Title: The Lost Heir
Summary: Hiccup goes through with his plan to run away, leaving behind no loose ends… or so he believes. After discovering the Nest and then fleeing north, Hiccup builds a utopia at the Dragon Sanctuary, working towards his ultimate goal of destroying the Queen. But no good deed goes unpunished, and ghosts from his past are destined to resurface.
Chapter Fifteen: Charity
"Is the hood necessary?" Fishlegs asks.
There's a beat where he wonders if Heather left after securing his bonds and he might be talking to an empty room. Spots of light penetrate the sackcloth, but it's too dim to discern movement from torch flares.
"Probably not," she admits.
Her voice sounds far away and echoey, suggesting she's brought him to a large chamber. What for, Fish can only guess. To prevent him from disseminating the Dragon Master's true identity among his friends, undoubtedly. But her methods remain unclear. He gulps.
"I'm not afraid to admit that I am very afraid of you," he tells her honestly.
She laughs. "You flatterer."
Fishlegs blushes, almost grateful for the bag concealing it. "But let's be reasonable. I will tell my tribe the truth about Hiccup as soon as you release me. And you can't keep me here forever. Someone will notice I'm gone." Fishlegs thinks about how absent-minded the twins can be. "...Eventually."
"I could always threaten to kill you," Heather offers as if the idea were a particularly appetising plate of cured meats.
"Yes," Fish squeaks, "but I doubt Hiccup would allow it."
It's a bit of a bluff, really. Fishlegs doesn't know what Hiccup would or wouldn't endorse anymore. Except he's gone to great lengths to avoid killing anyone when – by the law of the land – he certainly could have. Even so, Fishlegs knows this revelation could very well force his hand. Then again, explaining away Fish's untimely death to the chief might be too difficult for even the Dragon Master and all of his pretty words.
"Who says I need his permission?" she asks.
Fishlegs heart stutters. As little as he trusts Hiccup, he trusts Heather even less.
A door Fishlegs didn't hear open slams shut. "I should strip you of your rank for that kind of insubordination," says a voice Fish knows to be the Dragon Master's; to be Hiccup's. He sounds breathless, his mirth forced and hollow. He's not nearly as cavalier about the situation as he pretends to be. He'd be tempted to call Hiccup a poor actor if Fishlegs himself hadn't been fooled so long: if he had figured out that Hiccup had been right in front of him sooner.
"Lighten up, Hiccup, you know I'm only teasing him," says Heather.
"I know, just don't antagonise him so much, okay? We need him to like us."
"Uh, hello? Tied to a chair here. Trust me, that ship has sailed."
The burlap is suddenly ripped from Fishlegs' head. His eyes take a moment to adjust, but once they have, he focuses on the figure closest to him. Hiccup. Without his strange helm. He looks older, which is a stupid first thought to have. It's been five years, of course, he'd look older.
"You're right. This looks bad," Hiccup apologises. "But give me a chance to explain and then we'll let you go. You have my word."
He looks more confident too, but that comes with being the most powerful person in the Barbaric Archipelago, Fish supposes. But power and honesty seldom go hand in hand and Hiccup's word means next to nothing to him now. Not after all this elaborate deception.
"I thought you didn't want to talk," he sniffs.
"Well, it's either that or letting Heather kill you," Hiccup says.
Fishlegs pales. Visibly, apparently, as Hiccup's face falls. "Which I would never do," he enunciates, looking vaguely offended that Fish hadn't recognised it for the joke it was meant to be.
"What happened to not antagonising the man?" Heather says, a mocking smile on her lips.
Hiccup shoots her a glare before deflating. "No, you're right. I prob'ly could've handled that better. Let me start over. You deserve the truth. You all deserve the truth, but I was waiting for the right moment."
"The right moment was the day we arrived. You should have come forward as soon as we set foot on your shores, Dragon Master," Fishlegs wields the moniker like a rude name. "Instead, you've been manipulating us! Why?"
Heather gives Hiccup a soft look and gestures to the door; an offer of privacy. Hiccup shakes his head and she migrates to the head of the table, where she takes a seat in quiet support.
"Because I need Berk's help to end the war," Hiccup reveals.
"And we would've given it without question if we'd have known it was Hiccup asking," Fish asserts.
