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Before Stoick ever had the moniker of the Vast, he was just another Viking boy among the Hairy Hooligan tribe.
Young Stoick was a tough lad. As a newborn, his mass was larger than the average baby Viking; something that his father took much pride in. When he learned the ability to walk, he had amassed enough strength that one singular punch could knock a dragon’s head clean off its shoulders. By the time he was a young teen, all of Berk recognized the redhead as someone who had the stature and strength to become chief one day. He dreamed of inheriting that title ever since he learned that the sacred duty was to be his when the time came.
But a great leader requires a great council, and Stoick was lucky to have friends by his side to support him. His circle consisted of three other Vikings: his best friend Gobber, his childhood companion Alvin, and a friendly competitor & trusted advisor in Spitelout. The Big Four, as they like to call themselves, were a tight-knit group that practically did everything together. From helping solve the village’s problems to being the problems themselves, they were considered inseparable.
It was the latter half of the year, meaning that the harshest season was amongst them. Stoick’s father was busy helping the local populist prepare for the colder months. If there was one thing that Berkians feared more than dragons, it was Devastating Winters. Within the Barbaric Archipelago, it was common knowledge that there existed four seasons: winter, winter, winter, and Devastating Winter, the last being the clear worst of the four. So it was no surprise that the Chief was making sure that every Viking had the necessary supplies to survive the next couple of months. While the usual chaos plagued Berk, four boys were unaffected, as they conversed on the outskirts of the village.
“Y’know, we should definitely sneak away while everyone’s busy with prepping,” Spitelout suggested to the boys with a coy smile.
“I don’t know, we could get in trouble if we get caught,” Stoick worriedly said. He didn’t want his father to get mad at him for sneaking away during such a critical time. An arm draped on his neck swiftly pulled him out of his thoughts.
“That’s IF we get caught! C’mon, Stoick, it’ll just be a quick hangout, I doubt we’ll even be noticed,” Gobber said, trying to convince the future chief to goof around a bit.
“Besides,” Alvin interjected, “I think we all could use a little breather before heading back into that mess, don’t you agree?” he concluded as the two boys nodded in agreement.
Stoick sighed heavily. He agreed that the town being on its toes was starting to get him tensed up, and they all needed to cool off before rejoining the chaos. He reluctantly gestured for the three boys to lead the way, resulting in mutterings of rejoicing at convincing the redhead to join their adventure. As usual, the group didn’t have a plan and made it up as they went along, much to Stoick's dismay. Gobber and Alvin had the idea of wrestling some poor boar that wandered into their sights, but the group leader's protests made them pout at the loss of potential action. Spitelout suggested instead that they could play hide-and-seek. They all readily agreed to the idea– it was definitely much better than trying to wrestle with wild animals.
To decide who would be the seeker, they drew four sticks to draw lots from. Each boy chose the stick they believed to be the longest of the bunch. Once they revealed their lots, it was Alvin who had drawn the shortest stick, earning a teasing comment from Spitelout and a grumble in return. The burly-browed boy began his count as the three others hurriedly split off in different directions to find their hiding spot. To play fair, the group set a boundary to make it less likely that the seeker would find the hiders. Stoick knew that, because of his larger frame, he had to find a suitable hiding spot so as not to be caught out in the open. He initially struggled to find a spot since there wasn’t anything thick enough to cover his entire body fully. As he looked around, he saw a familiar brunette in the distance struggling to climb a tree to hide up in the branches. The redhead laughed at the sight, reminding himself to retell his point of view to the boys after their game. Suddenly, a gust of wind blew in his face; it wasn’t harsh enough to hurt him, but it was enough to get him to face a different direction. He saw a small cave before him and smiled with delight, recognizing it as a perfect hiding spot. What he didn’t notice was the few specks of snow that began to fall from the sky gracefully.
