"Remind me, again, why we're out here?"

"You know better than I; it was your call."

"I thought it was a false alarm from the moment I heard it."

"Then why drag me out here?"

"To irritate you, of course."

"You're such a child."

"Coming from who?"

Jack didn't respond. He held his hands up to his lips and blew warm air over them. He hated the cold, and Hiccup knew that, which was why he chose the officer to accompany him on a territory check. Given, his life would be much easier if the breach supervisor had just let Jack quip at him, but he had always been known to have the last laugh. Spite was his weakness, it would seem. So there they were, at the cliff marking the northernmost edge of the Guardian's territory. An alarm had shot through the main base not half an hour ago, shrill and angry and alerting a perimeter breach at the very spot Hiccup now stood. Seeing how it was a cliff, he really had suspected that it was a result of faulty wiring or something of a similar caliber. Ever since the Vikings had joined the Guardians, both clans trying desperately to survive the new world utter destruction had thrust them into, there was little threat. Hiccup brought his cigarette up to his lips and drew a long breath, narrowing his eyes over the half-frozen expanse. Next to him, Jack stiffened his back until it was ramrod straight. The Guardians didn't approve of smoking, or really of natural fire at all.

They found happiness in peaceful, refined organization, and came from all over, joined by their love for raising the many infants that had been abandoned in the Aftermath.

Vikings,on the other hand, named for their Nordic roots, were loud and boisterous, bonding through wrestling and drinking and singing. They had been a broken group of nomads, however, when they stumbled into the Guardian's territory.

Hiccup remembered it like it was yesterday; Bunny had found them. Or rather, they had found Bunny.
At first, they thought they had only stumbled across a single family. A man was seated on a fallen log in the middle of a field of still-green wheat, seemingly resting after felling the tree while young children danced and climbed around him, up the roots of the tree. One little girl clambered up to the highest point of the roots and saw them. Hiccup couldn't imagine what she must have seen; each of the children in the family was clad in light colors of clean cotton, and she was staring at a huge mass of people with leather and furs strapped to them, covered in dirt and dust from traveling. She'd screamed, and in an instant all the other children disappeared. Each one of them was already expertly trained, it seemed. The man had stood, a huge man tall enough to rival even Hiccup's father, the blood chief of his group. He was much thinner, but his body was built in a way that utilized each muscle group to survive, and his hair and features were long like his body. Though he was younger, his hair was gray and black, and his own cotton clothes strained over his frame, tattoos visible from even a far distance. Another figure, a very young man, appeared, seeming to float over the log without his feet touching it, jumping smoothly and gracefully up to where the little girl still stood, drawing a long, stafflike weapon as his other hand swept the daughter behind his legs. Like who the Vikings first assumed to be his mate, he had a young face and an old man's hair, white and soft and stuck up to one side; constant bed head. Of course, Hiccup now knew that his name was Jack, the other man Bunny, as named by the children, and that there were no biological children to anyone in the clan, but each was a daughter or son to each caretaker. Jack was much smaller than Bunny, but his body was similarly structured. Though, again, none of the Guardians were related, each followed a strict routine that gave them all a somehow similar body shape. The Vikings were all shapes and sizes, the bigger the better, so Hiccup was always before a black sheep; he was scrawny in youth, lanky and lacking in incredible physical strength. Nobody treated him like they treated others.

But in that moment, none of them were strong. They were hunched and half-starving, and could hardly see anything definitive about the people they'd encountered. The sun was behind the young man, washing him in an angelic light, and Hiccup wasn't convinced they hadn't stumbled upon some kind of heaven.
"Send forth your leader!" Jack called, voice unreadable. Stoick stepped forward, and Hiccup watched the other man recoil slightly.
"I offer my apologies. We mean no harm."
Hiccup watched in utter shock as his father knelt before the family. He had never seen him so desperate. The man jumped lithely from the tree to the ground, burying himself to the hips in wheat. He was shorter than even Hiccup. Bunny seemed to be nearly twice the man's height, having yet to speak as he lifted the little girl to his chest. She stared at the new people, and more children slowly became visible, clinging to the tall man. Jack moved forward through the swishing plants, scrutinizing each broken warrior.
"We are merely passing through, we mean no harm to your family, please, I-"
"-You are a clan, correct?" The man interrupted, close enough to be able to speak normally but far enough away that neither could attack. Stoick looked up from the ground upon being interrupted.
"Clan?"
"Yes. A large group not bound by direct blood?"
"Oh! Aye, aye, we are."
"Have you a name?" It was clear that common was not the man's first language; his grammar seemed to falter and his accent was graceful, the harsh consonants seeming to flow unnaturally from his throat.
"Eh..."
"We are Guardians. Need you help?"

The inversion with which he asked questions was confusing, but what room had Hiccup to criticize? With Norse as his own first language, common's pronunciation came easier to him, but his grammar was terrible.
"Yes...yes, we need help. Please. Our lands were pulled under water. We have no rest."

