A/N: I hope you enjoy this Crossover story. Just a few things before reading that you should know:
Merida and Hiccup are both fourteen.
The events of 'Brave' have already happened
Although, yes, Hiccup's crush on Astrid still happens at the beginning, Mericcup shall be the main couple, although it shall only be friendship at the beginning.
Here is the Full Summary:
'The Vikings at war with not just Dragons, but the Scottish as well! But the dragons become too much, so the Scots and Vikings decide to make a temporary truce so the Vikings and Scottish may battle the Dragons as one, which needs to be agreed by the Tribes Chief and the King and Queen of Scotland, who will bring their four children with them. Upon meeting, Merida and Hiccup befriend each other almost immediately and both help go on to help train Toothless, and will both go on the journey to protect the dragons, themselves and might just feel a spark between each other as they do so...'
Disclaimer: HELLO! I. Am. A. Mericcup shipper! Is a Disclaimer really necessary? Also, I do not own the Stories picture. It belongs to 'Pinkie-Perfect' on deviantART.
Read, Enjoy, Review and Favourite :-3
Third Person P.O.V
Imagine this setting: We skim above a dark, wild ocean. Then we turn towards a lone island, its name, Berk. It is a gigantic shard of rock jutting straight out of the water. Our sight gazes over rolling hills to reveal a small village nestled on an outcropping of sea mounts.
This is Berk. Its twelve days North of hopeless and a few Degrees South of freezing to death. It's located solidly on the meridian of misery.
My village. In a word, sturdy. And it's been here for seven generations, but every single building is new.
We have fishing, hunting, and a charming view of the sunsets. The only problems are the pests. You see, most places have mice or mosquitos. We have...
I pull my wooden, splintering door wide open, and then slam it shut almost as quickly as I opened it. I lean against it as fire shoots through the slats of wood; I try my best to ignore how the wood is now going from warm to burning hot. I am certain that the fire is illuminating my gangly teenage figure, but I also ignore that. I can only find myself to say one thing, although however obvious it is and how used to it by now I should be.
"… Dragons!" I gasp.
I turn around and reopen the-now-sizzling wooden door, and leap of my front porch. I begin my run to my destination, weaving through the erupting mayhem as more and more of my fellow Vikings pour out of ever near-by building in every direction, ready for a fight. More dragons swarm in, setting rooftops alight and hauling off sheep.
I continue my run, and see the damage being brought upon Berk. I know what you're thinking. Yes, most people would leave. Not us. We're Vikings. We have stubbornness issues Vikings sound the alarm.
I see more and more Viking men and women pour out into the streets, axes in hand.
I dart through alleys, staying under eaves, making my way through the battle as best as I can.
Oh, well. I guess if you are going to be stuck in my head, with access to my entire thoughts, my utmost secret and most personal thoughts, introductions are in order.
My name's Hiccup. Great name, I know. But it's not the worst. Viking parents believe a hideous name will frighten off gnomes. Like our… charming (notice the sarcasm? Good) Viking demeanour wouldn't do that.
I see more dragons sweep back and forth, dodging axes and blasting the Vikings who throw them. A burly warrior gets tossed in an explosion, knocking me to the ground.
The Viking looks at me and shouts, "Arggghhhh!" in a way that sounds cheery yet insane then grins at me, even with a smouldering beard, "Mornin'!" I get back on my feet and continue to rush past gigantic men and women, many battling one another.
Confused? Sorry, I should have told you this earlier. Lately, dragons haven't been our only… Pests. You see-
"Gah!" I exclaim as I dodge an axe heading Thor-knows-where.
-You see, lately, we Vikings have been in a bit of a… Scrap, as we Vikings refer to it, between both dragons and the-
"FOR SCOTLAND!" A big, burly, bright red-headed man kitted out in full amour, screamed and charged far off in the distance.
The Scottish. If you haven't figured that out already. I must say, they're putting up an amazing fight against the Vikings… Uh, just don't tell anyone that I said that, I don't want to be disowned, and you have absolutely no idea how much my father and my entire village want to do that already!
