Starlight, Star Bright - The Story of a Fool, Through an Even Bigger Fool's Eyes
What with a stranger washing up on Berk and taking a special interest in his son and news of Outcast activity reaching his ears, Stoick the Vast is uncharacteristically uneasy. Sequel to 'To Be Loved the Way You Love Me'.
Chapter 21: Underestimated
A/N: Okay, a few things to settle here:
1. I know the Vikings wouldn't know what therapy is, but I really needed some way to describe it. And I honestly wasn't trying to make fun of therapy, or therapists, or people who take therapy. I was only trying to show Hiccup and Stoick's...distaste for Old Wrinkly's methods. Anyway, the action picks up a lot next chapter, so please keep waiting and suffer through the horrible angst of this chapter with me!
"What things?" Stoick began to ask, but Wrinkly silenced him with a glare, waving a hand in his direction for silence.
"Hiccup," the Soothsayer turned to me, "why don't you tell Stoick what's bothering you? Calmly? Without yelling?"
"What is this, therapy?" I demanded sourly.
"As far as you're concerned," he replied.
"What am I supposed to do again?"
"You're supposed to tell Stoick what's bothering you calmly and without yelling."
"Oh, great," I rolled my eyes. "What am I supposed to say, then? That I don't want Humongous as my shadow?"
"That'll work," Wrinkly replied simply. "And Stoick, while Hiccup talks, you have to stay quiet and listen. When it's your turn, you'll reply calmly to all of his arguments."
"Isn't this what they do for couples, Wrinkly?" he snorted, clearly offended.
Wrinkly opened his mouth to answer, and then stopped to consider. "Eh," he shrugged, "maybe. But you guys need it, too."
"This is preposterous," Stoick muttered to himself.
"Okay, then, I don't want a shadow," I said, unable to look at Stoick as I talked, but still meaning the words all the same. How could I look at him while we were doing a therapy exercise meant for a couple? "I think I'm doing fine looking after myself."
And as Stoick opened his mouth to retort, Wrinkly sent him a sharp look, instantly derailing him.
"And I know," I rolled my eyes, "I know that you think I need protection regarding some unfortunate incidents with an ice dragon and everything, but really, that thing's gone now."
"Ice dragon?" Wrinkly asked curiously.
"Now, who's interrupting?" Stoick burst out.
I raised an eyebrow. "You sound so mature."
"This was your time to talk," Stoick reminded me sternly. "You better use it."
"Sorry," Wrinkly said sheepishly. "I just haven't heard much about the ice dragon, lately. It's a bit interesting. Please explain about that when we're through with this."
"Um…right…" I muttered. I could talk easily about dragons and their habits for hours, but the moment somebody asked me to share my feelings, it made me hot and nervous all over. Exactly what was I supposed to say? "Um…well…like I was saying, I don't want a shadow, because I think…um…" I looked down at the floor, trying to think of what to say. I thought what? I didn't want a shadow, but I didn't really stop to think about my actual feelings about it. We were Vikings. 'Feelings' was not a word in our vocabulary.
"Yes?" Wrinkly prompted gently.
"It shows that…you…underestimate me…" I tried uncertainly, peeking questioningly up at the Soothsayer. He nodded encouragingly. "Um…and that you think I can't take care of myself. And if you gave me a chance to take care of myself, I'm sure I'd do okay, really. I mean, I've done it for sixteen years. And that isn't me bragging, because honestly I'm not. Taking care of myself is really second nature to me now. It's not a chore or anything, so I really don't need Humongous looking after me, okay?"
Wrinkly was nodding, but he looked thoughtful. "So it feels to you like he's underestimating you? Stoick, what do you have to say to that?"
Stoick was silent for a second. "The thing you don't understand," he said slowly, at last, "is that you can't see yourself through my eyes."
Wrinkly nodded again, as if he thought Stoick needed the encouragement.
"The thing is that you see yourself as…as…" Stoick trailed off for a second, evidently trying to find the right word. "You see yourself as…not valuable. Tough enough to take care of yourself. But the thing is, you might know how to take care of yourself, but you clearly don't use it very often, because you're always getting hurt. And you don't realize it, but you're so hard to protect. You're so hard to protect, and you're so easy to hurt."
