Take to the Sky [Hiccup x Reader]

1 - This is Berk

Usually, the term "home" is associated with words like warmth, safety, and security - a haven in which one could sit back, relax, and let all their troubles disappear. Any sane person would establish their home someplace far, far away from danger...not smack-dab in the thick of it all.

Well, depending on how you look at it, this is the case for those of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe, the occupants of Berk.

On paper, Berk - a tiny island located twelve days north of Hopeless, a few degrees south of Freezing to Death, situated along the Meridian of Misery - has its charms. For starters, it was sturdy. The village has been around for seven generations, yet every single building was new. It offers a stunning view of the sunsets. That is if you're into that sort of thing. Many a traveler have broken their necks just to get a good vantage point here, but most Berkians feel that "if you've seen it once, you have seen it a thousand times". However, if that's not for you, there is always hunting and fishing (just make sure that the local wildlife doesn't get to make a meal out of you first).

The weather here is also rather lovely; it ranges from cold, super cold, freeze-your-butt-off cold, and all-your-appendages-now-have-frostbite-and-need-to-be-sawed-off cold. Berk is the sort of place wherein you could kiss your dreams of a nice tan goodbye as it seems that the whole island has been condemned to having "extreme cold" as its default setting. But not to worry, you get used to it once you've lost all feeling in your body.

Despite that, there is never a dull day here on the island, that's for sure. You could always expect there to be some excitement going on in the village. In other places, villagers might come and get together for a party or a village-wide bonfire; here in Berk, we do things a little differently...

While the threat of invaders or plunderers is real, our concern at the moment revolves around the pests. Our lives would have been so much easier if we just had to deal with mice or mosquitos. But Berk had bigger problems...

A young boy flinched when he heard something explode just right outside his house. Knowing full-well what that entailed, he instantly shot out of his seat and ran for the door, eager to throw himself into the fray. With one hand at the knob, he yanked the door open only to be met with a great flying beast. Its maw opened and without warning, spewed fire directly towards him. With a yelp, he slammed the heavy-set door shut, bracing himself against it. He waited a few moments for the fire to subside. Breathless, he unconsciously uttered,

"Dragons..."

After a moment, he opened the door a crack and peered outside. Once he was certain that the coast was clear, he stepped out of the house and into the night.

The villagers were already fully awake and out of their houses despite the sun not being out yet. Armed with a different array of weapons, they charged. They were running about, shouting and screaming, as was the Viking way whenever a raid took place.

The reason why we haven't left the gods-forsaken island can all be attributed to typical Viking stubbornness.

He paused as he took note of a man desperately hanging on to the neck of a stubby dragon just so he could clobber it with his fists. He eventually fell to the ground with a thud but quickly got back to his feet in search of his next victim as if he did not fall from a great height.

Yeah...stubbornness is an issue here that desperately needs to be addressed.

As the boy charged ahead, he bumped into several people; all of which yelled different variations of "Get out of here" to his face. He took their words into advisement but ignored them all the same. He pressed forth into the village that was slowly being overrun by dragons and being lit up in flames.