Chapter One: Betrayed

Hiccup could sense the tension in the castle that grew with every passing hour. It lingered everywhere like a bad stench. His father was distant, his uncle angry and his cousin spent a lot of time holed up in his room. The servants, noblemen and subjects that flocked around the castle were hurried and quiet. Things were about to go wrong – soon.

It was during dinner that things began to kick off. Hiccup, being the eighteen-year-old future king of Berk, had been sent to bed early by his father, King Stoick. Although he was tired by the day's events (debating over tax, helping to create defences against dragon raids, listening to his future subjects whine and other kingly stuff) he was unable to banish the curiosity that compelled him to listen through the door of the dinner hall. He was only able to catch snippets of conversation through the thick oak wood. What he heard made the tense ball in his stomach tighten. Yet again, his uncle Spitelout had created a petty argument with the king (as usual, about bloodlines) that would soon boil over into something far more serious. And deadly, knowing Spitelout.

Deciding to head to bed before somebody threw open the door and broke his nose, Hiccup trotted up the marble steps to his bedroom. He had claimed the tallest tower in the castle when he was just six, inspired by the storybooks that he had read, and had regretted it ever since. Climbing up the three thousand steps every day took up time and a lot of Hiccup's energy. Although he was tall, he was also skinny and far weaker than a Viking prince should be. His legs, putting it nicely, were thin and twig-like. Stairs-climbing was not on his list of skills.

"One day I'm going to invent a system that lifts people to wherever they want to go so that they don't have to walk up ten flights of Thor-damn stairs!" Hiccup muttered as he started on the seventh flight of seemingly endless staircases.

He amused himself by planning how this system would work as he dragged himself up the last few flights of stairs. When he finally stumbled past his bedroom door and flopped onto his bed, he made a mental note to work on his leg muscles. It was a plan the he had made countless times before but Hiccup pretended that he might actually do it this time.

Not even bothering to undress, Hiccup crawled underneath his goose-down bedsheets and immediately began to snore. His final, sleepy thought was that he probably shouldn't have let Snotlout make him drink so much wine.

It seemed like no time had passed at all when Hiccup was being violently shook out of his sleepy state. Literally. His hand immediately went to his bedside table, where he kept his dagger in a hidden drawer, only to find the drawer open and empty.

"You should really work on your hiding spots, son." King Stoick whispered, holding the weapon out to the prince. Realising that there was no immediate danger, Hiccup gave a sleepy: "Sure, Dad." in response and tried to snuggle back beneath the covers. Gentler this time, Stoick shook Hiccup's shoulder until he reluctantly sat up.

"S'matter?" Hiccup mumbled, thinking longingly of going back to sleep.

"You have five minutes, Hiccup. Get up, get dressed and pack for travel."

"What? Why?" Hiccup asked, suddenly wide awake.

As the prince threw back his bedclothes, Stoick chuckled. "Well, at least you don't have to get dressed. Get as many clothes as you can – thick jackets, tunics, winter clothes. You're going to need them."

"It's the middle of summer, Dad." Hiccup grumbled. Nonetheless, he climbed out of bed and began to rifle through his drawers, looking for the clothing that would – of course – be right at the bottom.

Hiccup snuck a glance at his father as he rifled through his drawers. He recognised the face that the king had when speaking with his subjects – the straight, drawn one that effectively concealed emotion. But his eyes were unmistakeable – they were full of fear and anger.

"Where am I going, Dad? Why am I going there?"

"I have food for you, medical supplies and your sword. I also have money in this secret compartment in the food bag which will be more than enough for you to buy more. And-"

"Dad!" Hiccup hissed, pausing his frantic packing. "Answer me! What's going on?"

Stoick sighed. His expression reminded Hiccup of childhood scoldings and his lessons on how to be a king. The look implied that somebody, or something, had done something wrong. Before speaking, he handed Hiccup his sword in its scabbard, which Hiccup buckled to his belt while he waited for his father. He also took the dagger than his father had retrieved and placed it inside the lining of his left boot. (Now fully awake, he was rather disgusted with himself for sleeping fully clothed.)

"It's your uncle. One of my loyal subjects overheard him talking about how he plans to kill you and have Snotlout take your place as Crown Prince."

This revelation should've frightened Hiccup – instead, he felt oddly pleased. He was glad that he finally knew the source of the castle's tense atmosphere. The fear would come later.

"I bet he plans on taking the throne for himself, though, that filthy, murderous, Thor-dammed, traitorous-"

"Calm down Dad." Hiccup said soothingly, turning back to his chest of drawers and continuing his frantic packing.