"Why?" Hiccup asks simply.
"Buh-because you're a Hooligan," Fish says, but he can't muster the required conviction.
Hiccup certainly doesn't look like a Hooligan. He looks strange and exotic, a patchwork of worlds Fish can't even begin to imagine. He doesn't think like one either – three hundred years and no Hooligan had ever thought to train a dragon – but, to be fair, Hiccup never has thought like a Hooligan. He's always been different… separate. Except, perhaps, for those last weeks before disappearing – or dying, as they'd all believed at the time. During dragon training, he'd become some sort of off-beat Viking hero. For the first time, Hiccup had been singled out for his skills rather than his shortcomings and the tribe celebrated him – accepted him. Fishlegs might be physically big-boned, but mentally, he's not dense. He knows Hiccup felt ostracised most of the time on Berk, but there must have been a moment, however fleeting, when he felt like he belonged. Like he was part of the tribe.
"I think I forfeited the right to call myself a Hooligan when I ran away," Hiccup says, pulling a chair from the war table and taking a seat. Down for the long haul.
"You ran away?" Fishlegs asks. "B-but, you were carried off–"
Hiccup can't quite meet his eye. "Not exactly," he says.
Fishlegs frowns in confusion. He remembers following Astrid and the chief into the woods and back to the cove where she'd last seen the boy. There were scales and scorch marks and his bloodied vest – clear signs of a dragon attack. Not to mention Astrid had seen the beast firsthand. As close to her as Hiccup is to him now.
"I ran away because I couldn't kill dragons. Because I'd befriended one."
Fishlegs looks incredulous. "That doesn't explain all the theatrics. Faking your death, hiding your identity. You said you'd explain, but now I only have more questions."
"Okay, let me start from the beginning. Most of what I told you this morning was true, minus a few important omissions. I really did try to kill Toothless. In the last raid before dragon training, I took my bola launcher to the bluff for some target practice. Somehow I managed to hit a night fury, but no one took me seriously. I don't blame you guys, and besides, it prob'ly worked out for the best in the end. After I let him go, I couldn't understand why he hadn't killed me. You remember how adamant Gobber was that dragons always go for the kill? It didn't make any sense, so I went back. He was still there because the cove was too steep to climb out of and I'd stolen his ability to fly. He knew I'd done it, I knew he'd blown up our battlements, our homes, and yet… he let me in. We bonded."
"So you left to protect your dragon, fine. But why did you have to fake your death? That's just cruel."
"I'm getting to that part," Hiccup says evenly. "I didn't mean to win Dragon training, I was just trying to survive. But after I had, I knew I couldn't stay on Berk – not when everyone expected me to kill a dragon. We were almost ready to leave when Astrid found the cove. Toothless panicked, I tried to get rid of her, and everything happened so fast. I guess I knew how it would look, but I thought it would be easier to let everyone think I'd died."
"What do you mean, you guess you knew how it would look? You left your bloodied vest floating in the lake!"
Hiccup looks confused. "What? No, I didn't."
"Yes, you did. We found it after you disappeared that night," Fishlegs replies.
"I think I would've remembered leaving that behind to be found," Hiccup says.
"Then how did it get there?" Fishlegs challenges.
Hiccup shrugs.
"Maybe Hiccup wasn't the only person who didn't want the Chief going after him," Heather suggests.
"I wouldn't be surprised," Hiccup agrees. "A little success in the ring wasn't going to make everyone instantly think me Chief material."
"You're not angry that somebody would take advantage of your disappearance that way?" Fishlegs asks.
"A little, but I have more important things to worry about."
"Like finagling this alliance instead of – oh, I don't know – telling your dad the truth," Fishlegs says archly.
"Fishlegs, you've gotta understand – I have to earn the right to call myself a Hooligan again before I can go home. The only way I can do that is by killing the Red Death and ending the war. And the only way I can do that is by bringing Berk into the fold," Hiccup explains.
"That's stupid," Fishlegs counters.
"No, it's working. People are listening to me because they don't know who I am. If I tell them I've been Hiccup the Useless all along, they'll lose faith in me and my plan. I have a chance to bring peace to the archipelago, and I need your help to do it. Please, Fishlegs, you can't tell anyone who I am."
