Hey, everybody, ChaosX97 here and I am pretty excited to post my first Httyd fanfiction here. Well, first and foremost let me point out that this isn't fully MY story. Those who remember the title may find this obvious, although you never really know since most different fanfics have similar titles. This story is technically a rewrite and was originally uploaded by 'NightShade248,' or 'DevilHalfa3333' if you remember them by that name; they wrote, deleted, and rewrote the story, and currently is in the process of writing a reworked version along with a sequel. I have their permission to upload this, just so you know, so no one should accuse me of stealing. This ISN'T my idea, got it?

That being said, I have a lot of ideas for this story to flesh it out a bit. I really like the original idea, and I have a lot of my own thoughts for how it could go, so for fans of the original, be prepared for a lot of new stuff. I promise you won't be disappointed.

All rights to Httyd belong to Cressida Cowell and DreamWorks. And again, all OC's and the original story belong to NightShade248.

Hiccup still remembered the cheers of the Vikings as he trekked through the familiar path in the forest, a large bag slung over his shoulder, the joyous praises of his talents echoing through his ears as his mind jumped back to the arena match with the Gronkle. Because of them, he had bumped up to the top of the class faster than anyone could even process. Of course, with Vikings, whose wits were about as slow as snails, that wasn't surprising.

Of course, he owed his success to the tiny little fact that he had defied 300 years of Viking tradition. In those three long centuries, spanning farther back than anyone could remember, Viking tribes had been at war with dragons: massive fire-breathing creatures that flew through the skies and raided islands throughout the archipelago for their food, and occasionally killed to get it. The Vikings would always fight back, and the continuous dance of death between the two species led the Vikings, especially the people of Berk, to build most of their culture off of killing the evil, mindless demons.

Hiccup, however, was the sole exception: in his efforts to please his father Stoick the Vast, the chief of the Hairy Hooligan tribe, he had managed to capture the rarest and most dangerous dragon in the world: the unholy offspring of lightning and death, the Night Fury. However, rather than kill it, he actually befriended it, even rode it. Through studying the elusive dragon, who he named 'Toothless' due to its retractable teeth, he had learned many things about his kind that were never mentioned in the 'Book of Dragons,' the Vikings' recorded log of all dragon knowledge they had, which really only included information on what they could do and how dangerous they were, each one recommended to 'kill on sight.'

He had just completed a semifinal match of sorts, competing alongside Astrid, the shield maiden Viking prodigy who he had had a crush on since hormones had first kicked in for him. She had never really taken notice of him before, in fact she had probably preferred to pretend he wasn't there, but now that he had surpassed her – her, who had trained ruthlessly for the chance to follow in the footsteps of all the brave and mighty warriors who came before her in the battle against the dragons – her mind was consumed by him. To Astrid, her prowess and reputation as a warrior was everything to her, and so she had strived for perfection in everything she did, especially in dragon training. After all, the winner would obtain the honor of killing the Monstrous Nightmare, a breed that only the best Vikings went after.

She had charged forth, hopping over the wooden hurdles with little effort, roaring in rage and desperation for the blood of the husky rock-shaped dragon on her sharp axe as a sign of her conquest over Hiccup, to finally remind everyone that he was still Hiccup the Useless, the tiny troublesome pest that only served as dead weight for the rest of the tribe. Sadly, her victory, as it rushed ever closer, was instantly snatched away as the small boy approached the Gronkle, and in a matter of seconds it fell to the ground, tongue lolling out the side of its mouth and its hind left leg swiping the air as it laid in contentment, moaning in what appeared to the Vikings who had gathered to watch as pain.

She could only stare in disbelief as her last chance for victory, for glory in the eyes of her people, was snatched away. "NO!" She screamed as she swung her axe down and stomped her foot in frustration, the reality of her loss to Hiccup finally sinking in. "NO, SON OF A HALF-TROLL, RAT EATING, MUNGE BUCKET!" Astrid swung her axe randomly and violently as she swore; some of the parents actually had to cover the ears of their children, protecting their ears and their delicate minds from such profound language. The twins, Ruffnut and Tuffnut, however, nearly bowled over in laughter.

