DISCLAIMER - I DON'T OWN ANYTHING IN THE 'HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON' FRANCHISE
The Great Hall was eerily quiet, its usual warmth and liveliness replaced by a chilling stillness that seemed to seep into every corner of the room. The storm of emotions that had swept through the trial, where Hiccup had stood before the entire village—and more painfully, his father—had left its mark on everyone present.
In the wake of his departure, the atmosphere was thick with a palpable unease, as if the very walls of the hall were holding their collective breath. The weight of Hiccup's words lingered in the air, reverberating with the gravity of his warnings. His voice, sharp and urgent, had spoken of Drago and his growing army, of threats that loomed on the horizon, bringing with them the specter of destruction. If Hiccup's ominous predictions were true, then Berk stood on the precipice of a disaster unlike any they had ever known.
Most of the villagers, though they would never admit it aloud—not to each other, not even to themselves—felt a quiet dread settle in their hearts. There was something in Hiccup's conviction, something in the raw honesty of his plea, that struck a chord deep within them. His words, though terrifying, held a truth they could no longer ignore. But the old ways of pride and stubbornness were difficult to shake, and many still clung to the belief that the boy they had mocked and dismissed for so long could not possibly be the one to save them.
Then, of course, there was the vocal faction of skeptics—led by none other than Mildew, the village's ever-bitter, ever-cynical elder—who dismissed Hiccup's claims outright. To them, Hiccup was still the same "useless boy" he had always been—the boy who had cried wolf in the past, whose wild stories about dragons were nothing more than the misguided fantasies of an attention-seeking child. They could not see him as anything more than that.
But no one was more bewildered than those who had grown up with Hiccup—the ones who had known him when he was still small and awkward, when his every word had been met with scorn and ridicule.
"Did all of that really just happen?" Ruffnut asked, her voice soft, almost as if she were trying to convince herself of what had just occurred. She cradled her baby against her shoulder, the little one's peaceful slumber in stark contrast to the tension that gripped the room. The child, blissfully unaware of the turmoil swirling around them, represented a fragile hope—something pure amid the chaos.
Fishlegs nodded silently, his gaze fixed on the massive wooden doors at the far end of the hall, as though expecting Hiccup to walk back through them at any moment, to continue dropping world-altering truths that none of them were ready to process. His mind was spinning, flooded with questions. Would Hiccup return to deliver even more unsettling revelations? Could any of them truly comprehend the magnitude of what had been said?
Snotlout, always the first to dismiss any shift in the wind, broke the silence with a scoff, his usual bravado intact. "Pfft. He's lying. Come on, this is Hiccup the Useless we're talking about! Like he suddenly became some big, important Viking?"
"Doesn't look so useless to me," Ruffnut said, her tone taking on a dreamy quality, her eyes momentarily lost in thought as she adjusted the baby on her shoulder.
Snotlout rolled his eyes, about to retort when she continued, "Did you see him? He's like what you think you look like, Snotlout. That jawline! And he's taller than everyone now—except Stoick, obviously."
Fishlegs looked away, his face flushing crimson at the mention of Hiccup's appearance. "Ruffnut, please, this isn't the time—"
"And those scars," Tuffnut added thoughtfully, his voice far more contemplative than anyone had expected.
The room went quiet, and all eyes turned to Tuffnut. His tone had caught them off guard.
"What?" Tuffnut said defensively, throwing his hands in the air. "Can't a guy appreciate some good scars? They're like battle trophies etched into your body!"
The others exchanged skeptical glances before Snotlout let out an exasperated sigh. "Okay, so what if he grew up a little? Big deal. He's still the same useless Viking he's always been."
"A useless Viking who tamed a Night Fury," Fishlegs countered, raising an eyebrow, his tone sharper than usual. His words hung in the air for a moment, settling heavily in the space between them.
Snotlout bristled, crossing his arms defensively. "What kind of Viking needs to tame a dragon anyway? Real Vikings fight dragons—they don't make pets out of them!"
"Well, it certainly saved our hides, didn't it?" Fishlegs shot back, his voice rising, clearly frustrated. "You forget, Snotlout, that we—all of us—wouldn't even be alive today if it weren't for Hiccup and that dragon!"
"Are you seriously taking his side now?" Snotlout demanded, his voice laced with irritation. His usual cockiness was beginning to slip, revealing an underlying fear—fear that Hiccup's warning might actually be true.
Fishlegs shrugged, his expression a mixture of frustration and resignation. "If what he says is true, then I'd rather side with whatever 'mad idea' Hiccup has than charge headfirst into a losing battle with my hammer and shield."
Tuffnut, ever the voice of irreverence, chimed in thoughtfully, "He's got a point. Even Macey here"—he patted the head of his slightly rusty mace affectionately—"can't save Berk all by herself!"
