Chapter Text
Vikings.
They were the most fearless, powerful and ruthless people to have ever travelled the seas of the northern hemisphere and none would ever match their power. They had built endless colonies and brought forth whole centuries filled with heroes of past and present, sometimes even graced by the gods themselves in their heroic endeavours, as only true Vikings could. No people would dare to halt them in their way, cementing their reputation as the unchallenged rulers of the north. It had been this way for centuries, and probably would be for centuries to come, their might only growing every year. Within all these conquests though, were small islands that frequently led to colonies. Some were big, others where small. Some lasted long, some became abandoned within a generation. Some became rich economic powerhouses, living of the trade that their position brought them. Others became dangerous backwaters, where only criminals and those without mercy dared to roam.
And then there was Berk.
Berk was a small village on an even smaller island, somewhere in the vast archipelago's that were scattered around the north. It had existed for longer than most could remember, and its strength hadn't wavered, regardless of its size. It did not have the riches that came with being a trading hub, but it never turned into a criminal haven either. Despite all the odds against it, Berk had succeeded in being exactly in that weird grey middle ground that only so few places really adhered to. Not to small, but never to big either. The people weren't rich, but they would punch out your teeth if you dared to call them poor. A perfect little settlement, were everything was at a perfect balance.
If you ignored the dragons of course.
Since its earliest days, Berk had struggled with attacks from these bloodthirsty, mindless beasts that slaughtered their people. Whole generations had been wiped out in the endless cycle of raids and reprisals that made up their war with the dragons and the sad truth was the most didn't even question why it even was this way. They had been brought up with endless amounts of stories and legends about their reptilian enemies, and with it came the seeds of a primal fear that had been instilled in them, awakening when they saw their first true dragon attack. It was almost an unmentioned ritual that every child in Berk one day learned that every horrible thing they had ever heard about was probably due to a dragon. There was no limit to how cruel dragons could be and as such, they didn't even question it when someone told them a ridiculous story about the flying lizards. Who knew what was true and fake with the children of Loki himself? The villagers of Berk had thought many times that the god of mischief must have had some kind of grudge against them, because luck seemed to be a totally foreign concept when it came to them. What else could he have cursed them with that could possibly be worse than dragons?
Well, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the third of course.
The son of Stoic the Vast truly was a pathetic sight when compared to his father. Stoic was a born warrior, build like rock and strong as a bear. Some said that he had killed his first dragon at six years old with his bare hands, and not many doubted him on that fact. The man was a one-man army, build and bred for the eternal fight that Berk had found itself into. In a way, he was the perfect representation of Berk. Not rich, not highly educated, but strong as a mountain and more stubborn than any other Viking could be. He could drink for five and eat for six. He was compassionate when needed and harsh when necessary. The perfect leader.
Hiccup wasn't that. He wasn't even near what his father was. Some people even thought he was adopted, for there was no way their chief's offspring could be so…..him. What could Stoic have done wrong to deserve such punishment as to get the most pathetic Viking in history as his only son? No one could answer that, but the fact remained that Hiccup Haddock the third was the laughingstock of any self-respecting Viking and Norsemen alike. In any other circumstance, he would have been thrown off a cliff before he would have reached his first year, to minimize the damage such a weakling would do to the tribe, and many believed that Stoic would have done just that if it hadn't been for the tragedy that followed. His wife, Valka, one of the most respected and feared Viking woman on Berk, had been cruelly taken from him, leaving him alone to care for a child that wasn't worthy of his attention.
In a moment that many described as madness, Stoic chose to spare the child in a desperate attempt to keep the memory of her life with him. Some tribesmen had called him a fool for keeping such an insult to her name among the living, but Stoic wouldn't bend to the will of his people. Not this time.
He was their chief, and as their chief, they could whine and complain all they wanted. Stoic's will was still law. Although the villagers still voiced their disgruntled complaints, now they would only do so in the dark corners of their homes and taverns. Resentment grew, and this resentment was smoothly passed on to the next generation, resulting in the usual scene of Hiccup getting shat on by everyone. His reputation as the village curse was an almost religious believe at this point, as was the taunting of the boy. And today was no different.
"Oh, come on Snotlout. Couldn't you have found a better spot to drop me in? I am almost a regular visitor at this point." a familiar voice complained.
