Summery: In a strange turn of events, and a gods need for amusement, Tina Evans dies and waked up as the daughter of Berk's most hated resident. She never even thought of changing how events played out in her new world, content with what she remembered, but ever flap of a butterfly's wing creates change, and it is not long before she realizes that she does not have much of a choice.

Disclaimer: I do not own the HTTYD series.

Pairing: Hiccup/OC Stoick/Valka Mildew/Unnamed Viking lass

Chapter 2: Mildew's Daughter

Her father did not look happy.

That was ok. Mildew, as Tyra had come to find, rarely looked happy in the normal sense. The man had a hard time smiling and laughing, and when he did that latter is always seemed fake, something that he forced through his throat; a hacking cough more then a laugh. Then again, when she thinks about it, how hated he was in a show she remembered, and seen how the only one who visited him was Gobber, and even then only when the blacksmith was delivering supplies, was it really that much of a surprise that the man did not know how to let loose? Smile or laugh like regular people?

She could feel Hiccup shrinking in on himself beside her, and once again the reborn girl had to wonder how this small scrap of a boy was going to become the most important person in this time, in this world. How this small, freckle faced child would tame and ride a dragon. When she was Tina, and had seen the movie for the first time, she thought nothing of it. Riding dragons? Hah! There was nothing special about that. All Hiccup did was treat Toothless with kindness and respect, honestly, not unlike how she was with her pet dog. So really, where was all the wonder and admiration in the movie coming from? It was not until she got older that she had began to realize what had really happened besides a boy riding a dragon for the first time. Hiccup had done so much more then that. He had ended a centuries old feud between man and beast. Rode a wild creature, one that was bigger and far stronger then he, with a human like intelligence. Had pushed back his fear and mistrust to treat a creature he had just days before seen attacking him home with kindness. There was a certain kind of strength in that, something that Tyra rarely saw outside of a movie.

Which is why the Hiccup hiding half behind her was so strange. He was just so different that what she expected and what she remembered of him. Then again, he is just a little kid, someone who had probably had grown up hearing horrible and horrifying stories about the dragons.

Tyra had heard her fair share since she became fully conscious in her new life. Stories about Monstrous nightmares and their giant jaws and burning bodies laying waste to everything in their paths, whether it be animal, house, or human. Of gronkles who spewed lava at Vikings, the fiery liquid melting flesh off their victims bones or trapping them, and by the time rescue comes they have either died of the heat or lack of air. Deadly nadders with their spine needles piercing through Viking armor and bodies and zipplebacks that suffocated people with their gas and then burned their remains, if they didn't eat them first. All horror stories that Mildew had shared in warning.

She was not sure how many of them were true, could not tell fact from fiction - and of the irony of that in regards to her situation. While it is very easy to imagine all of these scenarios, the piercing, the burning, the liquid melting of flesh and suffocating, Tyra just could not remember dragons eating people, and the only instance she had seen of someone dying from dragons was Hiccups father in the second movie. But there usually is always a grain of salt in stories and especially in cultures where there is less written down and more told down.

"Found something interestin' on your little field trip eh?" the elder of the three said in his drawled out scratchy voice. His staff was gripped tightly by both hands as he looked over them and served as a balance. His bushy eyebrows were squinted together to reflect his eyes. It was probably meant to look menacing, more for her stranger then her, but she could not help but find the sight more amusing then anything.

"Yup~ found some fresh berries" she shook her makeshift basket at him playfully.

Old blue eyes rolled in their sockets. "You know that's not what I meant" but he let the line of questioning go with a glance at the shuffling boy behind her. "Who are you boy?" he asked Hiccup for the first time.

Tyra could hear the gulp Hiccup swallowed behind her, but to his credit he did answer Mildew. "Hiccup Haddock III".

Mildew nodded as if that was what he was expecting. "The chiefs boy? What are you doing wandering way out here?" So maybe the whole questioning thing was still continuing, just not with the more teasing - or was it mocking? - tone from before.