"Wait, wait. Okay, quiet down" called out a large mountain of a man with a fiery red beard wearing a green tunic: this was Stoick the Vast, the mighty Viking warrior who could shatter rock with his head, the chief of the Hairy Hooligan tribe, and Hiccup's father. He had just returned with a fleet of tattered ships from another failed search for the dragons' nest, and wasn't all that much in the mood for any more bad news regarding how badly he assumed Hiccup was failing in Training, but upon hearing the news of his son gaining celebrity status due to his success in the ring, his spirits lifted more than anyone could say. Stoick had lost any faith in his son over those painful, exasperating first 14 years of his embarrassment of a son's life; due to his weak body, his strange inventing habits, and his refusal to obey his father's orders, Stoick was convinced the boy was just going to die out one day from the sickness he always ended up contracting in the dead of winter or end up being a light snack for attacking dragons, some had callously wished sometimes he would. His people would always offer condolences for Stoick bearing such a pathetic child who more than likely would never amount to anything; sorry was all anyone could think of when they caught sight of him. But knowing that Hiccup had apparently been 'holding out on him' was nearly enough to make him sprout wings himself and fly to Valhalla and back; honestly, if he had heard it from anyone else, he would have thought them mad.

"Soo... Later!" Hiccup quickly spouted in an attempt to escape the ring as quickly as possible.

"Ah, ah, not so fast," said Gobber, using his hook hand to pick Hiccup up by the collar of his tunic and placed him back on the floor.

"Uh, well, you see, I'm kinda late for." Hiccup stuttered.

"WHAT!? Late for what, exactly?" An enraged sounding voice called from behind him and spun him around roughly with the lethal blade of an axe so Hiccup could fully see its source. His opponent, long-time crush, and at that very moment, greatest fear. The splotches of dirt abundantly clear on every bit of revealed skin from rolling around on the ground, the large amounts of sweat pouring down like a waterfall from her body, the frazzled and messy locks of golden hair that for so long made her seem so beautiful, and the wide, bloodshot eyes from weeks of frustration made Astrid look nothing short of crazed in Hiccup's perspective.

"The elder has decided," Stoick proclaimed from above as he gestured to a short, hunched old woman with a long, worn out staff made from a tree branch. This was Gothi, one of the Hooligans' elders, and it was she who ultimately would choose who would be the one to kill the Nightmare. The village stopped their cheers immediately as Hiccup and Astrid came together, standing a foot apart from each other, as a man almost as big as Stoick, with a blond mustache, a rock tooth, and most notably a hook hand and a peg leg came up. Gobber, the village blacksmith, childhood friend of Stoick and smithing mentor to Hiccup, raised his hook over Astrid, silently asking the elder if she would be the one. The elder merely shook her head with her eyes closed somewhat sadly; Astrid was a fine warrior, but Berk, as its chances of surviving against the continuous dragon raids grew ever slimmer, needed more. Astrid could only look up slightly wide-eyed and angrily shocked.

Gobber then moved his hook over Hiccup, who winced away in fear – it was always his greatest wish to kill a dragon, but truthfully, he just wanted to prove to his father that he was worth something, and could become a great Viking despite being a runt. Now he wished he could go back to being a runt, ignored, avoided; at least then he wouldn't have to spill blood like his people were expecting him to. To his horror, Gothi pointed at him with an excited nod: Hiccup, with his innovative ways of dealing with the monsters, would no doubt be a key asset in ridding Berk, the archipelago, and possibly the world, of dragons forever.

The stone-built Kill Ring with its metal fenced ceiling shook from the eruption of cheers from the Hooligans; Hiccup would be the one to kill the Nightmare, and finally prove his worth as a Viking and the heir to Berk.

Gobber looked back at him with more excitement than he had ever shown or felt in his life: he always knew the boy had potential, really, he was the only one who did. "Oh, you'v done it! You'v done it, 'iccup! You get ta kill tha dragon!", he happily exclaimed. He was thrilled, but Astrid could only slowly turn back and glare daggers at him, seething with anger. Hiccup could tell she wanted this more than anything: the honor, the glory, the recognition, and he came out of nowhere and snatched it from her. If nothing else, he could tell that asking her to go out with him was out of the question.

The other teens: the twins, Fishlegs, and his cousin Snotlout, rushed into the ring and hoisted Hiccup onto their shoulders like a hero: Hiccup the Useless, the screw-up, the downfall of Berk waiting to happen; who would have ever thought such a guy would pull it off? Hiccup could hear his father outside, laughing out only some of the words he'd waited so long to hear. "Haha, that's my boy!"

As he was being carried off to the sound of applause and cheering, Hiccup thought back to before it all, when the sounds that came from their mouths were quite the opposite of what they were now. When he was still the screw-up that everyone seemed to hate so. He had to wonder how much of what they said now was the truth? If they knew how he really got so good, who's to say it wouldn't all blow up in his face as they'd go right back to hating him?