"You have to love classics." Said Snotlout, a self-satisfied smirk on his fat face. Hiccup couldn't really agree, but he had to admit that few people would appreciate getting tossed in Berk's pigsty for the sixth time in a month. And a classic it surely was.
'I could probably ask for permanent residence' , Hiccup thought with a grimace. The familiar smell of pig excrement entered his nostrils, sending a shiver down his spine. Here he went again. Without resisting, he felt two strong arms grab his shoulders, before throwing him. Not a moment later, the usual feeling of mud engulfing his body began to take over. Even through his mud-filled ears, Hiccup could still hear the triumphant yell Snotlout made, followed by the oh so familiar laughter of the other students his age. There was almost no real humour in their laughter, as if they had grown so accustomed to the event of Hiccup getting his ass handed to him that it became almost boring. Snotlout was seen by most as a possible successor to their chief though, so most didn't dare to call him out on his old 'joke'. On a small island like Berk, relationships were key to further your standing within the community, and none would dare to risk their reputation by socialising with the weakest Viking on the island. It was cruel but logical and Hiccup couldn't really blame them for it. Hel, he would probably bully himself if he had the chance.
As it was though, only self-deprecation could provide such an outlet.
"Seems like Agga has taken a liking to you. Maybe she recognises her lost child?" Snotlout smirked, pointing at a particular female pig that was inspecting Hiccup up close, sniffing over his whole body. Hiccup would have preferred it if the pig would just let him roll in his own misery, but apparently he wasn't even granted that favour. Before he could stop it, he was greeted by a big slimy pig-tongue in his face. Snotlout's laughter reached a new height, although it faded down rather quickly when he realised that most of the others didn't really care that much, their chuckles to brief to have been spontaneous. They had other things to do and other places to be.
"Have a nice day, Hiccup." Snotlout barked, the usual laugh following suit. It didn't carry any true emotion of joy, as if the gesture had become almost like a second nature. It wasn't like he truly wanted to, but he felt like he had too. And that's probably how the others felt too, Hiccup thought. Just going along with the status quo. It was the easiest for everyone.
Hiccup just closed his eyes, deciding that pretending nothing special was going on as a much more preferable activity than actually interaction with his bullies.
Snotlouts had apparently taking the hint from the other's lack of enthusiasm and left. The others had also left, leaving him all alone.
"The God's hate me." Hiccup sighed, slowly rising out from the mud. Crawling over the fence around the pigsty proved to be a difficult task thanks to the slippery mud covering his body, but eventually he got out of it. Assa the pig made a noise that almost sounded like disappointment.
The pigsty was located at the utmost edge of the island of Berk, far from the village and potential witnesses. It had been originally put there to keep the smell as far from the village as possible, although Hiccup started to believe Loki had put it there himself, only to provide his classmates with the perfect spot to dump him at. The pigsty had a small empty wooden shack next to it where the original farmers had stored their stuff. It had probably been abandoned when the first dragon-raid came, wood and fire not being the greatest companions. These days, the pigs where cared for by a couple of elderly Vikings, too old to fight but too young to be completely dependent on the community. None of them still lived at this sight though, leaving the shack quite dilapidated.
The roof had collapsed decades ago, having been destroyed by some dragonfire ages ago. The impact had turned the floor of the building into a crater, which had created a shallow pool thanks to Berk's rainy climate. The ideal place to clean a shit-covered Viking. Walking over to the shack, Hiccup could see that clouds began to gather above the island, giving the sky a dark, glooming presence. It was spring, and rainfall was lessening every day. Not today though. Fate had a toy to chew on after all.
Strolling inside the old building, Hiccup looked down at the familiar pool. It was slightly less full since the last time they had humiliated him, but still full enough to wash himself in. It wasn't like he needed that much space anyway. Lowering himself into the water, Hiccup sighed, letting the fresh water wash over his body. It was cold, but he was a Viking. Everything in his life was cold.
And as raindrops began to fall on his head, he wondered out loud.
"Can this day get any worse?"
The gods didn't answer, and Hiccup only sighed. He wasn't really expecting an answer, but sometimes a little bit of an explanation for his situation would be appreciated. Just a small sign, like "Hey Hiccup. Odin here. I would like to tell you that I greatly appreciate your utter dedication to being a completely useless Viking. Now please continue on your pathetic path."
