Right, so this my second fanfic. Originally, I had something else planned aside this, but when this idea popped into my head I just couldn't get it out of my mind, and eventually it lead me wanting to turn this idea into a story.

Keep in mind by the way that the setting presented in this chapter will not be the main setting/plot, though it will last through a certain amount of chapters, and in the future there will be Hiccstrid.

But anyways, for now I present you guys with my new story! Enjoy!

Hiccup woke up nearly startled to the sound of the horn echoing throughout the Viking city of Kattegat. He shivered as a cold chill blew against him, and blinked from the light of the cloudy winter morning.

The eighteen year old sat up straight, shifting his feet to the wooden floor of the small cottage, rubbing his eyes as his vision began to come more clear to him.

"Another day of work, as usual." he yawned, stretching himself out.

But just as he was about to stand to his feet, a sudden loud knock came from the wooden door of the cottage and it bursted open, revealing a buff man who wore black, from his padded cloth jacket to his leather gloves, leggings, and boots.

Hiccup gave a groan. 'The Slavemaster.' he thought to himself. 'I hate this guy…'

"Get up, Slave!" he called out angrily. "The Blacksmith is piling up with warriors, awaiting for their weapons to be sharpened, reforged, and balanced! You're expected to be there immediately!"

Hiccup frowned. "Please, give me a moment. I only just woke up-"

"That's not my problem." the Slavemaster growled. "Now get up, and report to the Blacksmith!"

"Alright, just let me-"

"NOW!" he bellowed.

Hiccup gave a sigh, standing up on his feet and calmly making his way outside into the streets of the snowy city, but not before putting on his furred cloak.

As he made his way out, the door behind him was instantly shut, and the Slavemaster stood there with his arms crossed, guarding the door.

"Go on…" he growled.

Hiccup wasted no time, not wanting to take another beating out of the countless he had from the buff and angry Viking, and he began making his way through the falling snow, following the dirt road to the Blacksmith.

For nearly all of his life, Hiccup had lived in the harsh land of Scandinavia, not knowing where he truly came from since he was found as a baby. He resided among the Völsung Clan in the Viking city of Kattegat, though unlike most people, Hiccup was raised as a slave; treated as a runt, and overall life never became better for him, especially at the age of fourteen when he began to take beatings...

Soon enough, after the slow and freezing walk from the cottage, he finally arrived at the Blacksmith and saw that there was a line of at least eight Vikings with their weapons in hand.

As he proceeded to make his way in, he could see from the corner of his eye the patrons eyeing him with glares and faces of disappointment.

"Failure." one would say.

"Slave." another would spit out at him.

"...Useless."

Hiccup tried not to mind them, continuing his way forward into the shop, and behind the counter was the only person in his life that had ever respected and been kind to him.

The young man gave a small smile at Hiccup as he made his way in. "Ah, you finally arrived, Hiccup. There are eight warriors in line waiting for their weapons to be worked on. It's great that you came in on good timing."

"Trust me, Magnus, it's not like I wanted to get up this early… as I always do."

The black-haired smithy chuckled. "No worries, you'll get used to it. For now, please help me run the forge. After all, these weapons aren't going to make themselves."

Magnus was twenty five years old, seven years older than Hiccup, and it was seven years ago that they met. Since that moment, they both kept a close watch on each other for years, and eventually they became good friends. When Hiccup turned fourteen Magnus took the younger Viking under his wing as his assistant smithy, though he was unable to truly make him an apprentice or hire him as a smithy...

As Magnus hammered against a blunted weapon, he looked back at the scrawny lad. "So, I assume the Slavemaster woke you up?"

"As usual." replied Hiccup, giving off a yawn.

"And he forced you out?"

"Yep. Also as usual."

The blacksmith sighed, turning his attention back on the weapon he was hammering. "You know, if you wanted, I could speak to the Slavemaster about giving you better shelter. That way you wouldn't have to hear his voice every morning..."

"There's no way in the name of Thor that he would allow me to move into your hut, Magnus." said Hiccup, sharpening a sword against the grinding wheel. "And even if he would allow me, I would still be a waste of space for you."