Alvin finished counting down, a devious smile adorning his face, as he began his hunt for the other three members of the group. He had first found Spitelout without any effort, who yelled profanities and accusations of cheating, when he could be easily seen miles away hanging from a branch. After falling to the ground with a thump– a snicker escaping the taller brunette at the sight– the two boys continued their search for a familiar blonde and redhead. It took 10 minutes to find Gobber, whose upper half was seemingly stuck inside a hollowed-out log. Spitelout and Alvin pulled on one leg respectively; their combined strength helped Gobber squeeze out of the log. He sat up dizzily before taking in his surroundings, a bewildered voice lacing his words.
“Oh man, I must be seeing things because it’s snowing!” the blonde said while looking around.
Alvin shrugged at the comment while Spitelout helped him up. The trio present didn’t expect snow to fall; in fact, it was understood amongst those in Berk that snow wasn’t meant to fall until a couple of weeks after. The weather was unpredictable, though, so it's understandable that the initial forecast was wrong. They all moved on to the task at hand: locating the final member of the group.
They didn’t get far; unfortunately, because a high-pitched screech interrupted their searching. Fear filled the trio’s hearts: it had to be a dragon, and they were not equipped to deal with the beast. With the heavy snowfall beginning to obscure their vision and a looming threat high above the trees, the boys agreed to head back to the village to assemble a proper search party for Stoick. They knew they would get in trouble for sneaking away, but what mattered now was ensuring their friend's safety.
…
Stoick peeked out of the cave, aiming to get a better look at the outside world; although, all he saw was pure white enveloping the landscape before him. It had been an hour or two since their game began, and he hadn’t crossed paths with any of the boys. On one hand, Stoick grew proud at being able to last this long. He was always one of the first to get caught, so he beamed at being able to hide for a long period of time. On the other hand, worry also started to outgrow the smugness. The snowfall was getting heavier by the minute, and Stoick was concerned at the idea that his friends were still out there looking for him. He had hoped that they would call off their search to head home to shield themselves from this unexpected storm. Walking away from the cave entrance, the young teen sat on the cold stone with his legs close to his chest, trying to conserve what little warmth he had left. His chin rested on the top of his knees, and he prayed to the gods that the storm that existed outside the cave would stop. He glanced out at the raging blizzard and buried his head into his knees: a sudden sleepiness took over as Stoick shut his eyes.
A swift, loud thud awoke Stoick with a gasp. He rubbed his eyes to find himself not within the familiar warm walls of his home, but within the enclosure of the cave he hid inside. In addition to his forgotten surroundings, a small campfire lay in front of him, giving him the warmth he desperately craved. The young boy scooted towards the fire when a realization dawned upon him.
He didn’t start this fire.
Stoick hastily looked around before settling his eyes on the person at the entrance of the cave. Piercing blue eyes met his own, and he could feel his heart drop to the floor at the sight. The boy, who looked older than Stoick but younger than the adults back on Berk, carried what looked to be a bag in one hand and a shepherd's staff in the other. The next thing he noticed was the person's pure, snow-white hair. It wasn’t the same type of white that some of the village elders had, no, this white was extremely bright, almost unnatural.
Stoick looked the boy up and down, his attire clearly not made for colder weather– he even had no shoes on– but the older teen seemed undisturbed. His father had told him many stories of the vættir and similar spirits. They were considered guardians of the land. His father explained that not all vættir were inherently good or evil, but that if he ever came across one, he was to avoid it at all costs. They were supernatural beings after all, they could even be gods.
“Hey there, kiddo, you doing okay?” asked the mysterious stranger.
It was that memory that frightened the redhead more than anything. It was one thing to sneak away during winter preparations against his father’s orders; it was another to be in the presence of a potential vengeful god accidentally. Stoick alarmingly scooted away from the fire, his head turning away from the stranger in fear that if he looked back into his frost-like eyes, he would be punished. The stranger’s eyes widened at the action before setting down the bag and shepherd's staff he had in his hands. He opened his palms, showing the frightened boy that he meant no harm.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay… I’m not here to hurt you. I just want to help,” said the white-haired teen.
Stoick glanced at him, fearful of what might come next. The male in front of him slowly approached, his palms upright to show he meant no harm. The redhead swallowed the lump in his throat before sputtering out warnings.