The water was strangely comforting. The cold seemed to push all the strain and tension out of his muscles while simultaneously pushing all thoughts out of his head. It seemed to wash all of his worries away, although Hiccup knew it was only fleeting. Sooner or later, he would need to return to his village, with all the ridicule and humiliation that came with it.
Walking back to the village had proven to be more difficult than previous times. The rain had washed away many trails and made the rocks slippery, so Hiccup had to take way more detours than usual. Eventually he reached the village again. His clothes where wet and dirty, and although his body was cleaned, his hair still looked wet and unkept as a result, and if there was one thing Vikings did care for, it was their hair. Beards were also well-kept, but Hiccup wasn't so foolish to hope for some legitimate hair growth on his chin anytime soon. Puberty seemed to evade him like the plague, and he didn't dare hoping for it to come around all of a sudden.
Hiccups eyes lazily scanned the village, looking for anyone who could see him. Luckily for him, there was no one out today. It was a little bit weird that the otherwise so busy village was now totally calm.
'Probably some business in the great hall', he thought. Slowly, he moved through the village, constantly looking around for anyone to notice him. When the coast proved to be obviously clear, Hiccup ran as fast as he could to the forgery. Maybe Gobber could make his day a little better by giving him actually something useful to do. Anything would be better than ending in the pigsty again. Maybe he could even work some more on the designs he had recently come up with. Although he had acquired a reputation for impractical and undoable projects, he still believed some of them showed great promise. Especially his bola launcher had become an obsession as of late.
'The Mangler'. Hiccup thought. His ticket to acceptance if all went well. Just another failed experiment if not. Continuing through the rainy wet streets of Berk, Hiccup made a small sigh of a breath he didn't knew he held when the forgery came in sight.
"Oi lad, there you are." A familiar voice shouted.
"What's the matter Gobber? " Hiccup asked.
"Yer dad wants to see ya. He's at the port, and I wouldn't make him wait. It's important apparently."
Hiccup frowned. At the port? This wasn't the time of year for trader Johann to visit, and the yearly conference of chiefs had already taken place months ago. Maybe other visitors? He wasn't usually asked to be at any official meetings, mostly because his reputation alone was enough to shame Stoic without needing his actual presence. If his father wanted him to be with him in public, it would be no usual town meeting.
"Why would my father want me to be with him? " asked Hiccup. "You know, in person?"
A fake chuckle followed. Gobber waved his comment away, as if to say that the question wasn't important.
"Give yer dad a wee bit more credit lad. He cares about you, but yer character just makes it very hard. "
"Sure."
"That's not the point though. He needs you now. Our island is getting some high society visitors if I understand it correctly."
"High society?"
"From what I've heard, ay. No idea who though. But yer father insisted that you were at his side."
Hiccup Frowned.
"That would be a first." He murmured.
"Oi. No complainin'. If you really want to be by his side for boring politics this bad, then this is your chance."
A nod and a sigh later, and Gobber and Hiccup where on their way to Berk's little harbour. When it came into view, Hiccup couldn't contain a little gasp.
From afar, he could see the four most enormous longboats he had ever seen. Their sails were gigantic pieces of cloth, decorated with endless weavings about the gods and their story's. The sides of the ships where decorated with the most beautiful and richly decorated shields any viking on Berk had ever seen and the hulls weren't that different. All in all, they were everything that Berk wasn't.
"Wow."
"Continental people if I understand correctly. Seems to be a weird bunch." Gobber didn't seem to enthused by the whole situation.
Hiccup's eyes widened. Most Vikings lived on islands and their relationship with those on the continent where …complicated to say the least. To them, the continental Norsemen seemed almost like foreigners. Hiccup had never seen them in real live, and there had never been much reading around in Berk about their illustrious kinsmen from the 'motherland'.
While living on the islands of the north, it was not really difficult to forget that there existed a world outside of the handful of islands that made up most of Hiccup's world. A world were people did not need to worry about dragons all the time. A world were chiefs were no longer relevant, kings having replaced them ages ago. Even the Vikings homeland of Scandinavia still had few real chiefs left. Most of them were probably petty kings by now, serving bigger people than them. Hiccup did not really known that much about the world outside of Berk, although it wasn't because of not trying. Most books in Berk were just way too old to keep up with the modern times. Most of those books had been brought to Berk by the Vikings who originally settled it, and no one had really bothered to search for new ones in the meantime. What use where books anyway when most of them were burned by a dragon within the week of purchase?