At that point, his mind was made up, he knew what he had to do.

He feigned excitement with a bored look that would have been obvious if anyone was paying attention, and pumped his small fist half-heartedly into the air. He figured he would give them one last show before he made his next move. "Heh heh, oh, yeah." He nervously chuckled. "Yes! I can't wait! I am so…"

"Leaving! We're leaving!" Hiccup called out as he finally entered the secret cove that had become his special place over the last few weeks where he could meet with his dragon companion. It was surrounded on all sides by a steep rock wall with large pine trees atop, filled with boulders, a few dead trees on the sides, and a tiny stream flowing into a small, dirty pond. "Let's pack up! Looks like you and me are going on a little vacation... forever."

Hiccup knew what he was doing was wrong, and a little ironic, now that the thought about it. The pride of his village and his father was what he'd strived for all those years and endured so much mental and emotional abuse for, to the point where he convinced himself he had to become a killer or either kill himself atop a funeral pyre to obtain it. And now that he finally had it, he found it discomforting and was leaving it all behind.

But he knew good and well that he couldn't stay. Hiccup couldn't kill that Monstrous Nightmare, he just couldn't. He knew that from the beginning of his Dragon Training. He told his father the night before he began that he couldn't kill a dragon, a statement he admittedly made at first due to the overwhelming terror of nearly dying at the claws of the most lethal dragon of all, but now he stood firm to it due to his bond with said dragon. If he killed the nightmare, it would be like killing Toothless on the inside, killing any dragon would evoke those feelings... betraying Toothless, his best friend, was far worse than betraying his entire village, he thought, so leaving was really his only option. It seemed what his father said on that fateful night was right: Hiccup was many things, but a dragon killer wasn't one of them.

Opening his bag as he set it on the ground, muttering an "Aw, man," Hiccup checked to make sure he had everything he needed; he had returned to his house just before heading off to the forest and packed all the things he had planned to take on his 'extended vacation' in the basket he had usually brought fish for Toothless in. A few extra sets of clothes, his blanket and pillow, his charcoal pencil, some journals, some supplies from the forge and his room, a fishing rod, his knife and a short sword (Also taken from the forge), a bunch of his old drawings, and the helmet his father gave him...

The helmet...

Hiccup brought that helmet with him to remind him of his mother, Valka, who had supposedly been carried away and eaten by dragons when he was just a baby. He knew so little of her due to the fact that Stoick sent him away whenever she came up in conversation, but he was aware that avenging her was one of the greatest reasons Stoick had placed so much effort and emphasis on killing dragons and laying down their carcasses upon the path that Hiccup was to follow once he had come of age. Despite the off-putting fact that it was originally half of the breastplate she wore in battle before getting married, it was a meaningful gift from his father, and also a reminder of the one and only time he had ever been proud of him or had actually even given a smile towards him. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

But it was also the memory of a lie, one born of good conscience and mercy, yes, but a lie nonetheless. Weeks of faking it in the ring, appearing to bring down dragons without even touching them, fooling everyone into thinking he was some god-gifted savior sent to deliver them from the dragon scourge. That helmet, meant to be a symbol of love and pride, was now just one of deception...

Frustrated with everything going wrong right when it was going right, Hiccup let loose said frustration in an angry shout, slamming his helmet to the ground, kicked it, and sent it flying across the cove. The helmet hit one of the rocky walls, denting it in the process, and bounced off the rocks before dropping to the ground upturned.

Hiccup watched it fall, breathing heavily from physical and emotional exhaustion; it was all so messed up now. A system of secrets and deception as thick and tangled as the hairs of his father's beard and now there was no other way to end it but to cut off the main thread it all began with. He had barely felt something nuzzling his leg in his current state, but eventually he did and looked down to the source. Behind him was a large jet black dragon with acidic green eyes and massive bat like wings, along with a series of straps and pulleys attached to him. It was the dragon that Hiccup had been taking care of in the cove after he shot him down and stripped of the ability to fly when his tailfin tore off, the dragon he had been playing with, flying with, being truly happy with, in the course of the last few weeks: Toothless. Hiccup realized after a second that in his anger, he hadn't noticed that Toothless had come up to him, and the dragon was now staring up at him, his large eyes filled with worry over the young boy's apparent anger.

