The next day dawned over Berk with a crisp, golden light, the kind that turned the sea into a shimmering mirror and filled the air with a restless, electric hum. The village had returned from the dragon's nest yesterday now, their boats laden with stories and spoils—some so torn or missing that you wondered who didn't make it back this time.
Berk was lively more than ever again too, now the paths buzzed with life—more than you cared to tangle with. You set out for the cove alone, deliberately skirting the busy lanes where Vikings hauled crates and logs for more construction, their voices overlapping in a chaotic din.
You stuck to the quieter trails, your boots crunching over dirt and stone as you wove through the underbrush, dodging the main routes where the air thrummed with the clatter of carts and the shouts of haggling fishmongers and traders.
As you slipped past a cluster of houses, a pair of burly Vikings lugging a barrel of mead nearly pushed you over, their laughter rumbling as they steadied their load.
"Oi, watch it!" one called, but his grin was friendly, his beard flecked with rye.
"You headin' to the arena later? Hiccup's up against the Gronckle—can't wait to see what the lad's got. Never seen him in action proper-like that is," A man asked his friend beside him a little way from you.
His companion nodded, wiping sweat from his brow. "Aye, who would've thought hm? Stoick's boy's been quiet about it too—haven't even seen the lad, but I hear he's got tricks up his sleeve. Gonna be a sight!"
You sidestepped them, your pulse ticking up—not from their chatter, but from the thought of Hiccup, and his unknown plans for the Gronckle later. Speaking of the devil, he was currently waiting for you beyond the village's noise. Further along, a gaggle of kids darted across your path, wooden swords clacking as they play-fought, their high-pitched voices cutting through the morning.
"I bet Hiccup tames that Gronckle in ten seconds flat!" One piped up, swinging his stick wildly.
A girl with cute braids snorted, shoving him. "Nah, he'll trip over his own feet first—then tame it!" They dissolved into giggles, oblivious as you edged around them, ducking under a low branch to keep your distance.
Their excitement hung in the air, but your mind was already drifting—to the cove, to him, to the way your heart seemed to skip a little harder every time you saw him thanks to these past few weeks.
The village's clamor faded as you broke free of the outskirts, the wind picking up to tug at your tunic with that familiar faint salt-and-pine bite. You couldn't fight the smile creeping across your face, wide and unguarded, as last night flooded back—the rush of Toothless' wings, and their powerful forms weaving through the air with a rhythm that thrummed in your bones.
The aurora that had shimmered overhead, a cascade of emerald and violet ribbons rippling across like Valhalla welcoming you, casting an otherworldly glow that danced in your eyes. Hiccup's warmth pressed against your back, his frame a steady anchor as his arms encircled you, holding you close.
Each jolt of the Night Furys' flight pressed him tighter against you, his heartbeat a soft, quick thud pulsing through your tunic, syncing with the rush of the wind. His voice, low and earnest, wove through the gusts next to your face—making your heart race.
Your cheeks warmed, and you shook your head with a soft laugh, kicking a pebble down the trail. It'd been. . .everything. A feeling in the moment you couldn't quite name at first, but now, with each step, it was growing clearer. Your crush on him had been simmering, bubbling up over these weeks of stolen moments and shared secrets, each glance and laugh stitching you closer than you'd ever been growing up as childhood friends.
Your heart skipped again, just thinking of him, and this time you didn't brush it off—you liked it—felt it settle deep in your chest: your feelings for him were real, confirmed in the quiet thrill of last night's flight and it made you warm to think maybe he felt it too when you had felt his own heart race.
The cove loomed ahead as you crested the final rise, its rocky cliffs jagged against the brightening sky. You paused at the edge, peering down, and there they were—Hiccup, Toothless, and Menace—waiting below. Hiccup stood by the water, one hand scratching Toothless' neck as the dragon huffed, restless, his arm swishing.
Menace perched on a rock next to them, gnawing a fish with her good wing fluttering, her yellow eyes flicking up as she sensed you. Hiccup looked up too, spotting you against the cliff's rim, and his face lit with a smile—bright, unguarded, crinkling his eyes in that way that made your stomach flip and your heart stutter all over again. He tilted his head, nodding toward Toothless in a silent, eager"Let's go fly", the dragon bouncing slightly as if he'd burst if he waited any longer for you.
You stood there a beat, caught in the sight of him—of them—and felt your blush deepen, heat creeping up your neck as his grin sank into you, tugging at that growing ache in your chest.
Shaking your head at yourself, you muttered, "Gods, pull it together," under your breath, but the smile wouldn't fade—not when you knew what it meant now, not when he made you smile like this, not when he was down there waiting for you.
You started down the steep path, boots squishing on mossy stones and grass as you descended, anticipation sparking with every step, your feelings for him a quiet, growing-steady flame you couldn't—and didn't want to—put out. Hiccup watched you the whole way, that quiet warmth in his gaze, and Toothless warbled a greeting as he met you, his excitement mirroring the flutter in your chest as you gave him a hug then headed toward whatever waited in the sky today.
