Ch. 1

A large, dark hall. It stood surrounding black sand and dying flora. The ground was surrounding a black, misty darkness. The hall stood almost like an island, with the black void surrounding it on all sides; up, down, left, right, backward, forward, everywhere. The mist around the island was dark gray and thick. The only light was the torches that were lit with green flames. The entirety of the building seemed like a large palace or castle rather than a hall.

A thin, short boy, no older than fifteen stood at the at least 20 foot large doors. He clutched a glowing golden scroll under his arm. Like his life depended on it. Fear ran through like an adrenaline. He moved to knock on massive doors, but they opened before his shaky knuckles could touch them.

The creaking black, wooden doors slowly opened. The boy's fear immediately reached new heights. Taking a moment to gather as much courage as he could, which wasn't a lot, he slowly entered. Walking into the hall, he found something he'd never see in his life.

The hall was dark and gloomy, but generously large nonetheless. Tables of were filled with men and women ranging from fifteen and older. They all had a dark aura around them as they drank and made merry; drinking contests, jokes, playful wrestling, stories of the past. Judging by their attire, one could see they all came from different factions of the world. Hellas, Kemet, Roma, Scandinavia, Nippon, Shenzhou, Alkebulan, etc. Despite their skin colors and different cultural features, they all wore leather, fur, and dark colors.

The moment the walked in everyone stopped their merrymaking and turned their eyes to him with hostility. Some grabbed weapons but didn't do anything when they saw his short, thin frame and cowardly aura. The boy trembled with terror.

A young, pretty woman with plaited dark chocolate hair unsheathed her black khopesh. Her green eyes were narrowed with hostility. She had a bronze skin tone, but it seemed pale from the amount of time she spent in the dark. She wore a black kalasiris that was outline and trimmed with gold and was barefoot.

"Who are you, and what are you doing in our master's hall?"

The venom in her voice made the boy flinch back. Another person came up next to the Arabic looking woman. Her skin was ghostly pale with flaming red hair and pale blue eyes. She wore short, black chiton with Greek sandals. A quiver of gray arrows was strung on her back with a silver bow on her shoulder.

"Whoever he is, I'd say he's our new target." She turned around yelled to the other members of the hall. "See this?! Our master has granted us a new prey to hunt! Shall we not extend our deepest gratitudes?!"

Roars of approval were heard all around the hall. The boy's eyes held panic and anxiety about his hide, which seemed to be about to be skinned alive. The Arabic woman lowered her khopesh. "I'd get a head start if I were you. Although, it might not help."

Panic overrode his better judgement, the boy stepped closer to the khopesh wielding warrioress. "I'm merely a messenger, a messenger for your lord and master. The Exiled One."

In a blur of speed, the woman held her sword close to the boy's neck that it drew a trickle of blood and redhead had an three arrows notched at the teen. The redhead spoke through gritted teeth, "Hold your tongue in Lord Night's hall, boy."

The golden scroll was snatched from the boy by a burly man. He would attempt to take back the message, but metal drew trickles of red from his throat. The burly man scanned the scroll before the man's eyes widened.

He handed it to the Arabic woman, "It is for Lord Night, straight from the Queen of the Earth."

The woman held her threatening gaze to the boy before slowly pulling her sword away. "You won't die, for now, boy."

The redhead woman looked at the golden paper with narrowed eyes. She looked at her friend with reluctance, "Are we really gonna listen to the mouth of a servant of the Archipelago?"

The Arabic woman raised an eyebrow at her companion, "It is signed by the Chief's wife herself."

The redhead hurriedly reread the scroll before scowling angrily. The Arabic woman came up to the boy, her 5'9" stature towering over his 5'6" stature.

"Give praise to your mistress, boy, any other reason for intruding in our master's domain and you'd be food for the wolves."

The boy was grabbed forcefully by the nape of his and dragged further into the hall, behind the brunette and redhead. He noticed it far larger than it appeared outside.

It had five stories worth of men, women, and teens. Lord Night's Hall. All the souls of the deceased that are the world's greatest hunters ended up here. Where they hunted game and prey for the rest of eternity with their lord and master. Each hunter were proficient experts at hunting game that they were recognized by Lord Night, and entrance into the sacred, dark halls of Night.

Some of the deceased hunters took notice of the boy holding the glowing scroll. They approached large steps that led to an extremely large throne. It was of obsidian black with two green flamed torches on the tips. Various animal skeletons were littered around it. Some, the boy never seen or imagined. Behind it was an enormous mirror that any member of the hall could see. It was black to point where he could barely see his reflection. A silver crescent moon symbol was engraved into it, with a zigzag in it.