Fishlegs thinks about everything that Hiccup's told him. About why he had to leave, and why he's had to stay away. He asks himself if he would've listened to Hiccup if he'd presented himself before Stoick the Vast in this very room at the beginning of the week. If he'd appeared like a phantom from their past and told them that everything they thought they knew about dragons was wrong. Fishlegs… doesn't know what he would've done. It's a compelling picture, certainly, but would Stoick be able to see past Hiccup's choice to abandon Berk? Except, that's not fair – he hadn't abandoned Berk. He'd rallied forces to her aid – approached the problem from a different angle the way he always has done. In the history of Berk, the only person ever to make headway with the dragon problem is Hiccup. If that's not reason enough to listen to him, then what is? Only, it's easy to say he would've listened now that he has the full picture, but would he have trusted Hiccup enough to hear him out in the first place? Fishlegs isn't sure. And if Fishlegs can't be sure of his own mind, then how could Hiccup ever put his faith in the open-mindedness of the rest of the tribe?
"Okay," says Fishlegs at length. "I won't tell anyone."
Hiccup gives him a look of shocked surprise.
"Your plan seems to be working, and I want this war to end as much as you do. I'll… I'll do whatever I can to help," he promises.
Hiccup's face splits into a broad grin. Fishlegs can't help but return it. He feels… hopeful.
"Now, get me out of these ropes, my wrists chafe," Fish complains.
Hiccup leaps out of his chair, looking guilty. "Sorry, yeah, sorry."
It turned out that H couldn't stay long in Aurvandil's Hollow. He'd had to leave shortly after their conversation about Hiccup, but he'd promised to meet with Astrid again tomorrow. She thinks about one of the last things he said, about how she wouldn't recognise Hiccup, even if he were right in front of her. She tries picturing how the years may have changed him. He'd be taller, for starters, perhaps a little broader. But when she tries to imagine his older face, the whole thing falls apart. She barely remembers how Hiccup had looked as a boy. Sort of soft and unassuming. His face was expressive, though. Earnest and open, even when he tried his best not to be. The face of stricken guilt he used to pull when his latest plan to win the hearts of the tribe had gone wrong used to infuriate her so much. If he'd truly felt that bad, why would he do it all again the next week? Why wouldn't he just give up? A part of her admired his determination, but the rest of her was too busy putting out his fires.
Astrid always considered herself one of the more charitable Vikings in her behaviour towards Hiccup. Given most of the tribe was more vocal in their disapproval, it's really no wonder he left. It was only after that they realised what they'd lost. How much he'd been doing for them that the tribe had never appreciated. The time spent charting fish migration, his advice on efficient foraging, maximising bog iron collection. All of it.
And then he'd come here. Astrid only had to look around to see the impact Hiccup could have on a place where people were prepared to listen to him. Or listen to him by proxy, through the Dragon Master. Ísfjall is so vibrant and cheerful. Not like the sodden drudgery of home. The utter stagnancy of the place had never bothered her before coming here, but now the contrast is just depressing.
She's decided to head to the market to meet up with her friends, even though she doesn't have any coin and she seriously doubts the others would feel like sharing their hard-earned pocket change. It takes her a while to get there, with great distances between the commercial, training, and residential centres that only make sense when you remember how quickly wings can take you places. Still, the walk is scenic enough not to trouble her.
She peruses the stalls for a while, her eyes alighting on a display of silver necklaces. They're beautiful, finely etched and woven into intricate patterns. Just one piece makes up more silver than Astrid as seen in her entire life. It strikes her how wealthy Ísfjall must be, how much more affluent it is than Berk could ever hope to be. And the Dragon Master, as the effective king of such a prosperous trading town, with the ability to collect as much tax as he sees fit, must be extraordinarily wealthy. He doesn't act like it; like his riches put him above his citizens. He submits himself to the same rules as everyone else, and when he breaks them, like the day he lost track of Astrid and failed to inform her friends, he faces the same consequences. It's almost admirable. No, it is admirable.
