While Toothless was still slumbering peacefully on his magna rock slab, Hiccup felt quite proud that he could slip in and out without anyone knowing. He slipped out of bed and was making his way to climb out the window when a chilling draft reminded him that he nearly forgot his armour. He silently shivered(somehow more than usual) and made his way to his bed chest, opening it as softly as humanly possible. He pulled out his armor and set it gently on the floor, then noticed a musty smell. Experimentally, he sniffed his tunic and wrinkled his nose in disgusted regret. Not clean. He tried to root around the chest for a fresh tunic, straining his eyes in the dark room. Why on earth did he put dirty clothes back in with the clean? And why did he not take time to at least fold them? What a slob he had become.
At last, he breathed a minuscule sigh of relief: his last clean tunic. With a shiver and a mental promise to do laundry later tonight, he pulled off the sweaty, musty-smelling tunic.
A sudden quizzical purr made Hiccup turn with a start. He found himself staring into the glowing green eyes of the Night Fury. Hiccup remained frozen, his chest and back completely bare. He did not know what Toothless thought. His eyes were unreadable. Was he angry? Sad? Concerned? Pitying Hiccup?
Another purr from the Night Fury. Hiccup assumed he was asking, "Why are you up so early?"
Hiccup turned away, his hands fumbling with the shirt. "I've got some work to do. Anyway, you should go back to sleep. It's not even sunrise-"
But Toothless' nose jabbed lightly Hiccup in the ribs. The green draconic eyes gleamed brightly and pleadingly. "You should sleep, too."
"I'm not tired." Hiccup shrugged his bare shoulders, then with a shiver he slipped on the tunic (he wondered briefly if it had always been so big on him). "I've got to melt the last of the dragon armor today. I think we might be able to repurpose it for-"
His hand gripped the side of the blanket chest as the world suddenly went topsy-turvy like a ship. He breathed deeply and shut his eyes with a grimace, waiting for the pounding in his head to subside.
Toothless whirred in worry.
"I'm fine, Toothless. It'll go away in a second." he massaged his temple and the pulsing gradually ceased. Carefully, he stood and glanced at Toothless. "There. See? Nothing to worry about."
The Night Fury cocked his head and made no sound.
Hiccup squinted his eyes in confusion, but continued lacing up his armor. "What?"
Toothless warbled quietly, sympathetically.
"I'm fine, Toothless, I just have some stuff to do."
Having finished buckling his pauldron, Hiccup made his way towards the door. But a dark wing extended in front of him, blocking the way. The dragon growled in a concerned tone. Hiccup sighed haggardly; he knew exactly the thought he was conveying.
"You're burning the candle at both ends."
"This is part of my job now. I don't have the luxury of sleeping in anymore."
Toothless did not budge when Hiccup tried to weave around him.
"You can't keep this up. You need to take care of yourself."
"Been doing it just fine so far." Hiccup took a step forward, but Toothless moved to the center of the doorframe. Hiccup then shrugged, mumbled "fine", and started towards the window. Hiccup yelped in surprise when gums clamped down in the scruff of his shirt and suspended him a foot above the floorboards.
"Hey! What are you do- Put me down!"
The dragon plopped the young chief on his bed with a thunk. The dragon snorted at him disapprovingly.
With indignation, Hiccup sat bolt upright. "Why are you doing this? You're supposed to be supporting me here!"
Toothless growled at him. "That's what I'm doing."
Hiccup swung his feet to the floor with a scoff. "No. No, you're not. You're just telling me what to do."
"For good reason."
"Look, I'm already parented enough as is. Astrid, Mom, Gobber, everyone keeps telling what to do and what not to do. I'd have thought that you, out of everyone, would understand."
Toothless frowned. He stepped near Hiccup and lightly nudged him to the bed when he tried to stand. "Hiccup, you need to take care of yourself-"
"You're not my father!"
