it. Ruffnut was going to live her dream. So why couldn't she?


Astrid looked down at the book once more, then at Atlas's axe and back. Why couldn't she? Without Ruffnut there, she'd be in the bread kitchens alone, working and listening to mother about pulling up her top. Forced on dates of every sort to hurry up and marry her off. And then she'd sleep with a man she barely knew, and bare his children.

That thought alone was enough to toss it all out the window, and in one swift move, Astrid turned the blade of her brother's axe and cut her braid straight off.

"Astrid…?" Ruffnut breathed, though there was no hiding the slow smile creeping across her lips. "What are you…?"

"My name's not Astrid." Astrid said sternly, as she stood, her cut off braid falling completely to the floor and strands of hair cracking from her neck. "Call me Alistair."

First chapter's in the bag! Did you like it, love it, hate it? Please let me know, cause this is gonna be a pretty long story and I need to know whether I'm planning a flop here.

So, we've got Hiccup and Astrid having similar issues of not living up to their expected roles in society. Astrid is blatantly going against it and disguising herself as a boy to go fight like she's always wanted to. And Hiccup, well, he's royalty, so he doesn't have such a rebellious option. Yet. X3

And as you noticed there was no Gobber and no Fishlegs. Don't worry, they are in this story, just not in the role you're all used to. This will be true of a lot of characters, they won't all be used how they were used in the book or movies since this will deviate so much from the original plots. So, for those of you thinking this just a fancy re-telling of the movie, you're wrong. It'll take elements from it, but it will have a pace all its own, trust me. And, yes, we'll meet Toothless soon enough.

So, please review! If so, more chapters are coming and get comfy, cause this is gonna be a long ride.

Also, for a sketch of Hiccup and Astrid's attire for part one, I did some quick drawings on them (just remove spaces):

Hiccup: blackrose108 . deviantart # / d4vqe93

Astrid: blackrose108 . deviantart art / VikingPunk – Tale – Astrid – WIP - 295163256

Next Chapter: Assigned and Unexplainable.