Ruffnut rolled her eyes, her expression dripping with disdain. "You can barely save yourself with that stupid mace."
"Hey!" Tuffnut snapped, clutching the weapon protectively to his chest. "She has feelings, you know! It's okay, Macey," he cooed to the mace, "I still love you."
"Pathetic," Ruffnut muttered under her breath, shaking her head with a dismissive gesture.
"Can we please stay on topic?" Fishlegs groaned, massaging his temples as if their antics physically pained him. "I'm just saying, siding with Hiccup might be Berk's best chance. If there really is a war coming, we need to be prepared."
Snotlout stood from the table, an exaggerated stretch making it clear that he was ready to dismiss the conversation and continue with his usual antics. "Yeah, you go do that. While you all waste time chasing after Hiccup's crazy plans, I'll be out there handling things like a real Viking."
The others watched him stalk off, his swagger making it painfully clear he hadn't learned anything from the day's events. Ruffnut shook her head, her expression one of exasperation, while Tuffnut leaned back, stroking his chin in mock contemplation.
"He's definitely jealous," Tuffnut declared after a long pause, his voice a mix of amusement and insight.
"Who wouldn't be?" Ruffnut agreed, her tone almost wistful. "Imagine having a dragon—a Night Fury, no less—to cause all the death and destruction we've dreamed about our entire lives!"
"That's your takeaway from all of this?" Fishlegs said, his voice laden with exasperation as he buried his face in his hands. "Of course it is…"
"It's the only takeaway that matters," Ruffnut replied breezily, earning an enthusiastic nod from Tuffnut.
Fishlegs let out a long, defeated sigh, his head heavy with the weight of their words. The twins' laughter faded into the background as they continued their bizarre, chaotic musings about the havoc a dragon like Hiccup's could unleash. Somewhere deep in his mind, Fishlegs couldn't shake the nagging feeling that Berk, for all their bravado, was about to learn just how high the stakes really were—and that Hiccup might have to save them once again, long before they were ready to admit it.
Unbeknownst to the boisterous crowd still embroiled in their heated debate within the Great Hall, four young Vikings had quietly slipped away, their footsteps softened by the thick wooden doors and drowned out by the clamor of raised voices. As the argument over Hiccup's ominous warnings about Drago raged on, the small group made its way into the dense, shadowed forest, their destination known to only some of them.
"Where are we even going?" Astrid asked sharply, her voice laced with frustration. The thick forest canopy above her filtered the weak sunlight, casting mottled shadows that danced across her face, highlighting the furrow in her brow as she followed the others deeper into the woods. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her impatience evident in every step.
"Well, we're obviously not going to sit around waiting for Hiccup to come waltzing back into the Great Hall," Camicazi quipped, rolling her eyes as though the answer was painfully obvious. Her light steps barely disturbed the underbrush, a testament to her agility and ease in navigating the wilderness.
Astrid shot her a pointed glare, sidestepping a low-hanging branch that threatened to catch her. "And what exactly does wandering through the woods have to do with finding him? He can fly, you know. A Night Fury doesn't just walk through the trees."
"It's true they might already be halfway across the Archipelago," Dogsbreath admitted, his voice deep and slow as his heavy boots crunched through the fallen twigs and leaves that blanketed the forest floor. He didn't seem to mind the sound of his steps, unhurried and confident. "But I've got a hunch he's still close. If I were him, I'd be at the cove near Raven's Point—the place where they first became friends."
Astrid paused for a moment, her expression unreadable as she processed the suggestion. It sounded plausible, and though she would never admit it, a small part of her had to concede that the reasoning made sense. She gave a curt nod, her lips pressed into a thin line, and without a word, continued to follow the others through the thickening forest.
The group pressed on, ducking under tangled branches and hopping over moss-covered logs that had fallen across their path. The air grew cooler, thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, the dense canopy muting the sounds of the world around them. The faint trickle of a stream had grown louder as they moved, guiding them toward their destination. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of navigating the dense undergrowth, they reached the crest of a hill that overlooked a serene, secluded cove.
"There," Thuggory said, his voice low as he pointed to the scene below them.
Down in the clearing, near the water's edge, sat Hiccup. He was cross-legged, his gaze unfocused as he idly tossed small stones across the surface of the pond, each stone making a soft plunk as it skipped before sinking into the still water. Beside him, curled protectively around him, lay Toothless, the sleek black dragon a shadow of fluid motion. His large green eyes were closed, his posture relaxed, yet still ever-watchful, as though he too were attuned to the presence of the approaching group.
"At least we know all that walking wasn't for nothing," Thuggory said, a grin spreading across his face as he surveyed the scene, clearly pleased by their success in finding Hiccup.