Hiccup didn't bother answering the question about being the chiefs son. Everyone from the archipelago knew about the Hairy Hooligan's chief's fishbone of a son. "Dad took me out fishing but then we got separated on the way back"

Bushy eyebrows raised. "Is that so?"

Feeling how uncomfortable the boy was behind her the reborn girl rolled blue-grey eyes. "Yes that's so. Can he stay the night with us father? And we can take him down to the village in the morning" There was no way that they can take him out tonight. There were wild dragons out, not to mention the wild hogs that would not even hesitate to attack any moving prey, including their own. It would be suicide. Besides, she really wanted to get to know Hiccup; wanted to see how he would measure up to the boy from the movies.

"Oh alright, but just the night. At first sunlight he is going straight back to the chief" Mildew gave in as he turned and went back into his hut, the thump-thump of his stick hitting the dirt with every step.

Tyra grinned and started to drag the still Hiccup. "C'mon, its going to be cold soon so you want to be inside" She could not help but be excited. For the first time in years she was going to have someone other then her father to talk to!

"So that was your dad? You look nothing alike" Hiccup commented before they were through the door.

"Yup, that's my dad. As for my looks, I was told that I take after my grandparent a lot." Which does make sense. She did not look like Mildew at all, at least from what she could see. It was hard to guess what he looked like as he was so old already. He said that he used to have blonde hair the same shade as hers, which she could believe considering how white his hair is, and their eyes are similar, though his is more of the regular cornflower blue of the tribe while hers is more of a storm blue, the grey mostly overtaking the blue. But everything else was all his mother.

Whenever Tyra gets him to talk about his parents, she always feels an inevitable sadness. Both because she wonders what her own family is doing in her previous world, and how her father must have felt being orphaned so young. Besides Gobber, and the chief on even rarer occasions since his wife's 'death', Mildew had no one to talk to but her and Fergis, and the latter one cannot even speak. how lonely must her father had been before she came along?

It made the blond haired girl wonder sometimes how the original Mildew endured the isolation.

And then Tyra would remember that he didn't, and instead became a bitter old man who betrayed the tribe and the boy behind her.

Hiccup felt like his whole world was spinning.

He knew that the only reason he was thinking of it was because he was in the hut of a man he had only heard the vaguest of hated whispers about and a girl that he was pretty sure no one in the village - except his father, because his dad knew everything about his people - knew about.

The runt of the Hairy Hooligan tribe had heard of the man Mildew. Of a older man that delighted in ruining the people of Berk's lives with his actions. He was supposed to be this horrible person that ate children and left their bones on their parents porch as punishment for some imagined slight. Not unlike the trolls in Gobber's stories. The antithesis of what a proper Viking should be.

When Tyra had led him to the house on top of Berk's smallest mountain, Hiccup knew exactly where he was. He had froze in fear, barely able to answer the man when he asked questions. But it was not because he was talking to a man the he had barely heard of, or that Mildew was so hated by the people. It was because in one, horrifyingly breathtaking second Hiccup had seen his future.

The lack of a strong buff chest, no broad shoulders, skinny arms comparable to twigs. In other words, the man that the rest of the village despised was a hiccup. The runt of the liter. Just like Hiccup was.

In those few moment, Hiccup had seen something in the older mans eyes, something that made him feel worse then sad. Maybe bad? But it was enough that is affected even him.

Was this to be his future? Hated, cast away to the side to only be remembered when he reared his head out of his isolation?

Hiccup tried to tell himself, as he followed Tyra - his new friend? Acquaintance? - into the hut, that that would never happen. Mildew and him were worlds apart. Hiccup was the son of the tribes chief, the next heir to take over. There was no way that he would ever be cast aside. And, well, Mildew was Mildew. They were completely different people. 'But Snotlout is heir apparent after him' and that thought stopped him cold.

