Gift or Curse?

Hiccup Haddock can't be sure whether his strange powers over winter are a gift...or just a terrible, terrible curse. Plot of Frozen (with a few changes) characters of HTTYD. Rated T for child abuse and a mentally unstable parent a.k.a, two of the changes.

Chapter 2: Conceal, Don't Feel

A/N: So, yeah. The next part...

Um, this is kind of similar to the movie, but also I put my own spin on it. I loved Frozen, yes and this is not me knocking it by changing it. I just wanted to see what would happen.

Three months later

Hiccup Haddock awoke with a start. He was in bed and it was only early morning; he didn't really have to get up yet.

As he rolled over to go back to sleep, he caught sight of the walls. They were covered in ice, he realized, with a burst of shame at his lack of control.

As he sat up, rubbing his head, he struggled to remember if anything had upset him last night. Sure, it could've been one of those nightmares – but those dreams were only ever bad enough to make him wake up screaming, turning the floor into his own personal skating rink.

The whole room was an ice fortress. He reached over and pulled on his boots and his vest. As he slid his arms through the armholes, he noticed that even his bed had icicles hanging off the edges.

He stood, unsteady on his feet, leaning on the bedpost. Should he even go out of the house today, as unstable as he was?

And that's when he remembered why he had been so upset last night. He couldn't get by being the village screw-up or the village hermit any longer; his dad was to be coming home soon. And that meant that the people in the village, the husbands and wives and children of the men and women that had left would be in the mood to celebrate. And naturally, they'd expect Hiccup to be in the same kind of mood.

Well, he wasn't. His dad's homecoming meant being hit for speaking his mind and getting beaten every day, every morning a reminder of his mother, living in constant fear and anguish, making sure his hands were always covered, making sure he never looked anybody quite in the eye.

He wasn't happy that his dad was coming. He wasn't in the mood to celebrate and he was sure that a celebration was going to happen later that night.

He sank back down on the bed, wanting nothing more than to lay down and sleep. But, if he slept, he reminded himself, Gobber might come. And he just couldn't allow anybody to see the ice on his walls.

Gobber had come over a number of times since Stoick had gone. Each time he came, he did it out of worry for Hiccup, being shut up in his house all the time with nobody to talk to. He thought maybe the boy was getting lonely and so he saw him whenever he could, sometimes even staying until late into the night.

These visits always panicked Hiccup, who had never had to deal with people before – not in this manner, when all they wanted was to make sure he was okay. The visits stressed him and as a result, the ice on his walls grew even thicker than before until they became a permanent part of the wall.

He rose slowly from the bed and crossed the room. He could deal with people if he didn't have to speak with them one-on-one – and at parties, nobody paid much attention to him. But Gobber would notice. He would notice if Hiccup wasn't there and physically drag the boy down to the docks to give Stoick a "proper homecoming".

The last thing Hiccup wanted was that.

He reached out a hand for his door, leaving a thin coating of ice on the knob as he twisted it; his anxiety was throwing his powers even more out of control than they usually were.

He pulled his sleeves down farther, curling his hands into fists, trying to kill the sudden swell of power.

"Conceal it," he murmured as he reached the door. "Don't feel it."

He gently pushed open the door and stepped out into the boiling summer air and breathed in deep, feeling sweat start on his brow, running down the side of his face.

He walked slowly out of his yard, telling himself sternly that he'd better get used to the hustle and bustle of the village – there'd be such a celebration tonight and he had to be prepared. He hated crowds and he knew if his frustration got the best of him, he might accidentally give the people of Berk a very early winter.

He took a deep breath. He was in control. He was in complete control….he hoped.

"Hiccup, come help me with this banner!" Gobber called later that evening. A few early stars twinkled in the night sky and fireflies buzzed under the still pink clouds of evening. Hiccup raced across the grass and reached the blacksmith, who was struggling with one side of an enormous banner.

Hiccup pursed his lips as he yanked up the other end, standing on tiptoe to tack up the end. As he glanced down to make sure his end was completely straight, he saw the words written in bright red on the front of the banner:

WELKOM HOM.