Astrid and Camicazi, however, didn't waste time on words. Without hesitation, they began descending toward the cove, their movements swift and purposeful, the urgency of their mission clear in their steps.
"Well, aren't they eager to see the man of the hour," Thuggory muttered under his breath, his eyes following Astrid and Camicazi with a mixture of amusement and curiosity.
"Are you surprised?" Dogsbreath replied with a low chuckle, his voice deep and rolling like distant thunder.
"Not really," Thuggory admitted with a shrug, a smirk still tugging at his lips.
By the time they reached the cove, Hiccup remained seemingly oblivious to their approach. He continued to flick the small pebbles into the water, his face a study in quiet contemplation, unreadable and distant. He seemed lost in thought, his expression betraying nothing of the storm that had passed through the Great Hall, nothing of the doubts and fears that had been swirling through the village.
"Wait," Astrid said suddenly, halting mid-step. Her voice was soft but cautious, as if the question itself weighed heavily on her. She glanced at the dragon beside Hiccup, her grip instinctively tightening around the axe slung at her side. "Are we sure that thing isn't... dangerous?" Her gaze remained fixed on Toothless, her suspicion evident in the way her eyes flickered from the dragon to Hiccup.
Camicazi snorted, rolling her eyes as she slowed her pace. "Toothless? Dangerous? Please. He's probably the friendliest dragon alive." She waved her hand dismissively, clearly unbothered by the idea of the Night Fury being a threat.
"Oh, yeah, because I've seen so much evidence of that," Astrid shot back, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she continued to eye Toothless, her posture still wary.
Dogsbreath stepped forward, putting himself between Astrid and the dragon. He raised his hands in a placating gesture, a lopsided grin on his face. "Just trust her on this one, Astrid. Toothless isn't going to hurt us."
Astrid scoffed, still unconvinced, but her gaze softened slightly as she looked back at Hiccup. Her reluctance was palpable, but she didn't argue further. Instead, she simply fell into step behind the others, her eyes still darting toward Toothless, as if waiting for any sign of aggression.
Toothless, however, had already sensed their presence. His ear-like nubs twitched, his head jerking up as his large green eyes narrowed, scrutinizing the group with sharp, calculating precision. His body coiled protectively around Hiccup like a serpent poised to strike, and a low, guttural growl rumbled from deep within his chest, the sound sending a shiver through the air.
"Easy, bud," Hiccup said, his voice calm but firm. He didn't even turn to look at the dragon, his eyes still focused on the rippling pond, but there was no mistaking the authority in his tone.
Toothless's growl faltered, the tension in his body slowly unwinding as he glanced at Hiccup. The familiar affection in his rider's voice seemed to reassure him, and after a long moment of stillness, the dragon relaxed. Hiccup gave him a soft, affectionate pat on the side, and the low rumble of contentment that followed told them all they needed to know.
"Come on, bud. You remember them, don't you?" Hiccup continued, his tone lighter now, almost playful. He scratched under Toothless's chin, and the dragon responded with a pleased rumble that echoed in the quiet cove.
Toothless hesitated, his eyes scanning the group before him, each of them standing as still as possible. After a moment, his gaze softened, and with a slight tilt of his head, he began to inch closer. Slowly, he extended his large snout, giving each of them an inquisitive sniff, as if judging their sincerity.
Camicazi, Thuggory, and Dogsbreath remained motionless, their hands outstretched toward the dragon, offering no sign of threat. Toothless sniffed each one in turn, his gaze shifting between them. After a long pause, his demeanor shifted, and he nudged them playfully with his head, his large body shifting like a shadow moving with intent. The sudden movement sent the group stumbling backward, much to their surprise, though they quickly regained their balance.
"We've missed you too, bud," Thuggory said with a laugh, grinning broadly as he steadied himself against a nearby rock.
"Put on a couple of pounds, haven't you?" Dogsbreath teased, patting Toothless's side with an affectionate slap. The dragon's playful nudge seemed to be his way of saying he was, indeed, still the same Toothless they all remembered.
When Toothless turned to Astrid, however, his reaction was markedly different. His nose twitched as he sniffed the air cautiously, his pupils narrowing into thin, razor-like slits. A low, rumbling growl bubbled up from deep within his chest, vibrating the air around them. The dragon's posture became tense, his body coiled and ready to spring, as if assessing the threat she might pose.
Astrid froze at the sound, instinctively tightening her grip on the haft of her axe, her body instinctively prepared for a fight. She wasn't sure what to make of the dragon's sudden aggression, but she wasn't about to let her guard down. Her eyes locked with Toothless's, and she stood tall, her muscles tensed.