His older cousin was not related to his father. No, their relation was through their mothers who were sisters; his mother Valka and Snotlout's mother Helma. Inheritance through Viking tribes were not what many outside their culture expected. In any other civilization outside the archipelago, should Hiccup die or be deemed an insufficient heir, the next in line would be whoever was closely related to the ruling family, which would mean his fathers side of the family, and if that failed there was usually a fight for the position. That was not the case to Vikings. It would be whoever the closest living relative to Hiccup was. As his father and his father's father had no siblings, and Snotlout was Hiccup's closest relation, his cousin would take over. It was because in Viking culture it was assumed that the closest relative would be the closest confident outside of a spouse, and would thus be able to lead the tribe with minimal fuss.

Hiccup dearly would like to know who created such a horrible inheritance rite as he and his cousin were as far from close as possible. Snotlout wanted nothing to do with him, and while it was slow going Hiccup was very much beginning to feel the same. So he knows with absolute certainty that Snotlout would not lead them the way Hicup would.

Not that Hiccup particularly wanted to lead the Hairy Hooligans at the moment! His father was more then capable of the job.

The fire in the houses heat pit warmed him the moment that he walked in, and for the first time since he met this strange girl with an even stranger name, Hiccup acknowledged that he was cold. That was not much of a surprise because Berk was always cold, even in the winter months. He tried rubbing his arms to bring forth some warmth but it was slow going.

"Here" a faded fur blanket was presented to him, patches of brown bear fur missing in sections, but a much warmer option then simply rubbing his hands together. Hiccup was quick to wrap it around himself, sighing in relief as the cold chill was somewhat blocked.

"Thank you" Mildew just gave an abrupt nod before heading back to the cooking area in the house. It was different then what Hiccup knew was in their house, much older looking. He wondered if the two of them had to deal with their houses constantly being destroyed by violent dragons like the rest of Berk.

Huddled down by the fire, Hiccup wondered what his father was doing. Was he looking for him? Rallying up the Vikings in the village to find him? It had only been a few hours, not even a day, and already the Viking heir missed his father terribly. He tightened his fingers around his bent knees.

He paid barely any mind to the only girl in the house when she sat down next to him. He did start paying attention when she spoke, if only because of what she asked.

"What's the village like?" He lifted his green to her stormy eyes, incredulous. How does this girl not know what the village looks like? How can she not know? But then he remembers that he has never seen her before, never even heard of her, and considering how infamous her father is shouldn't she at least be somewhat well known?

"How do you not know what the village is like?" he blurted out without thinking, and immediately after the words came out of his mouth he can feel himself flushing a horrible shade of red, his ears and cheeks burning. 'Why did I ask that?' he scolded himself internally. Hiccup never thought himself rude, but, well, that was a horrible question.

Instead of scorn or anything equally horrible that Hiccup expected, he got an answer. "I've never been to the village. In fact, outside of my father you are the only person that I have ever talked to" there was a loneliness in her gaze, one that Hiccup could sometimes see in his eyes and, with a resigned sort of acceptance, what he now knew he had seen in Mildew's eyes earlier.

What must it have been like, to only have your father for company? To be stuck miles away from the rest of the people, your people? Then Hiccups mind turned towards Mildew itself. And then stopped.

He didn't want to think what it had been like for Mildew. The knowledge, the realization that he could become his future was not something that he wanted to think about.

Hiccup finally began to answer, halting every few words at first before becoming stronger in his description. " It's loud...and crowded. Every morning Ms. Larson bakes bread and trades it in the village, even though she just recently gave birth to her son Gustov. He looks like a squished tomato, but don't tell her that or she will chase you around the village with a rolling pin. Then their is-"

Tyra listened to Hiccup as he talked about the people in the village, the unnamed characters in a series that she was doing everything possibly to sear into memory. There were some that the blonde false-child recognized right away, like Snotlout and Astrid and the other members of the dragon training academy. There were also some that brought forth hazy wisps of half remembered thoughts and scenes, like Gustov and Ms. Larson, and strangely enough someone named Hildegard, though the other made no mention of him or her. Then there was mention of someone named silent Sven who apparently became mute after making Gothi - a small old lady with a walking stick almost twice her height - and his weird obsession with sheep, and the towns fishermen Bucket and Mulch who always made sure that everyone had enough fish to survive the long, dead months of devastating winter. He mentioned so many people that by the end of it she had already forgotten the majority of them.