"Pfft. No you wouldn't." chuckled Magnus. "All I would need to do is find a place for you to sleep, whilst making sure that you wake up on time so that you don't get… well, you know."

"So I wouldn't be a waste of space in your home?" asked Hiccup.

The blacksmith shook his head. "No, of course not."

Hiccup gave a sigh. "Well… I'm going to have to deny. I'm sorry, Magnus, but I just can't. The Slavemaster would begin assuming that you'd be planning to set me free or something, in which he'd grow suspicious of you. You know how he hates to lose a slave."

Magnus shrugged. "Seems reasonable… but anyways, this blade's finished!" he announced loudly, glancing at the hard work he placed into the sword before giving it back to the owner.

The female Viking after inspecting her sword gave a nod, dropping a small satchel of coins onto the counter of the Blacksmith. Then, the next Viking was up. A buff man wearing a metal helmet, along with chain-mail armor. Hiccup assumed it was a guard.

"Blacksmith!" he began. "Is my sword sharpened?"

Magnus gave a cheerful nod. "As sharp as the best there can be! My assistant is making the final touches."

The Viking noticed Hiccup sharpening the blade and he snarled upon sight of seeing him, giving off a glare. "A weapon such as mine does not deserve to be in his hands! Hurry up already, Useless! Finish with it, and don't put your filthy hands on it again!"

Hiccup gave a slim glare back at the man. Although he was a slave, he should at least be given gratitude for giving a fellow Viking a helping hand, and as well as…

Gah, what was he thinking? To him, the Vikings of Kattegat weren't his Vikings, nor his folk, he would never be shown respect from them. He's nothing more than a runt to them.

After finally finishing with sharpening the sword, Hiccup walked up to the counter and set down the blade in front of the man, hilt first. The man picked it up and began inspecting it from tip to hilt.

"Not bad for a slave." he said, before dropping a small satchel of coins on the counter and turning around, ready to walk off.

Hiccup crossed his arms. "Aren't you going to say thank you?"

Immediately he would regret asking that. The man stabbed his sword into the muddy ground and turned around to face the scrawny Viking, proceeding to advance onto Hiccup - only to stop a couple of feet away from him.

The man gave a smile, showing off his disgusting yellow teeth, and then his expression would change from that back into a glare. He raised his right arm and gave a hard backhand to Hiccup's face, sending him falling back to the ground.

"Thanks!" the man said sarcastically, finishing off with; "Runt."

He pulled his sword out from the ground and began walking away in the other direction, while the other Vikings behind him were laughing at Hiccup.

"Hah! Look at how weak this slave is!" one of them laughed, but the charade would not last long as Magnus slammed his fist hard into the wooden counter, grabbing everyone's attention.

"Right, all of you! Either you cut it out or I won't take any of your weapons! Get back in line!" he yelled, and without any words the townsfolk patrons quickly got back into line.

Magnus sighed as he walked up to Hiccup, offering a hand to the scrawny Viking, and he gladly took the older Viking's hand, helping himself up.

"If my father's friend Gobber was here, he would have probably kicked the Thor out of these fools. That is if he's alive, though."

"Eh, don't worry about it." smiled Hiccup. "This place is filled with wild-folk. For me to get kicked or punched in the face isn't anything new."

"Well, if you say so."

He gave Hiccup a pat on the shoulder, making his way back to the counter as he announced loudly; "Who's next in line!?" and the third Viking in line came forward with a weapon in hand.

"A mace?" asked Magnus. "Do you need it rebalanced?"

The woman nodded. "Aye. Took many hits in battle, so I'll need it as good as new."

Magnus looked back at Hiccup. "Very well, I'll have my assistant Hiccup get working on it right away."

