Written because wtf I turn 18 in December? Can't believe I've been here since I was like 13 what the heck. I still feel mentally 12 lmao
It was a calm and quiet day on Berk. The grass, ever green, blew gently in the wind. The Terrible Terrors were singing on the rooftops. A not-quite-a-boy-anymore and his Night Fury, his brother in all but name, sat curled against each other in a certain hidden cove near Raven's Point.
And the not-quite-a-boy was named Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third; and Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third was soon turning eighteen.
Technically, one could make the argument that he was still four, considering his birthday was on a leap day; but technicalities didn't really count when it came to the basics of human biology.
Today, he was seventeen. Considered a child by many; still subject to the limitations- and the protection- that came with being a child. Tomorrow, he would be eighteen. Considered an adult by many; with all the responsibilities and expectations that came with it, the protection of being considered a child gone to the wind.
It was weird.
He still didn't really think of himself as an adult- and maybe he never would. He knew the rest of the gang were all too eager to turn eighteen; and he had to admit that a part of him was excited by the idea, of finally being independent, but still.
His Dad was getting older, too. He'd spotted the grey streaking out of his father's beard the other day. They weren't too noticeable just yet, but they were there. And each day that passed as his Dad got older, each day as Hiccup himself got older, brought the day that Hiccup would someday be crowned Chief of the village ever closer.
And being Chief meant that he'd be subject to the piercing eyes of everyone in the village; as if he wasn't already so before, as the apparent Pride of Berk. They'd be looking to him for leadership, guidance, advice. He'd have to be a role-model for a village of Vikings, despite himself feeling distinctly un-viking-like.
He knew, deep in his heart, that the thought was selfish; but all Hiccup had ever wanted nowadays was to go flying with Toothless, and spend time with his friends. He knew it was childish, he knew it was naïve; but a part of Hiccup had kind of assumed that he'd be adventuring with his friends and discovering new things for the Book of Dragons for… forever.
But, and even though if you asked him aloud, he'd very passionately deny the possibility- There were no more dragons to discover. Not within the boundaries of the archipelago, anyway.
His friends were moving on, too. Snotlout became a test-subject for Gobber's weapons, Fishlegs had begun teaching Berk's history to children, Ruff and Tuff were off experimenting with better and more destructive ways to conduct their pranks, and Astrid… she hadn't officially told him yet, but he knew that she was just about ready to join the Berk Guard.
He didn't want to hold it against them. They were their own people, and they deserved to be happy.
And yet.
He'd spent so, so much of his childhood and early teenhood so, completely, frustratingly alone. He'd been Hiccup the Useless. Hiccup the talking fishbone. His father, while he knew that even back then, had and would always love him; was still so incredibly Stoick back then; that even now, when things were better, it was still pretty awkward.
It didn't feel fair. He'd finally gotten everything he wanted as a kid; his friends, his family- and now he wasn't going to be a kid anymore. It's as if he'd existed in a state of ageless limbo before meeting Toothless, and had only just begun being an actual teenager.
A part of him wishes he could stay like this; just… a kid and his dragon, lying in the cove together, with friends and family waiting for him at home. Forever goofing off with his friends. Forever having a Dad to rely on, and be a part of his home.
Another part of him knows that wishing for something like that is probably a terrible idea. He's heard the stories; tales of vain Vikings wishing to the gods for immortality and eternal youth, to never age; only for it to become a curse. Some tales tell of bewitched Vikings who would have to live through watching all their loved ones grow old without them, later going insane due to the isolation and loneliness. Some tales tell of them becoming draugr; not quite dead, but not really qualifying as 'alive', either. Tales of old Vikings who grew ever bitter with age and jealous of the young, resorting to desperate, downright murderous actions, in an attempt to delay the inevitable.
No. Hiccup doesn't want to become immortal. He doesn't intend to stay young forever. That doesn't make growing up feel any easier, though. He partly wishes he could skip being a troubled young adult and go straight to being a somehow wizened and fulfilled middle-aged viking with kids and a retirement plan.
He breathes in deep. He takes in the air around him; the scent is wet and musky like the forest that surrounds him. Birds and dragons flutter above him. The trees provide him with shade. He can hear the waters ripple in the cove's lake. He feels Toothless' sleeping body behind him; the dragon's familiar scales rough and battle-hardened, scenting of smoke and plasma.
There exists a strange phenomenon called 'life'. He intends to see it through to the end.