As seasons passed, Stoick grew more and more depressed to the point he began isolating himself from others.

The villagers have begun to notice changes in their chief, ever since Hiccup's funeral ceremony.

The Chief of Berk, once a proud, respected leader had shrunk lower than he ever did before.

Many would murmur how he had grown thinner as the Chief wandered around the village.

Many thought Stoick was losing his mind since he was always in a tired, distraught state.

Often, he'd snap at anyone, which wasn't a usual habit he did.

The Berkians were worried about their leader and feared what will happen to him.

They did not want to be led by a Chief who cannot control emotions; let alone a Chief who rarely showed his face in public.

Sometimes, Gobber, his right-hand man would stand in to deal with disputes or various matters the Chief would normally do.

Fall had come sooner than expected.

For Stoick, it was a somber occasion. It was the exact same day he had banished his son for befriending a dragon; a Night Fury.

Two years ago, he had painfully watched his son-no, the traitor of Berk walk out of the arena, head hung low as he dragged his duffel bag behind.

Tears stung in his eyes every time Stoick remembered the hurt in his son's glass-green eyes.

In that instant, Stoick recognized those eyes-those familiar green eyes. They did remind him of his beloved wife; Hiccup's long-lost mother.

From that day on, the Chief was haunted by regret. Was it mistake to cast out his son, his only memory of his wife?

Did banishing Hiccup mean he was also banishing memories of his beloved wife?

Stoick miserably hunched over his chair. He chugged down a mug of ale, which was his third mug early this morning.

By now, his brain was numb with alcohol. But it was the only remedy to drown away his sorrows.

His mind kept thinking about his son, and how he had failed his wife to take care of him.

The boy clearly wasn't fit for the Viking life, but perhaps that was his fault.

Clearly, he had been too caught up with his Chiefly duties to forget he was a father himself.

Stoick sighed as he glanced around his empty house.

With his family gone, the house became a place of haunted memories.

Loneliness was something he had gotten used to.

Stoick finished his ale then went to the kitchen to pour himself another.

The fire danced in the hearth, casting dark shadows over the Chief's distressed face.

His face had become so pale that every sign of life on his face had drained away.

Suddenly, the door swung open, letting in a breath of

cool air.

"Drinkin' again?" Gobber hobbled inside, shaking his head, "Stoick, don't keep doing this to yourself,"

He tried to pull the mug out of Stoick's grasp but refused to let go.

"No, Gobber...I need it..."

Gobber gave his best friend a sympathetic look.

"No, Stoick. This is destroying you," he pulled the mug away and set it on the table.

Stoick did not protest this time. He knew he had developed some kind of drinking problem over the past few weeks.

He was eager to stop such a disgusting habit, but his emotions kept holding him back.

"Honestly, Stoick, you look like a mess," Gobber gestured to the said man's noticeable bags under his eyes.

"The villagers aren't so pleased with me always handling their disputes and whatnot. They want their Chief-that is you, running the village. I can't always stand in for you,"

Stoick didn't pay any attention to the old blacksmith.

Instead, his mind wandered elsewhere, consumed by thoughts about everything that's happened within the last two years.

"It's been two years," Stoick spoke, lowering his eyes sadly, "I can't believe he's...he's gone. He was...he was the only reminder of Val,"

At the thought of his apprentice, Gobber's face suddenly fell solemn.

The old Viking pulled out his helmet, setting it beside him.

He stared into the dancing flames, rubbing his hands together.

Memories of his time spent with the young heir raced through his mind.

Without the young man's help, Gobber had to do everything.

There were days where his days would drag on and on, numbing his with exhaustion. He was almost at the age where he needed to hand over his blacksmith duty to somebody else.

Hiccup was a skilled craftsman with innovative ideas that may change Berk for the better. He would make a great blacksmith as well as a Chief.

"Aye. That boy always had the craziest but more creative ideas," Gobber chuckled to himself, "He may not be Viking material, but he is a bright lad with so much potential,"

Gobber turned to his friend, letting out a breath.

"Did I ever tell you how much he loved you, Stoick? How he tried to do everything to prove his worth to you?"

Stoick frowned, "Maybe. But I had been too focused on the village that I forgot about how important he was to me,"

Gobber shuffled closer to his friend. He gave him a gentle pat on his shoulder.

"All he wanted was to make you proud of him," the old Viking stared into the flames, "He wanted you to accept him for he is. But he felt like you never cared about him. He felt you were always abandoning him while you were out tending the village,"

"A Chief must protect his own," Stoick stated glumly.

The blacksmith shot his friend a deadpanned look.

"Aye, but wouldn't the poor lad be a top priority? I mean, you are his father,"

Stoick grew silent as he stared into the flames, deep in thought.

Shadows danced over his distraught face. He blinked, shedding a small tear as he thought about his dead son.

Thinking back, he realized he hadn't been the best father to him. His priority had been to the village, killing the dragons once and for all to put an end to their three hundred-year-old war.

He was never there for the boy when he needed him the most.

If only he could reverse time. If only he could have another chance to mend their broken, distraught relationship. If only he could have stopped the dragon from mauling his son before it was too late.

For the first time in his life, the Chief of Berk broke down into tears.

His enormous shoulders trembled as he wept while pleading the gods to bring back his son.

"I'm...I'm a terrible father, Gobber. I don't think I deserve to be his father,"

Gobber gaped at the Chief, stunned. This was the first time that he saw a vulnerable Stoick, who drowned himself in self-pity.

