The Gift Of Power | Wattys 2020 (Dance of Power Trilogy: Book 1)

Epilogue 1

As they made their way back to Berk in the ships, Stoick stared up at the black dragon carrying his son. An uncomfortable feeling pressing on his chest. He had thought that he knew his boy well. Had always felt that his relationship with the child was necessarily rocky. The boy was going to be chief one day. Stoick could not afford to coddle him as he might like to. Though his criticism had sometimes led to strained silences and uncomfortable fights, it was for the best. His son knew that his father loved him.

It was only after he had run away that Stoick had begun to realize that he was wrong. The boy had only ever tried to make him proud. Instead of accepting his uniqueness and encouraging him, Stoick had chased him away. Gobber had been the boy's father. Much more so than Stoick.

It had hurt him deeply to hear of all the times Hiccup had confided his private pain to the blacksmith. Stoick had never known that all his tough love had caused the boy to believe that he was a failure. That he would never be good enough to earn his father's love and respect. Gobber had not sugar coated his feelings about Stoick's behaviour. Refusing to let his friend make excuses for why Hiccup had left.

Then his son had returned. Stoick had been overwhelmed with joy to see him in the arena that day. Not needing to hear excuses for why the boy had left. He already knew. Just as he understood why his son had hidden from him until now. Stoick was just glad that he had finally come home to them. Alive and well after all these years.

He had even allowed himself to feel an unearned sense of pride at the man his boy had become. Strong, handsome, and sure of himself. Incredibly tall and imposing, but with a reserved sense of power befitting of his status. In short, the man he had always hoped he would grow up to be. Stoick was finally sure that his son was ready to be the chief that Berk needed. It wasn't until the whole episode with the Meathead man that Stoick had started to wonder if perhaps his tough love had twisted Hiccup into something much darker.

He had watched with a mixture of apprehension and pride as his son boldly faced down the entire council and explained away murder as justice. He spoke and carried himself with such an air of authority now. The way Stoick had always envisioned his son addressing the council one day, but under very different circumstances. Instead of a rousing political speech, he was describing his execution of the man with a cold sense of detachment. As if it hadn't bothered him at all to take a human life.

Of course Stoick had been required to execute prisoners before. He had also taken the lives of soldiers during skirmishes, in the days before the tribes signed their treaties. He still carried every single death with him, like a weight on his heart. Apparently his son was not burdened by this same sense of remorse.

On the other hand, Hiccup had displayed great kindness and insight when he had requested the council leave Heather out of their questioning. It was a bold move. One that he himself would have made to protect the victim of such an atrocity. Bertha certainly had no issue with the man his son had become. In fact, as they had learned of the way in which Hiccup had killed Stormheart, Bertha was absolutely thrilled that he had forced the man to suffer. Most public executions were quick and clean. She personally felt that the raping bastard didn't deserve such a respectful death, and thought that Hiccup's way was much better.

Thanks to the male Thorston twin, everyone had eventually learned of the despicable comments the man had made towards Astrid. Stoick, himself, had felt an unreasonable amount of rage at the sickening words uttered about his son's betrothed. The fact that Hiccup had chosen to keep these facts to himself, however, had been almost more chilling. Instead of trying to excuse his behaviour through the guise of passionate fury, Hiccup had taken full responsibility for the brutal murder. Explaining coldly that he was simply executing the man for his crimes. As if he really did know that none would be able to punish him for his actions anyways. Even if they wanted to.