GENDERBENT HICCUP! GET THE HECK OUT OF BERK AU!

HTTYD-GENDERBENT: Where I Belong

SUMMARY: After Stoick found out about her 'betrayal', Hikka decides that she's had enough physiological pain and frees Toothless and the arena Dragons and rides as far away from Berk as possible. Wounded, cold, and little to no hope for survival, she admits defeats and crashes on an island, preparing to succumb to her scars. But then she crosses paths with people she has more in common with then she thought. Will she find where she belongs? Or will the past continue to hunt her down?

Berk: Great Hall

"You're not a viking. You're not my daughter."

Those words had rung in her ears the tenth time like a warning horn. Hikka felt like that was mere seconds ago, but really, it was a few hours. She can hardly believe it. She was disowned. Well, when she thought about it, she saw it coming a long time ago, and had been mentally and strategically preparing herself from the inevitable. But she thought that she had more time. And the times she spent with Toothless gave her hope. Oh, so much hope that maybe, just maybe, she could make a difference.

But now that hope was gone. Left only with the bitter taste of a shattered heart and a broken wish.

Was this it? Was this the end? By Viking belief, if someone is believed to have committed a crime, they would have to prove their innocence with women having to pick hot stone from water at Scauldron temperatures. Would she be giving such a chance? Probably not. They all saw her 'crime'. Trying to tame a Monstrous Nightmare, and a Night Fury suddenly appeared out of nowhere and defended her. But were they thankful? No. They were livid.

Hikka would no doubt be exiled. Or sold into slavery, that was also very popular. Or... oh Gods, she hoped not the Blood Eagle, their most horrific punishment that she'd rather not get into detail about it.

She hadn't realized she had been crying until she felt a drop of her salty tears land on her hand. She wiped her eyes and sniffled. There was no time for this. She looked through the small gape of the large doors of the Great Hall and saw it was almost dusk. She had to get out of here and find Toothless. If he wasn't gone already.

She stood on her legs, her knees shaking. She was scared.

She had every right to be.

She went to open the door, but then heard footsteps coming. She peaked through the gape, hoping that it was Gobber, or Astrid, or Gothi. Maybe even Gustav? Wrong.

It was Spitelout and Dogsbreathe's dad, Pigsbreathe. Hikka stepped away from the door and hid in the shadows as fast and as quiet as she could.

"How much longer will it take for that blacksmith to make a harness?!" she heard Spitelout complain, "We should be out there hours ago!" Pigsbreathe answered him. "Stoick just wants to make sure the harness is sturdy enough to hold the beast down. It's a Night Fury! I don't blame him for being a little extra."

What? They were building a harness for Toothless? So that must mean they haven't left yet! And Toothless was still here! There's still time to fix all of this!

Spitelout sighed, rubbing his shoulder irritatingly. She vaguely remembered that in a desperate attempt to protect her, Toothless had hammered Spitelout's shoulder with his wing. That's probably why it's smarting.

"Whatever. Let's just grab the traitor and go. Considering how long it's taking to make that harness, she'll just think about all she's done in the dungeons."

"Did Stoick decide on a punishment yet?"

"Well, he's not considering execution. From what I hear he plans on selling her to the Beserkers, probably as a, uh... 'special' slave, to teach her a lesson."

WHAT?! The Beserkers!? That considerably worse then the Blood Eagle. They were ruthless, bloodthirsty, and the idea of being a 'special' slave as Spitelout put it for someone like Dagur made her sick to the stomach. She actually felt like throwing up that big 'congratulations' breakfast Gobber made for her this morning.

No.

She can not. She will not be turned into a pleasure slave over something she understood probably better then anyone in this damned tribe. They want blood? Fine. They want to inflict scars and maybe 'earn' a few? Go right ahead. But it won't be to her, or any other dragon. Not on her watch.

Enough was enough.

Hikka pressed her back against the shadows as the rising moon shed light into the dark empty hall. Very few people felt like drinking after what had transpired. Spitelout pulled his bludgeon. No matter how scrawny the runt was, who knows what she learned while hanging around that Night Fury.

But she wasn't here. It was like she vanished into thin air.