"Why would people like that come to a tiny island like Berk?" Hiccup wondered, Gobber looking slightly disapproving at the slight jab at Berk. He ignored it though. Expecting this boy to have any affinity for his home was rather difficult when you knew what the civilians put him through every day. Then again, as a potential future chief, a little bit of patriotism couldn't hurt.
"Probably trying to establish a powerbase. I've heard rumours that the continental Vikings have been getting extremely powerful these last few decades. I think there are three now, but I don't know who that fourth ship is supposed to be. Anyway, that is nothing we need to worry about. You just have to stand there and try to do nothing too…..Hiccupy. "
Hiccup couldn't help but wince when Gobber gave him a reassuring slap on his shoulder. Here he was, presenting himself before the three mightiest Vikings who ever lived, the original Vikings where all their ancestors descended from, and here he was, probably embarrassing them all.
Much sooner than Hiccup wanted, they reached the docks. A crowd had already formed around the harbour, but none where allowed on the piers. Only Stoick stood there, together with Spitelout, looking at the enormous ships that entered the waters. The first ship was a gigantic longboat. A roof had been built above the rowers to protect them for long journeys, and Hiccup was amazed at the craftsmanship that the boat displayed. Its sails were the conventional red and white, but the flag was something everyone recognised. It was the black flag with a red eagle. A flag that every Viking knew.
It was a battle flag.
Making his way through the crowd, Hiccup could barely see what was going on, but when he finally entered the actual docks, he saw that the boat with the battle flag had docked first. Its head was the conventional dragon head, although the boat showed multiple marks of battle. This ship had seen things and been through hell and back.
The whole village of Berk seemed to gasp when the first rope was thrown out of the boat. Before anyone of the Hooligans could actually grab the rope, someone jumped out of the ship. Almost everyone clenched the hilts of their swords in a sudden reflex, and even Stoic barely kept himself from grabbing his own. Hiccup was halfway the pier at this point, but when the strange man jumped out of the ship, he stopped, slightly startled.
His helmet covered his whole face, resembling a demon of some sorts. The horns where bigger and more curved than Hiccup had ever seen, and they seemed to be ripped straight from Fafnir himself. His whole body was covered in mail armour, even his hands being covered by shiny mail gloves. In Berk, most armour was inherited and already hundreds of years old. Even his father, their chief, couldn't afford all that much with how scarce supplies for armour where. The man seemed to not notice or not care for them though, as he completely ignored Stoic and Spitelout, while fastening the ropes to one of the many wooden poles at the pier. When he was done, the heavily armoured Viking/demon walked over to Stoic. Hiccup could see his father's hand grabbing the handle of his sword. He didn't pull it out of its sheath, but the message to the stranger was clear. The man didn't seem to care though, continuing his walk until he stood only a meter before Stoick the Vast. Only now did Hiccup realise how truly enormous the guy was. He easily towered over his father and the armour only added to the grandeur and fear that this guy seemed to spread over the villagers of Berk.
"State yer business here." Stoic growled, now clearly grabbing his sword so the man would get the idea. Hiccup gulped in fear. This was not going to end well if this stranger didn't learn to be wiser. His father wasn't known for his peaceful negotiation tactics, but more for the typical Vikings way of solving things, namely clubbing it until it went away. Continental Viking were either incredibly stupid or totally suicidal, but Hiccup hoped that this guy was neither. To his surprise though, the man responded by the one thing no one expected.
He laughed.
A deep ,throaty laugh that seemed to shake the very ground everyone stood upon. Stoick looked at the man, slightly apprehensive , clearly not getting why and how any of this was considered funny.
"Stoick the vast. Your reputation of a hothead is as much true as it is pleasant. May I present myself." The man said, lifting his helmet from his head. A large head with long blonde hair, a braided blond beard and a heavily scared forehead, all combined with a dashing smile, was what greeted berk.
"My name is Björn, son of Eric, son of Anund, king of Sweden, and I must say that I am surprised, Stoic the vast."
Stoic frowned, choosing no to answer.
"This island of yours is much less miserable than I thought. I expected some provincial backwater, but this actually looks quite picturesque. On our way to this place I heard a lot about you though. How would you like it if we could one day go on a raid together, just to see your legendary skills in action?"
