I thought to myself that I would wait until I had finished the whole chapter.

Turns out I don't have that kind of self-control.

Anyway, enjoy the whump!

Red Snow: Chapter 1 - Fire and Ice

Hiccup saw it coming. He could see it all unfolding right before his very eyes, the tragedy that was drawing near.

Toothless, no, the Night Fury in front of him stalked ever closer.

His wide wings unfurled to make himself seem like an even bigger threat than he already was and his posture hunched as he lurked forward, cornering him. His dark fins were pressed flat against his head as a sign of his aggression, no longer as perked and curious as his Rider had always loved to see them. Black pupils within the green depths were impossibly thin slits, even more so than they usually were whenever angry or scared. They were no longer kind.

There was no Toothless, not in those eyes. It was reminiscent of the time the Red Death could take control of her subjects, of her slaves, though much worse. Her control could easily be broken back then, her mental command lacked the power to take their minds completely. The Bewilderbeast's was stronger. A true King of Dragons indeed.

Back on the Edge, Hiccup hadn't underestimated the devastation such a dragon could bring in the hands of someone like Johann, or Drago, when he first heard of this species little over a year ago.

But even so... To see such a fearsome ability be put to use, to be at the receiving end of said devastation, to not be able to reach his own best friend no matter how much he pleaded for Toothless to come to his senses and see just who he was aiming that plasma blast at... Nothing reached him.

He didn't recognize Toothless anymore. Not the dragon he's come to know and adore the past five years, not the abused creature he first met who still found it in himself to grant mercy to the ignorant Viking child who had shot him down and taken his gift of flight away.

His dragon wasn't in there.

Toothless was still somewhere there for sure, Hiccup had no doubt about that, but he wasn't the Night Fury before him.

He was now a dangerous predator and Hiccup was his defenseless prey.

From his left his father approached. Crying out his name, the large man was running as fast as his legs could carry him. Pure, blind panic for the health and safety of his offspring drove him forwards.

"Hiccup! Son!"

That was the heart-stopping sound that had drawn his attention. It made him move one of his hands, up as a meaningless protection against the Night Fury's incoming attack, to attempt to keep his terrified parent at bay.

"Dad, no!"

This was the tragedy waiting to happen. Chief Stoick had every intention to push his heir out of harm's way, but it would cost him his life in the process. A small price to pay, the man had already decided.

Hiccup made his own choice then.

Were the Gods slowing down time for him? Or perhaps the rush of his blood, the racing beats of his hearts, forced his mind to work at speeds he had not ever experienced before this moment.

But he saw it happening before him.

That Night Fury was about to fire his blast and his father was about to jump in front of him to take it all so that his son might live.

He couldn't bear the mere notion of the man laying down his life for him.

So Hiccup made a decision.

Forcing his frozen body to move, in his mind he screamed at every fiber of his breathing being, he took a step and a leap out of the way.

The dragon fired his lethal shot, moving at just the last second in effort to hit his intended target and ended up hitting neither of the two Vikings instead.

Ice shattered behind him and both big and small chunks rained all around. Hiccup felt himself be flung forward for several feet while an intense heat rushed past him. The shockwave took his breath away.

His fall was painful and would leave him with several bruises, but he was alive and that was what mattered. He had managed to force his body to move in just the nick of time and he was alive, albeit possibly slightly burned from the intensity of the explosion washing over him.

He looked over his shoulder to learn of his father's condition and noticed that the strength behind the blast had send even him flying aswell, but the man was already scrambling to get back up. He was still breathing too.

A sigh of relief left Hiccup. They were both okay.

He didn't want to imagine what may have happened if hadn't thought to try and evade.

"Hiccup!" Stoick the shouted again, but their reunion would have to wait.

Catching sight of the Night Fury charging a second blast, Hiccup pushed himself up to his feet and made a run for it.

The charging ceased as the dragon swallowed his fire and gave chase after his prey.

"Hiccup! Son! Wait!"

"Hiccup!"

Valka shouted after him too, though she was much farther away.

That was one blast.

Hiccup disappeared behind the ice and rock formations he had been cornered against as a plan began to form.

First, he had to get away from the battlefield. Besides the enormous chunks he left behind him, Hiccup was in the middle of a wide, open permafrost beach. Not a great place to stay ahead of the attacks of a lethal dragon actively seeking to take your life.

But he could see salvation up ahead. Rock and ice presented the promise of protection, of hurdles in the dragon's way. And it wasn't that far.

With the Night Fury gaining significant speed behind him, Hiccup dove within a narrow gap and heard an angered growl aswell as claws scraping on the entrance.

Safe.

For at least a moment.

There was ice all around him. The further away he got from the battlefield, the more he came across.

It was thick, in some places it was high, almost resembling something of a very shoddy labyrinth with no ceiling. But there was plenty to duck behind, many spots to hide and catch his breath in and the gaps he ran and jumped through were only narrow enough for someone of his build to comfortably go through. Some places weren't big enough for the Night Fury to force himself through.

That made it the perfect environment to outlast him in.

A total of six blasts he needed to survive and there were only five of them left.

Hiccup saw a chance. No matter how small.

Second blast.

Once again pure, unadulterated heat graced his skin as another shot was fired behind him. Ice was send flying in every direction, some of which hit his lithe form.

While running, he made sure his head was at least shielded from the shards and blocks, leaving his hands and arms to take most of it.

"Four more to go. Come on, Bud. Just four more and I can get you out of that prison." He panted as he took a sharp corner, the sleek body of his dragon only briefly appearing in view above him as the Night Fury tried to hunt him down from the top.