Honestly, it broke to see him like this.

"You knew him better than me, Gobber," Stoick trembled, his words a hint of spite and jealousy. "You were more of a father to him than I ever was. He would always turn to you whenever he was troubled with something. He would always spend time listening to your stories of how you lost your limbs. He seems to have grown close with you,"

Whenever Stoick tended the village, Gobber would always accompany Hiccup in his home.

Of course, he'd always be around the forge to keep a watchful eye on him.

As the years went by, the two have grown inseparable that Hiccup saw him as a father figure.

It was Gobber himself who the young Viking turned to whenever he was bullied by his peers or to open up about what was troubling him, especially when it was about his own father.

Gobber watched his best friend continue to weep over his dead son. He knew how much Stoick grieved for him and regretted banishing him.

What's done is done. There was nothing to do but move on from the past.

"Stoick, you're not a terrible father," Gobber reassured him, "Like I said, he loves you. He just wanted you to see him for who he is. But he feels as though you are disappointed with him for being...well, Hiccup. You isolating yourself and drowning yourself in self-pity and sulking over Hiccup won't bring him back, you know? He may be gone, but that doesn't mean you have to hide away from the village. They need their Chief out there. They need their Chief to help some of the villagers' disputes. I mean, Bucket and Mulch have started fighting again, and they've begun to use bludgeons. Silent Sven broke his silence when he got into a fight with Haggard,"

Gobber heaved a sigh, "Stoick, promise me no more sulking or drinking, alright?"

Stoick swiped his tears with the back of his arms. He turned to Gobber and heaved out a sigh.

Before he could speak, he was cut off by a sudden knock at the door.

With a sigh, Gobber hobbled towards the door. He swung the door open to reveal a flustered Astrid Hofferson standing at the door.

The old Viking blinked in surprise.

"Astrid, anything the matter, lass?"

"Gobber, where's Chief Stoick? The village needs him. It's an emergency!"

Astrid demanded, short of breath.

Gobber glanced at Stoick, who sat in silence, his head hung low.

"Uh, you see, he's rather...preoccupied at the moment," he said then lowered his voice, "He appears to be completely out of it. Right now, he's a mess,"

Astrid bit her lip, frowning, "But he needs to come out. There's been a strange ship spotted near a secluded beach,"

"A ship?" Gobber frowned, lifting a brow, "What kind of ship?"

The Hofferson girl looked at Gobber blankly.

"We don't know for sure. But it's definitely not one of our ships anchoring there. It wouldn't be,"

"Not a Berk ship?" Stoick boomed, rising to his feet.

Despite being tipsy from the ale, Stoick hadn't lost all of his senses. Though, he did feel slightly light-headed.

Gobber glanced at the Chief, muttering, "Ah, what do you know? The chief is back,"

Stoick ignored Gobber's remark. He hobbled to the two, screwing his helmet tightly on his head.

"For your information, I never left," he fixed his gaze to the Hofferson girl, "Lass, when did the ship arrive?"

Astrid thought about it for a moment.

"I was on patrol with the others. Then the twins comes running towards us, claiming to have seen a ship; a ship nobody has seen before anchored by the beach,"

"Well, did the ship have a crest?" Stoick asked, becoming suspicious.

Astrid nodded, "Yes, but we don't know whose crest it belongs to,"

Before Stoick had the chance to speak, Fishlegs burst through the door, short of breath.

"Chief! Come quick! Berk is under attack...boulders firing," the blonde boy said between breaths.

Stoick wasted no time. He retrieved his ax from his chair then moves out, following after the young Vikings.

"Lead the way. Now!"

For Stoick, it felt good to take charge again. He missed being able to take control to lead his people.

Grieving over his dead son can wait. He had a village to protect, who desperately needed their Chief during these critical times.

~

"So, you don't know whose ships anchored our shores?"

Stoick trailed after the young Berkians, ax grasped in his hand. He was prepared for any incoming attacks from these intruders, whoever they might be.

One questioned bogged his mind, what did these intruders want?

If it was a war they wanted, then Stoick was confident his finest warriors would be prepared for a war.

"No, Chief. But I have a really bad feeling about this," Fishlegs replied anxiously, "I mean, there's a reason for them to attack. We might not get dragon attacks anymore but attacks from intruders is a possibility,"

Astrid gave a curt nod, "He's right. Sir, Berk is not safe even though we don't get dragon attacks like we used to,"

Stoick grew weary for his people. He hoped he wasn't too late.

Honestly, he blamed himself for being so caught up with his emotions that he had isolated himself from the villagers.

He owed the village so much. Now, it was his chance to set things right.

There was no time to be dwelling in grief and self-pity.

When the Vikings reached the village square, they were welcomed by a chaotic scene.

Arrows were fired everywhere, engulfing roofs in flames.

Terrified screams and cries rang around the village.

Mothers and their children were being evacuated to the Great Hall to escape the chaotic scene.

"Oh, my Thor! This looks really bad," Fishlegs trembled, shaking a little, "What do we do?"

"Fishlegs, Astrid, go round up the others," Stoick instructed.

Fishlegs and Astrid nodded then went in the direction of the arena, where the others were.

Stoick then turned to Gobber. Determination brimmed in his sea green eyes.

"So, what's the plan?" Gobber asked, unsure.

"Take out these intruders. We must hurry and gather the men. Fishlegs and Astrid will gather the others then we attack. I don't know who these intruders are, but they are not welcomed here," Stoick marched forward, his head held high, "After all, a Chief must protect his own people,"