"Yes, yes. Anyway, he seems to have half the castle on his side. He turned them on me right underneath my nose!" Stoick took a deep breath, planning on ranting again, but stopped himself when he saw his son's expression. "They're drunk but one Hiccup doesn't stand a chance against thirty men with axes and swords." He caught Hiccup's eye. "No offence, son."

"None taken, Dad." Hiccup muttered sarcastically.

"I'm sending you to the Ingremans until I know that it's safe for you to return home. Fishlegs was your childhood friend and his father is loyal to me and the crown. You'll be safe there. I've assigned a trained warrior to you to protect you on your journey. They aren't one of our soldiers but they are better, stronger and faster than any soldier I've met and they get the job done without fail. You'll be safe with them."

"What about you, Dad?" Hiccup asked, stuffing the clothes into an empty bag that his father handed to him and heaving it onto his shoulder. "Will you be safe here?"

Stoick chuckled. "I'm the king, Hiccup! If anybody kills me, it'll be you when you become tired of waiting for the throne." He clapped a massive hand around Hiccup's shoulder, nearly sending him to the floor. "Don't you worry about me."

Hiccup nodded slowly, not quite believing him but unable to say so. "When are they planning on killing me?" The nonchalance of his voice surprised even himself.

Stoick pondered this for a moment. "About an hour ago. They fell asleep over their mead but they'll be awake soon. Nothing stops a Viking from getting what he wants – not even being drunk. It took the subject ten minutes to climb the stairs, fifteen to wake me, five to tell me what was wrong, twenty minutes for somebody to wake the groom and have your horse saddled and twenty minutes to find you a map and other things that you'll need. I let you sleep in for a bit."

"Gee, thanks, Dad." Hiccup quipped. (His father didn't seem to realise that his uncle could've woken up and murdered him easily in that hour. Not to mention the fact that he could've contributed to his own escape.) He yanked the rope of the worn old bag further up his shoulder, setting his mouth into a determined line. "Are we okay to go?"

Stoick nodded and headed for the door. Hiccup took a moment to look around his room for what might be the last time. He smiled fondly at the chalk marks on the walls that his father had drawn to mark his height, his green bed set, his vast collection of books and the dozens of half-finished inventions that covered the chairs, windowsills and floor. They would doubtlessly be destroyed when his uncle discovered that they had fled. Hiccup felt a great sadness for what he suddenly understood to be a final farewell to his childhood.

After a few seconds, Hiccup followed his father out of the door and locked it behind him. That would hold off his killers for a while. He expected him to go down the main flight of steps but Stoick instead headed for a little side door that he unlocked using a key from the vast collection that he kept about his person. The door opened to reveal a large, seeming bottomless hole and a large wooden basket that hung in the middle of it.

"This is a system that allows the servants to efficiently transport people and items around the castle. I had them made a few weeks after I became king because it took ages for my nurse to bring me my hot water bottle when I was a lad." Stoick chuckled at the memory. "I named it the elevator, because it elevates - but I also like the name lift, because it lifts. We'll use it to get to the ground floor twice as fast as my brother can get up those stupid stairs."

Hiccup cursed silently – partly because he had been climbing up the stairs for twelve years instead of using the elevator but mostly because his father had invented the lifting system before he had even thought of it.

They climbed awkwardly into the basket. Stoick held Hiccup's two bags (the bag of his clothes and the bag containing the food and other items that Stoick had packed) for him. He fiddled with a few levers with his free hand while Hiccup sat gingerly on one of the boxes and tried not to imagine how easily he could meet his doom in the creaky basket.

"Okay, here we go!"

Hiccup shrieked like a small girl as they went plummeting down so fast that he was unable to draw breath. The stale air screamed in his ears and floor grew closer and closer – soon, Hiccup could make out the individual blocks.

Just before they were sent to Valhalla thanks to the unforgiving stone, one of the ropes on the basket reached the end of its length, stopping the basket with a sharp crack. Hiccup shrieked again as he fell to the floor, narrowly missing his face and avoiding losing a tooth. Stoick, who had been holding onto a handle at the side of the basket, lifted him to his feet with a single massive arm and brushed the dust off his clothes.

"Probably should've warned you about the sudden stop, eh, son?"

"Probably." Hiccup muttered.

Stoick wound a wench located in the corner of the basket that lowered them safely to the stone floor. They exited the basket, Stoick with his usual massive strides and Hiccup in manner that resembled Snotlout after a pillaging the wine cupboard. He was surprised that he wasn't violently hurling.

They headed along the dark corridor leading away from the basket that seemingly went on forever. However, they eventually exited the tunnel through a small door that Hiccup had never noticed before in the palace courtyard. It took a moment for Hiccup's eyes to adjust to the light created by the torches surrounding them. When they did, he saw his horse, Night, being held by a tired-looking groom in the centre of the courtyard.