Stoic couldn't really answer, totally taken aback by the sudden praise bestowed upon him, but not less suspicious. Hiccup remembered having read about Sweden once. According to his books, it was a small chiefdom to the east, surrounded by water and rivalling people who the Swedes were in constant battle with. It was a violent place, even by Viking standards, and this guy's armour and ship clearly were a testament to the live he lived. A true warrior king.
"I would be honoured if the king of Sweden would raid with me, sire, but that is not what you're here for is it?" Stoick asked, finally having found his voice again.
"Cutting right to the chaise ey? I like that. Now we can skip the pleasantries. Sadly, we will have to wait for the others though. I don't want to ruin the surprise." Björn said, before making his thunderous laugh roar again, laying his hand on Stoick's shoulder. Hiccup could see his father tensing a little, but otherwise ignoring the gesture. Maybe even Stoick the vast understood the need of diplomacy when dealing with people like this.
The next boat that came in was a much more basic one. Although it was still bigger than the others held in Berk, it was smaller than Björn's one, and much less decorated. Slowly but surely the boat found its place. A small Viking stood up at the front of the boat, clearly uncomfortable with the eyes of the whole village on him. Hiccup was almost surprised, when he saw that the boy wasn't much younger than him, and clearly not much stronger. It seemed like not all Vikings where ashamed of their kids. After a strong gulp, the little viking announced his lord.
"Villagers of Berk, Chief Stoic the Vast and Björn Eriksson, king of Sweden. Make way for the lord and king of Denmark, Helge, son of Olaf, son of Ingjald."
Hiccup didn't know what he was expecting, but not …..this. Out of the boat came a man so old and tired that he almost seemed to be a walking corpse. His skin was way too pale to be healthy and his eyes looked like they were soulless. A thin, ghostly grey beard hid the rest of his face from view. If this was the king of Denmark, than Hiccup was the ruler of the Romans.
"Good to see you again, Helge. It has been too long." Björn bellowed, helping the old man walking over to Stoick. The Danish king wore a simple coat of fur and nothing much else and most would have confused him for a beggar if not for the beautiful sword strapped to his waist. Hiccup didn't believe the old man could do anything with it anymore, but it still looked like a masterpiece of craftsmanship and Hiccup would have loved to work on it in other circumstances. The old king had by now reached Stoic, and with some effort he was able to look the chief of the Hooligan tribe in the eyes.
"Stoick the vast." He simply said, not waiting for a reply. Helge walked past Spitelout and Björn, confusing all men on the pier, until they saw else who was also on the pier.
Hiccup.
Stoic seemed to have a momentary heart attack when he saw the old Danish king walk straight for his son, who still hadn't gotten further than halfway on the pier. Hiccup himself wasn't faring much better, sweat breaking out. What was this old guy doing? How could Hiccup avoid embarrassing himself in front of all these people? How could he make himself just disappear? What was going on?
Much sooner than Hiccup liked, the king had reached him, looking down at the small scrawny boy in front of him. A frown appeared on his already rumpled face, his dark brown eyes drilling into Hiccup's soul. After what felt like an eternity, Hiccup looked away, not able to hold to the stare any longer. Helge hummed at this, as if in thought.
"Pathetic." He muttered, before pushing Hiccup aside, walking to shore.
"What do you think you're doing? " Stoick shouted. Helge seemed unimpressed.
"Shut your barbarous mouth and show me your great hall. We have a lot to talk about. "
Hiccup looked at his father, and saw how his eyes started to glare ever so slightly at the old man. In a society were hardship and battle were signs of honour and glory, the Vikings of Berk could prove that they were among the most battle hardened Vikings who ever lived, and now some continental king was going to tell them that they were uncivilized? Hiccup had seen fights break out for less grave offenses. Then again, it wasn't every day that the king of Denmark came marching into your small village. Regardless of all of this, Stoic kept himself calm and collected.
"Fantastic." Hiccup sighed.