"So you apprentice under Gobber? He's the blacksmith right? Are you any good?" Tyra asked half curious. She knew that he could make some amazing things, Toothless's tail fin and his fire sword some of the more memorable ones, but this was a young Hiccup, one who had barely started to learn, and as stupid as it sounded, she was kind of expecting something great already.

Perhaps it was also because of the various fanfictions she had read that always had the whole Hiccup being this prodigal black smith that raised her expectations, even though she knew realistically that given Hiccups age there was no way he had learned much.

Hiccup had an embarrassed flush to his cheeks, but their was a pleased smile present on his face. It was small, and while Tyra knew his others smiles seen today were real this one just seemed so much more...genuine? Pure? Happy? Definitely something.

He messed around with the inside of his vest. "Well, don't tell Gobber" as if she could "but I wanted to try making something on my own, and after observing him I made this" he finished pulling something out of his vest and proudly showed it off. It was a dagger, or a large cooking knife, the difference between the two was not really present in the blade proudly displayed. The sheath was a tough dark brown leather with a crude drawing on it. The hilt of the sword was not smooth, some of the sides bulkier then the other. When pulled out of the sheath, the blade itself also was not that impressive, their were dents and bumps all over it, and the edge of it looked to be dull. Curiously the blonde ran her thumb over the dull age of the blade only to pull back with a hiss at the sharp stinging sensation. Blood started to pull itself through the torn skin.

What she had initially thought of as a dull and blunt knife turned out to be sharper then she had expected, almost sharper then the knife used for gutting fish. What a deceiving appearance.

"I should have warned you about it being sharper then it looked" Hiccup said worriedly as he took the knife back.

Tyra glanced up at him. Never judge a book by is cover was a popular phrase in the real world. That knifes appearance was very deceiving, was it not only fitting that such a knife was made and in the possession of the on person who's appearance was also very deceiving?

The smell of baked fish wafted through the hut. The blonde excused herself from Hiccups curious eyes and went to the oven, picking up the wooden fork that was off to the side. Funny thing about forks, they didn't exist in Viking culture, well, nothing outside of a pitchfork. Vikings either ate with their hands or used a spoon when it came to soup. She was appropriately horrified by the notion, and after multiple failed attempts managed to make a somewhat bent and lopsided wooden fork that she constantly had to sharpen as the prongs become to soggy from whatever was cooking. As it was she already knew she was going to have to make another one in maybe another month, or just start to use the ones that were just made for herself and Mildew.

The wooden prongs sunk into the fish easily, the skin crispy but the inside feeling to be pretty soft. It was done.

"Dad, dinners ready!" was called out to the top called out having seen the oldest member in the hut climb up onto the roof earlier. Fergus "baa-ed" and the blonde gave the sheep a good solid pat on the head as she passed. She grabbed the plates - there were only two - and placed the fish on it, one fish for Mildew on his plate and two on the other one. Hiccup could just share a plate. It was not like their was any chance the two were going to cross spit or something.

Startled green eyes glanced up when the plate was placed between us, the cabbage covered fish gaining his eyes and a rumble passed through his stomach. Another embarrassed flush grew on his cheeks but the reborn child paid it no mind.

"Here, eat up" she said pointing at the fish closest to him. He gave a startled glance before reaching out slowly towards the fish. "Careful its hot".

Dad came down from the roof, his feet making a quiet thump when he landed. He paused when he saw Hiccup, stormy grey eyes widening minutely and something flashing before disappearing entirely so fast that Tyra wondered if she imagined it. He remained silent, taking his usual seat at the head of the table and gripping the edge of his plate with his other hand, the other poised and ready with his spoon - she never could get him to eat with his fork but at least it was better then his hands - and dug in.

