Where Will You Go?

A/N: I am back. At last. I took forever, yeah, I know. xP Well, this chapter was hard to write! I knew I wanted to continue where the last one left off, but I wasn't sure how. So this was born. It might be amazing, it might be awful. All in all, I think it's alright. Anyway, thank you for all the reviews! :D Please leave some more xD


I didn't want to wake up.

Despite the fact that bright morning sunlight was pouring onto the table in front of me, and I could hear quiet voices in another room, I wasn't quite ready to get up yet. I was warm and comfortable here, with my head pillowed by an enormous stack of papers, listening to my dragon's breathing and the clink of mugs being passed around in the next room, and…

Wait. Papers? I groggily lifted my head, jolted suddenly awake when I realized I had fallen asleep at the table, and remembered why. I hadn't even gotten a third of the work in front of me done last night, and I still had feuds to settle in the village, like the one between Hung the Horrible and Rhonda the Random…

A voice cut through my thoughts, quiet and helpless. "I just don't know what to do."

Despite the stress building in my chest like a physical weight or pressure, I paused, almost unable to believe that my mother sounded like that. It wasn't like her to not know what to do; even though I hadn't grown up with her, it felt like she knew exactly how to fix everything, how to make everything better. Even at twenty, I thought this about her.

I heard more clinks, possibly as she stirred whatever was in her mug, and then Gobber replied slowly. "I…I don't think I helped with that." He sounded embarrassed and ashamed, and I couldn't figure out why.

"No." My mother's voice grew colder, but stronger. "No, I don't think you did."

I leaned back a little in my chair, cocking my head to hear better as Mom went on. "I just…I never thought it'd be like this. I thought I'd always have Stoick to help whenever I needed to know what to do with him…"

My heart ached at hearing my father's name, and tears stung my eyes. Him. That must have been me. She didn't know what to do about me, about…about… My eyes fell on my bandaged wrists, a few scars still in the act of forming.

Toothless gave a dragon yawn as he slowly pushed himself into wakefulness, too. That was odd; he was normally awake before me, running ninety miles an hour trying to get me out the door and up in the sky before I was even really awake. He had become decidedly less enthusiastic about our morning flights after I started trying to fly on my own, but he put up with it, for my sake, I guess.

I glanced down at my wrists again, feeling as helpless as Mom sounded, and guilty, too. I was putting all this pressure on her, and she'd lost her husband just a few weeks ago, fought a war, fought two battles because of the peace she'd tried so hard to protect… Shame burned in my throat like fire as Toothless slowly dragged himself up and over to me, giving me a good morning nuzzle on the cheek.

It was the only thing that could draw a genuine smile out of me when such thoughts were plaguing my mind, and I reached up to scratch his neck. But even though I was smiling at him now, I subtly pulled my sleeves down over my wrists. Toothless could not see that.

I realized that the voices in the next room had dropped suddenly, and quickly figured out what that meant. They must have heard Toothless, or seen him, and gathered that he would soon wake me. I pushed myself out of my chair, pushing the stack of papers closer to the middle of the table as I did so. I'd tackle the stack later tonight, whenever I got a chance. And of course, I had to write that letter to Bertha.

The smile disappeared from my face as I remembered. I was doing an absolutely horrible job of being chief. I'd gotten my island involved in a war just three weeks after our last one. All that "land of peace" talk…the village probably hated me right now.

I ran my fingers through my hair, separating the last braid Astrid had made, a tiny little thing lightly tickling the back of my neck. I shoved it aside, probably ruining her work, and walked into the next room, both determined to show my face in the village and determined not to look at Mom or Gobber, determined not to even look up until I was safely out of the house.

"Good morning." My mother's quiet voice put an end to the pretending that I couldn't see them. I considered snapping my head up and acting like I'd just noticed them, but instead I just took my time. Why bother, right?

"G'morning," I mumbled, running a hand along my forehead as I spoke. I was already getting a pounding headache, and I'd only been up for ten minutes.

My mom stirred whatever was in her mug with a soft clinking noise, and I expected her to say more, but she didn't. I guess that's what made her so easy to live with, though; she didn't talk your ear off, and she didn't try to make you talk, either. It was such a far cry from Dad, the way he used to get all awkward and attempt to make small talk, blundering on for a few minutes about this or that before simply giving up, and letting silence claim us. The thought of my dad made my throat burn again.

I opened the door before Gobber could decide to try and step in and extend the conversation, holding it open just long enough for Toothless to dart out after me. I suppose I could have tried to be polite to Gobber, but the man ransacked my room yesterday. There are just lines you don't cross, and that is definitely one of them.

