Prayers

ONE

A/N: Okay so this is an idea that I've been toying with for a while and I've finally finished writing it. Daily updates!

The idea was inspired by Plan B's "Prayin'" and a long car drive.

I don't own How to Train Your Dragon. Rights remain with Cressida Cowell and Dreamworks.

ONE:

It was stupid but he had been late and the cut-through, so commonly used and harmless in daylight, was swathed in shadows and unnervingly isolated. The sounds of the street, especially Sven's Bar just a few yards long was muffled to the dull thud of the music while the echoing sounds of his steps set his nerves on edge. Especially when he heard the extra echo.

Hiccup Haddock was an attorney, a man who was meticulous in his work, obsessively preparing for every case and preferring to take on Public Defender work rather than making a fortune boring himself to death doing divorce work for the rich and famous. Of course his father, the lauded Public Prosecutor, Stoick Haddock, had wanted his son to follow him in his mission to protect the people of Berk from the worst excesses of human depravity and become the next Public Prosecutor. But Hiccup had wanted to protect, not attack and so he had rejected his pre-ordained career path and headed for the Defender's Office-much to his father's anger. Words had been said that both men had instantly regretted but were too stubborn to immediately retract and the rift between them had lingered until the day of Stoick's death.

But above everything, Hiccup was also devoted to his wife, Astrid, and since that terrible day last March, he had done everything he could to make sure she felt valued and loved. So he made sure he did something special every single day. Maybe it was just a Post-It note with a little poem or message-or maybe flowers, breakfast in bed or something special. But today, he had ordered a special gift, a bracelet from Berserker Jewellers and he had been texted that it was finally ready. So he had made a note to collect it today and then, because he had gotten wrapped up in the preparations for the Grimborn Trial next week, he had realised he only had fifteen minutes to reach the jewellers before they closed. Desperation to hand over the gift and see some life, some joy flicker in those desolate sea-blue eyes had driven him to take the short-cut that now seemed like the worst idea ever.

There was another echo behind him, the sound of steps closing and as he accelerated, he heard the person break into a run. He was still some yards from the main shopping area, the dumpster blocking any view of him from the main street when the pursuer hit him. He slammed to the ground, his briefcase skittering across the alley as the big man punched him. Hiccup was lean and wiry, his lanky shape not that of a fighter, though his enormous father had attempted to teach him some self defence moves when he was younger. But as the man hauled him up, Hiccup struck out, ignoring every piece of advice he gave his clients.

Don't resist, Hand over your money and valuables. They can be replaced-but you can't.

Yet it was instinct as the man backhanded him and he slammed against the opposite wall. He slid down, stunned and in that moment, he glimpsed his attacker for the first time. The man was huge and powerful, his short red hair spiky and his reddened, scarred cheeks covered with tattoos in the shape of eyes. His leather vest was scattered with red-metal studs and he wore steel knuckledusters. Snarling in rage, the man slammed his hobnailed boot down onto Hiccup's left ankle and the attorney screamed in pain before the attacker hauled him up and tightened his hand around his neck. Gouging at his attacker's eyes, Hiccup felt the grip loosen and he punched the man in the face again but a couple of shots back to the gut-which felt like they were with an iron bar-slammed the air from him and as the grip around his throat tightened, he choked, eyes watering with the pain. The light gleamed off the edge of a blade and Hiccup inhaled in fear, his emerald eyes wide with sudden horror.