“S- stay back! I’m a Viking, I- I’m not afraid to hurt you!” In hindsight, Stoick realized that saying this to a potential vættir was probably not one of his wisest decisions. In fact, it was a miracle that he didn’t get sent to Valhalla at that moment. As a Viking, he had to be strong and fearless. For Odin’s sake, his family has been fighting dragons for generations! A scrawny-looking teenager, who definitely was not a vættir, shouldn’t scare him, but the trembling of his lips said otherwise.
The not vættir, as Stoick hastily suggested, put their hands up in surrender and resided a few meters across from the Viking. He reached over for his bag and rummaged through it. The sounds of the teen digging for something made Stoick curious, but not curious enough to go over and check it out. With a small aha leaving the lips of the stranger, the redhead saw apples being drawn out of the sack, piling beside the blue-eyed teen. Prior to him waking up, he didn’t know how long it had been since the initial hour he was stranded in the cave. What he did know was how hungry he was since then. Stoick side-eyed the teen who smiled contentedly at the crunch of the apple. Despite how hungry he was, he made no effort to ask for one. Instead, his body just had to do it itself by making a rumbling noise that both boys noticed. An apple was held out to him, and a slight pink tinted the younger’s cheeks. He slowly approached the stranger, vættir or not, he didn’t care; he just needed something to calm down the rumbling in his stomach. He steadily reached for the apple, and once it was in his hands, he quickly bit down on the sweet fruit; he didn’t even notice the soft smile plastered on the other’s face.
The white-haired teen patted the stone beside him, inviting the young Viking to sit next to him by the fire. Hesitantly, he sat beside him, biting into the apple in an attempt to calm his nerves.
“I’m sorry if I scared you. My name’s Jack, what’s yours?” he softly spoke.
“...Stoick,”
After getting to know his name, Jack’s whole mood changed from a soft, calm speech to a playful side that helped Stoick relax. Jack had asked the boy what he was doing here all alone, and the Viking responded with a story of how he and his friends were playing hide & seek before the sudden winter storm interrupted their game. The taller boy beside him cheekily smiled before apologizing, which confused the redhead.
“Why are you saying sorry?” Stoick questioned.
“You see, I might’ve had a hand in that…”
Before Stoick could question Jack further on what he meant, the boy was utterly silent at the display before him—in Jack’s open palm danced tiny, vibrant snowflakes that spiraled upwards, creating a show that bestowed a sense of wonder in the young Viking. An abrupt realization crossed his mind as he pointed to the teen in front of him.
“Y- you! You’re a vættir! A snow spirit! R- right?”
Jack chuckled at the reaction of Stoick’s pure awe.
“Technically, the correct term would be winter spirit. But to answer your question, I don’t see myself as a vættir or a god, as a matter of fact. I do have duties like one, though, I guess. Like bringing winter to where it’s supposed to be, and driving out the bad winter spirits.”
Stoick’s mind was racing through all the possibilities in front of him. He was talking with a spirit, and most surprisingly, he wasn’t dead. He noted how Jack mentioned the existence of evil winter spirits, confirming his father’s stories. However, one idea stood above the rest.
“So, the snowstorm, that was you?” Stoick asked.
“Yeah… I’m sorry about that again. I didn’t realize there were people in the area. I usually don’t do this,” gesturing to the blizzard outside, “when I know there are people around,” he said while rubbing the back of his neck.
“But that’s not all I do!”
Jack stood up, and he beamed at the young Viking. Stoick, who looked up at the spirit questioningly before his jaw dropped at the sight of Jack floating in the air. On top of a winter spirit being in his presence, the winter spirit could fly too! He was definitely going to tell his friends, even if they don’t believe him– he couldn’t blame them, though, he wouldn’t believe himself, either. Stoick eventually stood up as he watched Jack glide through the air towards the entrance of the cave.
“Wait, the blizzard’s still out there!” raising his voice to the spirit who smiled back in glee.
“Do you trust me?”
Stoick nodded slowly. He had been told throughout his young life not to be so trusting of spirits. Jack was different, though. Even though he was very apprehensive when they first met, the spirit never took his threats to heart, and he even offered him food! Even if he didn’t trust him, his curiosity got the best of him, so he slowly made his way outside the cave following the winter spirit who beckoned the young Viking to pursue him.