Hiccup's anger melted away as his face morphed into one of calm reassurance as he petted the Night Fury's nose. "I'm okay, Toothless. We're leaving."

Toothless cocked his head and gave him a curious look, as if to say, 'Leaving? But why?' Granted, when the dragon first landed in the cove and realized his tailfin had torn off, the cove felt like a prison. But over the days he had gotten to know Hiccup and bond with him, it felt like a real home. It would then be the place where he could see Hiccup every day, and that would always fill Toothless' heart with joy. It was a secret place where their friendship, considered taboo on both their kinds, could exist peacefully and away from judgmental eyes clouded by generations of hate and colored red with blood.

Hiccup didn't want to tell Toothless about killing one of his own kind; he could only wonder what the Night Fury would think of that. As close as they had become, any hint of the conflict between their races that still raged on outside their peaceful little haven could have brought them back to what was the reality of their world. Toothless had known that Hiccup was training against dragons if their lingering smells on him were any indication, but imagine how he would have reacted if he had picked up the scent of a dragon's blood on him. The thought of blood on his hands was enough to make Hiccup himself nearly gag – he had felt guilty enough when he robbed his dragon of flight, he couldn't even imagine robbing another of its life, however glorious his people deluded themselves into believing it was.

At that point, Hiccup would have been more than happy to make up an excuse: he would have said anything to get off that miserable little rock, but Toothless was like a brother to him and so deserved better. Pondering and searching for a suitable response, Hiccup sighed:

"I-I just can't do it anymore. I can't keep living like… this." He raised his arms out in a lifeless gesture, meaning little else but everything. "I've tried for years, years, to prove I could be one of them; it was what I'd always wanted, all I ever dreamed of. I thought I could be a Viking my way, do things a little differently and somehow, things would work out… eventually. But it never worked... nobody around here needed much convincing that 'different' was bad, now they have plenty good reason to hate me while they're cleaning up my messes. I'm… I'm tired of everyone just deciding I'm worthless, I'm tired of being a 'hiccup.' Toothless, the truth is, you're all I've really got, my only real friend." Toothless crooned in sympathy and pressed his snout against Hiccup's tiny chest, closing his eyes and folding back his ear flaps to send whatever feeling of comfort to the boy he could.

Great job, Hiccup; not exactly a lie. It was technically the truth – before dragon training, before his success, people saw him as a nuisance, a weakling, who was only good for a laugh when being pushed around but otherwise being a constant source of trouble. His silly, convoluted little inventions, in their opinion, that he built to make up for his disappointing lack of strength often caused as much damage as the dragons themselves. No one in the village actually liked him or cared about him, they didn't even care about him now that he was good in training, despite all the good words they were saying, and by good, that meant as good as it could be without some blunt reminder that he was about as wide as a twig and as tough as a baby lamb. Respect and kindness were two very different things, though he was the only one who figured as much: respect was kindness in the eyes of men, actual kindness translated to being soft, and the only thing soft about Vikings were their distilled stomachs, more fat than muscle. What they had shown was neither, though; they were just glad that he was no longer a problem, no longer some living incarnation of disaster.

It was the truth, as sad and hard as it was to admit, and it was one he had known his whole life, ever since the signs of his fragility became all the more apparent. Ever since then, it was just one awful day after another for the boy, facing everything from the other teens' abuse, to the villagers' cold indifference and gossip, and his father's scowls of disappointment. Hiccup had hid away the pain he felt from nearly fourteen years of all of this behind his intelligence and sarcasm, his bored face his shield and dry witty remarks his sword. But now with everything culminating in the way it was, it seemed his shield finally wore out, and his sword could not strike back against the force that was his father's cruel opinion.

"All those years of the worst Viking Berk has ever seen! Odin, it was rough, I almost gave up on you!"

Every word he had said was muted out after that sentence by the feeling of his heart being run through. Why, after suspecting it for so long, did it hurt as it did? Knowing that his father had thought so little of him, practically nothing at all. It should have been obvious from the way he locked him inside the house to gather dust like a tiny dagger that even in the most experienced fighter's hands would be of no use, to the way he was passed off to Gobber to take up blacksmithing, when he knew his boy was nothing short of a klutz and couldn't even touch something without ending up bleeding afterward. Even years later, when the villagers came to the forge to get their weapons repaired, they would always insist that Gobber did the fixing. Everyone figured if Hiccup so much as laid a finger on it, it would break the second it was picked up or be hexed with his aura of failure and would result in their deaths.