"She's not here. Did Stoick lock the hall when he left her here?" Pigbreathe asked the Second-in-Command. Spitelout narrowed his smoldering eyes, gripping the bludgeon tightly.

Before the doors slammed shut behind them.

Hikka managed to block the doors with the plank that lent conveniently beside the doors. The doors shuddered from the impact Spitelout and the viking began to dealt it with the moment they realized what was happening.

"Let us out of here you little traitor!"

Traitor? That's her new found insult title for trying to show them the alternative? Fine then. She didn't even care what they thought anymore. What mattered to her now was her family. The Dragons.

Turning around, she hopped down the steps, leaving her uncle raging behind the Great Halls doors.

Hikka looked around the corner, only to lean back when she saw two vikings coming her way and sucked in her stomach, holding her breathe until they passed by far enough. She let out a sigh and continued towards the arena.

There's no way he would be anywhere else. So, fingers crossed, he had to be there.

After passing one more corner, she rushed towards the gate and entered the arena.

The Deadly Nadder, titled Illviðri, breathed in as she slept, but at soon as a familiar, lovely scent that resembled pine, the sweetest of fruits and a touch of dragon nip. She opened her eyes, the pupils widening with excitement. It was the small female the other humans referred to as Hikka. The one that scratched her sweet spot two weeks ago and presented the Gronckle with dragon nip. The one that brought that cursed sea snake to subdue the Zippleback.

And the one that tried to befriend the Monstrous Nightmare and was saved by an, honest-to-Freya, Night Fury.

Illviðri chirped loudly, gaining the ex-heiress's attention. She put a finger to her lips, trying to shush her. This made the Nadder pause. Something smelled off about Hikka. Dragons were able to sense some emotions through smell, and while a Nadder wasn't a Hobblegrunt, she smelled many emotions coming from the runt from the moment she first saw her.

She smelled frightened, terrified even, but she also caught a questioning scent.

Inquisitiveness.

The wyvern had noticed when she stood on top of the wall structures that the female continuously looked up to the obese adult male with curiosity, before her pack members encouraged her to return to the hunt. Around that time, Illviðri smelt something from Hikka, two more emotions.

Nervousness and determination. She remembered how curious she became when the girl suddenly dropped her means of attack when she was but a breathe away. Then when the strong, brightly colored female charged towards her, distracting her, she felt pleasure when she felt the ex-viking's claws scratch the underside of her head. Then absolute bliss when she scratched that special spot.

From then on that Illviðri watched from her cage as her scent continued to grow more and more confident with her skills, until she faced the Nightmare. She sparked a interest in her that no other dragon has done in decades. She found her fascinating and very beautiful for a human. The Gronckle found her curious and worth paying attention too, and much more considerate then the other two females. The Zippleback thought that she was funny with her sardonic humor and witty comebacks.

The Nightmare had very conflicted feelings about the timid female.

Hikka continued to stare at the Nadder, before her beg for silence caught the ears of a certain Offspring of Lighting and Death.

Toothless whimpered happily at the sight of his soul sister. He feared that he would never see her again when he was thrown in here. He was thankful to any Vanir God listening that he was wrong.

"Toothless!" she cried happily, being very careful to keep her voice down, but Toothless's delighted warbles had awoken the other dragons, who approached the cage doors to witness the descent human female running towards the cage the Night Fury was trapped and tied down in.

Hikka opened the cage then rush inside, falling to her knees and wrapping her arms around the purring Strike dragon. Her eyes narrowed in disgust at the sight of the muzzle around his mouth and the painful looking restraints that prevented the dragon from even moving his neck around.

She gripped the muzzle and tugged it off with a grunt, then got to work on the restraints. In a matter of minutes, Toothless was free once more. Toothless wanted to roar in joy of being able to spread his glorious wings, but checked himself. He knew it wasn't the time, nor the place.

Hikka was thankful that the saddle was still on and in one piece. She guessed the vikings couldn't be bothered with something so... un-viking. She looked at the tail fin and tilted the stirrup up and down. Open. Close.

Good. It still worked.

Getting Toothless out into the open, she prepared to hop onto the saddle. "Let's get out of here."

A distress chirp made her stop and turn to the sound. The Terrible Terror was scratching against the cage, trying desperately to get out. This made Hikka look around the arena, noticing that all the dragons were now staring at her, as though begging her to not leave them here to rot. Which they were.