I mean who do you know that would take a medium length teenaged boy with scraggily dark auburn hair and murky green eyes, shorter than basically every kind of your usual Viking, but is also far from muscular and is weak compared to the other Viking teens in his class and age group if he told you he was a Viking?
That's what I thought.
I come out of my thought-world just in time to not get my arm lobbed off.
Time to meet the neighbours…
First off, you have Hoark the Haggard...
"What are you doing out!?" He screams at me.
... Then you have Burnthair the Broad...
"Get inside, you foolish boy!" He shouts at me as he goes into battle with a Scotsman and a dragon
...And, lastly, Phlegma the Fierce...
"Get back inside!" She shrieks and then changes it to a battle cry and tackles a dragon-a Gronkle, I think-to the ground.
"Ack" I cough as I breathe in smoke from a near-by burning building.
I pass a lone Viking, picking at his ear.
"Ack… Just…Ack" I say again, but with a more disgusted tone this time.
… Enter Stoick, the biggest Viking of all. He yanked me from the path of a strafing dragon and holds aloft to the crowd.
He glowers at me. What are you doing out?! Get inside, now!" The flames light up his scowling face and matted red beard. He sets me back down and turns to the sky, searching; searching for dragons.
That's Stoick the Vast. He is the Chief of the tribe. They say that when he was a baby he popped a dragon's head clean off of its shoulders.
Do I believe it?
As I think this, Stoick grabs a wooden cart and hurls it, knocking the strafing dragon out of the sky.
Yes, yes I do.
An explosion forces Vikings to duck. But Stoick stands firm, brushing flaming debris off of his shoulder.
"What have we got?" He barks at his men
"We have Gronkles, Nadders and Zipplebacks. Oh and Hoark saw a Monstrous Nightmare." One man informs him. Stoick nods stiffly.
He pauses, and then asks a question. "Any Night Furies?"
The same man gulps, but answers. "None so far."
"Good" he says, obviously relived
"Hoist the torches!" Another Viking shouts.
I take a look at a scene… Massive flaming braziers are raised on poles, lighting up the night sky... and revealing swirling dragons of all types. But below, I cross an open plaza and duck into an open building with a tall chimney. Also known as Gobber's Blacksmith Stall.
"Ah! Nice of you to join the party. I thought you'd been carried off." Gobber greets me as I put on a leather apron and started to put away Gobber's scattered appendages.
"Who? Me? Nah, come on! I'm way too muscular for their taste. Theywouldn't know what to do with allthis."I strike a pose similar to the older teenage boys (that actually have muscles)when they're trying to impress a girl.
"They need toothpicks, don't they?" He beings to grin a me as I get to work, transferring bent and chipped weapons to the forge as Vikings crowd the counter for replacements.
The meathead with attitude and interchangeable hands is Gobber. I've been his apprentice ever since I was little. Well...little-er.
"We move to the lower defences. We'll counter-attack with the catapults." I hear Stoick command.
Armed men rush past, flanking others who carry sheep to safety. Stoick follows up the rear as, overhead; a dragon strafes the rooftops with Napalm-like fire.
See? Like I said. Old village. Lots and lotsof new houses.
A near-by Viking shouts his command. "FIRE!"
In response, the fire brigade charges through the plaza-four teenagers, tugging a large wooden cask on wheels. From it, they fill buckets of water to douse the flames. One among them is a cute, energetic Viking girl. I can't help but lean out of the stall to watch her.
Oh, the other four are Fishlegs, Snotlout. The twins, Ruffnut and Tuffnut. And...
Even when I just think her name, it sounds dreamy.
An explosion erupts behind her, although it seems to be in slow-motion (as does Astrid) framing her in a ball of fire. The others join her, looking awesome and heroic.
Their job is so much cooler.I try to join them as they pass, but I am instead hooked by Gobber and hoisted back inside.
"Ah, come on. Let me out, please. I need to make my mark." I plead.
"Oh, you've made plenty of marks. All in the wrong places." He retorts, laughing.
