Hiccup stands in his bedroom, alone. His armor is damaged, covered in rips and burns from the battle. He sighs, a long, drawn out exhale that threatens to let the tears fall from his eyes. His muscles ache, and Hiccup wants nothing more than to lie down and sleep for a very long time. But he knows he cannot.
Hiccup walks over to the table next to his bed and pulls out his map from under his breastplate. He does not want to open it and see the memories it contains, and places it on the table, trying not to remember.
Gently he unsnaps his compass and lays it on top of the map. He does the same with his knife and pencil and the thin booklet of blank papers used for mapmaking. He takes off his sword, too, and places it next to the map. The cartridges on his boot are all gone, used up during the fight.
Hiccup reaches over with his left hand and undoes the straps keeping his arm guard on. He slides off first the outer layer of darkened leather and places it on the bed. Next comes the partial glove, the underside marked with indentions where his knuckles bent against it. It goes on the bed too. As usual, the finger loop from the guard leaves a ring on his skin, one that has not really faded since the day Hiccup first put his armor on. The young man moves on to his left arm guard, taking off both pieces and laying them down. His green shirt is lighter where the arm guards were, the uncovered fabric darkened with soot and dirt.
He moves to the shoulder pads next, taking off first the left and then the right. Hiccup stares at the right shoulder's design, its usually bright red dull today. Hiccup runs his fingers over the scratches accumulated from years of exploration and adventure. He remembers the day he painted the insignia and its twin. They had been his father's suggestion.
Next, Hiccup undoes the chest piece, feeling the air on his neck for the first time in what feels like days. The neck of his shirt is stained with sweat. He places the chest piece on the bed as well.
Hiccup takes extra special care to remove the part of his armor that is next to irreplaceable. Hours upon hours he had spent in his workshop on the fin on his back, making sure that it opened correctly so that he would not place himself in more danger than necessary when flying alongside Toothless. The brown leather is more flexible than the outer layer, proof of how long Hiccup spent impressing a scale design into it and how much he wears it. Wore it.
The long section of armor hangs at his waist, stopped from falling off entirely by the straps designed to keep Hiccup's wings from coming loose. The freedom gained with the weight lifted is almost uncomfortable. Hiccup has worn his gear so much that without it, he feels like he is losing something, even though he has taken it off hundreds of times before. It is different today.
He bends over and pulls apart the straps keeping the leg armor on. He holds onto it and lays it gently on the ground. To take them off entirely, Hiccup sits on his bed and unravels the leather around his right boot, sliding the footwear off before following suit with his armor.
Hiccup pauses when he gets to his prosthetic. For the first time, he notices how much his hands are shaking. They are covered in soot. Exhaustion and grief threaten to overcome him and he begins to sob. Hiccup puts his face in his hands, sobbing into them, feeling naked and vulnerable without his armor on. His thin green clothes do very little to keep out the chill that is seeping into the room. The cold is not something Hiccup had a problem with when Toothless was there to keep him warm.
For a while, Hiccup's sobs are the only sound in the room. Eventually, though, Hiccup stops crying. There are things he needs to do.
Hiccup undoes the final strap keeping his armor on, the one right at his prosthetic. He avoids looking at the mechanism on the side. The metal is bent, leaving the prosthetic designed for flying with Toothless the one permanently out at a slight angle. Hiccup does not want a reminder of the damage done today.
Another heaving sigh, and Hiccup takes the last of his armor off and lays it on the bed. The full complement of his gear lies before his eyes. Except…it doesn't. There is something missing. His armor's pair is gone and Hiccup knows the two will never be united again.
Hiccup uses the back of his hand to wipe the last tears from his eyes and reaches for a pail of water sitting on his bedside table. He dips a rag from next to it into the water and picks up his arm guard. Carefully, meticulously, he wipes away the dirt and soot from the piece, cleaning until it is spotless. He moves onto the lower piece of the arm guard, then on to the other and the shoulder pads. Hiccup removes the smudges of soot from each part of his armor, cleaning them so that they look almost brand new.
Finally, he comes to the last part he must clean: the chest piece. Across the front is a large dark patch, made some while ago. Over time, dust and dirt have accumulated on it. Hiccup's hand hovers over the piece, holding the rag inches from the surface, unable to bring himself to wet the front. He sets the rag down and picks up the chest piece in both hands, staring at the stain on it, noting how other, past stains lie in layers of varying shades of dark, evidence of the time Hiccup spent with Toothless. A tear drops down his face, adding another color to the mix. The slight motion breaks Hiccup's trance, and he sets aside the piece. Some memories are too important to wipe away, Hiccup decides.
On the floor in front of him sits a trunk. Hiccup kneels down and flips open the lid. He takes out old shirts and quilts, laying them carefully on the ground next to him. At the bottom lies something Hiccup has not used for years: a simple leather harness and belt, too small for him now. Hiccup stares at it for a long while, remembering the last time he wore that gear. It had been a happy day when he placed the harness in this trunk, taking a step away from the boy he was and into the Viking he was becoming. Today is different.
One by one, Hiccup places each piece of his armor into the chest, folding them carefully and tucking them in and around the old harness. The arm guards, their accoutrements absent because Hiccup will still need those. The shoulder pads, the red now bright and free of soot. The chest guard, with its stained front that Hiccup will keep. The loops that kept everything together, closed again without doing their job. The underclothes, with their pattern imitating dragon scales.
Hiccup's wings go last. He folds them most carefully, knowing the parts will age and wanting to preserve them should he ever take them out again. The garments take up most of the space in the trunk. Hiccup gives a last, lingering look at the armor he spent so long making and so long wearing before closing the lid, shutting everything away in the dark. Hiccup shoves the trunk under his bed where he will not be able to see it.
Hiccup knows he will never wear that armor again now that Toothless is gone.