She couldn't leave these dragons here to die from unhealed wounds and starvation. Even if the Nightmare tried to kill her, she couldn't blame him. Her father startled him, and he reacted instinctively for his survival. Just as the many Nightmares before him have.

Hikka remembered how Gobber said her mother, Valka, got the title 'Gentle' when her first kill became her last, as the spear drove too deep and she comforted the poor suffering Nightmare in it's final moments.

Why not follow the footsteps that she can actually succeed in?

Hikka took a deep breathe. It was bad enough when she opened Toothless's cage, opening them all at one will no doubt wake up any sleeping viking and alert them of what was happening. So arms out, ready to open the gate and lead these dragons out of here, she grabbed a hold of a lever with a hand each.

Pull.

Tug.

Yank.

Heave.

In complete unison, the gates opened and the dragons slowly emerged from their dank prisons. Hikka rush over and stood in front of them. The Nightmare growled while the others remained silent.

"Listen. I know I'm giving you no reason to trust me right now, but we must leave this place as fast as possible. Everyone in the village no doubt heard the sound of the gates opening and are on their way here, armed to the teeth." Hikka jumped to the point, making the Nightmare's growls soften.

True, Krókurhad concerns about this supposed trustworthy human, but to be honest with himself, he didn't mean to lash out. The hatchling's patriarch spooked him when he shouted so suddenly and in a blind effort to protect himself, nearly killed an innocent creature that merely wanted the vikings to see his species in a different light.

The Nightmare stood forward, provoking the Night Fury to growl as he wrapped his handicapped tail around the runt loosely, showing that he was giving him a chance, but the moment he acted out would be on his head.

Krókur couldn't believe what he was about to do.

He bowed in respect and pledged his loyalty to the runt viking referred to as Hikka.

The other dragons were a bit surprised, but were nonetheless thankful that his judgement of humans were for now reserved only for their capers.

Hikka smiled and hopped on Toothless and turned him around, preparing to lead the dragons out of here.

Only to stop and come face to face with her father.

He stood in the archway of the entrance, blocking any sort of escape route for Hikka and her flock of dragons. Axe gripped tightly in his large hands, and eyes dead set on making sure that they were not leaving. Dead or alive.

Hikka stared at her ex-father, terrified. Stoick looked like that he was willing to kill her.

Then he took an almost sad expression, which would have been convincing if it weren't for the angering heat in his eyes.

"Hikka. It doesn't have to end badly. Just get the dragons back in their cages, turn over the Night Fury and I'll let this outrage slide." Outrage? She didn't even want to think about the small amount of disbelief that her father just said.

She could help but snark, "And then what? You'll ship me off to the Berserkers and go on with your life as if I never even existed? Well, then again, you had no trouble doing that before, so really, it'll be easy to adapt to my absence."

The dragons looked at each other, then back at the exchange. What was Hikka talking about?

Stoick took a deep breath, probably to contain his control on his rage. "Hikka... I was just trying to keep you safe-"

"Safe? Your idea of safe is neglecting your only child? To tell her to stop crying and grow up when she comes home after a beat down on a rainy day? To throw me in the forge the moment I started trying to make things so I can make something you said, and I quote, 'worth your while'? Are those your idea of safe?"

"Hikka..."

"What about the time when an all Nightmare attack came to Berk. Gobber had to go join the fight, so I manned the forge, only for a Nightmare to come barging in and burning the whole place down, with me barely making it out alive. But what did you say? You asked me how I managed to burn the forge down in such a short amount of time, as if you didn't notice the Nightmare sitting on top of the damn building, looking like he won a thousand gold pieces. What about that, huh?!"

"Hikka..." Stoick trailed off. The way he saw it, sympathizing with the dragons and thinking peace with them was ever possible was but a fruitless dream that only got people killed. Valka didn't mean to kill that Nightmare at her Rite of Passage. He heard her and Gobber talk about it and she said she planned to knock it unconscious, and go from there. But then the Nightmare leaped, and in a reflex, raised the spear, piercing it's chest. She swore to never raise a weapon against a helpless opponent, saying that the Nightmare might have stood a chance if it wasn't confided in a flyless space. Ever since then, she tried to make people believe that peace with the dragons was possible. But then that blasted Stormcutter took her away from them.