I let the door shut again behind us and started slowly walking down the streets, keeping my head down to avoid looking at other people and risking meeting their gazes. All the determination from ten seconds ago was gone.

Toothless gave a small moan, rubbing his head against my hand, as if he sensed my feelings. Which he probably did. My dragon could read me like a book most days.

I offered him a little smile, trying to be cheerful for him. What with the knowledge that I was dragging my mom down with the cutting, I didn't feel like doing it to anyone else today.

And maybe it was my imagination, but I felt like people were looking at me as I walked the street. And unlike before, they weren't looking at me with admiration or awe – they were looking at me as I had been looked at in the lonely years, the ones where people thought I was nothing. The years where I was practically nothing.

I swallowed, my fingers itching to hold a knife, but I beat the urge back. I was already a complete failure as a chief and as a son – the least I could do was wait until the end of the day.

So, with a sigh, I headed for Hung the Horrible's house.


By the end of the day, I was exhausted but pleased. I had managed to settle Hung and Rhonda's feud by finding the missing yak – it appeared the twins had stolen it, and were just up to their usual tricks – and several other quarrels had also come to a miraculous end. I still had a ton of work to do, but after writing the letter to Bertha and setting it aside to start on the stack again, I felt I'd at least done a few things to be proud of already.

And instead of attempting to struggle in solitude, I surprised myself by having a nice night in the Great Hall, sitting at one of the smaller back tables and seriously considering taking Hoark up on his offers of mead when he struck up a conversation with me. Anything that would make me feel better right now sounded like a good idea to me. Even though I'd gotten work done, I was tired, and it didn't make the weird feeling in my chest ease.

Of course, I knew the one thing that would make me feel better, the only surefire way but…I glanced at Toothless as guilt settled in. I couldn't tell him to stay here while I went back to the house and gave myself a few cuts. I was normally so easygoing about whether he followed me or not that he often did, unless he was playing with Stormfly and the other dragons. And though lately he had started spending more time with Cloudjumper, and Mom was sitting across from me while the two dragons conversed, I knew he'd probably get up to follow me. Or…would he?

I glanced from the papers to him again, shuffling them around noisily as I considered the prospect. Maybe if I just told everyone that I had to dart back to my house to get something, and shot off into my room, grabbed the knife and gave myself a few quick slashes…?

And really, would it be so bad if I did that? I always felt better after I did it. Mom would never have to know. Toothless and Gobber and Astrid and everyone, no one would ever find out. After such a long day, I felt that I needed a knife to get me through the rest of it. I pushed my chair back, making up my mind, mumbled some excuse to Hoark, stumbling badly over my words, and I ended up outside, in the cool night air, standing on the steps and watching my breath come out in a misty puff. The stars tonight were especially prominent with no moon, and for a second I hesitated there, my head cocked, listening for the sound of Toothless' footsteps. He hadn't even noticed I was gone, which left me to make the choice.

I could have turned around and gone back inside, surrounded myself with my village and the people I cared about, skimming paperwork as Toothless and Cloudjumper played on the floor, and Gobber's words became steadily more slurred and Astrid sat beside me to put another braid in my hair, probably. I could have turned around. And yet…I didn't.

I ran into the street, eager to get there and back again as quickly as possible, hopefully before Mom or Gobber or Toothless noticed my absence. Because if they did, they might suspect what was going on, or Toothless would get concerned and follow me, and what would I say if he caught me slicing open my own skin?

The instant I was in the door, I was racing upstairs, undoing my armor and rolling up my sleeves, grabbing the knife from the pillowcase and running it across my skin the instant it was in my fingers. As the blood slowly trickled away, it felt like my problems were doing the same. I hadn't noticed the feeling of pressure in my chest since this morning, and suddenly it was gone. I slumped onto my bed, watching the blood shining on my wrist where it lay in droplets, and then I did it again. A second cut. A third. A fourth. A fifth. Not too many that I'd lose count, not too deep that I'd sever something important. I didn't want to die; I just wanted the pain to stop for a little while.

But suddenly I considered what it would be like to die. I'm sure everyone's considered that before, and I had, too, but it seemed more real to me now, that I was going to die someday and that there might not be anything wrong with speeding up the process. I shook my head, trying to shake off those thoughts. I wouldn't do it. I hadn't survived so long, come so far, only to die now.

I couldn't have. I didn't want to die.

And I would repeat that as often as I needed to, as often as it took to make everyone – especially Gobber – know it was true.