Captain Fury: Pirate of Berk

27: Complex Relationships

Complex Relationships.

"I've come for my grandson," the Governor said. Blinking in shock and rerunning the words in his mind, Magne frowned and stared at his uncle in shock. He gave a small laugh.

"I'm sorry," he said. "But what are you talking about, Uncle?" Stoick drew himself up to his full impressive height, his enormous shape tensing with anger and grey-green eyes glittering in scorn at the tone.

"Fury's son," he growled. "Like as not, the man who is Captain Fury was born my son, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock. And while he is disowned, his son remains my grandson, an heir to the Haddock line and it is my right as his kin to reclaim him.' A scornful expression on his features, Magne shook his head.

"You are joking, aren't you?" he scoffed. "You think you can walk in and just take that little brat away? Gods, do you think I am an idiot? That man has annihilated my business, sunk my ships, disgraced me-and I am not just handing over his brat to you! I get to keep his son as payment for the wrongs he has done me!" Stoick shot a sideways look at Gobber, his face stricken with horror at the vengeful and vicious tone of his nephew's voice. The stark implication-that Magne intended to keep the boy in revenge for the wrongs Fury had done, to take his vengeance against the boy, made the Governor's flesh crawl. Every report of Magne's sadistic and cruel behaviour swirled though his memory and he clenched his fists.

"This is not a request, Magne," Stock told him grimly. "I am taking the boy. Fetch him here!" Magne glared at him...then abruptly sat behind his desk and waved at Kjetil. There was a cruel smirk on his face.

"Get the boy," he growled and then gave his uncle a triumphant look. "I think you may find the boy is cheeky, disrespectful, disobedient and defiant. I suppose that is proof that he is Hiccup's son, at least. I have yet to get the boy to do anything he should. I doubt he'll want to come with you, Uncle. He needs taming-and I am the man to do it!"

An unpleasant sensation swirling in his gut, Stoick swallowed, inspecting the cold, cruel face before him and wondered how he had never seen in before. How could this man be the younger sibling of Snotlout who, despite some vanity and pride, was a hardworking and generally decent man? He saw the man stare unabashedly back, the smug smile on his face reminding Stoick that he was plotting against him. That this man had tortured and bullied his own son for years and had taken great delight in telling Stoick about the boy's betrayal...

...a betrayal that profited Magne and the Hoffersons and destroyed two young lives. A betrayal that was born of innocent friendship and hope by two young people who could not understand why their fathers hated each other. Two children used as pawns in their games of vengeance and damaged terribly by the consequences. Two people who were now facing ultimate destruction-his son at the end of a rope and the girl at the hands of her unworthy husband...

...a betrayal that maybe wasn't such a betrayal but a tentative olive branch that two stiff-necked and vengeful men had ripped to pieces, hurting their only children in the process...

...a betrayal that savagely destroyed his own son ultimately in favour of the treacherous man who had deliberately manoeuvred everything to his advantage...

The door opened and Kjetil walked in, his hand tight on the shoulder of the young shape that Stoick recognised from the ship, the little boy who had appeared with the key that had certainly saved their lives. The young boy that Fury had brought back in his arms, limp and battered. The boy that the pirate clearly cared for with a passion that Stock had never managed with his own son. The boy made to pull away and Kjetil jerked him back, shaking the boy cruelly without thinking.

Messy black hair half-concealed the bright green eyes that were just a little brighter than his son's but filled with the same defiance and curiosity. Memory hammered Stoick hard then, the image of the small shape peeking with bright forest green eyes from under auburn bangs, the pale skin with a smattering of freckles lightly bruised from another unsuccessful encounter with his cousins. Hiccup had been small and curious, lacking in confidence and craving love and approval. And, to his eternal shame, Stoick had granted him neither, instead pouring scorn and disapproval on the narrow shoulders that had slumped in resignation and despair that he would never win his father's love. He blinked and the scornful words of his son swirled through his memory.