"Toothless," Hiccup called sharply, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. His tone was commanding yet laced with the calm assurance that only years of experience with the dragon could have instilled. At the sound of Hiccup's voice, Toothless stopped growling immediately. His head tilted slightly to the side in confusion, the growl fading into a series of low rumbles as he watched his rider closely.
Hiccup stepped between the dragon and Astrid, his presence grounding. He raised a hand in a gesture of peace, his body language open and unthreatening. "She's new," Hiccup explained softly, keeping his eyes on the dragon, his voice steady yet firm. "But she's not a threat, okay?"
Toothless's eyes flicked between Hiccup and Astrid, the tension not entirely gone but fading under his rider's calm command. Hiccup glanced back at Astrid, his expression softening just a touch as he made a subtle motion with his hand, signaling for her to lower her weapon.
Astrid's jaw clenched at the command, a flash of incredulity crossing her face as she shot a glare at Hiccup. "Seriously?" she hissed, her voice carrying the weight of disbelief. The idea that she had to lower her axe—her weapon—while standing so close to the dragon, was almost absurd.
Hiccup met her gaze with quiet, unwavering certainty. "Trust me," he said simply, the words carrying more weight than they should have, as if the bond between him and the dragon had already been forged in a way that made this moment almost inevitable.
Astrid hesitated, her eyes narrowing as she studied Hiccup's face. There was no mocking, no hint of sarcasm—just a quiet, resolute trust. Something in her chest tightened. Against her better judgment, she sighed, her breath escaping in a frustrated huff. The decision wasn't easy, but she unhooked her axe, tossing it several paces away where it landed with a dull thud on the forest floor. Her heart still raced, the tension in her shoulders palpable, but she stood her ground.
Toothless's growl diminished further. His sharp green eyes flicked between Hiccup and Astrid, now studying her with cautious curiosity. His ear nubs twitched, the sharpness in his gaze softening as he processed the situation. Slowly, as if to test the air, the dragon inched closer to Astrid, his nose twitching as he leaned in to sniff her hand.
"Stick your hand out," Hiccup instructed calmly, his voice low, coaxing.
Astrid shot him a look that could only be described as "You're insane," but despite the skepticism in her expression, she followed his instruction, holding out her hand tentatively, her body still tense. Her eyes remained on Toothless, watching the dragon carefully for any sudden movements.
Toothless's nose brushed against her palm—warm, wet, and surprisingly gentle. Astrid's breath caught slightly at the sensation, the unexpected warmth of the dragon's touch sending a shiver through her. After a long, tense moment, the dragon's pupils suddenly widened, and with a playful flicker in his eyes, Toothless leaned forward and gave her hand a long, enthusiastic lick. His tongue, surprisingly soft and quick, left a damp trail across her skin.
Astrid blinked in shock, her mind momentarily short-circuited by the sudden, overwhelming affection from the dragon. She stared down at Toothless, who now sat back on his haunches, grinning widely—his toothless mouth forming a goofy, almost comical expression.
"He's... toothless?" Astrid asked in disbelief, her eyes wide as she stared at the dragon's oddly endearing grin. Her voice was tinged with a mixture of surprise and amusement.
"Retractable teeth," Hiccup explained, his lips curling into a small smile as he watched the exchange. "They're not always visible. But when he needs them... well, let's just say you wouldn't want to get too close."
Astrid couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all, the tension in her shoulders slowly melting away as she began to relax. Toothless, now satisfied with his greeting, leaned into her, nudging her stomach with his large head like an oversized cat looking for attention. Despite herself, Astrid couldn't help but start scratching behind his ears. The dragon responded with a low rumble of contentment, his eyes closing in bliss. She marveled at the strange blend of ferocity and playfulness that existed within him—a dragon capable of such power, yet so affectionate when he chose to be.
"You know," Hiccup said, breaking the silence as he turned back to the pond, his voice light, but there was a hint of amusement in his tone. "I half-expected you three to show up. But you..." He paused, casting a glance at Astrid, his expression curious. "You were a surprise. Especially seeing you petting a dragon."
Astrid flushed slightly, her gaze flicking to the ground as she scratched behind Toothless's ears, her fingers slowly weaving through his thick scales. "They told me about... all of this," she said, her voice quiet but earnest as she gestured vaguely at the scene around them, her mind still reeling from the surreal moment. "It took some convincing, but here I am." She gave a small shrug, still unsure how to explain her presence here beyond the simple truth.
Hiccup nodded thoughtfully, his expression growing more contemplative. "So, is she the only one you told?" he asked, addressing Thuggory, Dogsbreath, and Camicazi, his brow arched. His tone was lighter, but there was a clear undercurrent of curiosity and concern.
The three Vikings exchanged uneasy, guilty glances. There was a silent understanding between them—one that didn't need to be spoken aloud but was nonetheless clear.