More and more, Astrid is finding it harder to hold onto her grudge against him. According to H, the Dragon Master has no malicious designs in keeping Hiccup from them. It's a case of Hiccup's stupid obsession with redeeming himself before he can face his father. Astrid remembers when they were kids and Hiccup accidentally let half a flock of sheep escape into the woods. He went after them alone, was gone the whole night and the following day, and only returned once he'd rounded them all up himself. His father told him he should've waited until dawn, told him it was reckless, but Hiccup hadn't wanted to return without the sheep. Not until he'd fixed his mistake. So yeah, Hiccup hiding away till the end of the war, helping in his own way from the sidelines is entirely plausible.
What's more, after reading the testimonies in the Archives, Astrid has never been more sure that the Red Death is out there. And if the Dragon Master is from the Barbaric Archipelago, maybe he has family living here, people he needs to protect from her hunger. Astrid's mind slips down an unintentional avenue – an echo of this morning and the reassuring press of the Dragon Master's hand against her own. How could someone with a touch so gentle be the villain of all Johann's stories? She always knew Johann to be a dubious source, but to have sketched his character so badly is a first. Teaching the Hooligans the truth about dragons has turned out to be a kindness that Astrid doubts they deserve. Not with the nature of their arrival. Hiccup must have had a hand in things, championing their acquittal. Maybe forgiving him for faking his death will be easier than she thought. But she always has been unusually charitable when it comes to Hiccup.
She catches up to her friends just before Fishlegs joins them.
"Hey, where'd you run off to?" Snotlout asks.
"Wait, you were gone?" the twins chorus.
Fishlegs looks sweaty and uncomfortable. "Nowhere – well, I stayed behind at the Roosts for a minute, and then – absolutely nowhere," he babbles.
"Dude, training ended, like half an eykt ago," Snot says.
"I got lost," Fishlegs squeaks.
"Then why didn't you just say so?" Snot asks.
"Okay, fine, I, um, ran into that friend of Hiccup's again. Her name is Heather," Fish says.
"Did she tell you anything?" Astrid asks.
Fishlegs shakes his head fervently. "No, nothing. Not a thing. We didn't even talk," he rambles.
"Then what took you so long?" Tuffnut asks.
Fishlegs works his jaw silently.
Snotlout smirks. "You dog," he says, clapping Fishlegs on the back.
"What? No! Shut up, Snot," Fish whines, embarrassed. "We didn't talk about Hiccup, is what I meant. We talked about the city and… stuff."
Astrid doesn't believe him; he looks too shifty. She really doesn't need Fishlegs to start keeping secrets from them now. But maybe he can't talk because there are too many ears around. She decides to let it slide for now.
"Don't worry, Fishlegs, because I managed to get more information out of H," she tells them. "And he said he'd ask Mrs Haddock if she would talk to me. That's progress, right?"
"That's great, Astrid," Fishlegs cheers, but he still looks vaguely ill.
She spares him one more concerned glance before changing the subject.
"So… have you bought anything interesting?" she asks Snotlout and the twins.
There are so many curios on offer, Astrid's pretty jealous that she can't buy herself a souvenir. Huh, the ease and simplicity with which she now regards their return home almost surprises her.
"Nah, we spent our share on pastries as soon as we got here," Snot admits, passing the significantly lighter pouch to Fishlegs. It's slightly less than a quarter full, but not by so much that Fishlegs would be prepared to start a fight over it. He settles for a light glower.
The aroma of freshly baked goods is enticing, but when their kitchen is already fully stocked, why waste good coin on more food?
They wander the market for the rest of the afternoon, fending off overzealous vendors until Fishlegs eventually purchases a pocket-sized handbook on gronckles. Perhaps Astrid isn't the only one warming up to their new reptilian acquaintances. While the Dragon Master implied that the dragon they'll bond with probably won't be the first one they're introduced to, the thought of giving her attention to any other dragon than Stormfly is an unattractive prospect. And one that – if she's being completely truthful – she can't attribute to an aversion to the entire species. Gods, she's already feeling possessive. She'd surrender to it if the whole experience wasn't so confusing. Her nightmares are still full of smoke and dragon fire, of burning homes and scared children. That doesn't just go away. But maybe Mrs Haddock can help it make sense.
A/N: I am having so much fun writing this! I'm still very much winging parts of this (read: all of this), but lack of a plan has never slowed me down before (ignoring the massively long hiatus we had, of course). Thanks to everyone who follows, favourites, and reviews, you're my heroes and I love you to infinity! I can't believe the response this fic has gotten, I'm absolutely floored!