The man shifted his weight onto one hip and swung his staff over his shoulder, lips parted slightly and eyes squinted slightly.
"Abandon your weapons here. I will bring you to where you need be." He turned and called something to the group behind him, a single word in a language Hiccup did not recognize. He later learned that it meant 'Bunny', and the man strode to stand at the other's side. The children all bustled forward, their hands clinging to their parent's legs for comfort.
"You heard him!" Stoick called in Norse, dropping his weapons. His people stared in shock. Never had they been so desperate. At the decree of their leader, reluctantly, they discarded blade after blade, blunt after blunt, and gun after gun. Soon, there was a mound of weapons in the field of wheat, the small group of people watching unreadably. Hiccup felt his knife pressing into the small of his back, but didn't take it out. He couldn't feel safe completely unguarded. He dropped his eyes to his prosthetic foot.

That had been a little less than a year ago, and somehow he had come to despise the teen who had saved his people, the teen he was now standing next to, watching him gaze out over the frozen landscape. He was actually older than Jack, and somewhat larger, but Jack didn't seem to age much at all anyway. One thing could be said about him; he laughed freely. Often, at Hiccup. He remembered the look on his face when the Vikings were assimilated into the Guardian's group, and when Hiccup was given a ranking higher than Jack. It made him feel a tight knot in his stomach that he could only describe as mirth, relishing in how upset Jack seemed to be. He took every opportunity to rub it in, too, dragging the teen around on every excursion. He should've felt ashamed at how he loved to get in Jack's face, watch him twitch as he fought to keep it clear of expression. Except now Jack seemed to have lost control of his brooding anger, bundled up under layer after layer of thickly woven cotton. His shoulders were pulled up, arms crossed and legs pressed together. His breaths came out in puffs as thick as Hiccup's smoke, the only part of his face visible his eyes, blue and clear as moonlight. Which was coming quickly, as the sun already had passed the middle of the sky.
"I hate the cold."

Jack muttered.

"I hate you."

Hiccup responded nonchalantly, taking a slow draw from his cigarette. He felt Jack's eyes burning into the side of his head as he stared at the river spanning out from under the cliff. Aware of the very near edge of said cliff, Hiccup leaned back as he exhaled.
"Sir, there is no danger here. It is-"
"-Sir? I'm surprised you even know how to show partial respect." Hiccup tilted his head, watching Jack's jaw tighten even under his scarf. Icy wind began to blow as Hiccup brought his smoke to his lips again.
"There's no need to be like this." Jack continued to stare over the partially frozen expanse below, upsetting Hiccup unimaginably. How dare he not look at him, or at the ground in submission? After how he had forced Stoick to kneel before he even offered help? The fact that his father had knelt on his own chased itself out of Hiccup's mind as he turned to face Jack, stepping until Jack would've had to look up to match his eyes. Still, he stared right ahead, which was now at the peeling paint on Hiccup's leather coat.
"Need to be like what? Hm? Like a person who outranks you?"
"There is no level to the rank of a Guardian. Your people accepted this wh-ghk-"

Hiccup had grabbed Jack's throat suddenly. Not enough to restrict breathing at all, but just to have his fingers on his neck. Jack's reaction was...was it beautiful? His eyes went wide and his cheeks flushed, chasing away the pale color beneath. The muscles of his throat flexed and he leaned his head back just barely, pulling them taut. Hiccup's breath caught in his throat, too.

He took another draw of his cigarette so he wouldn't have to think about...whatever he was thinking about.
"You are here as a guest." Jack managed to splutter out. Hiccup blew his smoke into the younger man's face, livid. He couldn't explain why he was possibly so upset. He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.
He didn't realize he was tightening his grip until Jack closed his eyes, and a tear ran down his face. Numbly, Hiccup let go. Jack slumped forward and Hiccup dodged. He hit his knees, teetering dangerously close to the edge of the cliff. He didn't try to stand.
"If I did something, I'm sorry." No, he hadn't done anything. Hiccup wasn't sure why he treated Jack the way he did; he hadn't ever had so much power over someone before. Someone who wasn't afraid of him. He hated that he didn't fear him like he should, but all he had ever wanted was in someone unafraid.
"I'm sorry if I've upset you, but you can't treat me like this. You can't treat anyone like this." Jack continued as he tried to stand, still struggling to breathe.
"Who are you to say what I can and can't do?"
"Your superior."
"I outrank you, you brat!"
"Diplomacy outranks everything."
"Not violence."
"Would you really fight me?"

Jack finally managed to stand and Hiccup practically dashed him, unsure of what he was about to do. The snow ached under their weight, but Hiccup ignored it. He flicked his cigarette at Jack, who dodged. In the next moment, Hiccup's feet caved under him, Jack grabbed his arm, and they plummeted into the icy river below.