"There was an incident," Camicazi began, her voice tentative, as if she weren't entirely sure how to proceed. "Where Thuggory tried to make the other Vikings see dragons differently..."
Hiccup raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue. But it was Thuggory who interrupted.
"And they didn't react well," Hiccup finished for her, his tone dry, tinged with an almost amused exasperation.
"That's... one way to put it," Thuggory muttered bitterly, his arms crossed over his chest as he scowled at the memory. He stood a little taller, as though the discomfort of the conversation was an old wound, one he was still reluctant to revisit.
Hiccup's gaze flicked between them, his interest piqued. "Something I should know about?" he asked, his expression unreadable.
Camicazi, ever the pragmatist, quickly raised her hands in a dismissive gesture, eager to move past the uncomfortable subject. "It's nothing," she said quickly, trying to wave off the tension. "Just a little misunderstanding. No big deal."
Thuggory snorted in response, his body language suggesting he wasn't so sure it could be dismissed that easily. But he said nothing, and the group fell into a quiet, awkward silence. Astrid, still gently petting Toothless, couldn't help but glance up at Hiccup, wondering just how much he already knew.
Hiccup didn't press the issue any further. He simply let out a faint sigh, his shoulders rising and falling as he turned away, shifting his focus back to the pond. His movements were slow, almost weary, as he lowered himself once more to the water's edge. Toothless, ever attuned to his rider's moods, immediately abandoned Astrid's side. With a soft rustle of wings and a flick of his tail, he curled protectively around Hiccup, settling in beside him. His tail swished lazily against the soft moss beneath them, the earthy scent of the forest filling the air, while the dragon rumbled contentedly, nuzzling his head against Hiccup's shoulder with a low purr that echoed the peace they both seemed to seek.
"So, isn't there anything you have to say for yourself?" Camicazi's sharp voice cut through the silence, her tone laced with frustration. She crossed her arms over her chest, her stance challenging and impatient. It was clear she wanted more than just the quiet, distant demeanor Hiccup was offering.
Hiccup didn't answer right away. Instead, he reached down to pick up a small pebble, rolling it thoughtfully between his fingers as though he were weighing its worth—perhaps even considering the weight of the situation itself. His gaze remained fixed on the water, his thoughts distant, lost in the stillness of the moment. "What else is there to say?" he finally replied, his voice flat, devoid of emotion, as if the question itself didn't merit an answer.
"Oh, I don't know," Camicazi said, throwing her hands up in frustration, her voice thick with exasperation. "Maybe where you've been all this time? How you've been surviving? And let's not forget—what exactly happened to your leg?" The moment the words left her mouth, she froze, her eyes widening in horror. She clamped a hand over her mouth, as though she could somehow erase the damage already done.
The reaction was immediate. The air seemed to thicken, and the other three heirs winced, as though struck by an invisible blow. Toothless, ever protective, growled low in his throat—a sound that reverberated like distant thunder, a warning that sent shivers down the spines of those present. His narrowed eyes locked onto Camicazi, and for a moment, the tension in the air could have been cut with a knife.
Hiccup's jaw tightened visibly, and his grip on the pebble became so firm that his knuckles turned white. Yet when he finally turned his head to look at Camicazi, his expression wasn't one of anger—rather, it was the kind of exhaustion only someone who had endured unspeakable burdens could wear. It was a tiredness that ran deep, as though the weight of the world had crushed any remaining softness in him. "Ever heard of tact?" His voice was calm, almost too calm, but the faintest edge of sarcasm betrayed the sting of her words.
"I didn't mean—" Camicazi began, panic rising in her voice as she realized the full weight of her slip. Her tone wavered with regret, but Hiccup silenced her with a simple, raised hand.
"It's fine," he said curtly, his voice flat. He flicked the pebble from his fingers, watching it skip across the surface of the pond before sinking beneath the water with a soft splash. The ripples spread out in concentric circles, disrupting the once serene surface. "I know you all have questions. I get it. But most of what you want to know, I've already told the entire archipelago back in the Great Hall."
"That's not enough," Thuggory interjected, his voice thick with frustration. He crossed his arms and fixed Hiccup with a hard look, his stance defensive and rigid. "We deserve more than whatever scraps of an explanation you fed them."
Hiccup turned his head slightly, his gaze meeting Thuggory's, and the calmness in his eyes was almost chilling. It felt less like an invitation to continue the conversation and more like a wall—an impenetrable barrier to anything resembling vulnerability. "Maybe you do," he said quietly, his words slow and deliberate. "But there isn't time for me to sit here and recount everything. Especially not for someone who doesn't even know me." His eyes flicked briefly to Astrid as he spoke, and his words, though cold, were not cruel—just distant, as though his heart had long since retreated behind walls of his own making.