The sun blazed high overhead, its light spilling across a boundless blue sky as Toothless soared far beyond Berk's prying eyes. You'd left the village's chatter and everything behind, the cove shrinking to a distant memory as Hiccup guided Toothless into the open expanse above the sea.
This time, you were behind him on the saddle, your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, fingers digging into his tunic to keep from slipping. The wind roared past, sharp and wild, tugging at your hair and stinging your cheeks, but you pressed yourself closer, your chest flush against his back and chin resting on his shoulder as you smiled.
Toothless banked into a wide, lazy arc. Menace clung to your shoulders, her small claws gripping your tunic like it was no big deal, her tail coiled snugly around your upper arm for balance. She chirped occasionally, her good wing fluttering against your neck as she basked in the ride, utterly unbothered by the height or speed—enjoying it to the fullest.
Hiccup's shoulders shifted under your grip as he adjusted the reins, and though you couldn't see it, his face burned an endless red beneath his windswept hair, a sly smile tugging at his lips every time your hold tightened.
"You good back there?" he called over the rush, his voice teasing but soft, like he already knew the answer.
You huffed, burying your face briefly against his shoulder to hide your own flush. "Fine—just don't drop me, dragon boy!" you said back, and he laughed, the sound bright and warm, vibrating through you where you pressed against him.
Toothless swooped low over the waves, his wings skimming so close that saltwater sprayed up, misting your face. You yelped, clinging harder, and Hiccup chuckled again, tilting his head just enough to catch your eye
"Thought you'd like a closer look!" he said, grinning as Toothless pulled up sharply, climbing back into the sky with a triumphant warble.
Menace squawked in delight, her tail flicking against your arm, and you couldn't help but laugh too, the thrill bubbling up despite yourself.
"Show-off," you muttered, but your arms stayed locked around him, your heart skipping—not just from the flight, but from the way he leaned into it, like he wanted you to feel every second.
They kept it up—Hiccup and Toothless taking turns flexing for you in their own ways. Toothless spiraled into a tight corkscrew, his wings cutting the air with precision, and Hiccup whooped, throwing you a quick, proud glance over his shoulder.
"See that? Perfect control!" he said, his voice laced with that quiet excitement you'd grown to adore.
You shook your head, tightening your grip. "Yeah, yeah—don't get cocky."
But your smile gave you away, and he caught it, his own widening as he nudged Toothless into a gentler glide, letting you catch your breath. The dragon leveled out, coasting over a cluster of tiny islands, and Menace stretched her neck, nuzzling your cheek with a soft purr.
"She's enjoying this so much," you said, and Hiccup's laugh drifted back. "She's not the only one."
The air stilled for a moment as Toothless floated high above the clouds, the world below a distant patchwork of blue and green. You rested your chin on Hiccup's shoulder, your arms loosening just a fraction as you took it in—the sun blazing bright, the horizon stretching endless.
His hand brushed yours on his waist, a fleeting touch that sent a jolt through you, and you wondered if he felt it too—this quiet, growing thing between you.
"It's. . .so beautiful up here," you admitted, your voice softer now, and he nodded, his head tilting closer.
"Yeah. It is." His tone matched yours, low and warm, and for a beat, it was just the two of you—Toothless' steady breathing muted, Menace's faint chirps quiet, the wind a gentle hum around you as you felt both your hearts beat.
But Hiccup wasn't done. He glanced back at you again, a glint in his green eyes, and before you could ask what he was up to, he clicked his tongue.
"Hold on tight," he warned, his sly smile creeping back.
You barely had time to protest—"Hiccup, what—?"—before Toothless tucked his wings and plunged into a steep dive.
The world flipped, your stomach lurching as you screamed, arms snapping around Hiccup's waist in a death grip. The sea rushed up fast, a glittering wall of blue, and you buried your face against his back, your heart hammering as the wind tore past. Menace squealed, her claws digging in as she clung to you, her tail whipping wildly around you again, but Hiccup just laughed—bright, reckless, his shoulders shaking under your hold.
He wanted this, you realized through the panic—wanted you to cling to him, to feel the rush with him—and it worked. You pressed yourself so close you could feel his heartbeat, fast and alive beneath your hands, and despite the terror, a shaky laugh broke free.
"You're insane!" you yelled, but he only grinned wider, unseen, his face alight with a flush he couldn't hide.
Toothless pulled up at the last second, skimming the waves before soaring back into the sky right before flying under the arch of a rocky cliff and you loosened your grip just enough to breathe, your forehead resting against Hiccup's shoulder as your pulse slowed.
"Why do you insist on doing that," you muttered, but your arms stayed around him, and he didn't move, his hand brushing yours again as he murmured, "Because it's worth it."
The flight stretched on, the four of you weaving through the daylight—Toothless showing off with flips and dives, Menace purring against your back, Hiccup stealing glances you didn't catch, his quiet smiles tinged with something new.
Toothless's wings flared as he swooped low, the wind easing into a gentle hum as he circled a small cliff island jutting out of the sea a little way behind the island of Berk—a rugged slab of rock crowned with patchy grass covered in snow, trees and framed by crashing waves down deep below. It was tucked far enough from Berk to stay hidden, a perfect slice of nowhere just for you. Hiccup grinned over his shoulder, his hair still wild from the flight, and nodded toward it.
