He'd done it again. Only he could; most vikings would make minor mistakes infrequently, but for Hiccup Haddock, major screw-ups were as regular as the days in a year. His latest screw-up involved a decent portion of his village believing he was some sort of dragon killing savant (even though he hadn't actually come close to killing any dragons), the majority of the teens admired him without realising the truth, and the one teen he actually liked was so bitter with jealousy, he believed she might actually try to kill him if the opportunity presented itself. To top it all off, his father had returned from another failed attempt to find the nest housing the source of the village's troubles, only to learn from the village about his son's supposed way with the beasts. What made this the worst thing of all was the fact that Hiccup should have explained to his father earlier on that he could never bring himself to actually kill a dragon, which was exactly what was expected of him the following morning.

All in all, the complications that Hiccup was destined to face were too great for him to handle. His immediate instinct was to pack his things and head into the woods where his one true friend was waiting, and ride off into the sunset, but Hiccup fought that urge. He surmised that it would make more sense to go at night, so as to avoid being spotted by sentries.

Hiccup gathered a few essentials such as; writing materials, a water skin, a hammer, some spare clothes, and a few odds and ends for his friend. He placed these items in his favourite rucksack and left it behind his house. He then journeyed over to the smithey, where he planned on collecting some of his sketches and plans. Due to the nature of these plans, he wanted to erase any trace of what he'd been doing. Rather than destroy them, he held onto them in the event that they would be of use in the future.

When he returned home, he was greeted by his father, the chief of the village of Berk: Stoick the vast, lighting a fire in the fireplace. As father and son made eye contact, Hiccup did his best to disguise any sign of what he had planned.

"Hiccup. Good to see you, son. Are you excited about tomorrow?" the large, stocky viking asked, a smile hidden behind the thick ginger moustache and beard. Despite being unable to see his father's grin, he smiled back. But his eyebrows contained a hint of worry, a feature which didn't go unnoticed by his father. The young viking took a seat on the stool across the fireplace from his father.

"Honestly dad, I'm a little nervous. Monstrous Nightmares are supposed to be one of the more ornery dragons out there, and we didn't learn much about them in training. Not to mention the book of dragons can only tell me so much." Hiccup replied, hoping against hope that his father might reconsider making him kill a dragon. With his luck, Stoick would just go so far as to make him kill a different kind of dragon.

"I understand, son. That particular breed of dragon is indeed difficult to handle. Even I had my doubts about being capable of bringing one down the first time I came across one." Stoick said. It was these very rare moments in which Stoick would actually listen to what Hiccup had to say and do his best to relate to the situation that Hiccup loved, for it was those few moments in his life where he felt even remotely connected to his father.

"It's hard to believe that you of all people would have ever felt an emotion even close to fear or doubt." Hiccup commented, placing a gentle smile on his face. He enjoyed being able to smile at his dad without having to force it.

"Aye. It might seem like that, son. But the truth is, I'm quite often afraid. I'm afraid of the answers to the questions my mind spouts every day; 'Is today the day the dragons attack again?' 'Is today the day the village is damaged beyond repair?' 'Is today the day my only son is lost to one of those beasts?'." Hiccup's smile dropped and his face adopted one of sympathy as he looked at his father, the stress of his role as chief finally showing under his eyes and across his brow. "There are at least a dozen more questions like those that enter my mind every morning. And I fear that one day, the answer to any of them is 'yes'. But I can't let those fears show, because it is my duty as chief to be a pillar of strength for the village. It's one of the responsibilities that comes with the job, but it's not all that bad." he said, giving a mild chuckle afterward.

Hiccup looked towards the fledgling fire as it began to rise. "It's funny, but I used to think those questions myself. Including 'Is today the day that my father, the village chief, dies doing what he does best? Fighting dragons and saving his people.' Of all the questions, that one was always on the forefront of my mind." he said, chuckling. Stoick lifted an eyebrow and smiled at his son.

"Oh? And what made you stop asking those questions?" he asked, curiosity veiled behind his rugged voice. Hiccup brought his gaze over from the fire back to his father, an amused smile on his features. He wanted to tell him the truth; that he'd actually shot down the Night Fury, that he'd tried to kill it, but couldn't. He wanted to tell him that he released the dragon and it didn't go for the kill like Gobber said. He wanted to explain that he'd taken the opportunity to study the nature of dragons, learn from them and applied them in training, and even went so far as to befriend the most feared dragon of all.

