Chapter Text
Looking down at the rough map of Raven's Point, Hiccup scribbles out the area in frustration.
"The gods must hate me." Stumbling down the rough incline of the hill, Hiccup mutters about his poor fortune "Some people lose their knife or their mug. Not me, I had to go and lose an ENTIRE DRAGON."
Lashing out, he hits a tree branch that comes back and smacks him in the eye. Looking up in anger at the truck, he realizes that it is snapped in half and points to a drag path through the foliage of the woods.
He sets off in that direction, hope, anxiety, and curiosity all rolled into a ball at the pit of his stomach. Creeping up along the edge of the cliff, he peers over the edge and sees a dark shape laid across the forest floor . Darting back down as to not be seen, he takes three short breaths and gathers the courage to look again.
The long, dark form of the Night Fury lays where it was and takes shallow, short breaths. Hiccup stands from his hiding spot from up above the dragon and makes his way down to where the creature lays tangled and trapped in the ropes from the night before.
"Oh, oh YES!! This fixes everything!" His laughter carries in the clearing. "I'm going to carve out your heart and take it to my father." He fumbles with the dagger at his belt and raises it above his head, prepared to plunge it into the dragon's chest. "I am a viking, I AM A VIKING!!" But as he looks down at this mangled creature, he falters. The air leaves his lungs. He can only look into those moss green eyes and see his distorted reflection staring back at him. The pain, the resignation in them cuts his triumph to a stump. His arms lower in shame.
Looking at the ropes constricting around his wings and legs, Hiccup can only whisper " I did this." He moves forward with a new sense of purpose, reaching for the ropes. Slowly cutting through each, he resolves himself to the reality that he can't be a dragon killer. He won't be. His father was right about that.
As the ropes loosen, the dragon stirs. Once the last rope is cut away, he lunges and pins Hiccup to the ground and stares him down. Hiccup trembles under the Fury's glare and prepares himself for the worst possible end, hoping to be met with the goddess Hel and lain to rest in Helheim. Not the best way to go, but better than haunting these woods for the rest of his afterlife as far as he was concerned.
But the Fury unhinged his jaw, let a piercing roar of fury pound into Hiccup's ear, then flew high into the sky and darted off for the far horizon.
***
Pushing open the front door of his home, Hiccup finds Stoick sitting by the fire, lost in thought. Stepping towards him, he finds his voice. "Dad, you were right." Startled, Stoick turns to his son in question, as though he doesn't know what Hiccup is going on about. "I will never be a dragon killer, I think it's best I stay in the Forge. Maybe pick up some woodworking. I will never be one of you guys. It's not who I am." Looking at his thick leather boots and swallowing down his emotions, he repeats his first statement. "You were right." Not waiting for a response or a dismissal, he turns on his heel and runs up the stairs to his room.
Left by the fire, with the matching helmet made from his lost wife's breast plate sitting on his knee, Stoick feels at once both relieved and sad by his son's declaration. He finally found his place. But what made him see it, and more so, what broke his heart enough to accept it. Stoick may be a busy Chief, but he knew his son. His son's eyes always burned with the light of the strongest fire in the forge. No matter how many times he failed. No matter what anyone said to put him down, Hiccup moved forward with determination and passion.There was no light in his son's forge when he spoke now, and no passion to fuel him.
***
When the ships set off for Helheim’s gate, to find the nest, Hiccup and the rest of the young vikings who were set to start their dragon training that afternoon stood at the top of the port, sending off their mentors, family, and betters.
“They will be back, and with good news. I know it.” Astrid, the most confident of the new batch of soon-to-be dragon killers, declared as she watched her father's boat be pushed off the port and into deeper waters.
“No doubt about it, Dad and Chief will see to that.” Snotlout, Hiccup's cousin, said in response. Cocking his hip to the side, he looked over to his younger cousin and jeered. “Better than what you would do. Can’t wait to see how you mess up in dragon training.” This is met with a chorus of chuckles from the twins, Ruffnut and Tuffnut, and the giant boulder of a boy, Fishlegs.
“I’m not in it. I’ll be at the forge, working on more weapons.” Hiccup's declaration is followed by a tense silence broken by Astrid.
“What do you mean you aren't IN it. We all have to train to kill dragons. What, do you think you're the Chief's son and don't have to do any work?”
“No, I think that I'm a problem who needs to stay out of the way.” Once again met with silence.
The others look on with shock as Hiccup climbs the stairs back to the village without a backwards glance. This isn't the Hiccup they are used to teasing. He didn't fluster or blush, bumble or stutter. He looked at them like it didn't matter, like it was set in stone.
Snotlout had never seen his cousin with such a stony expression. Like he didn't care. The others felt the same. They weren't sure what happened, but Hiccup changed. They just weren't sure if it was for the better yet.