Instantly, a dagger of guilt plunged into Hiccup's heart as he watched his friend shrink back and lower his eyes. Why had he said that? What was wrong with him? What possessed him to snap at his best friend like that? How dare he treat Toothless like that? Like on the battlefield, treat him like an enemy?
Hesitantly, Hiccup stood and reached his hand towards the Night Fury. "I'm sorry, I- Toothless, I didn't mean-"
But the dragon turned his back on him with a whimper. He trudged back to his lava slab, despite Hiccup's stammered apologies. With that, Hiccup mumbled, "I gotta go," and made his way outside the window and clambered down the ladder, his hurt soul cracked and bleeding with the wound he had caused.
The rest of the day was a blur, slaving over the heat of the forge, the clashing of hammer against hot metal, scanning through papers and pacers of filed concerns and complaints, rushing hither and thither across the island to various meetings. By the time Hiccup had any time to stop, the sun was dipping low, its orange rays melting into the sea as it sank.
With an absentminded shiver, he rubbed his arms as he walked home. Although the snow had been washed away and the ice had melted to join an ocean of tears, he hardly felt the warmth. He still was cold and numb, and nothing would change that.
As he approached the doorstep, the goal in his mind was to seal himself up in his room. If he finished that design for new dragon homes, then he would be helping the people of Berk. He needed to do something good, something right. The images of Gobber, of his mother, of Toothless burned in his mind. After all the pain he had caused, he had to remedy that somehow. At least, he thought as he pulled open the door, if I'm away from everyone, I won't hurt them.
When he took his first step inside, Hiccup froze. Valka, Astrid, and Toothless were all silently standing in the main room, waiting for him. Both women were adorned in black clothing with ruched silver trim.
"Uh, what are you doing here?" he asked hesitantly.
"The funeral feast," Valka answered in surprise. "You said you would head over with us."
"The feast. Right." Hiccup touched his temple, his head suddenly pounding. "I…I forgot, I…"
"You've been making all the preparations for days," Astrid remarked surprisedly and concernedly. "This is pretty important-"
"I've been doing a million important things."
Hiccup inwardly kicked himself when he saw Astrid flinch. Why was he snapping at her? She did not deserve that? Why did he have to hurt everyone? He hurt everyone. His gaze drifted to his dragon who quickly lowered his eyes.
A whisper in Hiccup's ear. Stoick's voice. Can you do nothing right?
"I…I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that, I-" Hiccup stammered. "I just lost track of time, I…"
His voice died away. They all stared blankly at him. No response.
What have you done?
Hiccup grimaced, wishing the voice would stop. With hastened steps, he darted past the three and up the stairs, calling down, "Just give me a minute."
Flinging open the lid of his bed chest, Hiccup rummaged through his clothes until he found a black tunic, ornately stitched with silver around the cuffs and collar. He slipped it on and fastened his nicest leather vest over it. He quickly ran his fingers through his messy hair and exhaled sharply. Good enough.
He froze on his way to the steps when coming caught his eye. Folded neatly on his bed was his father's fur cloak. Hiccup's fingers traced over the soft tuft, and his breath hitched. Without his permission, a distant memory echoed afresh. A murmur whispered in his ear; it was his own small voice speaking to his father while they sat beside the fire.
"I'm so cold."
Stoick laughed softly, touching the six-year-old's face. To his surprise, Hiccup found his father removing his enormous fur cloak and swaddling him with it. Hiccup's small hands grasped the edges, welcoming the warmth it provided to his tiny, terrified body.
"It's huge," he remarked in a small voice.
"Don't worry." Stoick smiled kindly at him, kissing his son's head. "You'll grow into it."
A voice calling his name yanked him past to the present. "Hiccup! Are you alright up there?"
"Y-yeah, Mom." Hiccup swiped at his cheek, perceiving the dampness of a tear.
Then, unfolding the cloak, he fastened it to his vest. Its weight caused his shoulders to slump forward. Stoick was wrong. Hiccup would never grow into it.
He would never be worthy to wear it.
A/N:
Poor Hiccup... He needs a hug.