Inn Mátki Munr
So, the title basically translates to "The Mighty Passion". I think it sounds pretty epic, but hey! That's just me and my fiddles. :)
So, I've been disconnected from for a LONG time now. I just totally lost inspiration for my Fullmetal Alchemist fics after I'd lost some chapters I had worked on so diligently when my computer decided to meltdown. I still do love edxWin smut, mufufufufu.
However, I recently saw the trailer for HTTYD2 and could NOT get this out of my head. xD Let's just see where it goes, shall we? I am rating it Teen for the language and... possibly some more explicit scenes, but I may change it to Mature somewhere algon the way. You have been warned - I like lemons, and while I may not necessarily be writing one every chapter, there may be a spontaneous citrus lying about somewhere, if I see it fits within the story.
I'll tend to the rating if it gets there. :p
so! Enough babble, and on with the fic. Enjoy! (hopefully, lol)
DISCLAIMER: I do not own How to Train Your Dragon or its characters. Duh.
CHAPTER ONE - Bad news are bad.
The weather was wonderful that day; sun high in the sky, it was warm, and there was a lovely spring breeze wafting about. The huge, burly man hulked over to where the group of teenagers were, merrily breaking their fast outside, drinking mead and eating bread and fish, all of them sprawled in the lush grass surrounding the town square – his son laughing at some joke, blissfully unaware of the ill news that awaited him.
Stoick felt terrible about ruining such a fine day, but he couldn't postpone this any longer. Odin knows he tried to, but no more; there was a deadline to give the response to that gods-forsaken letter he'd received.
"I need to talk to you, son." Hiccup didn't budge. "Now. In private."
Everyone fell silent all of a sudden. Stoick usually didn't speak in such a grim tone unless he had bad news on his hands; well, he'd used to talk to Hiccup a certain way when they boy'd been younger, before… before Toothless showed up and changed everything.
As Stoick walked back into his house, he hoped his long strides did not betray his nervousness. He heard Hiccup get up and follow him.
He really didn't want to do this, but was there a choice?
Hiccup glanced over from his father's large back to their house, back and forth. His father had been receiving loads of correspondence lately, and had been in a bit of a sour mood; Hiccup had a feeling he unwillingly had something to do with it.
"Guess your streak of perfect behaviour's gone down the drain, huh?" Snotlout teased while he chewed, spraying some food into his mug. Hiccup ignored his cousin and stood up, shaking the bread crumbs from his tunic.
Before he walked away, Hiccup looked over to Astrid and nodded discretely; she nodded back. They'd planned to go riding together by the end of the day, what with the weather being as good as it was, to go to the hot springs inside the mountain. He liked to think of it as their little spot; it sent his heart beating frantically whenever he thought about going there with her.
Things always happened whenever they went there. The first time they found that particular natural sauna had been a couple of months ago, a day before Hiccup left on one of his scouting trips; when they left the cave an hour later, just before sunset, they were both flushed and breathless and not entirely due to the steam from the hot water.
He liked what they had. Were they officially a couple? He wasn't entirely sure because they'd never really talked about it, and always tried to be discrete around everyone else, but what else could they be? They kissed, and occasionally groped each other – nothing too daring, of course – so he figured they kind of were, in their own way.
And he was happy about it. So he hummed tunelessly over to his house, his father's dark demeanour suddenly forgotten; he was focused on their trip to the hot springs, and for a few minutes those thoughts brought him nothing but a sheer sense of satisfaction.
But when his father solemnly told him to sit down, he sourly noted his bliss was to be a short-lived one.
"Did I do something wrong, Dad?" He wondered what was going on; lately Hiccup had done nothing but his duties to the village, scouting diligently, charting, mapping, exploring – bringing back tales of what he found and his newly-acquired knowledge – and dragon-training, of course. He'd even heard one of the villagers say it was truly lucky that they would, someday, have a very knowledgeable Chief. He'd blushed.
"No, son. Nothing." Stoick then decided to add, "I'm nothing but proud of you, son," just for reassurement. Hiccup let out a breath he did not know he was holding.
"Okay... Well, what is it then?" Hiccup asked, those smart green eyes a kindle with both curiosity and caution.
Stoick struggled for words. For days now, he'd not known what to say. He'd practised his words, but they did not seem to come out right, so he'd practised the speech in his mind dozens of times… and to no avail. Still, he was at a loss. How to explain this?
"Well… son… You see, there's this… Ye know, you're… my son." Stoick stammered.
"Oh, what a shocking reveal."
Stoick ignored his son's jest. "And, well… you've grown…"
For a moment Hiccup donned a smug expression on his face. "Yeah, a bit."
