Those Who Stay

Chapter 1

A/N: This is just a little idea that occurred to me. It will turn OOC, as a warning. If you prioritize IC AUs, you might want to turn back now. And basically, just...enjoy? Review if you like it, keep quiet if you don't. Or flame, but those will be ignored.

Stoick the Vast was tired. He was stressed and frustrated and a million other things, a million other little worries and woes piling on his mind at that moment, but he kept it together because he was the chief, and that was what chiefs were supposed to do. He still had people to lead, and for as long as he had people to lead, he couldn't afford to become weak or emotional. He needed to be strong for the battles ahead.

His eyes flicked over the Vikings filing into the Great Hall – they all looked as he felt – exhausted. Hopeless. Weary. Frustrated. Every single one of them. Because of those beasts, those savage, mindless monsters and his son…

His mind flitted back to Hiccup's hopeful, freckled face. Why couldn't the boy follow orders? Their sheep had been taken from them because of him and now they would have no wool! Even worse, the dragons had managed to raid much of the village's food supply, leaving their storage houses empty and leaving them virtually powerless to restock until the end of winter. If something didn't change soon, they would starve. He scowled down at the map spread out over the large center table, trying to erase his previous conversation with his son from his mind. Well, really, it was more of an argument. Why did everything with his son always have to end in an argument? Sure, it wasn't so bad when the boy was five and six, stubborn but actually willing to listen. Now? Odin himself could descend from Valhalla, and Hiccup would still plunge on ahead with his own agenda. Restraining him was like restraining the wind.

Beside him, Gobber cleared his throat, signifying that the rest of the village had filed into the Great Hall and currently awaited the words of their chief. He sighed, shifting his gaze back to the map temporarily. If he just didn't look at them, he didn't have to think about anything but those other islands, farther inland, for a few minutes. Finally, he took a deep breath, forcing himself to face the exhausted warriors in front of him. "Either we finish them, or they finish us. It's the only way we'll be rid of them."

He could easily read the surprise and shock on his villager's faces – they had been expecting plans to restock their food, or an ingenious plan. But the problem was, Stoick was all out of both. He had no ideas. Nothing he did or said within the next few minutes could fix this. So he had to give voice to the only idea he possessed, burning within him like a fire. "If we find the nest and destroy it, the dragons will leave. They'll find another home!" He grabbed up the knife lying beside him on the table, plunging it deeply into the thick paper, listening to the satisfying ripping sound. It made him feel a little better, at least. "One more search," he added as an afterthought. "Before the ice sets in."

The Vikings around him began to murmur, drawing slightly away from him as if he had a highly infectious disease that they were afraid of catching. And maybe he did. Gobber always said he was the craziest, most boar-headed, most stubborn Viking there ever was.

"Today's no good for me," one of the Vikings offered up weakly, shrinking away from him.

"I have to do my…axe returns."

Stoick's annoyance flared. Seriously?

But to his immense chagrin, nobody was sticking up for him, saying, "Yeah, sure, I'll go with the chief!"

If just one person swung it for him, then he could get other people on his side, too…but everybody fell silent after the first two or three excuses. Well, there was more than one way to skin the proverbial dragon. "Alright." He nodded. "Those who stay will look after Hiccup."

As expected, hands suddenly shot into the air, the same Vikings who had tried to avoid going now clamoring for a spot.

"To the ships!"

"I'm with you, Stoick!"

The man smiled to himself, but refused to let the satisfaction show on his face – he merely gave a stern nod, looking around at the volunteering villagers in turn. "Aye, that's more like it."

"Right. I'll pack my undies."

Startled, the chieftain turned. Gobber. Of course. He sighed. "No. I need you to stay, and train some new recruits."

Gobber made a face. "Oh, perfect," he muttered sarcastically – Stoick wondered if that was where his son got his dry humor from. "And while I'm busy, Hiccup can cover the stall. Molten steel, razor-sharp blades, lots of time to himself…what could possibly go wrong?"

The weight of the world pressed deeply into Stoick's shoulders. "What am I gonna do with him, Gobber?" Wasn't that the question of the week?

"Put him in training, with the others," Gobber responded, as casually as if he wasn't condemning the boy to his death with his words.

"He'd be killed before you let the first dragon out of its cage!"

"Well, he needs someone to look after him while you're gone, Stoick – believe it or not, you won't always be around to protect him. If he's in training, at least I'll be able to keep an eye on him, right? Besides, you said – those who stay will look after Hiccup, right?"

"I know, but Gobber…dragon training?" The man pressed nervously, brows scrunching together. "I'd come back to find my son in pieces, and that's not—wait a second. Who else is staying? Nearly everyone volunteered, except…"

"Except Gothi," Gobber supplied automatically. "And Mildew."

Stoick's own words echoed in his head. "Those who stay will look after Hiccup."

The man smiled. "Right. I've got an idea."

"What?" Mildew was, to say the least, flabbergasted. He had recently been staying out of the shenanigans of those crazy Vikings in the village. In fact, he rarely had need to go into town anymore – ever since the chieftain had deemed him too old and frail to fight against the dragons, he'd secluded himself.

"You heard me." Stoick the Vast had guts, that was for sure. Clearly, he thought he could just throw his weight around and get what he wanted. Well, Mildew may have surpassed the age for fighting, but he was still quite fierce in battle, thank you very much! He was not going down without some sort of fight! "Everyone in the village did, actually. Except you. Those who stay will look after Hiccup." His mouth twisted into what Mildew almost thought was a mischievous smirk.

"Let me go!" The elderly man was only seconds away from begging on bended knee. "Don't make me stay with…with him!"

"Look, whatever your opinion of him, you do want this village to still be intact after my search is over, correct?"

No words come out of Mildew's mouth. He was too…horrified. Shocked. Furious. He was to be saddled with the unwanted runt all because Stoick the Vast was too busy riding into battle at too old an age to even bother looking after his kid himself? Why couldn't Gobber have been stuck with him? Why wasn't he put in Dragon Training? And then the idea of Hiccup in Dragon Training crossed the elderly man's mind and he winced. Maybe that was for the sake of the village, too.

And under the glare from the chieftain's watchful eye, he dared not refuse. "Alright," he muttered resentfully, clutching his staff a little tighter as he spoke. "I'll try my best."