"How's that for a new spot?" he asked, his voice bright with the thrill of discovery.
You peered past him with a smile. "Looks like ours already," you said, and Menace chirped from your back, her tail flicking against your side as if she approved too.
Toothless touched down with a soft thud, and you slid off the saddle, stretching your legs as Menace hopped down from your shoulder to scamper across the grass, her broken wing twitching in her soft makeshift wing-sling for her recovery. Hiccup rummaged through a satchel tied to the saddle, pulling out a bundle of bread with cheese for you both, and fish dor the dragons, and a small jug of water—lunch scavenged from the village before your escape.
You settled on a flat stretch of rock, the sun warm against your back as he plopped down beside you, passing you a chunk of bread. Toothless flopped nearby, gnawing on his own fish, while Menace darted over to steal a nibble, earning a grumble from the bigger dragon.
You laughed, tossing her a fish of her own, and Hiccup shook his head, smirking. "She's got you wrapped around her claw."
The conversation flowed easy as you ate, the sea's rhythm a quiet backdrop. Hiccup leaned back on his hands, staring out at the horizon before his voice dipped, a little hesitant.
"So. . .my dad was waiting for me in the forge when I got back last night," he said, picking at a piece of bread.
You glanced at him, eyebrow raised. "Oh? How'd that go?"
He let out a sigh, a faint chuckle escaping his lips. "It was loud, chaotic, and honestly, pretty confusing. Awkward, too as usual. He slapped my shoulder so hard I stumbled backward and crashed right into a basket. Told me he was proud of me—kept going on about it. Then he launched into this whole speech about 'warrior spirit' and 'mounting dragon heads' and how—" He trailed off, a slight frown creasing his brow as he sighed again. "For once, it felt like we actually had something to talk about."
You bit your lower lip, shifting closer to him, your voice soft and reassuring. "Hey, it's some start right? Something small to go on. He might not see you like I do—yet. But he's going to get there. He's proud of you, Hiccup. I am too. And I'm glad you got that moment with him."
His eyes softened, a small, appreciative smile tugging at his lips as he nodded faintly, clearly touched by your words.
He paused mid-thought, a grin slowly pulling at the corners of his lips, like he couldn't quite believe what he was about to say. "He gave me a Viking hat," he announced, his voice carrying a mix of amusement and something softer, almost shy. Your eyes lit up, and a delighted laugh bubbled out of you in pure glee.
"Though—um, the thing is—," He faltered, letting out a sigh that was heavier this time, tinged with embarrassment. His cheeks flushed faintly as he rubbed the back of his neck. "It's a matching set with his."
"Oh?" you said, tilting your head, curiosity sparking in your voice. "Why does that embarrass you?" You leaned in a little, genuinely puzzled, trying to catch his gaze as he avoided it.
He shifted uncomfortably, his hands fidgeting in front of him. "It's not that part that embarrasses me," he clarified, his tone dropping as if he were confessing something delicate. "You see, the hat is—or, well, it was—my. . ."
He hesitated, his hands moving slowly, almost reverently, to trace the air in front of him, forming to cup each side of his chest like a breast holder. "My mom's."
"And?" you pressed, your brow furrowing in confusion at that and him cupping himself as if he had a boob, still not quite piecing it together. You watched him closely, waiting for the rest of the story to unfold.
Then, all at once, the words tumbled out of him in a rush, too fast, like he was trying to get it over with. "It was a part of her breastplate," he blurted, his face turning a deeper shade of red as he glanced away, clearly mortified by the admission.
You stared at him for a split second, processing his words, and then it hit you. A snort escaped before you could stop it, "Oh, gods, Hiccup—," and then you were gone—laughter erupted from deep in your chest, loud and uncontrollable.
You doubled over, clutching your stomach as your whole body shook with the force of it. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes as you gasped for air, rolling onto your side in a helpless heap, the image of him wearing his mom's old breastplate-turned-hat too much to bear.
He watched you, a sheepish "ha-ha" slipping out as he reached into his bag and pulled it out—the Viking hat, slightly dented and unmistakably shaped like a curved, metallic cup. The sight of it in his hands sent you into another fit, your laughter peaking so hard it went silent, your mouth open in a wheeze as you flailed weakly staring at it then him.
He chuckled, louder this time, his own embarrassment melting into amusement at your contagious reaction. "Hey, come on, breathe," he teased, holding the hat up like a trophy, his grin wide and playful as he watched you struggle to regain control, your silent laughter only making him laugh harder too.
"Boob—," you finally managed to choke out between gasps, pointing at the hat with a trembling hand, "You're—you're wearing a boob holder—," Your voice cracked, and you dissolved into another round of hysterics, barely able to get the words out as he shook his head, laughing along with you.
The laughter gradually softened, fading into the quiet rustle of the trees around you, both of you catching your breath as the absurdity settled. He shook his head with a grin, still holding the Viking hat, and then—almost impulsively—plopped it onto his head. It sat there, slightly crooked, the faint dents and curves of its origins still visible. You sat up, wiping a stray tear from your eye, and noticed a strand of his messy auburn hair falling into his face, half-obscuring his eyes.