"An' I suppose you're a man now. Well, still a boy…. Well, sometimes… but sometimes a man, an' that man's gonna be Chief of Berk someday." Stoick made a face like he was holding in some major gas.
"Uh… A long time from now, let's hope. Right, Dad?" This conversation sure was leading down an ominous path.
"Right. But, well…" Stoick decided to just get it out with, or they'd be here all day and night. "Son," he said, pointing at the man-boy's face, "you're almost nine-and-ten now. A man grown, by all standards, and you've proved yourself a fine one, and for that I am thankful."
Hiccup couldn't say anything at this point. He was being complimented?
"An' I'm sure you'll make a fine Chief someday. You have leadership in you, you have your own sort of…" he fiddled around for the right word. "…charisma. An' you've got guts, I tell ya that. You've got a way with the beasts, an' people are respectful of that sort of power."
For a moment, Hiccup could actually see the wrinkles hidden amongst his father's huge mane of a beard, as if weighed down by his words.
"An' you've got to learn: a leader must sometimes make sacrifices. For the good of his people."
Wait a minute… "Haven't I sacrificed already?" Hiccup deadpanned, lifting up his metallic leg to prove his point.
"I know, son. But this is different." Stoick sighed. One last push. "You're of age to marry, Hiccup." He noticed his son's eyes flash and widen, his cheeks redden in sudden discomfort, hands clenching around the bench he sat on. "An' I've been gettin' some pressure from other clans. The Bunkerheads – you remember the ones that've been threatening with war – they say they'd sign a peace treaty if you married the daughter of Chief Athole 'The Blister'. So…"
By then Hiccup had gone pale white, the color of curdled milk. He held his breath.
"This is what I've come to tell you, son," Stoick produced a parchment, seemingly from inside his enormous bushy beard, "The terms for the wedding contract with that Bunkerhead girl, erm…" He checked the parchment, "Bergthora."
Silence. More silence. After a few minutes, Hiccup started to blink furiously. He ruffled his untamed hair in a nervous tick and shot up suddenly, color violently returning to his cheeks, "I don't care what they claim to want," his voice trembled, "I'm not some object, to be used as a peace offering."
"Son. I know this isn't what you'd planned. But maybe –"
"No maybes. I'm not marrying that girl, whoever she is, and that's it. We can come to other terms for that peace agreement." Hiccup made to walk up the stairs to his bedroom.
"They're adamant, Hiccup. They've been pressuring ever since the girl's turned six-and-ten, over a year ago, and this would be a convenient alliance. I've been giving you time, but now we need to make a choice before the next harvest to Idun."
"I DON'T CARE!" All of a sudden the boy shifted into a man, his voice booming, his face scowled in anger, his swollen chest heaving with uneven breath; defiant, "I'm not throwing myself into Odin knows what sort of marriage, with a girl I don't know! You can't do this to me! It's my life, I'm not just a fucking convenience!"
And with that he took off, ignoring his father's shouts behind him. He ran outside, called for Toothless, and immediately jumped onto his dragon's back, quickly sliding into his complex saddle. He was absurdly thankful that his companion had rebuked his attempts to remove the saddle from its back last night.
As he rose up into the skies, powerful black scaly wings beating at the air around him, detaching him from the village down below, he could feel everyone's eyes on him. Burning stares, he sensed them, and for a moment he felt like a little boy who'd just screwed up again, getting yelled at by his father. He never usually yelled back when he was a kid, but he was a child no longer. He wanted to look down then, to scream at all of them that he was no kid, but a man grown, and responsible for his own life. He'd sacrificed himself for them before, lost a limb, nearly his life and his dragon's; so he wanted to take control of his own matters with his own hands, and no tribal dispute should be getting in the middle of what he wanted out of his life!
He wanted to look down then, and tell them that. Tell them all. But he couldn't bring himself to see if Astrid was watching – he feared that if he saw her face, the knot in his throat would tighten to the point where it would choke him to death.
END OF CHAPTER ONE
Well, this one's wrapped up. I'll publish the next one tomorrow, most likely, or maybe tonight. It's already done, just needs some tweaks I think - and, yes, I'll get to the romance soon enough, if that's what ya'll are wondering.
Please bear in mind that I don't have a Beta Reader to fix my screw-ups, so any pointed mistakes are appreciated (...if I eventually decide to tend to them, lulz) and any suggestions as well. Don't be shy! Reviews are a very helpful way to help someone progress with their story-telling skillz0rz.
Just don't flame, haters. Not my fault you have nothing better to do with your life that being a sorry, bitter little person. Go watch a movie and eat popcorn. Go!
Reviews are much appreciated, simply because, as readers, your opinions are much valued regarding plot, stylistics, grammar mistakes, etc. But the good old "Hey, this is okay," works for me too!