The taste cabbage, the salty crispness of the fish and the broth flavored by the wild herbs scavenged out in the forests filled their mouths. Compared to the food from her previous life, this was the farthest thing from gourmet that it could be. What Tyra would not give to sink her teeth into a juicy burger, or a hot dog. Pizza was something she might be able to make, If the blonde could ever figure out how to make the dough and get her hands on some tomatoes and cheese. Years of living off of nothing but fish, cabbage, milk and water tends to make even the most compliant person complain about the lack of variety, and while she was still a little leery about even trying to cook much less taste yak - no matter if its the Viking equivalent of a cow - what she wouldn't give to have some chicken. Even scrambled eggs. With cheese. And tomatoes and onions and bell peppers and all other manner of things that went into a southwest omelet.

Before she knew it her fish was nothing but bone, head, and the fatty portions that she just could not force herself to eat, and was sipping the broth that was leftover in the cabbage before eating the green wrapping. thinking about all the things that were missed from the modern world tended to make her eat on auto pilot.

The front of Hiccup's shirt was damp from the fish broth he couldn't swallow. Mildew was slowly chewing the last bit of cabbage that he grew.

"That was amazing" Hiccup complimented with wide eyes. Tyra nearly flushed in pleasure. Her cooking really was not that great. Though, if the village cooks are anything like her father then she can kind of understand the reason. Still, it was nice to hear something like that from someone other then Mildew.

Not long after dinner Hiccup and his hosts went to bed, Mildew giving out the short order for them to sleep as they had a long journey in the morning to reach the village.

The tribes heir was laying down facing the fire on the floor, the scrappy fur blanket from before his only method of keeping out the biting cold that seeped into the hut.

His father must be so worried about him.

The thought came unbidden, slicing across like a knife against skin in his mind, and hurting just as deep. His father never really let him out of his sight, for as long as Hiccup could remember. Or if he did, he was always in the hands of someone else, his mentor Gobber being the most common one but occasionally his uncle Spitelout was called up on and on the very rare occasion - like twice - he was placed into the hands of Bucket and Mulch. After nearly getting carried away at sea though he doesn't think that his father would be very eager to let the two gentle but admittedly somewhat scatterbrained fishermen watch over him again. Usually the only time that he and his father are separated are when he has to go to Odin's cove for a meeting with the other allied chiefs in the archipelago.

Hiccup remembers once asking his father why couldn't they meet on Berk. Why did he have to leave? Didn't he know that Hiccup missed him when he was away?

"I don't leave because I want to. I leave because I have to. To insure that our people will be kept safe."

Its been a year, and Hiccup still does not understand what his father meant. He does not want to go? Then he shouldn't go! And how does going keep their people safe? Is it like a battle royal to decide which tribe is stronger and thus not the one to mess with? Like the tournaments Berk sometimes holds to decide who amongst their tribe is the strongest warrior? (Privately, Hiccup thought that if his father was allowed to participate instead of being the one judging, he would have won instead of Astrid's uncle Finn or even Gobber).

He cant say that nothing came out of this day. He thinks that perhaps, he might have made his first friend. Like Astrid and Fishlegs and the twins with his cousin.

The five year old sighed happily and turned over, immediately snuggling back under his blankets as the chill came back full force with his move. Green eyes closed sleepily as the day finally caught up to him.

"Stop lagging behind! We are only half way there!" Mildew barked behind him, mouth pulled into a frown barely visible beneath his heard.

They had left just before the sun began to rise, Tyra packing this and that in her small satchel while Hiccup nervously dwindled by the door. Mildew was already out and about, having woken up earlier then the two young ones so that he could check on his cabbage patch before they made the journey. Decades of doing it by himself had turned the older man into a cabbage farming machine , able to spot when he needed to do anything and when he just needed to let his precious vegetable alone or water it. Two days previous he and Tyra had watered the plants, Tyra running to and for their metal wheel arrow filled with water and then quickly running back to the river to top up their supply. By Mildews eye and expertise, the cabbage wouldn't need tending to for another few days. The sun had been kind in its rays and hadn't dried out the soil surrounding it.

In other words, the weedy little hiccup resting in his house was lucky that it was yesterday he got lost as if hey had had to leave tomorrow Mildew was not sure that he could leave his patch unattended.