Expecting a cold, harsh gust of wind to meet his face, he was surprised to see that the once turbulent winds suddenly became calm. His eyes squinted, trying to adjust from the dark cave to the ever-bright scenery of snow. Jack flew above Stoick, his vibrant blue cloak flowing in the breeze. He waved at the young boy below him before creating a flurry of soft snowflakes that waltzed in the atmosphere. The redhead stood with shock and awe. His hands reached outward to feel the snow gently lying on his palm. The stillness of the moment was interrupted as a snowball landed straight on Stoick’s forehead. His head whipped upwards to where it came from, and he saw Jack floating above with another snowball ready to pelt against the Viking. His lips curled upward in a smirk, quickly stooping down to the ground to create his own armaments to attack the spirit with.
After pelting each other with snowballs for what seemed like an eternity, both boys sat together wet from the snow. It didn’t bother them, though, as laughter continuously filled the air. Stoick was happy; he was glad that he didn’t reject his friends’ offer to sneak away; otherwise, he wouldn’t be here right now with Jack. A frown appeared on his face at the thought. His friends. Jack noticed the change in mood immediately.
“Is it about your friends?”
Stoick was surprised that Jack knew what he was thinking, but he couldn’t voice his reaction as he was concerned for their safety. A quiet hum was sounded in response, a confirmation that the blue-eyed boy’s guess was correct.
“Well, if it helps, I think that’s them right now,” the spirit said, pointing behind Stoick.
The redhead’s eyes widened. He looked behind to see a group of Vikings searching the area around them. Leading the party was his father, who was followed by a recognizable trio. Stoick quickly stood to run towards them– not noticing the blue eyes following the shrinking form. The young Viking yelled towards the search party, and his father was the first to notice and run towards his boy. Engulfing the smaller Haddock, he was relieved to know his child wasn’t hurt. Stoick’s friends came next, who crashed into their group leader in a bone-crushing hug. They sputtered out apologies for leaving him behind, with the future chief doing his best to calm his friends down. His father then turned to him, asking how he kept safe during the sudden blizzard. Stoick’s eyes brightened, keen to show them the spirit who protected him, but he was soon met with an empty clearing right where he had left Jack. His father, who was confused when Stoick was trying to find a person, dismissed his son’s worry and gathered the rest of the party to head back towards the village. As Stoick trekked through the thick snow, he looked behind him one last time searching for his protector within the vastness of white, but was only met with the wind flowing against his face.
Stoick the Vast never forgot about that day.
Ever since his fate crossed with Jack, he had been determined to try to seek him out. He spent countless hours with his nose deep in Berk’s historical books, searching for any reference to a winter spirit that graced their island. He had even inquired of Gothi, their shaman elder, for any clues or details of the blue-eyed boy. She couldn’t come up with much, only able to find a name in their records that somewhat fit the description: Jökull Frosti. But that was all Stoick could muster up, and as the Chief of Berk, he consequently had no time to continue his search for him. It didn’t stop him from passing these stories on, though. When Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III was born, he made it his mission to retell these stories to his son. He didn’t miss the awe and wonder in his child’s eyes as he told these tales; the same awe and wonder that was contained in his eyes when he first witnessed the spirit.
…
“Do I really have to meet your dad, Hiccup?” a familiar voice whined.
“Yes, Jack. I think with all the stories I’ve told my dad about you, I’d reckon it would be best if he actually got to know the REAL you rather than meeting you through me,” Hiccup sassed towards the winter spirit.
Jack pouted before his lips turned to a smirk. It had been almost 3 months since he met Hiccup one fateful night, and it had been two weeks since they started dating. Hiccup was fond of the spirit he got to call his boyfriend. As much as his magic left him awestruck, it was his personality that the auburn-haired boy fell in love with. Jack made him feel seen in an environment where he was considered an outcast, the runt of the village. In return, Hiccup made Jack feel like he belonged– that he had a home to return to– despite the many years he lived jumping from island to island.