Her eyes widened, and she gave a splurt of laughter. "Him? Working on my mace? Absolutely not. I won't allow my mace in the hands of a dirty slave-"

"If you're going to act dirty yourself, then I won't take it." interrupted Magnus, angrily rejecting the mace as he placed he back on the counter. "Despite his status as a slave, he is still the second best smithy in this city, and you mock his natural skill? You know I'm sure there's another smithy out there in the city that'll take your weapon… oh wait, I forgot; there isn't. And even if there was, their skill would not match his, nor mine."

The woman sighed, giving a slim glare at Hiccup and then at Magnus. "Fine, but make it quick!"

Magnus nodded, taking the mace and handing it over to Hiccup. "Make sure to get this weapon rebalanced, and try your best."

Hiccup sighed. "Very well, I'll be right on it."

...

Hiccup worked for many hours that day, and already it was noon. The heat of the forge had warmed him up to the point where he wasn't shivering as much as he was from the freezing snow, but still the hard work exhausted him.

He silently walked along the dirt road heading towards the city's plaza, looking around at the huts and structures he passed by, though he wasn't too interested in what he saw.

"This city really needs renovation." he said to himself. "Everything looks grey and dull…"

And it was true. Kattegat was not the best thing in the world to Hiccup. It was nothing more than a city of wood, hay, and stone sitting near a large lake located in a frozen wasteland. Though after all, the city did reside in Norway.

As Hiccup continued walking along the road his stomach began to grumble. He hadn't eaten anything in the morning, and hours of working had left him starving of food. "Great…" he sighed.

However, as he made his way into the plaza he spotted a nearby tavern which was to his luck opened. Before entering, he squinted his eyes at the sign that hanged above the door and read the name out loud to himself.

"The… Blade and Daggers Tavern." he quietly said to himself. "Not really my type, but this place should suffice."

After inspecting the outside of the tavern, Hiccup gave a nod and proceeded to make his way towards the door, and he opened it without rush.

Making his way inside, the heat of the nearby torches and hall firepit hit him like water, and quickly he began to warm up. He glanced around and saw that there was decent amount of people in there, at least fifteen or more, and music from the minstrels was being played.

Immediately he then spotted a counter with a tavern-keeper staring at him, and he started making his way to the counter.

As he walked towards it, he looked around and noticed some of the patrons gazing at him with their drinks in hand, either with glares or expressionless looks. He knew well that they knew he was a slave.

Hiccup comfortably sat himself in a chair, finally glancing at the tavern-keeper. They both exchanged looks at first until the keeper asked; "Do you need something, or are you just going to stare?"

Hiccup gave a sigh. "I'll have a roasted mutton, along with a mug of ale."

"Winged mutton or legged?" he asked.

"Legged, please."

The keeper gave a nod. "Horned mug or wooden?"

"Wooden." replied Hiccup.

"That will cost you at least a few silver."

Hiccup nodded as he reached into his cloak, pulling out a small satchel of silver coins which was given to him by Magnus, and he placed it onto the counter.

The keeper raised a brow and proceeded to open the satchel. Once he untied the knot, he flipped the small bag upside down and out from it came a few silver coins, falling directly into his hands.

"Hmph. Well at least you paid, unlike many folk. Surprising that it's from a slave, though." he said, gripping the coins and placing them in a pocket behind his cloak. "Stay here. I'll be right back."

Hiccup nodded as the keeper walked off into one of the back-rooms to prepare his meal. He patiently waited, placing his elbows on the counter with his hands grasped together.

All the meanwhile as he waited, the voices of two men from behind suddenly caught his attention. At first, he didn't know what they were talking about, but when he started to focus he began to make out the words that they were saying, and immediately he became interested.

"Did you hear about the recent rumor?" the first Viking whispered.

"No. It's been awhile since I've ever heard one. What's the rumor about?" the second Viking questioned.

"Apparently the folk are saying that there's an Archipelago lying out somewhere in the ocean, home to more Viking tribes."

The second Viking chuckled. "An Archipelago? There are no more lands to the west, brother. And even if there was, I highly doubt these islands would be of more worth to us."

"Who ever said that they were located west?" the first Viking asked. "There's more than just tribes up there, brother… people say that the Archipelago is the place where you'll find the Dragons."