Vikings were not known for their spelling and of course this was supposed to spell, 'Welcome home'. Somehow, the fact that there was even a banner made it seem all the more real to Hiccup. The little freedom he always managed to gain whenever Stoick was away was about to come to an abrupt end.

"Are you alright?" Gobber asked him quietly. "You haven't been yourself lately."

Hiccup's hands slipped on the edge of the banner and he almost wanted to laugh. As if Gobber knew who his real self was. And then he spotted a small snowflake forming in his palm and he clenched his hands into fists.

"I'm alright," he replied evenly, fussing with the banner so he wouldn't have to look at Gobber.

Gobber stopped his own work to look at the boy for a long second. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Gobber." His tone was suddenly sharp. "I'm fine."

"You're just alone so often," Gobber persisted.

"Gobber—

"Are you lonely because of your father?"

Hiccup stiffened slightly. "No."

"Well, it's just, he's never been away this long and you're getting sadder and sadder and—

"I get it, Gobber." Hiccup spat out the words, practically ripping the banner right back off as he yanked his hand away from it. Conceal, don't feel.

A great whoop spread from the front of the crowd. "They're here!"

"They're here?" Gobber dropped his half of the banner and grabbed Hiccup's arm, dragging him out to the docks. "C'mon!"

"Gobber— Hiccup tried to protest.

"C'mon, c'mon!" Gobber coaxed, tightening his grip. It reminded Hiccup of all the times Stoick had grabbed him like this, tightening his grip until the boy cried out and a little bit of panic entered Hiccup's frustration.

He tried to break away, but his strength was such that Gobber didn't even notice. He kept right on barreling forward and Hiccup locked eyes with his father for the first time in months. The cold look in the man's eyes told him without words that a beating was overdue.

Hiccup tensed, suddenly rigid and he could feel the hand Gobber held growing colder and colder…

No, please, not here…no please…

The ice shot out from his palm and he couldn't stop it. It created a small ring on the ground and Gobber slipped as he ran to greet the men. He fell on his butt, looking down at the ice patch in confusion. "It's midsummer," Hiccup distinctly heard him mumble. Stoick's eyes had traveled from the fallen Gobber to Hiccup and, panicking, Hiccup offered Gobber his hand, determined to show Stoick that it was an accident, not him, not him, not him…

Gobber reached up to accept Hiccup's hand, but the ice spiraled out again, shooting into another blast on the ground, this time with little spikes lining the area. Gobber stared at it in horror and the people around began to whisper.

Hiccup stared in horror as his father came nearer and nearer to him; he tried to push through the crowd, but some blocked his way, whispering about him, trying to ask him something.

"Sorcerer!" hissed one Viking.

"MONSTER!"

"FREAK!"

"I ALWAYS KNEW THERE WAS SOMETHING WRONG WITH YOU, BOY!"

"Let me out!" Hiccup commanded, as harshly as he could and, when they didn't, he willed the ice to come. He sent spikes raining down on every last person who stood in his way, anger and frustration and choking, panicky terror fueling him.

Snow dripped down on his head and he swiped it out of his eyes. He twisted his hand in the motion that he knew would cause the ice to come. It cloaked the ground and spiraled up into the air, freezing people in their places or sending icicles raining down upon them, caging them in.

He could hear Stoick yelling after him and the fear fueled him, giving his feet wings. Stoick had the snow and slippery ice and crowd to deal with; Hiccup had just broken free and he had none of that to contend with. He reached the edge of the shore, only water spreading before him. Dark water, cruel water. It would drag him under, the waves were so rough from the weather.

He looked down at himself, hearing his father's shouting increasing in volume. In a blind panic, he willed the ice to come again, not from his hands this time – from his feet. When he felt the sole of his foot growing colder, just like his palms had so many times before, he stepped out into the open ocean on a patch of ice. He raced on, over the water, letting the ice carry him, the anger and fear keep him going.

He disappeared into the night, leaving his father yelling from the shore, screaming obscene curses. He put one foot on the ice and it cracked, sending the man plunging into the ocean. And maybe Hiccup had instigated that, too.