His father: his father was truly the worst of them all, worse than the villagers, Snotlout, even worse than Astrid. He had placed shackles on the boy in the form of words and looks that would dismiss any kind of potential his boy might have had. It made it seem like it was Hiccup's own fault that he was born the way he was as some manner of choice, and the actions that made him a disgrace to Viking society were just some deliberate means to humiliate him.

Toothless could apparently sense Hiccup's distress in the form of gritted teeth and clenched fists and rubbed his head against the boy's arm. He purred in his most soothing way to him, trying to comfort him in any way possible.

Hiccup managed a small smile and knelt down, wrapping his thin arms as far around Toothless's neck as they could go in a hug. Toothless was more than just his friend, it always seemed, but also his confidant; around the dragon, Hiccup didn't have to be armed or on guard, he didn't have to be anything Vikings thought he should be: he could just be himself and Toothless would accept him. With a murderous creature whose name and cries sent fear drilling into the minds of battle-hardened Vikings, he felt safe and protected. The way a dragon would show him love even knowing what he had done as opposed to the people who figured he would have died the second he entered the Kill Ring or even set foot outside his own house and laugh about it long after he was gone could only make Hiccup wonder who the REAL monsters were.

"It's okay, bud." Hiccup said as he gently pulled out of the hug and held the sides of Toothless's large head. "We're getting out of here, where no one can hurt us again. When we leave, no one can tie us down anymore, and we won't have to hide just to have a few short hours of the day together. We can see the world, discover new places and learn new things, and maybe even find new species of dragons. Who knows, maybe we'll even find more Night Furies."

Toothless barked out what sounded like a cry of joy, his eyes sparkling. Honestly, he wasn't all that interested in finding more Night Furies; he had Hiccup, who in a short matter of time had become his world, his soul-mate, his everything. As long as he had Hiccup, Toothless knew he would be happy, but he had to admit, the prospect of finding more dragons of his breed sounded pretty exciting too. At heart, Toothless was, in all honestly, just a dragon who loved flying and adventure.

"That's the spirit!" Hiccup encouraged, his somber mood vanished instantly and replaced with excitement building in his voice, fists bouncing down almost as if to express it more. "We can do whatever we want now! We're a tribe now, just you and me. We make our own rules, us against the world! You and me, we're free!"

Toothless hopped in joy, smiling his 'toothless' gummy smile and lolling his tongue out, his rider's joy infectiously flowing through his own veins. Hiccup was happy now, and that made him happy too.

Hiccup then grabbed his bag and climbed on top of Toothless, pressing his foot on the pedal and adjusting the prosthetic leather tailfin he had created to help Toothless fly again, and the dragon took to the sky like a shot. Once in the air, Hiccup thought back to his own words: now they were free, free of the pain and lies and secrets, now he could be with Toothless all the time and not have to go back and put on a show for anyone complete with a mask of indifference. Those performances were over, as was the fear of anyone peeking behind the curtain and finding what was backstage. Now he was free of their glares and gossip, all their jokes at his expense and all their expectations, especially his father's.

Hiccup had left a note for his father back at the house earlier right after he had finished packing; hopefully he was able to say all that he wanted to but never could, after all his father was never exactly the best listener, a trait Gobber always said ran in the family. If his father couldn't accept him for who and what he was, then he could burn in Hel for all Hiccup cared.

He made sure to hide all the drawings of Toothless he had drawn, as well as his numerous designs for his dragon's tailfin, both basic prints and upgrades, somewhere no one would ever find them. Hiccup wanted to make sure no one saw the drawings and eventually figure out his big secret, or notice he was gone until he was at least far enough away that they would have a better chance of finding the nest beforehand. Of course, his sudden departure was probably a little obvious, since he got carried away and cleaned his room while hiding any and all clues that would link to him and Toothless. But it didn't matter. Hey were going far, far away, intent on never seeing Berk, that little island located solidly on the meridian of misery, again.

As the two friends made way for the ocean, Hiccup couldn't help but look behind him, taking one last glance at the island where he had suffered for 14 long years, taking in a deep breath and yell at the top of his little lungs, "GOODBYE BERK! GOODBYE, MY LIFE-LONG NIGHTMARE!"

Toothless chuckled at that, and they sped off into the horizon, until Berk was completely out of sight. Now, they were free.

Well, how'd you like the first chapter? I'll admit, not much different from the original other than the flashback but there's plenty to come. Let me know what you though in the reviews, I'd love to hear.