The group fell silent. The weight of Hiccup's words sank in, each one heavier than the last. It was clear now that whatever Hiccup had been through in his time away had irrevocably changed him. The soft-spoken, uncertain boy they had once known had hardened into someone guarded and wary—a man who now bore the weight of a world that had turned its back on him.
"You should all go," Hiccup said abruptly, his voice sharp, breaking the tense quiet. He rose to his feet, brushing the dirt from his pants with a practiced motion, as if the decision had already been made. "The search parties will be looking for the missing heirs soon. You've already risked too much coming here."
"But we just got here!" Astrid protested, stepping forward instinctively. She was taken aback by his sudden dismissal, the words bubbling up before she could stop them. "We—"
"We'll see each other again," Hiccup interrupted, his voice cutting through her words with a finality that brooked no argument. His tone left no room for further discussion. "If everything works out."
One by one, the heirs exchanged reluctant glances, each of them feeling the heaviness of the moment. After a few seconds, they each nodded in reluctant agreement. Dogsbreath and Thuggory turned first, their footsteps heavy as they headed back toward the trees, though both cast lingering glances over their shoulders as they left. Camicazi hesitated, her gaze flicking between Hiccup and Astrid. Her eyes darted nervously, unsure of what to make of the situation, but after a beat, she, too, began the climb out of the cove.
Astrid lingered. She shifted awkwardly on her feet, not sure what to say, but unable to leave just yet. She stared at Hiccup, the man who had once been so familiar to her, the boy she had so easily dismissed—but now, he was someone she barely recognized. Words bubbled up in her throat, but they all seemed inadequate, as though no combination of syllables could ever measure up to the weight of the moment.
"I…" she began, trailing off, frustration and guilt twisting in her chest. Her hands clenched at her sides as the words danced just beyond her reach. She had dreamed of this moment for years—the chance to apologize, to make things right. Yet, here she was, standing before him, and the words felt too small to carry the enormity of her regret.
"I'm sorry," Hiccup said quietly, cutting her off before she could continue. The unexpected apology hung in the air between them, stunning her into silence. He turned away, his eyes settling on the calm expanse of the pond once more. "I left selfishly. I was a coward to do it." His voice was quiet, but resolute, as though he had rehearsed these words in the solitude of his mind a thousand times. "I'm no better now than I was then."
Astrid shook her head vehemently. "No, you're not!" she blurted, her voice rising with the force of her emotion. She took a step closer, her heart aching with the weight of what she had said. "You're not selfish. You can't say that!"
Hiccup tilted his head, his brow furrowing in confusion, his eyes seeking to understand. "Isn't that why you're here?" he asked, his voice laced with uncertainty. "To tell me how wrong I was to leave? How I abandoned my responsibilities when I should've stayed to help?"
Astrid rolled her eyes in frustration, stepping closer still, the distance between them narrowing as if to close the gap left by years of silence. "You were wrong," she admitted, her voice softening with the weight of the truth she couldn't avoid. "But it's not like any of us gave you a reason to want to stay."
Hiccup's lips curled into a bitter smile, his expression tinged with self-reproach. "I tell myself that every day," he murmured, his voice almost a whisper. "But it doesn't make leaving right."
"And treating you the way we did wasn't right either," Astrid countered, her voice trembling slightly. "We failed you long before you left."
For a moment, they stood there in silence, the unspoken weight of the past hanging heavy between them. There were no more words to say, no easy answers to be found. Only the quiet acknowledgment of their shared history, and the fragile hope that perhaps, one day, they could move beyond it.
"I still want to say thank you," Hiccup murmured after a long pause, his voice so soft it was almost too faint to hear. "You've kept Berk going. You did what I should have done."
Astrid bit her lip, her throat tightening with emotion. "It's not like you didn't help," she said, her voice steady despite the sudden lump in her throat. "You did what no one else could—what no one else even thought was possible."
Hiccup chuckled softly, but there was no humor in the sound. It was hollow, tinged with a quiet sadness. "You mean the dragon queen?" he asked, glancing at her sideways, his expression almost wry.
Astrid nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "You didn't just ride a dragon—you destroyed the nest. You did what no one else could."
"Didn't do much for Berk in the end," Hiccup said glumly, his shoulders slumping as the weight of his words sunk in.
"That's on us," Astrid said firmly, her voice steady and resolute. "We were always the problem."
I was always the problem, she thought bitterly, the guilt gnawing at her insides, a constant reminder of the past she could never undo.
Hiccup didn't respond, but the faintest flicker of a smile touched his lips, as though something deep inside him had stirred—some shred of the person he had once been.
"I should go," Astrid said at last, her voice reluctant but steady. She hesitated, then stepped forward, her movement swift and unexpected as she delivered a sharp punch to Hiccup's shoulder.