Since then, he tried everything to keep Hikka's contact with dragons limited, and pressured Gobber to tell her horrible stories about dragons, to encourage her to be a true viking. But then she didn't 'wise' up, and instead started making inventions that only caused more harm then good. He thought that maybe... that maybe... he didn't know what he thought.

"Hikka. Try to understand. Your way... it can't be followed-" he was cut off when a Nadder spine nearly sliced his cheek and pinned itself to the wall. The Zippleback hissed irritatingly, gas and spark threatening to leak from their jaws while the Gronckle growled lowly and the Nightmare was barely controlling his fire jacket. As they showed their acts of protectiveness, the Terror noticed that many vikings were approaching the sides of the arena and were listening to the ex-heiress rant to her former father.

"That's just it. It can. You're just too dead set on revenge to focus on the big picture here. I mean, weren't they going to call you Stoick the Vindictive before size and weight did you a favor?" The Nightmare and Terror snorted. She certainly has gut and grit.

"You said it yourself, Stoick," the man flinched at the emotionless tone his daughter used in his name. "I'm not a viking. I feel like I'm something no-one from the village could even hope to understand, but I do. I'm not a destroyer, I'm a maker. I'm not a warrior, I'm a philosopher. A giver rather then a taker. A Dragon Rider, rather then a Dragon Killer." she finished, back straight, chin up, showing that she was not backing out before finishing.

"I'm not you. I'm me. Deal with it."

Stoick didn't know what to think when she said all that. All he knew was that his daughter was utterly and truly gone. Lost to ways of thinking that wouldn't make sense to the viking mind. Her words spoken, she prepared for escape.

"Toothless! Plasma blast!" the dreaded recognizable whistle pierced the ear drums of many as purple glowed from the Night Fury's mouth. After listening to everything Hikka said that her father had done to his soul sister, he was not a happy reptile.

He let loose, making Stoick loose nerve and dodge the could have been fatal attack.

Opportunity seen, they shot out of the arena as fast as their wings would allow.

Arrows and bolas were thrown their way, but they managed to dodge them and reach a better altitude to avoid them. The Nightmare let out a roar of triumph, which was followed by the others.

Freedom at last.

The whole flock was now a few miles away from the island, unsure of when they'll stop, but they do know that it'll never be anywhere near the Red Queen. It was pouring down and the occasional thunder and lighting made itself known. Everyone was unsure of how to approach the situation. The arena dragons looked over at the girl. She looked incredibly exhausted and her aura smelled depressed.

Then she made a noise. At first, it was sniffles. Then it turned into sobbing. She clutched the saddle tightly as she cried her heart out. The Night Fury whimpered as Hikka attempted to hide her face in the back of his neck. He never seen her cry before, and now that he finally has, he couldn't stand it. The dragons didn't know how to comfort her. They were familiar with grief, but they had no idea how to reassure an upset human.

Illviðri looked around. There had to be something to make the human better, or at least somewhere to give the human time to cope. From what she gathered, the Night Fury can't fly properly without the girl, and in her emotional state, she was in no shape to be the dragon's wings.

Finally she spotted something, a towering sea stack with a medium size cave, big enough to house all of them for the night. She gave a squawk to alert the others, then flew towards the cave. Toothless internally thanked her and guided them to the cave. As soon as they landed, Toothless went deeper, where the dark clouded his scales and Hikka could cry in peace.

The other dragons waited by the entrance, not sure if they were allowed to enter, but stayed out of the rain. They watched as the female rolled herself up into a ball and sobbed into her knees, the Night Fury close by, tail and body curled around her as he offered her silent comfort. Toothless cooed gently, letting her know that he was here and he would never abandoned her.

After a while, Hikka stopped crying, only reduced to sniffles now. But now she was shivering. Now that her emotional state was better, Toothless took notice that her body temperature was less then ideal. If she doesn't warm up soon, she could catch hypothermia.