"After all the dragons you've faced, after all the trips you've made into Helheim's Gate, after all the attacks on the village. I figured if it hasn't happened already, it probably never will. I figured the gods have blessed us with the will and power to survive any and every attack. Granted, not all of us have survived, but I'm talking about the village as a whole. And considering that the chief basically personifies the village, you'll wind up surviving long after everyone else. Because like the gods, you care about us. You fight for us. And you've been rewarded for your dedication." the young viking rose from his stool and stepped over to his father before placing a skinny hand on the chief's shoulder.

Stoick placed his hand over Hiccup's, trying to fight the tears of pride threatening to escape his eyes like last night after he'd given Hiccup his viking helmet. He took in the visage of his child, from the grass green eyes to the small scar on his chin. "You're a good son, Hiccup. I don't say it, but I'm lucky to have you. You might not be a strong viking, but Thor almighty if you aren't a good one." he said before standing up, Hiccup's hand falling down from his shoulder as he stood too high for it to reach. "I'm going to the great hall. I have some last minute chiefing to do. I'd recommend getting some rest for tomorrow. Good night, son." he said, opening the front door. The sun had set, and the pink sky was just beginning to turn dark.

"Night Dad." Hiccup replied as the door closed. Once Stoick had left, Hiccup's kind smile had faded. He stood there for a few moments, gazing back into the fire. As he looked around the house, he saw all the memories he held of this house. The two large lounge chairs behind the stools by the fireplace showed ghosts of Stoick handing a skinny little twig of a viking a bow and arrow. The words uttered from the ghost's mouth inaudible. Hiccup was six when his father had given him his first bow. They'd gone hunting maybe three times before Hiccups slow progression of skill with the weapon mixed with the increase of Stoick's duties as chief caused the lessons to cease.

Another memory manifested in the room beneath the stairs. Hiccup's study was once his father's trophy wall. The ghosts of the past showed Stoick lifting the four year old Hiccup up so he could place his father's newest addition onto the shelf. The result was the added weight finally caused the poorly designed trophy wall to collapse.

Looking back over to the front door, one final memory surfaced. This one wasn't as clear as the others, but it was obvious to Hiccup what it was. A large figure and a slender figure standing by the door. The larger of the two began tossing a small chicken sized figure into the air and catching it again three times before handing it over to the slimmer figure. The two figures connected briefly in what may have been a kiss before the larger figure left entirely.

Hiccup stared up towards the stairs, knowing what he was about to do would undoubtedly undo everything he had achieved in relation to his reputation to Berk and his relationship with his father. "Odin, protect them." Hiccup prayed before ascending the stairs. He entered his bedroom and made his way around the bed to the window beside it. He stopped and took one last look around. "Sorry, Dad." he said, before jumping out of the window. He landed with ease, his rucksack hidden behind a barrel next to him. Pocketing the plans into the sack, he shrugged the thing over his shoulder and ventured into the woods.

It took him a while to find his bearings in the darkness, but he'd been to the clearing often enough that he didn't get overly lost on the way. As he entered the clearing, he called out to his friend. "Toothless! Where are you, bud?" he asked. Almost instantly, a light rumbling noise responded behind him. Hiccup was familiar enough with the noises of his friend to recognise that sound as having come from Toothless. He turned around with a smile to see a barely visible outline of what could be mistaken for a giant bat. A pair of glowing green eyes locked onto the skinny viking.

"Hey, bud. Come on, we have to go. We're leaving Berk for good." Hiccup knew Toothless was smart, at least as smart as he was. So he was thankful when the dragon didn't seem to press for a reason behind why they suddenly had to leave. Instead, Toothless merely leaned down to allow the viking access to the saddle he had fitted to the Night Fury's body. Once Hiccup was on, the pair took flight almost instantly. Fortunately, Hiccup had the foresight to dress for the cold of the night as they soared high over the island. He looked down at his village and wished it a silent farewell as he turned Toothless towards the horizon, following where the sun had set.