Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I have loved him for longer than I dared to speak it. Longer than I dared even to think the word. I have loved him in silence, in hunger, in aching restraint, and I have lain awake night after night knowing I would rather live one year with him than a lifetime beside anyone else. If I do not act now, then I condemn myself to a future carved by other hands. I will not spend my life wondering what would have been if only I had been brave. I know my heart, and my heart is Jack. Let them protest, let them hate it. In the end, I choose him. I choose Jack. 

Stoick’s voice cut through Hiccup’s thoughts like an axe: heavy, proud and ringing with celebration. 

“…and so, by the strength of the Haddock line, by the blood that built Berk and the hands that held it through war and storm, I stand before you with joy.” He boomed, broad chest lifted as though Odin himself was applauding. “My son has reached his twentieth year. He has proven his wisdom, his courage, and his worth beyond question. The next chief of Berk stands here among you. Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third.” 

A cheer rose, full and eager, showing how much the people had been waiting for this announcement. When a new chief is about to step in, the chances of changing your family’s life forever are right there, hanging in the air. If the new chief decided he liked your daughter, you would need nothing more in life. Nothing. 

“And with that coming mantle.” Stoick continued, face glowing with satisfaction, looking proudly at Hiccup by his side. “Comes the duty and honor of founding a household. My son is now of age to marry, and the families of Berk may begin their offerings and intentions. The future of our tribe is at hand!” 

Marriages are often arranged to straighten family ties and secure alliances. Sometimes, if the advantages are great, different tribes would merge together for a better outcome for their people. 

Hiccup always told himself that he had time, that he could decide when the time came. But the truth was harsher. The moment had arrived, whether he was ready or not. The village had been waiting, and now… his time had run out. There would be no more delays, no more second chances, no more adventures out there. This choice would define his life forever.  

The mothers in the front row leaned forward, eager with expectation. Men clapped shoulders, whispering names and plans. Hiccup could see clearly how every face in the assembly carried a spark of hope, a quiet hunger for what this moment brought.  

Hiccup did not spare the crowd a glance. Not the mothers, not the whispering fathers, not the hopeful eyes calculating futures. His world had narrowed to a single person. 

There, pressed into the mass of villagers, stood Jack. White hair catching the sunlight like snow on stone, startling against the sea of brown and gold. Lips parted just enough, a fraction of breath stolen by the wind, as if the wind himself had caught him off guard. Jack’s eyes found Hiccup’s and locked them together. For a moment, no one else was in the room.  

But as soon as it came, Jack turned away in a hurry and slipped between the shoulders of cheering Vikings. Gone in the middle of the commotion. 

Hiccup’s jaw set like iron. 

He suddenly remembered the years of doubt and whispers. The moments when his father had looked at him with disappointment instead of pride. The day he had made his first functional invention, the day he had befriended Toothless, the day he had returned from battles that no one had thought he could survive. And yet, a shadow of disbelief still lingered in the eyes of those who should have been proven otherwise. 

He had spent half of his life proving himself, bending, shaping, and striving to meet expectations that never truly fit him. And now, here he stood, in the center of the village, as the chief announced the beginning of a new era. And he decided, with piercing clarity, that he would no longer live for their approval. 

No one would dictate his heart. He would fight for his own life, his own love, his own choices. He would bend, perhaps, for duty, but he would never bend to fear. Never bend to what was expected of him. 

And so, in that quiet, burning space inside him, he made a vow. A vow that had nothing to do with tradition, with ceremony, with titles or families, or even with the praise of the people watching. 

I will court Jack, and if he’ll have me, I will fight for him. I will not wait for the world to give me permission, because my heart– my heart is already his. 

A wind stirred across the village square, teasing the edges of Hiccup’s cloak, as if the wind itself had heard his vow. He caught a glimpse of Jack again, fleeting like a shadow among the villagers, and the resolve inside him hardened to steel. This was not a choice born of defiance alone, it was necessity.  

It was survival. Life. Love. 

Hiccup had waited long enough. He would wait no more. He had made his choice, and now he will act.

Chapter Text

Hiccup’s day had been a mess. 

Since Stoick had made the announcement, Toothless’ rider had been dodging the entire village, slipping between deserted clearings and quiet forest paths, trying to think and breathe and not scream all at once. His head would not stop spinning. But there was one thought clear in the front of his mind, one thought only.  

Court Jack Frost. 

Hiccup sat cross legged on the mossy ground, his drawing notebook sprawled open before him. Sketches of plans, arrows, potential approaches and escape routes jutted across the pages. It had stopped being a notebook and had become a battlefield map, a war plan. 

“Okay, bud.” He said firmly, tapping a pencil against the page. “That's the plan.” His jaw set like steel. “No distractions. No waiting. Just… Jack.” 

Toothless warbled by his side, eyeing the annotations with wonder, tilting his head as if he could understand every scribble. 

“Yeah, I know, bud.” Hiccup said, scratching behind his dragon’s ear plates. “It’s… complicated. But we’ve got a plan now, right? We’re going to do this properly.” 

Toothless let out a low, approving rumble, nudging Hiccup’s shoulder with his snout. The boy smiled, feeling a flicker of warmth through the chaos in his head. “You always get me, don’t you?” He murmured, tracing a finger along one of the notes. “Always know exactly what I’m thinking before I even know it myself.” 