Over the years, the journey to the village had shortened considerably to the elderly man. When he was younger he took the rough road that had been carved out at the beginning of his exile, too scared to wander into he forests least some manner of creature get to him, or the chance he got lost and could not find his way. Of course, being by himself for so long, he had to find something that could take up him time, and over the decades he had taken different pathways to the village, each one easily locatable by the different markers he lad left on each road, though he has found - unsurprisingly - that just heading down tends to get him to the village regardless of which part of the island he ended up on. Paths that would get him their in a few hours and paths that would take him all day if he really didn't want to go down but had to because he needed something, dragging his feet all the while.

With two children with him having shorter legs then he possessed and the lack of stamina from climbing down, Mildew wisely chose the shortest path to the village. The faster they got their the faster they could come back, and with Berk's often unkind and unpredictable weather, it was always good to hurry.

Somewhat surprisingly his daughter had no problem keeping up with him. The long days spent in the wilds after her chores was done was spent wisely.

The boy on the other hand...

World weary storm eyes caught sight of the younger boy, his face somewhat flushed with excursion and hair slightly damp from perspiration. He was lagging behind a few good feet from them. For a moment Mildew felt the sympathy for the boy; he knew what it was like, had been in his shoes when his body was so tired and week and he just had to keep going. But he ruthlessly squashed it. Regardless of anything, this is the boy that stole his name. It would take more then sympathy or gratitude to his parents for Mildew to be tolerable around him. He would judge the boy for his actions, and not the actions of his parents. That was the most he was willing to bend in regards to him.

"Hey dad, about how far are we from the village?" Tyra asked, her attention solely on the boy lagging behind.

Mildew looked at her considerably before answering. "We have about an hour until we get to the village"

"Do you think we can stop for a small break?"

Hiccup, who had finally caught up to them, spoke up in protest. "We don't have to stop!"

Ah, pride. That was one of the few things that Mildew had refused to give up after everything. It was the one thing that he had that remained after all these years, the one thing that he refused to let anyone tear down and the one thing that kept him going for the longest time. It looks to be the same with the new hiccup.

His daughter just shook her head. "That's not the reason that I wanted to stop. I just thought that this would be a good place to stop to eat" She pulled out a cloth full of the wild berries she collected yesterday from her satchel. Hiccup looked at her in surprise and she just smiles.

Mildews brows rose as he observed the two of them and grunted his approval. He took a handful of berries for himself and flopped himself on an old log that had tumbled from a storm years ago and refused to bud any saplings. His daughter and the weed had planted themselves on the ground near him, but far enough away that they could talk without worrying about him overhearing anything. The cabbage farmer observed their interactions as he had been doing the night before.

There was a hesitancy in their interactions, stilted, unsure. Tyra who honestly had no idea as to what she should talk about, more content to ask questions and listen to the weed talk. The weed babbled in response to each question, nervous gestures in his hand movements and a desperation in his eyes the more she paid attention. And it made sense that they would interact this way.

The only person his daughter had ever talked to was him. When she was little he made sure that that idiot blacksmith never saw her. He wanted her to have a future, the chance to marry and have kids, to shine in the tribe proper. She would never shine if she was connected to him in any way. So no one besides the chief could know that they were related. And yes it would hurt, knowing that in the future she would deny being his daughter for the sake of her happiness, but that was ok. Mildew had her now, got to see her grow. Just experiencing the happiness that she brought him was enough. Mildew knew that he was taking a big risk to his plan for her future by bringing her with him as he took the boy to the village, but letting her wander for a few hours a little ways from their house and leaving her all by herself for almost an entire day were two different things. He would think of something before he got to the village. He always was able to think of something.

While he was not as strong as the Viking in the village, Mildew was confident enough to say that he could outsmart them.

Hiccup, on the other hand (and it is still so strange to think of another person named Hiccup, regardless of the years that have passed) was not so surprising. Like he has constantly thought since the boy followed his little Tyra home like a wandering duck following its mother, the boy was like him. More then likely mocked and scorned by the village, if not to the same extent as he has his father the chiefs protection, having someone who was genuinely interested in what he had to say, paying positive attention that was his age? It attracted the boys attention like bees to honey.