Coming to the steps, the boy was forced to his knees in forced bow. The burly man and redhead female bowed as well. The Arabic woman went up the steps to the throne and bowed with the scroll outstretched to the throne.

"Lord Night, a message has demanded your attention, please, grace us with your presence."

Suddenly, the darkness around the throne rose and entered it. The shadows solidified into a masculine figure before dispersing back around the seat of power.

He was twenty feet tall with a lean, muscular build. Black boots trimmed with black fur. Black leather, form fitting pants. A sleeveless, black tunic that tight against his torso, showing off the defined muscle in his chest and arms. Bicep-length, fingerless gloves that was furred from the wrist up. A runic tattoos ran up his arms and chest, most prominently a crescent moon on his left shoulder. A black wolf skinned cloak wrapped around him, with the head made into hood over his head; revealing only his stubbly, angular jaw. A small, pure silver stag skull necklace was around his neck. Silver eyes stared at his attendant, which was on bended knee.

Everyone in the hall was on bended knee with their head bowed in respect at powerful being that sat on the throne made of black.

The redhead whispered to bowing messenger, "Behold, messenger, the Dark God."

Leaning forward, the god grabbed the scroll from his attendant. It enlarged when he held it in his hand. After reading it he turned his attention to the messenger. The boy in question knew he was directly examined, but he didn't have the bravery to meet the god's flashlight like eyes.

"Rise."

His deep, baritone voice echoed around the hall. Everyone stood at the god's command, awaiting his next. His eyes were trained on the messenger; who in which kept his gaze on the obsidian floor.

"Lord, if I may speak?"

The night god's gaze went to the Arabic woman. "You may."

"With all due respect, Lord, may I know why the Queen of the Earth delivers you a message?"

The dark god leaned back leisurely before exhaling, black mist coming from under his hood. He chuckled humorously, his shoulders shaking, "It seems I'm being summoned. To the Council no less. I wonder what I did this time?"

"But the Council is only for, well, the Council." His attendant voiced her confusion. The dark god sighed, "Yes, it is. But it seems the Queen of the Earth has given me a special invitation to attend this time."

"Are you, my lord?"

The god didn't say anything, but waved his hand. Two bulky men grabbed the messenger and escorted him out of the god's hall. A barmaid served the god of mug of mead. Drinking it, he brooded intensely. Though his face was concealed by his wolf skinned hood, one could easily see the silver eyes glinting in with either madness or genius.

The corner of lip curled into a crooked grin.

X

The Archipelago. It was an archipelago within the heavens. Various spirits, deities, and gods lived on it. Warriors of reputation, heroes of legend. Any mortal that has done anything noble to gain the gods' favor was rewarded with being invited to the Archipelago.

At the basest of the highest mountain stood ten thrones. They were placed in a U shape with the middle throne the largest and most grandiose. It was being occupied by a very large, very imposing, very intimidating man. He was 6'9" in height, and had a very bulky frame. His shoulders were extremely broad, with arms looked capable of crushing stone. His long red hair was braided, with his long beard intricately plaited. His electric blue eyes were hard for any mortal to look at. He wore metal, spiked vambraces with a dark blue chainmail tunic. Black pants cuffed into grey furred boots. A dark brown fur cloak. Stoick, the God of the Sky, Thunder, Lightning, Weather, Air, Winds, Clouds, Storms, Law, Order, Justice, War, Strength, and Power; the King of the Heavens.

To his right was his wife. A beautifully elegant woman with golden brown hair so long it was plaited into one long braid. 5'10" stature with a slim yet curvaceous figure. She wore a gold dress with a long cape. Boots with a golden trim. Her grass green eyes twinkled with warmth and kindness to anyone who they were fixated on. Valka, Goddess of the Earth, Agriculture, Forests, Valleys, Plains, Deserts, the Harvest, and the Seasons.

"What have you to report, Astrid?" Stoick's voice rumbled like thunder.

Astrid, the Goddess of the Sun, Light, Day, Fire, Summer, War, Battle, Courage, Valor, Honor, and Victory. She easily one of the most beautiful goddesses in existence. In her mortal size, she stood at 5'9". Like Valka, she had a slim and curvy figure; wide hips, small waist, and a large enough chest to know that she was a woman. Her form was womanly, yet had just a bit more toned muscle than an average female. Her sun bleached blonde hair was long and plaited in a single braid that draped over her shoulder stopping at her stomach. Her skin was smooth and sun kissed. She wore a red, sleeveless shirt and dark spiked skirt with gold skull belt. She had thick fur bracers along her forearms. On her right arm from the elbow up was an intricately designed gold armor. The goddess had large white, tawny furred hoodie cloaked on her back and shoulders.