The great hall was fuller than Hiccup had ever seen. It appeared that every single citizen of Berk wanted to see this historic event. Not only the Hooligans were present though. All space that was normally available was now also taken up by the legions of Danes and Swedes that accompanied their kings. They were all heavily armed and kept their distances from the Hooligans. As a result of all these people being in such a small place, many of them could see practically nothing of what was going on at the central table. Not Hiccup though. As a result of being Stoic's son, he held a seat right next to his father. At Hiccups left were two empty chairs, still waiting for the two other kings that needed to dock. At the other side of the table sat Helge with an almost bored expression, like the whole situation was of little importance to him. Björn had chosen a seat next to Stoick and he had been talking for what seemed like hours at this point about the many heroic battles he had fought against the Finns.
"Oh Stoic, you should have been there, lad. Can you picture it? Me, all alone, surrounded by twenty heavily armed Finnish savages and me, only with a spearpoint and a dagger? I can tell you, I bet I would even give Thor a run for his money. Or Beowulf. I bet I could handle them both."
"Oh truly. I bet Thor shivers in his bed every night at only the thought of the mighty king of Sweden." Stoic answered in a voice so deeply dripping with sarcasm that one could have almost smelled the clear distaste coming from the chief a mile away. Björn didn't seem to catch on though, and only waved the assumed compliment away with one hand, using the other to take yet another drink from his horn. Hiccup had seen many Vikings drink before. It was almost rite of passage to become a man, being able to drink preposterous amounts of alcohol. Yet he had never seen a drunkard as this in his whole life. He had never seen a Viking like this period. What was wrong with the people on the continent? Had they all collectively hit their head on a big runestone or something?
Letting his eyes drift around the room, Hiccup noticed that Helge was staring right at the empty seats next to him as if he expected the other guests to pop up out of thin air. Now the king wasn't staring at him, Hiccup could get a better look of his face. The old man truly looked like he had experienced more than most people ever would. His whole head was one big canvas of scratches, stitches and other disfiguring wounds. His beard and hair were so thin that they were practically see-through, making his empty soulless eyes only more frightening. Hiccup felt a shiver run down his spine when he remembered how the old king had stared at him, his eyes drilling through every layer of his being. It felt like the kind that had seen everything and nothing at the same time and Hiccup didn't knew what to make of it.
"You're a good guy Stoic, but I think we have chatted enough now, don't ya think?"
"Ow do I ever." Stoic almost growled, his eyes dangerously glaring at the Swedish king. The recipient only chuckled at Stoic's words before he turned his attention to the whole hall.
"Vikings of Berk, Sweden and Denmark. Today we have come together to discuss something of great importance for all Vikings around the known world. I, with danger for my own life, have experienced a threat barely ever seen before by any other Norsemen."
"A Night-Fury?" Spitelout asked. Björn give him a dismissive look, not amused with how the Hooligan had interrupted his speech. Spitelout quickly lowered his gaze, not daring to look the swede in the eyes.
"So, as I said, I was travelling through the dark waters of the Baltic sea, having just returned from a glorious battle against the Poles. There I ransacked their cities and encountered thousands upon thousands of ….."
"In Odin's name, shut up." Helge hissed over the table, a dangerous look on his face.
"What's the matter, old man?" Björn teased, clearly amused by the other king's annoyance.
"We as Viking-kind are in a state of total chaos, and you dare to waste our time with ego-stroking nothingness. Keep your mouth shut from now on." The old king whispered, although his brown eyes never stopped glaring at the other man in the room.
"Can we focus on the problem here?" Stoic asked, clearly getting fed up with the whole situation.
"I don't need to take orders from a lowly chief from some backwater island. You have no say in this matter." Helge sneered, his hands grasping to his sword, followed soon by Stoic and Björn. Hiccup couldn't help but slightly lower himself, hoping that the table would guard him from the ensuing fight.
"No one insults me in my own hall. Do you wish for this to end in a battle, or what?"
"You can try, Stoic the vast, but a chief never won over a king, so come and claim your defeat."
"Gladly."
Swords were pulled, axes were picked up and insults were screamed. A Hooligan insult here, a Swedish insult there and the occasional potato-filled mouth insults from the Danes filled the room. This was going to be a brawl, and Hiccup was at the centre of it.
"Seems like we came late to the party, dear."