Mildew would watch the two of them carefully. He may feel somewhat sorry for the boy, however if he by being by his daughter could ruin her future prospects, well, he would just have to nip the bud before it bloomed.

"I'm sorry chief"

Stoick growled as the next Viking he sent searching came over apologizing, having not found his son in their search.

It had been nearly a day since he had lost his son in the wilds, and he cursed himself every moment for looking away and not leashing his small son to himself. Of turning one way, sword eager to behead a dragon that dared come near him, show his son what it meant to be a Viking and taking his eyes off Hiccup, who has been taught by him and all the other adults like all the children, to run away at the first signs of danger. Only for a wild hog to come out, gleaming eyes wild and frenzied, husks raised in challenge and legs pawing the ground as it readied to charge.

At the time Stoick had been ecstatic. Boar was a barely eaten commodity in the village, the beasts wild and dangerous, especially in the packs they ran. And while most adult warriors on Berk could take them down, not many did. Despite the large population of boar on Berk, hunting them was left to the very worst of Berks winters or when the population became a threat. They were, to be frank, the ration of the village in times of need, just heart still beating alive.

However the one that challenged Stoick was alone, and killing just one off wont hurt anyone, so kill it he did. He had bellowed happily to Hiccup, commenting that they would feast well tonight, only for no one to answer him.

Hiccup was gone. Vanished. Disappeared.

And Stoick had to think all through the night, as he organized search parties, 'what if he lost his son to?'

He had already lost Valka to a dragon. He cant bear to think of what he could become if he lost his son to those accursed creatures. Stoick the vast is what he was known as to the various Vikings. Very few people knew that he was almost named Stoick the vengeful. For he would swear vengeance if he lost his son, the last of his family.

He could not lose Hiccup. He just couldn't!

So lost was he in thought that he failed to notice how his people went silent for a moment before whispering.

"Dad!" that however he did notice.

Stoick whipped around so fast he would later be surprised that he didn't get whiplash.

There he was, at the entrance of the village, auburn hair messy, green shirt a little crooked, but with a wide gap-toothed smile was his boy.

"Hiccup!" he bellowed and ran forward, crouching down half way so that his son who also ran to him could reach him. Though it had only been a day his arms had missed the small scrappy child. He pulled back and gripped Hiccups shoulders. "Never do that again" he ordered.

Hiccup nodded, joy and relief and maybe a small smattering of tears in his eyes, not that Stoick paid the latter any mind.

"Where were you?" he asked, "Did you find the village on your own?"

His son shook his head. "No, I got lost and Tyra found me. Her and her father brought me down" he turned behind him, notices the looks and glances from the rest of he villagers, and self-consciously tugs the end o his shirt. Stoick also glances behind him, the name ringing a few bells but nothing truly coming forth. Nobody was there.

"Where is she?" Hiccup whispered, unaware of the sharp glance his father gave him at the words.

Just outside of sight, Tyra smiled as father and son were reunited. Her own father was behind her, hand on her shoulder as he took in the scene as well. That same hand pat her on her shoulder, grabbing her attention from the heart warming scene.

"Come", Mildew said, "its time to head home". She nodded, taking one last glance at father and son reunited before turning. It was good that Hiccup had come home, that Stoick had welcomed his child so happily and full of relief. The blonde glanced up at Mildew, at the man she knew was never supposed to have a child.

Had Hiccup gotten lost as a child similar as to how he did now originally? And had Mildew been the one to find him? And if that was the case, how would the man feel, seeing father and son reunited knowing that he never got such a reunion with his parents, or that he had no children to have it with? A man so constantly hated, a life where he mattered very little, and would in fact be rejoiced should he ever pass? How would that have impacted him?

Tyra already knew though, had seen it from a 47" screen what that kind of life would do to him. Had seen a man betray his people and make plans to take the grandson of his childhood tormentor and give it to a man that would not hesitate to use him for his own gains. And really, now that she have seen how Mildew has been treated, can she honestly blame him? Find fault in him trying to find somewhere else he could try to fit in, even if it was at the expense of someone else? Would Tyra have done something different, had she been in his shoes?