"What you predicted is true, Bludvist is rising, soon."

A tense silence was developed between the other deities. Bludvist. The God of the Underworld, Death, the Dead, Evil, Monsters, and Demons. He had an insatiable lust for power and wanted more and more. The prophecy goddess even predicted that he would one day rise from his binds in the Underworld to war against the King of the Gods for his power. Cruel, ruthless, selfish, bloodthirsty, insane, power-hungry. Bludvist wanted one thing: Stoick's seat of power, his throne.

Recently, there was a stirring in the Underworld. At first, everyone thought that Bludvist was losing control of his domains, but they soon felt the Underworld was getting stronger. Sucking in energy like a vacuum. Even a few spirits and deities were rumored to have gone rogue. Signs that Bludvist was making his move.

"Send word of Bludvist's rise. Gather as many allies as we can muster."

Stoick's command made the other gods nod their heads. But before Stoick could dismiss the Council, Valka spoke. "But, before we dismiss, there's a certain ally that we have to acquire. One that would be a formidable enemy to Bludvist."

Stoick turned to his wife, "You invited someone to this meeting?"

Valka nodded but didn't say anything else as something else happened. Out of nowhere, the moon appeared in the sky in it's silvery glory. It was morning, so Astrid's Sun was still rising from the east. But in the west, darkness rose from the horizon, trailing behind the moon.

Stoick turned to Astrid with furrowed, "Astrid, what is this?! Is this your doing?!"

Astrid grabbed her head as an explosion of pain erupted in her head. She winced with her eyes shut tightly, "No, sir, it isn't me! Someone strong is fighting me!"

A raven speedily pierced from the dark horizon. It flew with the speed of an arrow. It touched at the basest of the mountain before, in seconds, morphing into a dark, shadowy figure.

The entire evened out; with the Sun and it's light in the east and the Moon and it's darkness in the west. Down the middle was a large array of colors. Red, orange, yellow, purple, pink. It looked like a battlefield. Day and Night were battling it out for dominance, with Dawn and Dusk as the crossfire.

Each God gripped their respective weapons at the appearance of he who should not be named, literally. As far as the Archipelago known the Exiled One, as they called him, was nameless, as per his banishment and shunning. They referred to him as 'the Exiled One', 'He', 'It', 'Nameless', 'the Silent One', or 'the Dark One'.

"Stay your weapons!" Valka roared. "He is my guest."

Everyone froze as their eyes turned to the chief's wife. Stoick especially. His face turned red as rage filled his eyes. "You invited him hear, without my consent?! You're undermining my authority, wife!"

"You just said that we need allies," Valka turned to Stoick, "did you not, husband?"

The fury in his thunderous voice made the Silent One smile under his hood. Satisfied that he got under skin, and didn't have to do much. Just by stepping foot into the place he was banished the most of all out every place in creation. He snapped his fingers. The golden scroll Valka sent him materialized at the foot of Stoick.

"At first I had thought it was from the King himself," the dark god's demonically deep voice held amusement, "but then I realized he'd be too prideful and stubborn to revoke my banishment. Even it's for aiding you in the fight against Bludvist."

The god, Snotlout, answered haughtily, "What makes think we need your help, godling?"

Snotlout, the God of War, Conflict, Violence, Bloodshed, Rage, Strength, Weapons, & Battlelust. He was short for a male, being only 5'7. He made up his short height with his beefy muscle. He was shirtless, showing off his hulking torso and his numerous scars. He had black, spiked bracers. A helmet with ram's horns that concealed most of his dark ebony hair. Black pants cuffed into his black boots.

The god would've lashed out verbally, or physically, but he didn't. He directed his silver gaze to the war god with a smirk, "Your queen sending me a message that her and her kingdom needs aid from me."

Snotlout leaned forward with rage marring his features. The way his muscles tensed made everyone think he was gonna pounce on the disaster god. But he didn't, he restrained himself; something that surprised everyone. Given that he used violence as a solution for almost everything. Especially on something that belittled his ego.

Stoick intervened before there was a fight between gods. The King turned to the dark god with controlled anger, "Your banishment stands, Bludvist's rise will not change that."