The second Viking coughed. "Bah! That stuff on the Nightmares, Nadders, Gronckles and Zipplebacks are nothing more than a myth! A fairy tale!"

"So then why does the idea exist?"

"I don't know! Maybe because some idiot decided to make it up…"

The first Viking sighed. "If you say so... Now, let's get back onto the matter of the recent land dispute…"

Hiccup thought of it for a moment, and a small smile began to spread across his face. He could easily see it: An Archipelago out in the ocean that was filled with tribes that were possibly better than the Völsung Clan, and in that Archipelago there would await a tribe on an island that he could find to call his home.

However, the smile on Hiccup's face would be shortly expressed as it was soon replaced a with a frown. He quickly sighed at the realization.

"If only it existed…" he quietly said to himself.

His attention however was once again taken. He noticed the tavern keeper walking towards him without rush, and in his hands he held a plate of roasted mutton and a wooden mug of ale. Hiccup rubbed his hands and sat straight.

…

He ate well that afternoon. The leg of mutton and the mug of ale filled his stomach nicely, and though it was at the cost of a few silver coins, it was still worth it, even after a hard day of work.

Hiccup followed the dirt road which led back to his cottage, thinking about nothing more than to rest that day, despite it still being daylight. To him, a head start on his sleeping schedule would be enough for him to restore a good amount of energy for tomorrow.

As he continued making his way down towards the cottage, he noticed that the Slavemaster still stood at the entrance, with his arms crossed and what seemed to be him on the lookout.

Hiccup arched a brow, but continued making his way to the small shelter, despite his thoughts on why the large man was still there.

It wouldn't be long however until the Slavemaster noticed the scrawny Viking coming towards him, and he gave a smile upon seeing his slave approaching him. To Hiccup, something wasn't right.

"Ah, you finally returned, Slave!" the Slavemaster chuckled. "I was beginning to think that you wouldn't show up!"

"Well, this cottage is my home." answered Hiccup. "But what business do you still have here? I've done as you ordered for today."

"Nothing." the Slavemaster smiled. "All that matters is that you arrived in time."

"...In time for what?"

The larger man gave a cackle-like laughter, and immediately his face turned into a glare. "In time for your interrogation." He pulled his arm back, giving a firm and hard punch to the scrawny Viking in the stomach, and Hiccup fell to the ground.

The Slavemaster gave a loud whistle, and from out of nowhere came two guards running towards Hiccup. They grabbed the young Viking by his weak arms and pulled him to his feet.

"Did you really think you could get away with what you did?"

Hiccup looked at him in confusion. "W-What have I done? All I did was go to the Blacksmith and work as you ordered me to! I didn't do anything-!"

He was met with a smack to the face, and he nearly fell back again from the force of the hit. The impact was hard enough to make blood come out of his nose, and Hiccup could feel it dripping slowly down his right nostril.

"Stop lying to me you filthy runt, and admit what you did!" he gnarled at Hiccup. "We know you picked a fight with one of the patrons in line today at the Blacksmith, and this patron was one of our guards! They told us everything that happened!"

Hiccup's face lit up from those words. "Me!? How could I stand up against a guard!? A warrior with greater strength! Please, you have to believe me - whatever they told you is nothing but a lie!"

"That's not how I see it!" exclaimed the larger Viking, giving Hiccup a backhand to the face, lighter than the previous smack. "If words from me won't get the truth out of you, then maybe words from Ivar the Boneless can!"

Hiccup's eyes widened, and he shuddered heavily at that name. 'No... Anyone but him… No!' he thought to himself. He opened his mouth and tried to speak, but no words came out, for it was obvious that he was frightened, and the Slavemaster could see it.

The larger Viking knelt to Hiccup's level. "Scared, Useless?" he asked with a chuckle. "Well I hope you're scared. I'm sure you and him are going to have a good talk together."

The Slavemaster stood straight back on his feet, looking at both of the guards with a disgruntled face. "Take him to the Great Hall! Chief Ivar will want to have a word with our Slave!"