She couldn't honestly answer that, mainly because she did not know. The false-child wans to say that she would never do that, never put someone younger then her in that kind of danger, but she likes to be a realist, even if she had the habit to daydream the impossible.

So Tyra just would not think about it, as there truly was no way for her to know, and hopefully would never be put in a situation where she would find out.

"You must be Tyra" is what greeted her a few days later.

They had tracked their way back up to out house, leaving Hiccup to the tender mercies of his father and the rest of the village. There was a part of her that mourned the separation, but she trudged on. Berk was not too big of an Island that there was not chance that they would see each other again, so the blonde knew that she would see him again.

She just didn't expect that day to be so soon.

Mildew was seated at the table, customary scowl present on his face and staff gripped tightly in his hand. Across from him was Stoick, whose presence seemed to fill the room.

"Um, yes" she answered hesitantly, still a bit blown away by who was sitting in their house like it was an everyday occurrence.

Stoick's brow lifted. "I hear that you are the one that found my son" there was curiosity in his tone, and the expectance of an answer, though Tyra didn't know why. Hiccup had undoubtedly told him what happened, so why he would want her to say anything on that matter was beyond her. I glanced at Mildew who was looking at her as well.

"Yes" What else was there to say?

The chief nodded as if that was what he had been expecting, which it really had to be, and then turned to her father. "I'll expect her in a weeks time". He smiled down and her head surprisingly gently for a man of his size (must have gotten a lot of practice with his son) before heading out.

Tyra turned to Mildew, ready to ask questions, but he beat her to it.

"The chief has decided that it is time for you to be introduced to your peers" he explained in his old croaky voice. "You will be learning how to handle a weapon and fight to become a shield maiden of the tribe" there was something proud and sad at the same time in his voice and posture, a slump in his shoulders that would have looked like the wear of age to anyone that had not been with him for a while.

He was so much bigger up close then he was far away, though Tyra doubted that anything could compare to the presence that the chief exuded.

Thick, strong looking arms bared to the suns rays, pot bellied stomach covered by a dirty shirt, a blond braided moustache, a peg leg and hook arm. He really did look like he did in the movies, only bigger, and far more stinky.

"So you're Mildew daughter Eh?" Gobber the Belch, her new weapons trainer said.

AN: So now we have the meeting between Tyra and the rest of the village, starting with our lovable but equally sarcastic blacksmith Gobber. To those of you who felt like this was a feeler chapter, it was, and I am not very happy with how it turned out. Before I used to be so good with filler chapters and relating it to the plot of the story, but now I am just struggling. I think its because I have pretty much plotted out all the main points of this so I am overeager to get on to it, so bare with me for a while.

As some of you may have notices Tyra was very unsure as how to handle our favorite future dragon rider. That's because whenever we meet someone that we have heard about, we always have expectations of them, even if we don't realize it. Tyra has expectations of Hiccup, she seems him as the teen who rode a dragon and created a whole new outpost for Berk, and does not see him as the kid he is right now, though she will eventually. It will take time. She also constantly wonders in this chapter about the person Mildew was supposed to be. At the beginning she wondered about that, but stopped, but now confronted with Hiccup, the main character of the series she is once again thinking about it as she interacts both with Mildew and Hiccup.

Guest Review Corner~

Guest (1) - LOL thanks, Mildew kind of just took over and wrote himself! Thanks for commenting!

Guest (2) - Yup, no Hiccstid, but thanks for taking the time to read and comment on this!

Guest (3) - Wahh! You're making me blush! I have become very fond of my portrayal of Mildew as well, if you dont mind me tooting my own horn. I just wanted to give him a bit of a character background since the CN episodes didnt do it, and he ended up writing himself! Heres the next chapter, I hope you enjoy it as much as the first one! Thanks for commenting!

Guest 12 - Thanks! There is sadly a lack of Main character x SIOC in most fandoms, so I like writing them! SO i am really glad the you enjoyed this! Here is the next chapter! Thanks for commenting!

So was it good? Bad? Tell me what you think :3