The god tilted his head with his silver eyes glinting with amusement, "Yet your wife goes behind your back and undermines your position as king," he turned away to look at the horizon with a smile, "I see the one who wears the pants in that relationship."

The arms of Stoick's throne was crushed under his large hands. He jumped to his feet as lightning flashed above them and thunder roared in the distance.

"Enough!"

Valka's powerful voice made Stoick stop from doing she desperately didn't want happen. The exiled god winced in pain from the divine power in her voice.

The goddess queen stood elegantly with her hands clasped together in front of her. She had a certain sadness in her green eyes that god caught sight of. "Please, will you help us?"

The god's steely silver eyes were… stoic, a trait he inherited from his father. His resolve broke under the warmth of the Earth goddess's green orbs. Sighing frustratedly, he pouted slightly, "I will… if your king will allow a few liberations of my banishment."

"The terms of your banishment will not bended," Stoick leaned forward, "that will never change."

"Stoick, please, listen to reason!"

Stoick turned to his life long friend, Gobber; God of the Forge, Blacksmiths, Craftsmanship, Fire, Volcanoes, and Lava. He was 6'3" in height with a bulky frame, like Stoick, only less prominent. He had long dirty blond hair. His eye sockets were full of flames instead of eyes. Despite the flaming eyes, he could see just fine. Parts of his body were covered in soot and grime. He wore a leather vest and soot covered pants. His left arm and right leg were replaced with prosthetics.

Gobber eyed Stoick with his flaming eyes, "This is Bludvist we're talking about. Would you rather him as an ally, or cut him loose and have him become a potential ally for Bludvist?"

Stoick glared disdainfully at the Silent One. It was a tough decision: swallow his pride and gain an accessory or send him straight to the enemy.

The god tilted his head and held out his wrists with a smirk; asking to be unbound. Stoick grit his teeth angrily, "I don't want to see your face or feel your presence!"

Snapping his fingers, Stoick released the god from his binds. Golden bronze chains materialized on It's wrists, before unlocking and falling to the floor, something that made Valka smile warmly at the sight of. He massaged his wrists, then suddenly, broke the chains underneath his boot. The gods on the council all tensed, but slightly relaxed at the sight of him just popping his neck.

He breathed deeply, "So this is what freedom feels like?"

"Remember our terms, godling!"

Snotlout's words almost made him physically lash out at him, but his resistance got the better of him. With clenched fists, he turned to Snolout, "Kol! My name… is Kol!"

Valka was perplexed, she tilted her head, "But you are nameless…"

Kol turned to Valka, "A few of the terms of my banishment was that be stripped of my birth name, my title, and my heritage. Basically every essence of my identity. It didn't say anything about building my own identity."

"And what is your identity?" Stoick asked, wary about what had become of the boy after several millennia.

Kol pulled back his hood. A feathery, luscious mane of bronze auburn draped around his shoulders and shoulder-blades. It looked soft as silk, and had a shine to it. Steely silver eyes with pitch black sclera. High cheekbones with a chiseled, angular jaw, along with a stubbly beard.

"My name is Kol… God of Night, Darkness, Shadows, the Moon, Stars, Mystery, the Unseen, Chaos, Disaster, the Hunt, and Dragons." He smiled crookedly, "Its been a pleasure doing business."

Disappearing in tornado of purple flames, Kol was gone.

Astrid turned to the king and queen, "Do you think we can trust him? No one would willingly aid the same people that banished them without a second thought."

Stoick narrowed his eyes at the spot Kol stood. He hummed thoughtly, "He must have an alternative motive for his aid."

"Should I find out what?" Astrid was determined.

Stoick nodded, not looking at her, "I want to know why. Go!"

"Yes, lord." In a flash of light, Astrid.

Valka frowned at her husband, why must he be so paranoid? Regardless of what transpired so long ago, Kol, as he called himself, was still one of them at point. But that was past. In addition, even she was curious why he was willingly to help them. But she'd hope she'd find out soon enough. That and get to know her long lost son once more.

Welcome to my first story, Divinity. Hope the ones that took the time read it liked it. I've always loved HTTYD, and than I thought: "Why the hell not?"

As gods, I've always saw Hiccup as a Hades. The one that isn't invited to Olympus or an Olympian, despite him being one of the eldest gods and the eldest son of Kronos. Dark, gloomy, bitter, and holds a grudge against the ones who betrayed.

But the question: What is Kol's motive for helping?