The whole hall seemed to quieten when the new voice was heard. Eyes dashed around the room, trying to find who spoke up amidst all this, until their eyes all landed on the two previously empty seats at the table. Hiccup almost fell from his chair when he saw that out of nowhere, two people now inhabited the chairs that had been seemingly unused only seconds before. At the left chair next to Helge, sat a short, thin long haired man. His robes seemed almost roman in construction, reaching over his knees, ending just above the ground. His long hair was beautifully groomed but there was no beard to decorate his chin, giving him an oddly youthful appearance. The sword strapped to his waist was obviously not Viking-made, just as the rest of his strange attire. A devious smirk rested on the man's face, who, now Hiccup could really look at him, looked not a day younger than twenty. He was playing with a small Saxon dagger, seemingly cutting his fingernails. His build was weak and small compared to that of the other kings, and he almost looked feminine or sickly, although not nearly as sickly as Helge. That was a rather difficult standard to meet though.
"And who are you supposed to be? " Stoick barked.
"My, My, what manners. What do you think, your grace?" the man asked to the person seated next to Hiccup. Only now all the eyes fell on the second person did Hiccup realise that their actually was another one. His mouth almost fell open at what he saw. There, sitting next to him, sat someone who could only be described as one of the true valkyrja. Her face was the most precious, fragile, dolled up thing Hiccup had ever seen, and her deep red robes were decorated with so much gold and silver that they could have fed Berk as a whole for multiple generations. Black lace and lining finished the dress, giving it a more sinister look than was probably intended. Her black hair hang to the ground, rapped into two enormous braids, decorated with more red and golden cords and lining. Many of the Hooligan tribe felt the need to instinctively kneel, almost sensing the royalness that came from this person. The only thing that acknowledged her being a Viking were the many skulls hanging from her skirt and the horned crown on her head, seemingly reaching for the sky. Another shiver went down Hiccups spine when he realised that the skulls were human and probably real. Whoever this was, they had seen conquest. And why were the Danes and Swedes backing away all of a sudden?
"You…" Helge whispered, venom dripping from his tone. The beardless man next to him only grinned, before standing up and exclaiming:
"Welcome, Vikings of Berk, Sweden and Denmark. I am Guthfrith, son of Hardacnut, son of Sigurd, ruler of the noble kingdom of Northumbria. May I introduce to you the strongest Viking who ever lived. He who conquered a thousand chiefdoms, who unified most of your ancestral home and who proved that he was a true son of Odin. He who made a thousand jarl's bow, a thousand chiefs flee and united all of the western Vikings under one cause. " With one hand Guthfrith gestured to the woman next to him.
"Harald Fairhair. King of Norway, and high king of all the Vikings on this world."
After these words Guthfrith sat down again and for a moment the whole room became silent.
"Wait, she is a …..he?" Spitelout asked, clearly done with everything, sounding almost tired. Guthfrith nodded.
Hiccup could have sworn he would have heard a feather drop in the silence that followed. None of the Vikings seemed to be able to open their mouths, their brains unable to wrap themselves around what they saw before their very eyes.
"So, let's get back to what we are here for, because it seems like you people can't really work together that well." Guthfrith said, his voice so sugary sweet that it would've rotted most Viking's teeth if it could.
"I won't be insulted by a traitor and a bastard like you, son of a whore." Helge spat. Guthfrith seemed unfazed by the insult, instead returning a smile that would have melted anyone's soul, if not for his mischievous eyes.
"My birth has nothing to do with this as far as I am concerned, Lord of Denmark. As for my alliances, I swear to God that I like Anglo-Saxons just as much as any other person in this room, and I have fought their king, Aethelstan, enough to prove it. What have you been doing in the meantime? Killing some farmers for sport?"
A collective gasp went through the Danes for reasons Hiccup couldn't really attain. Guthfrith seemed royal enough, but Helge clearly had a history with him.
"I will kill you, you disgusting slave, you-"
"Enough" Stoick shouted, his voice booming through the great hall.
"This is my hall. You will not insult the sanctity of this place with your grievances." Stoick stated, before sighing.
"When I got the request by some Norwegian traders for a meeting to take place on my island, I didn't agree just for some royal squabbles to happen. I was informed that this meeting concerned something that no Viking could ignore or solve alone. Well now, what is it then?
"Nice words." Björn muttered, nodding his head. Hiccup thought he looked like a child that wanted to appease his father. Stoick ignored the Swedish king and instead looked at Guthfrith.
"King of Northumbria, please continue."