Without thinking, you reached out, your fingers brushing lightly against his forehead as you tucked the strand back under the edge of the hat, adjusting it so it sat just right. His laughter quieted, and he froze, staring at you with wide eyes. A soft flush crept up his neck, tinting his cheeks as he blinked, caught off guard by the gentle gesture.
"It suits you, Hiccup," you said softly, your hand lingering for a moment before you pulled it back, offering him a warm smile.
"Haha," he let out a nervous little laugh, ducking his head slightly, the blush deepening, but you mistook it for in a mocking way.
"No, really!" you insisted, your tone earnest as you leaned forward a bit, your smile growing. "Really, you earned it. You have."
There was a sincerity in your voice, a quiet pride that made your words feel heavier, and you held his gaze just long enough to see his shy smile bloom in response. His eyes darted away for a second, then back to you, the corners of his mouth twitching upward as he nodded faintly.
The suns light shifted to catch you at a soft angle, gilding your hair and tracing the curve of your smile. Hiccup's gaze lingered, unnoticed at first, his breath catching as he watched you tear off another piece of bread, the golden glow painting you like something he couldn't quite look away from. His chest tightened, a quiet ache he didn't know as he furrowed his brows at the feeling, and when you glanced up, catching his stare, you tilted your head.
"What? Do I have food on my face?" you asked, brushing your cheek self-consciously.
He blinked, startled, and coughed into his hand, his face flushing red. "Uh—yeah, yeah, just a little," he lied, gesturing vaguely at your chin.
You didn't—your face was clean—but he couldn't admit he'd been staring because the sun hit you just right, because you looked. . .pretty.
You swiped at your mouth with your sleeve, muttering, "Gods, that's embarrassing," your own cheeks tinting pink as you scrubbed harder than needed.
Hiccup bit his lip, stifling a smile, and turned his gaze to the sea, then pretending to focus on Toothless rolling in the snow. The moment passed, but the air felt heavier, charged with something neither of you touched—too shy, too unsure. Lunch wrapped up too soon, and Hiccup sighed, brushing crumbs off his hands.
"Gotta head back—training with Gobber. Gronckle match prep." He stood th0ugh he wished not to, then offered you a hand, and you took it, your fingers brushing his as you rose.
"Yeah, and I've got kitchen duties piling up," you said, grimacing. "Marta's been on me ever since the trials were over for me—says I owe her for all the shifts I missed."
Menace scampered up your arm to perch on your shoulder, and Hiccup climbed onto the saddle, patting the spot behind him as he gave you a hand. The flight back was quieter, your arms around him again, the cliff island shrinking behind you as Berk loomed ahead—a new secret spot tucked away for you, him, and the dragons, a little piece of peace you'd claim again soon—at least you hoped.
Three long, restless days had crawled by since your escape to the cliff island, with each day stretching out like an eternity under the looming dread of the final trial—the decisive clash that would crown the victor with the honor of slaying the Monstrous Nightmare. In that time, Hiccup could barely escape the watchful eyes of his father so it was up to you to bring sacks of fish to the dragons and in that time neither of you could go flying as Stoick and Gobber insisted Hiccup work endlessly.
Berk roared to life everyday now. Heavy with spoils and their tongues wagging with tales of valor that only stoked the fire of anticipation—thrumming with a feverish energy, the air thick with the scent of sweat, smoke, and expectation, and you could see it pressing down on Hiccup as the hours ticked closer to the moment of truth.
The night before the trial, Hiccup and you had carved out a rare pocket of stillness, tucked away in the familiar warmth of your small home where no one could bother him—save Gobber of course. The hearth glowed low, its embers casting a dance of flickering shadows across the rough-hewn walls, painting the room in hues of amber.
You sat across from him at the scarred wooden table, a bowl of stew cooling in front of you both, its steam curling upward like a ghost in the dim light. Hiccup leaned forward, his elbows digging into the hardwood, his voice a hushed thread of determination that wove through the quiet.
"I'm not gonna fight it—not really," he confessed, his green eyes flicking up to meet yours, searching for a flicker of doubt or understanding in your gaze.
"The Gronckle. . .I'll dodge it, let Astrid take it down. She'll win, and I won't have to—," He broke off, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, a nervous tic you'd come to recognize over these past weeks spent with him and of this match growing closer.
"It'll disappoint everyone, I know—my dad especially—but I can't do it. Not after Toothless, not after everything we've seen. I can't. . .kill a dragon."
His words hung heavy, laced with a quiet resolve that made your chest tighten—pride for his courage warring with a gnawing worry for what it might cost him. You nodded slowly, your fingers tracing the edge of the bowl as you studied him, the firelight catching the sharp angles of his face.
"They're expecting a show—blood and glory, the whole Viking mess," He sighed, a faint, crooked smile tugging at his lips, the kind that always softened the tension in the air between you.
"Yeah, well, they'll get one—just not the one they want. You'll give them a stumble and a dodge, let Astrid shine this time. It's better this way," you agree.
