Leaving Berk was one of the best things Hiccup and Toothless could've done. No longer would they have to worry about being followed, or panic every time they heard the snap of a twig in the forest. Hiccup's whole being felt lighter. As if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. No more scorn and ridicule. No more bullying or mocking. He was finally free.

He thought of his dad. Would he be sad, when he learned Hiccup had left? Would he be happy? Angry? Why should he have the right to be angry? If anyone should be angry, it was Hiccup. No parent should treat their child as if he was useless. As if he weren't capable of doing anything by himself. As if he wasn't worth the time of day.

Feeling a sudden rage bubbling up from inside, Hiccup threw his head back and screamed, long and loud. Toothless crooned in concern and question, and Hiccup gently stroked his friend's side. "I'm alright, Bud," he said and smiled, "that felt really good. You should try it, too." Toothless did, and his roar echoed amongst the clouds, leaving Hiccup laughing in delight.

-00—

A week had passed since Astrid had come running through the village while screaming at the top of her lungs. Stoick had been called to the Great Hall where he heard the news about his son. Hiccup. His only child. If Astrid's story was to be believed, he'd left while sitting on the back of a dragon! But that was impossible. No Viking had ever ridden a dragon. And if any Viking ever should, could or would, it wouldn't be Hiccup. Hiccup, who could barely carry an axe. Hiccup, who wanted to read and study instead of fighting. No, it had to be a lie.

He'd told her that, but she had promised on her ancestors' blood she'd seen Hiccup interact with a dragon. Interact, as in petting it, talking to it, riding it. According to her, the dragon had been wearing a saddle. It had to be a lie.

Hiccup wouldn't do that. He wouldn't betray his tribe like that; befriending the very beasts that killed them and stole their food.

No. Stoick refused to believe it. It had to be lie.

Astrid had offered to take him to the place where she'd followed him. Walking through the forest, Stoick had seen the outlines of a trail, leading through the trees. Someone had to have been walking back and forth endless times, to leave a mark such as a trail.

By the time they reached the cove, it was dawn. Stoick hadn't known what he would see, but he had prepared himself for the worst. He'd frowned as he spotted a shield wedged between two boulders. How did that get there? Did Hiccup put that there on purpose? To keep others away? He'd easily broken the shield, enabling him to enter through the small passage that lead into the cove.

Astrid had pointed out where she'd seen Hiccup, carrying a basket and where the dragon had been. She'd shown him her axe, still lying on the ground, and told him how Hiccup had ripped it out of her hands when she'd tried to kill the dragon. Hiccup had protected the dragon from Astrid? Hiccup had protected a dragon from a Viking? No, it couldn't be true. And yet… there was something inside Stoick, a small part that knew it was true.

Hiccup had chosen a side. And it wasn't the Vikings.

-00-

A week had passed and Stoick had called of the search for his son. It was obvious that Hiccup and his... dragon no longer were on Berk. Why would they be, when that beast could fly anywhere it wished? Why had Hiccup left? He'd done so well in the Dragon Training, defeating the dragons long before the others had a chance to even try. Had Hiccup gained his knowledge about dragons from interacting with his own? Stoick scowled and banged his head against the back of the chair. He hated the thought of Hiccup having a dragon that he called his own. Dragons were supposed to be killed, not befriended. How could his son turn his back to his own tribe? Hadn't he been happy? Stoick had the impression that Hiccup and Gobber were good friends, whereas he and his own son weren't nearly as close. Every time he'd tried to talk to his son, he'd frozen up. They had absolutely nothing in common, which made it even harder to think of something to talk about!

But with Gobber, Hiccup shared the knowledge of the forge. Surely he must've told Gobber something about that dragon of his during his time in there? But no such luck. His best friend since childhood had promised that he'd never known about the boy's secrets.

"That boy can't lie to save his life, but he's sure good at keeping his secrets secret," his friend said with a shrug.

But why had Hiccup chosen to keep his dragon a secret? Why hadn't he just told Stoick right away? The answer came to Stoick with more than a little resignation. Because if he'd known about Hiccup's dragon, he would've killed it.

But if he didn't want to fight and kill dragons, why had he agreed to join the training? Stoick thought back on the night he'd agreed to let Hiccup train, and froze in his seat. Had Hiccup actually said he wanted to join? No, he hadn't. He'd said he didn't want to kill dragons. But, as usual, Stoick went on, not concerned with what his son had to say. Hiccup had said he didn't want to fight dragons. He'd told him, and yet…

Stoick sighed and buried his head in his hands. All this seemed to come down to one thing; his inability to listen to his son- actually listen. If he had, then maybe he wouldn't be gone. Maybe he'd still be in Berk, instead of flying around on that beast of his.

Gobber often told him his biggest flaw was to hear only what he wanted to hear, not what was actually being said. How right he was.

"Oh, son...," Stoick whispered into his hands, "it's all my fault."