His dad never knew of this romantic development, though; no, he only knew of Jack: the boy Hiccup talked about often with a fondness in his voice. Stoick knew of that tone. He had been in the same situation when he was courting Valka many moons ago. Because of this discovery, he made it a priority to know who this Jack was. He needed to see if he was the proper suitor for his one and only son. One day, as Hiccup returned from helping Gobber in the forge, he sat at the table quietly, wondering how he would bring up the notion of inviting Jack over for dinner.
“Son, can we talk for a moment?” Stoick said with a calm tone.
Hiccup cringed at the suggestion. He went through his day, pondering what could have happened that caused a sit-down with his father, the Chief of Berk. His thoughts were interrupted by the noise of a chair’s legs being scraped across the wooden floorboards. His dad gestured for Hiccup to sit down. Begrudgingly, he sat in his seat, waiting for one of his dad’s classic lectures to unfold. But that didn’t happen. Instead, the words that came out of Stoick’s mouth had Hiccup wish it had happened.
“Hiccup, are you courting Jack?”
The boy who was being questioned choked immediately on his saliva, his fist punching against his chest, trying to dislodge the spit in his throat. His eyes went wide, and a blush as red as Stoick’s beard crept onto his face. A sputtering of words escaped the embarrassed boy’s mouth.
“W- WHAT? Where did you hear this from? I think you’re mistaken-”
Stoick put his hand up, gesturing to the boy to stop speaking. He sighed heavily while stroking his beard.
“Hiccup, I know something is going on between you and Jack. It’s the same display as when I courted your mother,” he paused, his pale green eyes monitoring his son who nervously fidgeted under his gaze, “I’m not mad, son. I am, however, in shock that you’re pursuing him, and I haven’t even met the boy yet!”
The shorter Haddock’s head shot up at his dad in surprise. His dad smiled back down at the teenager. He had one small request for his boy, though.
“Invite him to dinner tomorrow. I would like to get to know him.”
...
Now standing in front of the door, Hiccup was about to open it when a hand was placed on top of the door handle. The auburn-haired teen glanced back to see Jack, who was usually bright and loud, look uncharacteristically shy. His lips slightly curved up before leaning in to kiss Jack’s forehead lightly.
“It’s going to be fine, I’ll be with you every step of the way,” comforted Hiccup.
Jack gently smiled at the attempt to ease his nerves. He exhaled a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, “I’m just nervous to meet your dad is all. Never had to do any of this during my many years as a spirit.”
“I know he’s the Chief of Berk on top of being my dad, but loosen up a bit. I’m sure you’ll get along just fine.”
With a nod of Jack’s head, Hiccup took that as the initiative and opened the door to the warm hut. Hiccup yelled towards the second floor, a booming voice responding that they would be down in a bit. Jack took in his surroundings, the hospitable atmosphere giving him an immediate sense of peace. Hiccup found himself setting up the table, unaware of the spirit looking at the decorations scattered about. One ornament caught the attention of curious blue eyes, a tapestry picturing Hiccup and his father. Jack was puzzled. He wondered to himself why Hiccup’s father looked so familiar.
“Hey, Hic?”
“Yeah, what’s up?” Hiccup responded, grabbing bowls from the counter.
“What was the name of your father again?”
“Uh… that would be Stoick the Vast, why?”
Heavy footsteps traveled down the wooden steps. The Chief, who was polishing his helmet, didn’t notice piercing blue eyes staring at the man wide-eyed.
“Hiccup, good to have you back home. I trust that you’ve brought our guest-” green eyes looked up to find frost blue ones meeting his own. His whole body froze, the polished helmet clattering on the ground. They stared at each other for what felt like forever, ignoring the confused noises that a certain onlooker was making.
An airy laugh filled the space, which broke the older Viking’s trance. There was no way he was seeing things right. His eyes had to be playing tricks on him. When he first heard Hiccup talk about Jack, he never thought he was talking about the same Jack he knew. He had a slight suspicion, but he never acted upon it. So there was absolutely no way that his son was dating the same spirit that protected him all those winters ago.
“Hey, kiddo, glad to see you again.”