The conviction in your tone had settled over him like a blanket, and though the weight of tomorrow loomed, you couldn't help but trust him—believe in him no matter what choice he went with.
The day of the trial arrived with a biting chill, the sky a stark, pale blue that seemed to sharpen every sound and edge in the arena. You perched high above the pit on a rickety wooden bench, the rough planks groaning under the weight of the packed crowd—villagers' shoulder-to-shoulder, their breaths misting in the cold as they craned for a view of the spectacle below.
The village had turned out in force since their return, warriors still clad in battle-worn leather, kids perched on shoulders, elders muttering predictions through grizzled beards. You leaned forward, your hands gripping the splintered rail until your knuckles whitened, your voice rising above the din as you cheered for Hiccup with all the strength your throat could muster.
"You've got this, Hiccup!" you shouted, the words raw and fierce, though they barely pierced the roaring sea of noise around you.
Down in the arena, he and Astrid stood ready, two figures dwarfed by the towering walls of timber and stone. Hiccup glanced up, his auburn hair messy and Viking hat catching the light as his eyes found yours for a fleeting second, and he flashed that nervous, lopsided grin.
Beside him, Astrid stood poised, her axe gleaming in her grip, her jaw set into a frown of determination with the focus of a warrior born for this. The Gronckles' gate rattled, a deep groan of iron and wood, and then it swung wide, unleashing the Gronckle into the ring—a rolling mass of scales and grunts, its stubby wings buzzing as it lumbered forward. The crowd erupted, a tidal wave of sound that shook the stands, and you held your breath, eyes locked on Hiccup as the trial began.
It unfolded slowly but like a dance—one Hiccup had choreographed in his mind but couldn't quite control. Astrid charged in first, her movements a blur of precision and power, her axe slashing through the air as she drove the Gronckle back with a flurry of strikes before it knocked her where she then hid.
Hiccup played his part, skirting the edges of the pit, his lanky frame darting and weaving as he dodged the beast's lumbering charges and spurts of molten lava—hiding behind each wooden wall. You bit your lip, watching him stumble, barely sidestepping blasts with quick, clumsy grace—letting Astrid take the lead, just as he'd planned.
You watched as Hiccup and she ducked behind the same weathered wooden wall, their figures partially obscured by the rough plank barriers. She leaned in close to him, her lips moving as she says something too quiet for you or anyone else to catch. A moment later, she darted out with a quick, graceful leap, slipping behind another wall a few paces away, leaving Hiccup alone.
He rose to his feet slowly, letting out a long, exasperated sigh. His gaze flicked toward his dad, then over to you. With a half-hearted shrug, he nudged the Viking hat back on his head, the gesture almost automatic, and flashed a tight, unamused smile—more of a grimace, really—that didn't quite reach his eyes.
Just then, he caught sight of you frantically waving your arms, your wide eyes locked on something behind him. He paused, brows furrowing in confusion, until you jabbed a finger in the air, pointing urgently. He turned just in time to see the Gronckle barreling toward him, its stubby wings buzzing furiously as it hurtled through the air, a blur of scales and rumbling growls aimed straight at his back.
The crowd cheered Astrid on, their voices swelling with each near hit, but the Gronckle wasn't following the script like Hiccup had planned. Its beady eyes narrowed, locking onto Hiccup as if it sensed his reluctance, and it barreled toward him, head lowered, a snarl rumbling from its throat.
He froze, feeling cornered, his plan unraveling in a heartbeat. Your stomach dropped, a shout catching in your throat, "Hiccup, move!"
But before it could escape, he acted. In a flash, his wrist flicked, a pinch of dragon nip tumbling from his sleeve like dust in the Gronckle skidded to a halt, its snout twitching as it sniffed the air, then collapsed at his feet with a heavy thud, dazed and drooling, its tongue flopping out in a stupor. The arena went dead silent, a collective breath held, then exploded—cheers, gasps, shouts of disbelief crashing together like thunder.
Astrid had already launched herself forward, axe gripped tightly in her hands, her legs pumping as she charged toward the scene. But she could see it was too late—the Gronckle was down at Hiccups mercy. She skidded to a stop, her boots scuffing, then let out a furious wave of swears and curses, her voice sharp and biting as she waved her axe in the air, frustration spilling out in a chaotic mix of Viking grit and exasperation.
At that moment, Gothi, the village elder, shuffled forward, her hunched figure cutting through the chaos. Her gnarled staff tapped rhythmically against the ground, a sharp, insistent sound that demanded attention. The crowd's clamor began to falter as heads turned toward her.
"Wait! Wait!" Stoick's booming voice rose above the din, his massive hand waving high to silence the uproar. "Okay—quiet down! The elder has decided!"
Inside the arena, Gobber stepped up, his broad frame positioning Hiccup and Astrid on either side of him like a gruff referee. The tension hung thick in the air as he raised his hook-hand first, hovering it above Astrid's head. The crowd held its breath, watching Gothi for her verdict. The elder's wrinkled face remained stern as she gave a firm shake of her head—no. Astrid's shoulders slumped slightly; her axe still clenched tight.