When he caught sight of his master, the black stallion whinnied gently. Hiccup walked unsteadily towards him and stroked his velvety nose. Stoick, meanwhile, tied the bags to Night's saddle and talked quietly with the groom. The man tied a third bag (which presumably contained things for Night) to the saddle before disappearing back inside the castle.

"Are you ready, son?"

Hiccup nodded, suddenly unable to speak. Fear, excitement and anticipation (not to mention, nausea) were all boiling in his stomach and threatening to make him sick. With an expertise gained by years of practice, he swung himself into Night's saddle and adjusted the stirrups and girth from his position in the saddle. The horse pawed the ground, eager to be off.

"Your guide will meet you at the Hollow Oak in Raven Forest. You know where it is. I've sent their money to the Ingremans so you don't have to worry about paying them. They don't know how to get there so you'll have to use the map in the saddlebags to help you find your way. I hope that your geography sessions didn't go to waste."

Hiccup chuckled nervously. "They didn't. Be safe, Dad."

"I will be, son. It's yourself that you need to worry about. If the protector I've assigned doesn't see you to the Ingremans safely then they'll have me to answer to." Stoick took a deep breath, seemingly steeling himself. "We'll see each other again when all of this is over. Be brave, my son."

"I will, Dad."

Both men jumped in alarm when the main doors of the castle were thrown open. A group of approximately thirty men emerged, each carrying weapons of varying size and deadliness. Leading the pack was Spitelout, with his son, Snotlout, just behind him. Snotlout was clutching his axe so hard that his knuckles were white and he appeared to be holding back vomit - whether from fear or the large amount of alcohol that he had consumed at dinner, Hiccup didn't know.

"I didn't take you for a fleeing coward, Stoick!" Spitelout's voice boomed out across the courtyard. Night danced nervously beneath Hiccup at the sound of his voice.

"When I say go, you go." Stoick muttered.

"I can't leave you with them, Dad!" Hiccup replied, quietly but urgently.

Stoick ignored him. "Says the man who holds a weapon in front of his king." He bellowed to his brother.

"You're not my king." Spitelout spat on the ground. "You and your kid are unworthy of the throne. My son, Snotlout Jorgenson, is the true king!"

The men around them cheered. Snotlout, however, appeared utterly terrified and could barely manage a squeak.

Stoick adopted his most lordly tone, which Hiccup guessed he had done to spite Spitelout. "You know not what you speak of, brother. Do not attack me with foul words – drop your weapons and come back inside my castle."

"This is your castle no longer, Stoick! From this night forward, you and your son shall never sit upon the throne. It is time that the Jorgensons seize the crown!"

"Now!" Stoick whispered while Spitelout basked in the cheers of his followers.

When Hiccup did nothing, Stoick whacked Night on the rear with the flat of his palm. The horse squealed and bolted towards the open gates.

"Get them!" bellowed Spitelout.

Hiccup twisted around in the saddle. He watched helplessly as the warriors that his father had once called friends surrounded him. Stoick fought valiantly, taking down five of the men with his bare hands, but the numbers proved too much for him. Six of them held him back while Spitelout walked to the front of the group and spat in the king's face.

Desperate, Hiccup yanked on Night's reins until he stopped, intending to go back and save his father. Even from a distance, he could hear Spitelout's every word.

"Any last words, brother?"

Stoick grinned ruefully. "Hiccup shall be the king when you kill me. You shall never rule Berk."

"Your son can't be king when he's dead. With the knowledge that I will kill him like I will kill you, you shall die."

In his final seconds, Stoick turned his head. When his eyes locked onto the stricken prince, he mouthed one final word.

Son.

Then Spitelout plunged his sword into his heart.

A/N ~ That's it. Breathe it all in. Breathe in the death of Stoick the Vast. Enjoy your daily dose of character death.

Hello, all.

This story is going through the process of being re-written. I'm uploading the first chapter in the hope that it'll pressurise me to finally get it done. This means that I may finish it - and I may not. If I give up on this story, it will be deleted. If I don't, I already have plans for sequels that will follow more of the HTTYD plotline. We'll see how it goes. Don't try and make an update schedule happen because you'll be wasting your time.

I'm going to edit chapter two as soon as this is up. Just know that this story isn't going to be the main focus of my life and it may be deleted.

If I've made any mistakes, please let me know (constructively). If you like this story then please let me know. If you don't... go read something else. All reviews will be appreciated beyond belief. :D

My apologies if I seem a bit arsey. I've written this A/N about five times and have about as much patience as a Monstrous Nightmare.

I'll see you when I see you. ;)