"What was that for?!" Hiccup exclaimed, rubbing the spot where she had hit him. It didn't hurt, thanks to his armor, but the surprise of it made him flinch, his eyes wide with confusion.
"That was for leaving without telling anyone," Astrid said firmly, though her tone softened just a touch, revealing the warmth beneath her frustration. Without another word, she turned and jogged toward the exit of the cove, leaving Hiccup standing there, his mind spinning, confused and unsure of what to do next.
As Astrid climbed back toward the others, she didn't notice Camicazi lingering just out of sight, her sharp eyes fixed on Astrid with an unmistakable glare—calculating, observant, and perhaps more than a little wary.
Stoick's head throbbed with each word Spitelout hurled at him, the sharp echoes of the man's voice reverberating from the village paths all the way to the Great Hall. The frustration pressing against his chest was suffocating, and his patience wore thin, fraying like an old rope under too much strain. The air felt thick with tension, as if every breath he took came with a weight he couldn't shake.
"Will you give it a rest?" Stoick finally snapped, his voice rumbling like thunder in a storm, the sound carrying authority and fury in equal measure. "We've got an entire village to worry about—our lives—and here you are whining about a marriage contract that hasn't even been put into place!" His hand slammed onto the heavy table, making the wood creak under the force of his frustration.
Spitelout's face twisted with indignation, his eyes narrow with irritation as his jaw clenched. "It's not whining, Stoick," he barked, taking a step toward the chief, his voice rising with each word. "It's ensuring that what's rightfully my son's remains his! With Hiccup's sudden reappearance, we need clarity on whether Astrid's agreement with Snotlout still stands!"
"To be fair," Gobber interjected from the side, leaning against the long wooden table with a sly grin, his tone light but laced with mischief. "The lass doesn't have to keep her word now that Hiccup's technically back. She could take the opportunity to change her mind, eh?" Gobber's eyes gleamed, knowing how much it would irk Spitelout to hear that.
Spitelout's eyes narrowed further, his nostrils flaring with barely contained anger as he glared at Gobber, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "She doesn't get to just change her mind because the boy came crawling back!" His voice dripped with contempt. "Hiccup said himself he's not here to reclaim his place as chief. That means Astrid and Snotlout should move forward with what was decided, as planned!"
"Astrid would rather hop on the back of that blasted Night Fury and fly off with Hiccup than marry your yak of a son," Gobber snorted, the grin widening into a laugh that rang with an edge of mockery. His words cut through the thick tension like a knife.
Spitelout bristled at the insult, his temper flaring dangerously. "You watch your mouth, Gobber!" His voice was low, menacing, a warning growl in his throat.
"Will you both hold your tongues?" Stoick barked, his deep voice cutting through the escalating argument like the sharp crack of a whip. He slammed his heavy hand onto the table again, the wood groaning under the pressure. "This is not the time for petty squabbles about things that don't matter right now! We've got Drago Bludvist and his army on our doorstep, not to mention Hiccup's sudden return. That's where our focus needs to be, not on contracts and alliances!" His voice grew louder with each word, the authority of a chief cutting through the chaos.
Spitelout scoffed, crossing his arms with a snort as his lips curled in disdain, his stance defensive and stubborn. "Oh, of course. It's always about your boy, isn't it, Stoick? He's not even been back a day, and already you're putting him at the center of everything again!" The bitterness in his voice made the air feel colder, as though the very words had stolen the warmth from the room.
Stoick's grip on the back of his chair tightened, his knuckles turning white, the veins in his hands straining as if his fury was a physical force he had to hold in check. "If what he's said is true," Stoick's voice was low and dangerous, each word dripping with the weight of responsibility. "Then I've every reason to listen to him." His eyes were hard, narrowing into a steely resolve, daring anyone to challenge him further.
"And what if it's all a ruse?" Spitelout shot back, his eyes flashing with suspicion, his voice gaining an edge of renewed intensity. He stepped forward, looming over Stoick, his tone more venomous now. "He's had years to plan, years to align himself with anyone—dragons or otherwise—who'd help him. For all we know, this is just his way of infiltrating us, pretending to care, while leading us to ruin. Can't you see that? He's always been a master of manipulation!" His words hung in the air like a thick fog, clouding the truth with doubt.
Stoick froze at the accusation, his mind racing as the weight of Spitelout's words crashed into him. For a moment, the room seemed to close in on him, and his breath caught in his chest. He hated that Spitelout's venomous suggestion had planted even the smallest sliver of doubt in his heart. Could he have been too quick to trust Hiccup? Had his son truly changed, or was there something more sinister to his return? His mind grappled with the conflicting thoughts, but the only thing he could focus on was the gnawing sense of unease that now took root deep within him.