"Please, two minutes. I'll kill a dragon. My life will get infinitely better. I might even get a date!"
"You can't lift a hammer. You can't swing an axe..." Gobber grabs a bola (which are iron balls connected by rope), "... you can't even throw one of these.
A Viking runs by and nabs it out of Gobber's hand, hurling it at a dive-bombing Gronkle. The bola binds its legs, sending it into a heavy crash.
I was ready with my answer. "Okay fine, but..." I rush to the back corner of the stall and present bizarre, wheel barrow-like contraption, "... this will throw it for me."
I open the hinged lid of the device. An arm springs up, equipped with twin bows. They prematurely launch a bola, narrowly missing Gobber... and taking out a Viking at the counter.
"Arggh!" The Viking growls.
"See, now this right here is what I'm talking about." Gobber sighs and sounds slightly irritated as he talks to me.
"Mild calibration issue." I try to use as an excuse.
"Hiccup. If you ever want to get out there to fight dragons, you need to stop all..." He gestures in my general direction. "... This." He finishes.
"But... you just pointed to all of me." I say, astonished.
"Yes! That's it! Stop being all of you." He exclaims
"Ohhhhh…" I let the word drawl on, in as much of a threatening way as I can muster.
"Ohhhhh, yes." Gobber mimics.
"You, sir," I say in a warning-like tone. "Are playing a dangerous game. Keeping this much, raw...Vikingness contained!" Gobber looks bored at my speech. "There will be consequences!"
Gobber tosses me a sword.
"I'll take my chances. Sword. Sharpen. Now." He says in a monotone. I take it begrudgingly and lob it onto the grinding wheel. I stew... Whilst fantasizing...
One day I'll get out there. Because killing a dragon is everything around here.
I look out of the window, my gaze falling upon the lower plains of the land where Nadders land, gathering like seagulls around a seemingly vacant house.
A Nadder head is sure to get me at least noticed.
Elsewhere, hippo-like Gronckles pick drying racks clean of fish and fly off like loaded pelicans.
Gronckles are tough. Taking down one of those would definitely get me a girlfriend.
A stealthy, snake-like dragon head peeks over a rooftop, breathing gas into a chimney.
A Zippelback? Exotic, exciting. Two heads, twice the status.
A second head pokes through the door and lights it.
The two heads fly through the explosion, their necks zipping together to reveal a single body. It flies past Stoick as he climbs to the top of a catapult
I hear the catapult operator shout off in the distance. "Fire!"
Boulders are catapulted at the corralling Nadders... Just as a huge red dragon whips past, spraying the base of the catapult with sticky fire.
And then there's the Monstrous Nightmare. Only the best Vikings go after those. They have this nasty habit of setting themselves on fire. It emerges from the flames, climbing the catapult with a leering, toothy grin.
"Reload! I'll take care of this." Stoick shouts amongst the chaos. He chucks a sword to a near-by warrior, who is being taken on by a Scotsman.
Stoick takes on the Nightmare, face to hammer.
Suddenly, a loud ballistic moaning streak overhead. The catapult crew ducks.
I look up from work, reacting to the sound.
… But the ultimate prize is the dragon no one has ever seen. We call it the-
"Night Fury! Get down!" A warrior shouts above the noise.
Vikings everywhere take shelter. The moaning sound builds up and goes higher in octaves.
The Monstrous Nightmare suddenly stops fighting and takes. Stoick looks skyward.
"JUMP!" He screams.
The Catapult explodes as though hit by an artillery shell... sending Stoick and the crew leaping for their lives.
This thing never steals food, never shows itself, and...
The sound recedes, leaving the crippled catapult in flames.
No one has ever killed a Night Fury. That's why I'm going to be the first.
All that is happening out there whilst I am stuck in this stall.
Gobber trades his hammer for an axe.
"Man the fort, Hiccup, they need me out there!" Gobber pauses. Turns with a threatening glare. "Stay… Put… Uh… There. You know what I mean."
Gobber charges into the fray, hollering like a maniac.
A smirk crosses my face.