Then, with a flicker of surprise, Gobber shifted, lifting his intact hand over Hiccup's head instead. The motion felt almost hesitant, as if he couldn't quite believe it himself. Gothi's expression softened into a rare smile, and she pointed her long finger at Hiccup with a decisive nod—yes, andHiccup is chosen.
The arena erupted. Cheers exploded from every corner, a roaring wave of sound unlike anything you'd ever witnessed for Hiccup before. It was wild, unrestrained, a thunderous celebration that shook the wooden stands and metal chains and echoed off the stone walls.
"Oh! Ye've done it! Ye've done it, Hiccup!" Gobber shouted; his voice nearly lost in the frenzy. "Ye get to kill the dragon!"
Hiccups eyes widened, the Viking hat still perched crookedly on his head, as the weight of the moment—and the crowd's deafening approval—crashed over him.
You leapt to your feet, a wild mix of fear and pride surging through you, your voice joining the chant of his name as it echoed through the stands. He stood there, his chest heaving as he stared at the fallen Gronckle, his expression a tangle of shock and dread—nothing like the triumph the crowd expected.
Astrid lowered her axe, her jaw tight with something between disappointment and frustration, but she didn't challenge it—instead glared at him like he would catch fire under her stare. You needed to get to him—to wrap your arms around him, to tell him he'd done it, even if it wasn't the way he'd wanted—that they'll work it out together.
Your heart pounded as you shoved off the bench, pushing into the sea of bodies flooding the arena floor the moment the trial ended. The village was wilder than ever, a storm of Vikings twice your size, their hands clapping Hiccup's back, their voices roaring as Fishlegs' hoisted him up like a prize followed by Snotlout and the twins.
You fought against the tide, elbowing through sweat-soaked warriors and shrieking kids, shouting his name, "Hiccup! Hiccup!"
But the crowd was relentless, a living wall that shoved you back with every step. Hands grabbed at him, pulling him into their center, and you caught only flashes of his auburn hair, his wide panicked eyes, before he vanished into the throng.
Your chest tightened, frustration burning hot as you strained on tiptoe, searching for him, but the mass of Berk swallowed him whole, leaving you stranded at the edges, breathless and desperate. You worried for him; this was not what he wanted.
The chaos took an age to thin, the villagers trickling out of the arena with boasts and collecting bets on their lips, their footsteps kicking up dust that stung your eyes. You darted down the steps at last, heart hammering against your ribs, your legs aching from the tension as you wove through the stragglers toward the Great Hall—where they had taken him to celebrate.
The massive doors loomed ahead, and you slipped inside, the cavernous space swallowing the sound of your boots on the stone floor. It was jammed full, the long tables heavy of their usual clutter, the fire pits blazing along with the hearths, the air heavy with the scent of food and ash.
"Hiccup?" you called, your voice barely visible compared to the loudness of the Hooligans, sharp and hopeful, but he was nowhere in sight—no rustle of movement squeezing through the crowd, no familiar lilt of his voice. The hall was full—still celebrating, but he had left, and a knot of unease twisted in your gut as you turned back, a man told you he had already left and that pressed down like a weight.
Next, you tried the forge—he'd promised to meet you thereafter. The thought spurred you on, your pace quickening as you jogged through the village, dodging a cart of barrels and a gaggle of gossiping women. The forge's open side glowed faintly with the embers of a dying fire, but the familiar clang of hammer on metal was absent, the bellows still, the tools untouched on their racks. You stepped inside, your breath hitching as you scanned the corners.
"Hiccup? You here?" you called again, softer this time, but the only reply was the creak of the roof under the wind.
He wasn't there—no sign of his lanky frame hunched over a project, no scatter of sketches or tools to betray his presence. Your hands clenched at your sides, worry creeping up your spine like ivy—where was he? The crowd had taken him, but now he'd slipped away, and the village felt too big—and you continued to worry.
You stopped in the forge's doorway, catching your breath as you ran a hand over your head."Come on, Hiccup," you muttered, your mind racing.
Of course—the cove is all that's left. You knew he'd avoid home, avoid Stoick's booming pride and the weight of expectation that came with it. The cove was his refuge, where Toothless and Menace waited, where he could breathe away from Berk's clamor.
Cutting through the ache in your chest—he'd be there, of course he had to be. You nodded to yourself, the path to the cove pulling you forward like a lifeline, your boots hitting the dirt with renewed purpose. Suspense still gnawed at you—was he wrestling with the fallout of his win?
Slipping inside your small home, you grabbed a rough burlap sack from the corner near the hearth, its coarse weave familiar under your fingers. You'd planned to bring fish to the cove anyway—a stash you'd set aside with Hiccup's own for Toothless and Menace. You stuffed it with smoked cod—Menace favorite, the oily scent seeping into your hands as you slung it over your shoulder, its weight grounding you against the worry swirling in your chest.
With a quick, furtive glance out the window—no prying eyes, no curious neighbors—you slipped out again, the two-hour trek to the cove stretching before you like a gauntlet, each step a test of your resolve to find him.
