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Stoick, Hela, and Hiccup stand proudly beside each other, striking a pose for a painting. Stoick, with his broad shoulders and commanding presence, has one powerful arm draped affectionately around Hiccup's slender shoulder, a sword firmly gripped in his other hand, gleaming in the soft light streaming through the hall. Hiccup holds a shield partially in front of his body, his posture slightly slouched under the weight of his father’s expectations. Hela stands on Stoick's left, her own sword pointed toward the ground, hands holding the hilt with a fierce determination. She glances up at her father, a grin spreading across her face, equally proud and playful.
They are facing Bucket, who stands behind an elevated, paint-smeared shield, an uncharacteristic look of intense concentration etched on his face. His brows are furrowed as he balances between gazing intently at the canvas and checking the trio’s poses.
Stoick breaks character, demonstrating his fatherly affection as he gives Hiccup a hearty pat on the back. “Shoulder back, chin up, son!” he barks in a voice that echoes slightly in the spacious hall, his tone both commanding and encouraging.
Hiccup, taking his father’s words to heart, tries to straighten himself, awkwardly shifting his shield as he does so.
“This portrait's gonna hang in this hall forever,” Stoick proclaims with a proud smile, his voice filled with conviction as he gestures at the surrounding walls, adorned with the legacy of their ancestors.
Hela's, curiosity brightens her eyes and asks, “Isn't this supposed to be only the chief and their heirs?” She tilts her head, arching an eyebrow.
“Yes, but traditions are meant to change at some point,” Stoick replies, his smile widening.
“No good, no good, no good…” Bucket mutters in frustration, his emotional turmoil passing through his features like a storm. He steps back from his easel, surveying his work with an artist’s critical eye. In a sudden burst of energy, he marches over to the trio, adjusting Stoick's unruly beard with practiced familiarity, straightening Hiccup's shield with an assertive hand, and squaring Hela's shoulders with a gentle yet firm touch. But just as quickly, he throws his arms into the air as if surrendering.
“I can’t do this!” Bucket exclaims, turning away as he runs bucket-first into one of the hall’s sturdy support beams. He sways momentarily, catching himself before his balance can falter, and adjusts the bucket on his head back into place. The momentary chaos subsides, and a newfound calm washes over him. “Okay, I’m good,” he asserts, regaining his composure.
“I’ve never seen Bucket like this,” Hiccup whispers to Hela, curiosity lacing his voice.
“Yeah! It’s kinda freaky,” Hela whispers back, her eyes darting toward Bucket in disbelief.
“Well, when he lost half his brain, he suddenly became…” Stoick trails off, taking in the sight of his eccentric friend lost in his artistic reverie.
Bucket suddenly takes a handful of vibrant paints and, with an unexpected flourish, blows them onto the shield. The colors scatter like confetti, adding an element of spontaneity to the creation.
“…an artist,” Stoick finishes, watching in awe as Bucket continues to manipulate the paints with his hands, moving them around with an expertise that belies his earlier fluster. He squints one eye shut, holding his thumb up to gauge the proportions, a look of deep focus etched on his features.
“So Bucket can actually paint?” Hela asks, crossing her arms skeptically, her brow furrowing in disbelief.
“Oh, he’s the best! He’s gonna do us proud,” Stoick declares with confidence.
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THE DRAGON QUEEN
FanfictionWhat if hiccup was not an only child? ,What if he had un older sister that's a year older than him ?, What if hiccup was not the first to ride a Dragon ?, What if toothless wasn't the last of his kind ?,What if she had her eye on a curtain blonde ha...