Hiccup would like to consider that the easiest part of the plan. When he no longer needed to run and the reptile needed to take a long moment to recuperate. Then he could approach him and bring Toothless back from the Bewilderbeast's control.

He would not stop until he got his dragon back.

Third blast.

This one send Hiccup flying unexpectedly into a cold, hard wall of ice. The impact knocked the air right out of him and bruised his left arm and side. He then slid down into the snow and groaned as he caught his breath.

His predator must've noticed what he tried to do and thus attempted to get ahead of him. Successfully so.

He had to keep moving. He could hear his rumbling roar too close for comfort.

"Come on, Hiccup. Get going." He tried to picture Astrid in his mind and the several training sessions she had put him through after the whole ordeal with Alvin and Dagur. Conjuring up the teasing tone in her voice as she pushed him further each week.

He need to learn how to fight, she had claimed. He needed to build up his stamina and muscles now that dragonriding was already doing wonders for him.

His body had gone from thin to lean, that was just the way it was. There was no bulk no matter how much muscle she got him to build. But Astrid had proven herself right. Just like today, all of that training had come in use several times.

Fourth blast.

Quick and sharp turns saved him from this one, though he lost his footing and nearly stumbled, using a small formation of ice to recover back into a steady pace.

He hoped to remain difficult to predict as he continued to flee.

Parts where the obstructions weren't as high alerted him to his parents calling for him. Gobber had joined the search aswell, though the two men couldn't physically enter this place far away from the battlefield.

"Almost... Almost... Two more." His lungs burned from the effort, his thighs complained and his stump began to suffer from the exertion and the chill combined, he was sure to be stiff and sore tomorrow, but he had to push forward.

For Toothless.

Fifth blast.

The Night Fury, knowing only two more attempts remained, changed tactics and a wall exploded right in front of Hiccup.

There was no time to even yelp as he was thrown, like a ragdoll, against an unfortunately sharp surface. Back taking most of the collision. He felt his skin break open and leather tear, he was sure there was a nasty cut on his left thigh now. His entire left side was getting a beating today. Both his knee and shoulder hurt.

His ears rang and a block of ice the size of his hand had come down on him from above due to the shockwave of the explosion, landing on his head and causing blood aswell as pain to erupt from his skull.

Hiccup was left speechless as he simply sat there, thick, red fluid rapidly matting his hair and running down his face, temple and cheek. He could hardly see straight. It took him longer than he would've liked to compose himself. Within seconds the dragon was upon him once more.

When a loud and long whining broke through the ringing sound in his ears did Hiccup look up to see the purple glow of the sixth and final blast wash over him through his blurry and stained vision.

But he managed to move and his hunter needed to swallow that blast aswell.

"Come on. Come on!" With barely any energy or air left did he push himself forward.

Vikings usually didn't survive a full on attack from a Night Fury, but he had brought a lot of firsts in his life. Maybe this one could be too.

He was tired, on the last of his strength. He could barely see straight and his movement had become sluggish due to his newly aquired head injury. His body had started to feel weak, to shake and tremble from the rush of it all, slowing him down even further.

Yet, he was almost there. He couldn't give up, not now.

He had to get Toothless back.

There was only one more way out of this place and no convenient corners to hide behind. A final corridor to run through.

Sixth blast.

As if mocking him, time slowed down again and he became aware of a new whining. Right behind him. Hiccup turned to take one look in a single breath to see the unfamiliar sight of his best friend there. A single remaining shot and nothing to stop it.

Five he could outlast, but for this one he just wasn't lucky enough.

Bringing one hand up to shield himself and beginning to shout his best friend's name was all his drained person could muster before a blinding light enveloped him and the waking world was lost.

It was with a deepened scowl that Drago followed.

He had sent that wretched Night Fury after the boy, expecting one blast to be enough for Stoick's embarrassment, but it clearly wasn't. Hiccup had proven to be a slippery one as he dodged again and again, purple glowing igniting in the distance. It made anger boil in his veins.

He was hard to get rid of at least. A challenge. His one redeeming quality as a runt.

Drago Bludvist had caught sight of the labyrinth the young man had disappeared into for safety and growled in frustration as he saw the telltale colour of purple light up not once, not twice, not thrice, but four more times and still the hunt kept on going.

Shameful. How weak was this Night Fury? A poor excuse for a war machine.

Drago was almost beginning to wonder when that boy would finally die the moment the sky had lit up a fifth time before the sixth plasma shot rung out true.

And with the beautiful lavender light the body of a young man no older than twenty came flying out of the maze and onto flat terrain. Limp he came to ground and no move was made to get back up.

Drago came to a stand still as he watched, his aggravation gradually ebbing away to make place for a sense of victory as he waited.

And waited.

And waited.

But the lifeless form stayed just that. Lifeless.

A dark chuckle left the scarred man at the sight.

The supposed 'Dragon Master' slain by his own mount. It was a tale he would recount for years to come, one of a cautionary kind in case he'd cross more pests who would even dare to think they can stop Drago Bludvist, the true master of dragons.

He would tell them of the Runt of Berk, a young and ignorant boy who foolishly thought he could be anything other than a small, meaningless hindrance in the overal scheme of Drago's plan.

The horrified screams of a frightened father brought delight to him and Drago turned to return to where the battlefield still raged between the trappers and the Dragon Riders, who had no idea yet that they lost their leader.

One insignificant runt down.