I dropped my eyes to the floor, and I knew it was Stoick's turn to talk, but I couldn't help it; I just blurted out what I was thinking. "If I'm so hard to protect, why don't you just forget it? Alvin's never gonna quit searching for me, not until he's dead or I am. You don't realize it, but you're fighting a losing battle. I appreciate the effort, Stoick, but if you're just doing this because you feel it's your job as my father, then I'd rather you not do it at all."
"I don't mean you're not worth it, I meant…" Stoick paused, stopped, and looked at the floor. "Hmm…I'm not explaining myself very well, am I?"
"Nope," Wrinkly replied happily.
I shot him a look. "You're doing fine."
"Do you know what Vikings do with their most precious treasures?" Stoick asked, looking up at me suddenly and starting to talk again.
"Uh…I'm guessing they would probably guard them from the other tribes?" I ventured. "The tribes that want the power and riches that the treasures offer."
"Right." Stoick nodded. "And that's what I mean."
It took me a second to understand what he meant, but it made me blush when I did. "Oh, no, I'm not…I'm not treasure. I'm…I'm just me. I'm not worth protecting, I'm just—
"What was I just saying?" he asked me. "I told you that you can't see yourself through my eyes, and it's true. I see you as hard to protect, but the point is, treasure is always worth protecting."
My blush deepened. Who could ever see me the way he was describing, like some sort of priceless jewel? "W-well, I don't see it. I'm really not worth protecting, Stoick. If you get tired of it, you really should just give it up."
"Hiccup, I'm never giving you up," he responded firmly. "So you can quit thinking like that."
"How can I?" I demanded. "When the only logical thing to do would be giving me up, then I can't just quit thinking about it, it's not a switch I can just turn on and off! Things would have been a lot easier for you if you had just given me up the night you found out I was an Outcast!"
Stoick's eyes softened suddenly, going unbelievably sad. I almost regretted my words because I knew he was thinking about that night now. We hadn't really addressed that night since it happened. I guess mostly we just tried not to think about it.
"Hiccup, I…" his voice trailed off, his mouth drawing down at the corners. "I'm so sorry about that night, but I would never, ever have—
"It would have been easier." I couldn't bear to hear his apologies anymore. "Now I'm tired. I'm going to bed." But I knew I wasn't going to sleep.
"Hiccup, get back here!" Wrinkly called as I rose to my feet and headed for the stairs.
"Why?" I paused, my boot on the bottommost stair. "There's really nothing left to talk about. Oh, except for the funny fact that you're my grandfather and apparently nobody found it prudent to tell me!"
"Hiccup— Stoick began to speak, but I just walked upstairs without waiting for him to pull an explanation out of the hat.
I fell asleep quicker than I thought I would, despite Toothless' attempts to cheer me up before I got in bed. At one point, as I heard Stoick knocking gently on the door, Toothless paused as he nuzzled and licked me and growled slightly at the door. I got the feeling he didn't fully understand what I was upset about, but he knew that it had something to do with Stoick. I probably should have spoken up, and let Stoick come in, but my dragon was actually earning genuine smiles and laughs out of me – I didn't want Stoick to come dragging the rest of the night behind him as he walked into the room.
When I eventually did fall asleep, however – meaning when Toothless actually let me get up and get into bed – I had a strange, almost scary dream.
Alvin's face kept appearing for large portions of it, and he always looked angry.
"He's a day late!" he howled once and he reached out with his hand, knocking items aside. A black-and-white chessboard went flying, hit the wall opposite and scattered the pawns everywhere. "He's already a day later than he said he would be! He chickened out!" he yelled in disgust.
"Alvin, calm yourself." The voice that spoke was cracked and old, but I shivered at the pure evil in it. There was an edge of disdain there as well, but it softened slightly when Alvin's name was said. "He'll be here, don't worry. And if he won't…" that evil seemed to become sharper, more defined. And I shuddered again. "You've got me on your side, Alvin, don't forget that, darling. That revolting boy only has that foolish old Soothsayer and Stoick the Vast." The disdain became even clearer. "Despite their best intentions, they can't keep him safe, and they know it. They're weakening, Alvin."
"They don't seem like it!" Alvin snarled, kicking one of the pawns aside. "We have to get him before his seventeenth birthday, you know we do! It all relies on that!"
"And we will," the voice soothed. "Don't worry, Alvin. Even if he fails, I have a plan…don't worry…"
The voice faded away, taking me into blackness and when I awoke, I didn't remember dreaming anything.