"Head back to your hall, Spitelout," Stoick growled, his voice a low rumble as he stalked toward the door, his footsteps echoing in the tense silence. "I've had enough of your ramblings for one day." He didn't turn to look at Spitelout as he spoke, the command clear in his tone.
Spitelout threw one last venomous glance over his shoulder, his words dripping with scorn as he retreated. "You're making the same mistake you made all those years ago, Stoick—putting blind faith in that boy. Mark my words, it'll lead us all to ruin. You'll regret this." The door slammed shut behind him, leaving a heavy silence in his wake.
Stoick stood rooted in place, his jaw clenched, the words lingering in the air like a poisonous gas. His chest tightened with the weight of Spitelout's warning. The doubt, so small at first, began to fester, needle deep into his thoughts. He had always struggled with his decisions, especially where Hiccup was concerned, but hearing those doubts echoed back to him in such a cruel way cut deeper than he cared to admit.
"Don't let that fool get to ye," Gobber said, his voice suddenly soft and reassuring as he clapped a hand on Stoick's shoulder, grounding him back to the present. "Spitelout's just schemin' to get Snotlout into the chief's chair. Everyone's known that for years." The words were simple, but they carried with them a weight of truth Stoick could cling to.
Stoick let out a weary sigh, his shoulders sagging under the burden of the moment. "Aye. Everyone knows. Doesn't make it any less infuriating." His voice was thick with frustration, and for a moment, it felt as though the weight of the entire world pressed down on him.
"Then why let it get under your skin?" Gobber pressed gently, his tone light but insistent, as if trying to keep Stoick grounded. "You've finally got Hiccup back, and he's turned out better than any of us could've dreamed!"
Stoick raised an eyebrow, glancing over at his old friend, the skepticism in his gaze still clear.
"Well, maybe not the dragon-ridin' part," Gobber admitted with a sheepish grimace, clearly uncomfortable with the thought. "But still! The lad saved us! That's got to count for somethin', hasn't it?" His voice, while still light, carried a note of seriousness that made Stoick pause.
Stoick rubbed his temple, the tension between his brows deepening, and a bitter laugh escaped his lips, raw and humorless. "Can we not talk about Hiccup right now, Gobber?" His voice wavered with frustration, his gaze distant, as if trying to escape the flood of emotions that had been overwhelming him since Hiccup's return. "This all feels… unreal. Like a dream. Or maybe a nightmare. I can't decide which." His words were an admission of the turmoil inside, a reflection of the struggle that was eating at him.
Gobber leaned back, his expression softening into one of understanding. "Take it as a blessing, Stoick," he said, his voice gentler now, full of quiet reassurance. "Even if today was the last time you'd get to see the lad, wouldn't it be enough? To know he's alive, to see the man he's become—it'd keep me goin' for the rest of my days." His words were full of sincerity, offering Stoick a fleeting glimpse of the peace he had longed for.
Stoick nodded slowly, his gaze distant, lost in thought. He wanted to believe that. He truly did. To hold on to the hope that Hiccup's return could be the answer to the countless questions that had haunted him all these years.
"Think those captive men have started talkin' yet?" Stoick asked after a long pause, his voice quieter now, the weight of their situation slowly pressing in on him.
Gobber shook his head, his expression unreadable. "Not yet. They're stubborn, that lot. Loyal to the end. But don't you worry, we'll wear 'em down. They'll spill Drago's plans soon enough." His tone was confident, but there was a hint of weariness that lingered beneath the surface.
"Let's hope they do," Stoick muttered, his voice tinged with frustration. "Time's not on our side." The urgency of the situation weighed heavily on him, as though the very air had thickened with the threat of what was to come.
"Aye," Gobber agreed, leaning heavily on his prosthetic leg as he gave Stoick a final look of understanding. "You should rest while you can, Stoick. You'll be seein' Hiccup again soon enough, and you'll need your wits about you for whatever comes next."
Stoick didn't respond immediately, his thoughts still tangled in doubts and fears. When he finally spoke, his voice was heavy with the weight of it all, his shoulders sagging with the burden of leadership. "There's not much else to say, is there?" he murmured, his words laced with a quiet resignation.
Gobber gave him a reassuring pat on the back. "Maybe not. But you'll figure it out. You always do." His words, simple as they were, held a promise of faith, a belief in Stoick's strength.
Stoick sat alone as Gobber left the Hall, the silence pressing in around him like a suffocating blanket. The great chief of Berk felt smaller than he ever had before, caught between the burdens of the past and the uncertainty of the future. In that quiet, Stoick was left alone with his thoughts—doubts, fears, regrets—and the overwhelming sense that the world around him was shifting in ways he couldn't control.