Defying The Rules

Dad comes home

          The next few days went by fairly quickly. The Vikings continued their dragon training, and Thalos visited Starclaw daily, bringing him food and spending time with him.

          The two slowly grew somewhat close, actually. The dragon had gotten to the point where he would wait by the edge of the river in the cavern for Thalos. Thalos started to look forward going to the cavern and seeing Starclaw.

          The two would even "play" with each other. It was more fun for the Xeno'jiiva than it was Thalos, but playing is playing, right? The dragon would pretty much chase Thalos around. Obviously it didn't try too hard to catch him, because if it did, it wouldn't take more than two seconds for it to do so. Starclaw just liked chasing him.

          Thalos's dragon killing training had been doing better as well. However, he was slowly starting to become hesitant to fight the dragons, which made his progress start to decline near the end. Part of him wondered, "What if this dragon was only protecting itself? What if it was just as friendly as the Xeno'jiiva?"

          However, despite the mixed feelings he was having, he kept fighting and training. He wasn't going let people know that he was having second thoughts. He was a Viking. Vikings kill dragons. They don't befriend them. What he was doing with Starclaw went against everything he believed in... or, at least what he used to believe in. He didn't even know what to believe in anymore.

          Hiccup progressed with the dragons too. He was dominating in the ring. Everyone was shocked. It didn't take long for people to start noticing him, and come watch dragon killing training, just to see him beat the dragon.

          What was even more unebelivable than the scrawniest, weakest, and most helpless Viking beating all the other teens was that he never hit he dragons. He never threw an axe, hit them with a hammer, nothing! He would just stand there, hold out his arm or touch the dragon, and the dragon would just fall at his feet or go back into its cage.

          One time, he used light reflecting off of his sheild to guide a Terrible Terror back onto its cage. Like, what!? No one ever does that! The crowd watching him certainly found it fascinating. They all cheered for him! Hiccup! The people were cheering for Hiccup, the one that no one liked and everyone made fun of.

          Pretty soon, he and Astrid were against each other, neck and neck, to see who would be able to kill the Monstrous Nightmare. Thalos wasn't really even in the running. With his new hesitancy, Astrid's competitive nature, and Hiccup's new acquired way with dragons, he didn't stand a chance.

          If Thalos was honest, he was kind of relieved that he wouldn't be killing the Monstrous Nightmare. He wasn't sure if he would be able to. Skill wise, maybe he could, but will wise, he wasn't sure.

          Thalos sighed and sat in his room. He laid his head in his hands. His brain was just filled with so many questions. He didn't know what to do. Things just didn't make sense anymore. How did Hiccup handle it so well? He never seemed stressed about hiding the secret of having a pet dragon, and training. He was his typical sarcastic and awkward self. There was nothing new, aside from maybe the reason he wandered off all the time. Thalos knew it was because of that Night Fury.

          He lifted his head up when he heard the hut door open. He recognized the rough, heavy, and uneven foot beats. It was his father. His father was home. At least he was alive.

          He got up and made his way down stairs to greet him. When he got down there, his dad didn't look too happy.

          "Did you find the nest?" He asked, watching his father sit down and take his helmet off.

          The man sighed and shook his head. "Nope."

          "Where there any casualties?"

          "Yup. Silent Sven's father, Bucket's grandfather, and One-Armed Allen all died. Bertha lost a leg. Gobber is going to make her a fake one to replace it." The man replied tiredly.

          Thalos nodded. He didn't really know any of the people who died, so he wasn't personally affected by it. He was sure everyone who did know them was upset though.

          "How has your training been going? I assume you are in the finals?" His father asked.

          Thalos swallowed and scratched the back of his neck. He had forgotten how upset his father would be with the fact that he didn't make it that far. "I would say I'm better at fighting dragons now than I was when I first started." He said weakly.

          The larger Viking furrowed his eyebrows. "You didn't directly answer my question." He said, catchinging on that something was up pretty quickly.

           Thalos shrunk into a chair. "Well, I-Hiccup and Astrid are going to the finals."

            His dad frowned. "You let Hiccup and a girl score higher than you in training? Worst of all, you let Hiccup score higher than you in training?"

          "I didn't let them beat me. They are just better than I am." Thalos replied shamefully.

          "How in Valhalla did that scrawny, toothpick of a Viking beat you!? He can't even lift up an axe without using every single bit of muscle he has in his small body!"

          "I just wasn't-"

          "Good enough? Smart enough? Strong enough? Training enough? I hope that's what you were going to say, because that's clearly what has happened." He slammed his fist on the table. "A Cliteson doesn't fail training! A Cliteson doesn't get beaten by someone like Hiccup! Me, my father, his father, and his father before him all won in the ring! We all killed a Monstrous Nightmare! And here you are, ruining our family legacy and letting a poor excuse for a Viking show you up!"

          "I'm sor-"

          "Sorry doesn't cut it, Thalos! Sorry doesn't bring back our family legacy! Even your mother won dragon killing training!"

          "I'll try harder..." Thalos felt his chest tightening up. He found it a bit harder to breathe, like someone was pressing down on his chest.

          "Thor stike it, Thalos! You don't try, you do! Give me 100 push-ups, and get out of my sight!" The man shouted. "And make sure your nose touches the ground on each one of them!"

          Thalos took a deep breath and slowly went to the ground. He started doing his allotted push-ups. His chest hurt, and his vision was becoming blurry. He didn't dare cry in front of his father. He was a Viking anyway. A Viking didn't cry. He laughed at danger. He was defiant. He was stand-offish. He didn't cry.

          "Faster!" His father snapped. "I'm tired of looking at you! I'm tired of looking at the only loosing Cliteson!"

          Thalos breathed deeply and went faster. He breathed slowly, doing his best to hold back any hint of weakness he guessed was showing on his face.

          Around ten to twelve minutes later, Thalos finished his task. He didn't hesitate to quickly make his way up to his room and leave his father be. He could hear his father hitting the table downstairs and calling out Thor's name.

          He sat on his bed and gripped his head with his hands. He breathed deeply, almost squeaking with every inhale. His breaths were shaky and quick.

          He couldn't handle it... He couldn't. He couldn't handle the confusion and questions in his head. He couldn't handle his fathers disapproval and shame he had for him. He couldn't handle it all together, not all at once.