"Thank you very much, chief Stoick. I promise your help will be honoured when I return to my homeland. Anyway, recently I was contacted by my good friend Harald over here to help him out with a common problem that both our kingdoms face. After some time we realised that it is a problem we all share, a threat that looms over our whole existence as Vikings."
"Dragons?" someone in the back shouted. Guthfrith ignored it, instead answering with:
"Picts."
Again, silence fell over the room, although this time Hiccup didn't understand why, and neither did his classmates, looking at each other in confusion. The adults had an all different reaction altogether, most of them looking extremely grim, while others had expressions that betrayed disbelief.
"They are a myth." Spitelout barked, clearly uncomfortable with the new info. Guthfrith just smiled at him with that same unnerving smile.
"Let me clarify. I'm king of Northumbria, a kingdom located North of the Anglo-Saxon realm and surrounded on the all sides by multiple Celtic kingdoms. And as for the Picts, you see, I am positioned right under them. The kingdom of Picts, or the kingdom of Alba as they call it, is infested with them, and I share a northern border with them. It is a whole country of murdering vandals and criminals. This wasn't a problem in the past, but recently they have restarted an old tradition of theirs."
"And what may that be?" Stoick asked, clearly intrigued by the whole thing. This time, Helge answered.
"Back in the day, those dirty uncivilized animals would take their boats and they would fare on the northern seas, attacking anything that they encountered. They plundered our first colonies, attacked our mainland and sunk our first longboats. Almost destroyed our future and the Viking world as a whole, but thanks to some trouble within their borders, it stopped. Some typical infighting, as tends to happen with their kind." The old king whispered.
"Sounds like you have some experience with them?" Stoick said flatly. Helge shook his head.
"No. Even my grandfather only knew them by the stories that people would tell about them. About how they plundered our coasts, about how they kept the Anglo-Saxons from their lands, about how they repelled the forces of Northumbria. Some even used to say that their fighting was so fierce, that even the Romans, that illustrious southern empire from ages past, couldn't conquer them."
Stoick answered by humming, his eyes looking slightly past the Danish king, lost in thought.
"These last few months though, it has started again, and the situation has become dire. If we don't put an end to it, we may as well start becoming Roman because than it is over with us Vikings. Done, dead, beaten, broken. All of it." Guthfrith ended. The king crossed his legs and put his hands in his lap, as if waiting for a reaction from the other viking kings.
"And what is it to you, dear Northumbrian king? You speak of 'Viking -kind, yet you aren't one of us." Helge spat with malice. Guthfrith just chuckled, his sly smile still on his face.
"Oh, but I am very much part of Viking kind, old man. I may have been raised on the British Isles, but my father was just as much a Viking as each of you. He drove the ruling Saxon filth from the throne and now it's us Vikings that sit on the Northumbrian throne."
Helge just looked at Guthfriths attire and muttered "We both have very different ideas about what constitutes a Viking, you charlatan."
"Can we get back to the topic at hand?" Stoick sighed.
"We will crush them." Björn huffed. At this, Guthfrith shook his head.
"We cant. This are not some tribal Finns or some decadent Franks we are talking about. These guys are almost feral, and they are barely reasonable. They would wipe us out without breaking a sweat."
"What do you propose then?" Helge asked, his eyes drilling holes in the side of Guthfrith's face. He clearly wasn't expecting a good answer.
"Easy. A marriage." Guthfrith stated simply, toying with the dagger between his fingers. Although his eyes rested upon the small weapon, everyone knew that his attention was truly on them, waiting for their reaction.
Silence hang in the great hall, until…
"You cannot expect that one us is going to marry one of those savages, can you?" Helge barked, his old hoarse voice straining.
"Don't get your horns in a twist, old man. None of us will have to suffer something like that. Our high king has already decided who's people will provide the suitor." Guthfrith said, pointing at Harald. The feminine Viking had spent the whole time just smiling, his eyes slowly scanning the whole room, as if he was looking at some flowers to put in her…..his hair. Out of nowhere, he looked straight at Hiccup, not saying a word. Hiccup could feel his stomach turn.
"You want to send someone from Berk to….them?" Stoic whispered, clearly shocked.
"Yes, Stoic the vast. And as the chief of this village, we bestow upon you the honourable task of picking a suitable suitor ." Guthfrith said, his smile widening. "And think about it this way. You will probably be the first chief in your islands history to marry royalty."
Hiccup felt like throwing up.