The journey unfolded in a haze of determination and unease, your breath puffing in short bursts as you pushed through the forest's tangled embrace, steering clear of the main trails where latecomers might spot you. The sack thumped rhythmically against your back, the fish shifting with every stride as you climbed over gnarled roots and ducked beneath low-hanging branches, their leaves brushing your face.
You hated going there on your own—the noises of wild boars and other creatures lurking about put you at unease. Your bandaged arm throbbed faintly, a dull echo of the trial's toll, but you pressed on, driven by the need to see him—to know he was alright. Your mind churned with questions.
The memory of his fleeting grin in the arena, the way his eyes had sought yours for that brief, steadying moment, fueled your pace, your boots digging into the soft earth as twilight crept in. The sun bled into the horizon, painting the sky in fiery streaks of orange and pink, and by the time you crested the final rise to the cove, the world had softened into a muted tapestry of blues and grays, the light fading fast.
You paused at the cliff's edge, chest heaving as you caught your breath, and peered down, your heart braced for the sight of Hiccup's lanky frame by the water, Toothless sprawled lazily nearby, Menace darting about in her usual chaos. But a cold wave of disappointment crashed over you—the cove lay empty, its stillness broken only by a small, familiar figure bounding up the path toward you.
Menace reached you in a flash, her good wing flapping as she leaps into your arms with an excited chirp, her yellow eyes glinting like tiny lanterns in the dimness. She nuzzled your cheek, her raspy purr vibrating against your skin, and though her warmth eased the sting of your letdown, it couldn't fill the hollow space Hiccup's absence carved out.
"Hey, little one," you murmured, scratching her head holding her close as you scanned the cove again, willing him to appear.
The water lapped quietly against the rocks, the air heavy with silence—no Toothless, no Hiccup, just you and Menace in a space that felt too big without them. You sighed, setting the sack down with a soft thud as Menace wriggled free to sniff at it, her tail flicking eagerly.
"Guess it's just us for now," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, swallowed by the vastness around you. "He must've felt so overwhelmed and went off—Hiccup. . ."
Hours could stretch before they returned—flight tests often dragged long when Hiccup lost himself in the sky—and exhaustion tugged at you, a bone-deep weariness from the day's trials and the trek. You slumped against a boulder, pulling your cloak tighter around your shoulders as Menace curled up beside you, her small body a warm weight against your leg.
The fish sat untouched—save for Menaces' portion—in the sack, their scent mingling with the damp earth, and soon, the rhythmic lap of the water and Menace's steady purring lulled you into a fitful doze, your head tipping back against the rock as sleep claimed you.
A sudden rush of wind snapped you awake, your eyes flying open as the unmistakable beat of Toothless' wings thrummed overhead, cutting through the quiet like a blade. You scrambled to your feet, heart leaping—he's back—and brushed the sleep from your face, Menace stirring with an annoyed grumble beside you.
The dark, sleek shape of Toothless swooped low, slicing through the night sky, and you took a step forward, ready to call out, your voice catching in your throat—when another figure stopped you cold. Astrid. She was with them, clinging to Hiccup on the saddle, her blond hair whipping wildly in the wind as Toothless landed with a heavy thud near the water's edge.
Panic surged through you, sharp and icy, freezing you in place as you ducked back behind the boulder, your breath hitching in your chest. Why was she here? Why had he told her about Toothless? No, she must've followed him. Your mind spun, questions piling up one after the other, but as you peeked out, you saw her slide off. Hiccup dismounted too, and you watched, heart pounding against your ribs, as they stood close, their voices drifting up in muffled snatches that tightened the knot in your gut.
You should have stepped out—waved like you normally would, crack a joke, joined them like it was nothing—but the sight of her with him pinned you in place, doubt of his feelings now sinking its claws deep. What was going on? Were they closer now than you'd realized? Your fingers curled into the boulder's rough surface, and you held your breath, straining to hear as their conversation sharpened into focus.
"It controls them!" Astrid said, her voice urgent when she had hopped off Toothless, rushing forward with an energy of excitement. "Let's find your dad!"
Hiccup's face paled, panic flashing in his eyes as he leapt after her, his voice rising. "No! No."
He caught up, grabbing her arm to stop her. "No, not yet! They'll kill Toothless. No. Astrid, we have to think this through carefully."
Your brows furrowed, confusion warring with the unease bubbling inside you—what were they talking about? Astrid spun to face him, her tone sharp with disbelief.
"Hiccup, we just discovered the dragons' nest—the thing we've been after since Vikings first sailed here—and you want to keep it a secret? What? To protect your pet dragon? Are you serious?"
Your eyes widened, a silent gasp catching in your throat as you leaned forward, desperate for a closer look, careful not to rustle the leaves or snap a twig. The dragons' nest? Your pulse raced—she'd seen it, and Hiccup had taken her there?
Anger flared hot in your chest at her words—pet dragon? Your brows knitting tight as you glared from your hiding spot. Hiccup turned, his back to her, with a seriousness in his stance. It was a look you knew well, one he'd shown you in quiet moments that others hardly saw, but seeing it now, directed at her, stopped her short.