He heard the clicks of claws hitting stone and growled at the Nightmare. Krókur wordlessly made himself comfortable, keeping his distance, but close enough to the girl to do something about her shivering. He turned on his fire jacket. The cave instantly grew brighter and warmer. The other dragons came in and decided to contribute, letting loose their respected flame, save the Zippleback and lining the walls and floor with their fire and warmth and light. The Terrible Terror crawled up to her slowly, not wanting to trigger her or the Night Fury. And when they didn't do anything, the Terror nudged her arm until he was snuggled up into her lap, her arm over his body, sharing his body heat to keep her warm.

Hikka's breathing soon slows down, before she fell into a somewhat peaceful slumber. Toothless was relieved. She wasn't shaking anymore, and she looked calmer then previously.

He didn't take notice of the Nightmare watching him and his human. "She sure is something" the Nightmare spoke in their natural tongue. Toothless nodded, showing that he's listening, not taking his eyes off his rider.

"Yeah. She is." he said with a smile. Illviðri looked over to him.

"You're one of them, aren't you?" Toothless looked up to her. "You're a Night Fury. No one has ever seen you in person before." the pack looked over to him in surprise, until they realized that he fitted the exact description of a Night Fury. Long have dragons from afar have learned of their exploits. A breed of dragon created by Freya herself to protect both man and dragon. Dark scales, blazing blasts of fire. And a whistle that strikes fear into the hearts of men.

"Yes. I am a Night Fury. In fact, I believe I am the last on in the Nordic Circle. And by your colors and obvious union to each other, you must be the Rebellion."

In Toothless's travels, before he met Hikka, he had heard that a small group of dragons had broken free from the Red Death, and started forming a rebellion, saving and freeing as many dragons as they could during the raids. It gave Toothless hope that they were taking their fates into their own paws, so it really saddened him when he heard the founders of the rebellion were captured.

Illviðri chuckled lightly. "Yeah, that's us." Toothless smiled. Before he frowned.

"What are your names?" the Nightmare held his head up proudly.

"My name is Krókur." Illviðri stood up from her resting position. "Illviðri." the Gronckle smiled politely. "My name is Móðurlega." Toothless smiled at her elegant tone. The Zippleback banged their heads together.

"I'm Andaðu." the head on the right side of the body said, while the left head said "And I'm Spýta!" they bumped heads again. Toothless raised an eyebrow, but he didn't question it. They were a Zippleback after all.

"And I'm Skot." the Terror said finally. Toothless nodded, remembering the names of the pack that seemed to have a clear future. "What about you?" the Night Fury looked to Bikh, who was staring at him with wide eyes.

"Pardon?"

"What's your name? Night Furies do have names right? Or are you just nameless for the rest of your life spans?" Toothless chuckled. "I have a name."

"Then?" the Zippleback heads said in unison. Toothless stared back at them.

"Draumur. My name is Draumur." they nodded, accepting and remembering his title for the days they might spend together. Móðurlega looked down at the sleeping girl with a fond, motherly expression. "And the girl?" Toothless looked down at Hikka with brotherly appeal.

"She is my sister by soul. The humans of her colony called her Hikka. She told me it was a title giving to the Runt of the Litter. So I gave her a much more fitting name. A Dragon's name." this perked the interest of the Nightmare. A human with a dragon's name? That sounds interesting.

"And what is this name?"

"I named her after my mother. I name her after the most amazing Night Fury I have ever known." he stared at his human sister with loving eyes as she slept peacefully.

"I named her Sál."

Just throwing this out there. Dragon revere to the Vanir Gods, while Humans mostly revere Æsir Gods

Also, changed the Dragons true names that are Icelandic with Icelandic meaning. Iceland is more akin to Vikings then Arabic is.

Toothless - Draumur - Meaning 'Dream' in Icelandic - Referenced by how in the books, he calls himself 'Toothless Daydream'
Hikka- Sál - Meaning 'Soul' in Icelandic - Heart of a Chief, Soul of a Dragon. Enough said.
Stormfly - Illviðri - Meaning 'Storms' in Icelandic
Hookfang - Krókur - Meaning 'Hook' in Icelandic
Meatlug - Móðurlega - Meaning 'Motherly' in Icelandic
Barf and Belch - Andaðu and Spýta - Andaðu meaning 'Breath' and Spýta meaning 'Spit' both in Icelandic
Sharpshot - Skot - Meaning 'Shot' in Icelandic