Chapter Text
The dragon raid came as always: in the dark of night, masses of wings fluttered among the clouds, waiting, just as Stoick and his people were.
It began with a roar, followed by the sweeping claws and jaws of fire attacking homes, people, and livestock.
Then the fire erupted, consuming every wooden structure in the village.
Stoick’s eyes tracked the flames, looking behind the fire for its source.
High in the air and soon landing on a building—
His house.
The dragon was a mass of claws and sharp silver scales, leaning into the open structure from the roof, peering inside.
Stoick felt his heart stop.
Valka was there with Hiccup.
His wife and daughter were defenseless, and a dragon was invading their home, likely to kill or eat them—he didn’t know which.
But Stoick ran.
He pushed past Vikings and vaulted over carts, evading the flames and the flying dragons that attempted to grab him with their claws. He cut through limbs and wings, and his shoulder slammed through wood and cloth, any obstacles in his way as he entered his home. He raced up the stairs, taking three steps at a time, his axe held ready.
Entering the nursery, his stomach clenched. The dragon had Valka, who was holding little Hiccup, in its claws. Stoick moved forward, determined to rescue them.
He tried to climb the remaining parts of the wall to jump onto the dragon, swinging his axe in the air with a shout, but the dragon soared upward with a powerful beat of its wings, fleeing with his family.
Stoick screamed their names, wondering how long it would be before the dragon would drop them to the ground. But the smoke was so thick that he soon lost sight of them, and his knees buckled, his weapon clattering to the floor of the now-empty nursery.
Gone. They were gone. Soon to be dead—there was no way they would survive a dragon.
Stoick the Vast wailed in that moment, overwhelmed by grief, anger, and sadness. In that brief moment of vulnerability, Stoick made a vow.
Never again.
He would never let the dragons take anything from him again.