"Yes," he said, his voice low and firm, unwavering as he faced her again, and Astrid's expression faltered, clearly taken aback by the shift in him.
"Okay," she said after a beat, softer now, still reeling from his resolve. "Then what do we do?"
Hiccup looked down, his hands clenching at his sides, anger and frustration simmering beneath his words. "Just give me until tomorrow. I'll figure something out."
Astrid nodded, her surprise lingering. "Okay," she said again, then hesitated, a blush creeping up her cheeks.
She punched his arm—hard—making him wince and clutch it with a groan. "That's for kldnapping me," she said, grinning, and before he could recover, she grabbed him again.
He flinched, eyes squeezing shut, but she planted a quick kiss on his cheek instead. "That's for. . .everything else," she added, then dashed off toward the path, leaving him stunned.
Hiccup stood there, his mouth agape for a moment as Toothless stared at him, head tilted in silent judgment.
"What? What are you looking at?" he muttered, flustered, before shaking it off and turning to the dragon.
He rested a hand on Toothless' snout, his voice softening. "Goodnight, bud. Get some rest, okay?"
Toothless huffed, nuzzling him briefly, then padded over to a shady spot near the water, curling up with a contented warble. Hiccup watched him for a moment, his shoulders slumping as the tension drained out of him, then turned and started climbing the steep path out of the cove, his boots scuffing the dirt as he disappeared over the ridge toward home.
The shadows cloaked you as you remained frozen, your breath barely daring to disturb the air, shallow and ragged, as if each inhale dragged shards of glass deeper into your chest. The hurt was a tangled, vicious thing—jealousy gnawed at the edges, yes, her kiss to Hiccup stirred inside you making you angry with yourself, but it wasn't the whole of it.
No, this was something more brutal, a raw, searing wound that pulsed with every heartbeat, born from the betrayal of seeing him—Hiccup—slip away to chase the very plan you'd woven together in late-night whispers over the possibility of finding Hels' gate yourselves.
He'd gone without you, took Astrid instead and that truth clawed at your insides, leaving you dizzy and unarmored. You couldn't move—not when Astrid's footsteps faded into the distance, not when Hiccup scrambled up and out of sight, not even when the cove sank back into an oppressive silence that pinned you to the cold earth, a prisoner of your own spiraling thoughts—that maybe he didn't feel the same.
Time bled into an endless, suffocating void, the night wrapping around you like a shroud as it deepened, the stars above piercing through the jagged canopy like cruel, distant eyes watching your unraveling. Your chest ached with every breath, the weight of what you'd witnessed sinking into your bones, pressing you harder into the rock until you felt you might disappear entirely—You had fooled yourself.
It wasn't until Menace shifted beside you—her small, trembling form brushing against your side, a faint chirp of distress escaping her—that the stillness shattered. Toothless' head jerked up, his keen senses cutting through the haze. His heavy paws thudded softly against the ground as he approached cautiously, those luminous eyes catching the faint glint of moonlight, narrowing as he sniffed the air and found you, curled and broken behind the boulder.
He pressed his snout against you, a low, resonant warble vibrating from his chest—warm, steady, and achingly perceptive, as if he could taste the bitterness radiating from you, the waves of anguish crashing against your ribs like a maelstrom was swirling inside. Menace scrambled into your lap, her tiny claws pawing at your tunic as her purring grew loud and desperate, a plea to pull you back from the edge.
Your breath hitched, a shaky, fractured sound spilling out as you surrendered to the moment, wrapping your arms around Toothless' broad, scaly neck. You buried your face against him, the cool roughness of his scales grounding you as tears burned behind your eyes, your voice a trembling whisper against his warmth.
"It's fine."
He huffed in response, nudging closer, his solid presence a lifeline as your heart stuttered under the weight of it all.
You lingered there, suspended in the quiet sanctuary they offered, clinging to them as if they could stitch the fraying edges of your thoughts back together. Menace's tail tightened against you, her small body a fierce little anchor, while Toothless' steady breathing pulsed beneath your grip, his heat seeping into your frame like a balm.
The disappointment and hurt in your chest didn't vanish—it ebbed and surged—but their presence dulled its sharpest edges, giving you room to breathe, to feel something beyond the suffocating hurt. At last, you drew back after a few moments, dragging your sleeve across your eyes to smear away the tears that hadn't yet escaped, a small, sorrowful smile tugging at your lips as you looked at them—your truest companions in this wreckage of a night.
"Thanks, you two," you murmured, your voice soft and raw, still thick with the emotions you couldn't fully shake.
You shouldered the sack once more, its weight a familiar burden as you rose to your feet, legs unsteady from sitting for hours of waiting—but resolute. With a final, lingering pat to Toothless' snout—his eyes following you with a quiet understanding—and a gentle chin scratch to Menace—you turned toward home.
The cove receded into the darkness behind you, swallowed by the night, but their soft croons trailed after you, threading through the stillness like a fragile thread of solace. You carried it with you, a faint shield against the heavy, bruising beat of feelings that clung to your every step, echoing into the vast, unyielding dark by yourself with only the moon to lead you back.