The dragon pressed his head against Hiccup’s side, tail flicking with energy, and Hiccup laughed softly. “Okay, okay, I get it. You’re ready too. We’ll make him see it. You and me, bud. We’ve got this.” 

Toothless warbled again, louder this time, as if shouting his agreement to the plan. Hiccup grinned, tapping his pencil against the notebook once more. “Alright, then. Let’s do this.” 

With Toothless by his side, he headed straight for the forge. The heat was already familiar and comforting as he prepared his tools. This wasn’t going to be just metal, this was meant to be a message, a token, a piece of himself he was going to give to Jack. 

“What do you think, bud?” He murmured, holding up a thin strip of steel, warm from the fire. Toothless tilted his head, eyes glinting with mischief and encouragement. Hiccup laughed softly. “Right, okay. It has to be… Perfect. Something he’ll want to keep. Something he’ll see and–” He swallowed, heart pounding. “–and think of me.” 

“Aha! At the forge, are we?” Gobber’s booming voice came from the doorway, and Hiccup momentarily froze. “I’d think the new chief-in-waiting would be out there, greeting families, taking offers, maybe even having a serious chat with his father.” 

Hiccup shook his head slightly, a calm, small smile on his lips, careful to shield the piece in his hands. “I prefer helping you here, Gobber. Just… finishing something first.” 

Gobber squinted, leaning on the doorway. “Finishing something, huh? The whole village waiting for you, and you’re hiding in the forge? What exactly are you making, Hiccup? Another one of your inventions?” 

Hiccup’s expression remained steady, unreadable. “Something useful. That’s all.” 

Gobber chuckled, clearly amused. “Well, make it fast. Duty calls, Hiccup. Don’t get lost in the fire too long.” 

“I know.” Hiccup said evenly, eyes returning to the workbench. “I’ll be out soon.” 

But as the sun dipped toward the horizon, Hiccup was still on the forge, frustrated. Dozens of metal pieces lay scattered across the bench, none deemed perfect enough for Jack. Toothless rested in a dusty corner, eyes half-closed, watching his rider with slow, deliberate blinks. 

“I just feel…” Hiccup murmured, passing a hand through his hair, troubled. “I feel like it’s never enough.” 

Toothless rumbled a steady sound, trying to comfort him. 

“I know, I know.” Hiccup sighed, starting to take the tiny pieces and stock them aside in a box, knowing he’ll probably melt them all tomorrow. “I’m tired too. From here, straight to bed. Then we’ll fly first thing in the morning.” 

At this, the black dragon perked up, lolling his tongue out like a dog and a low, approving rumble vibrated in his chest. 

✶

Jack always knew he was different. 

Since he was a kid, he understood that there was something inherently different about the way he viewed the world, hence his sense of loneliness sometimes, knowing that the coolest kids never quite understood him.  

For example, he was found in the middle of a snow strom, lost, by the ones he now calls family. North, the big man with big eyes, was the one who saw him in the distance first, too small and trying to get his bearings. Soon, he was brought into a warm home and gained the privilege of growing up knowing what having a family really meant. 

They didn’t freak out when they found out about his little secret… not too much. 

It happened a few days after he was rescued. They were sitting by the living room, getting warm by the fireplace, when Jack saw a small dragon flying close to their window. Dragons weren’t viewed in a great light in Berk, but Jack always felt curious about them. So, at the chance of meeting a Terrible Terror up close, he jumped out of his seat and ran out of the wooden hut, hearing alarmed shouts from Aster and Tooth. 

By the time the adults arrived at the back of the house, where they saw little Jack running, there was not one dragon, but two. 

One of them, of course, was the little Terrible Terror, blinking his big eyes with intensity at the bigger dragon in front of him. The other, well… A big white dragon with blue vibrant eyes was poised right in front of the other, with an excited gleam in its scaly features, while nudging the poor little creature in front of him. 

The adults, seeing not one, but two dragons, reached for their weapons, looking around wildly for Jack. But just as they were perceived by the white creature, it turned towards them and lolled his tongue with happy eyes. Sandman, confused by the dragon’s actions, frowned. The blue eyed dragon proceeded to jump around, making warble sounds and looking pointedly from them to the small Terrible Terror.  

They didn’t want to see it, but North couldn’t deny it. He knew those eyes. 

So when, in a blink of an eye, Jack Frost was standing in front of them, in the place of the dragon, the sharpening realization came to them like an axe to the gut. 

The ten year old boy they found in a snow storm was half-dragon, and could transition between his different forms as easily as falling asleep. 

It wasn’t easy when they discovered it, principally for little Jack. He didn’t understand why they kept gathering by the kitchen, talking in whispering tense tones, and letting him by the fireplace with Sandman to entertain him. He didn’t understand when they said it was better if he stayed inside the hut for a few weeks. He didn’t understand when they told him that dragons were not friends. 

But as time passed, they realized that they could no longer hide the boy. And as Jack grew, they understood that dragons, in fact, didn’t need to be the enemies sometimes. 

So now it wasn’t a surprise when Tooth found Jack in the kitchen, drinking a cup of water, in the middle of the night. His eyes were red and his shoulders slumped, his white hair, so different from the other’s, was mussed in a mess that implied he just got out of bed. 

“Having dreams again?” Toothiana asked him softly, already knowing what the answer would be. 

“When I’m not having them, Tooth?” Jack murmured quietly, rubbing a hand to his face. 

The older woman studied him. She knew it wouldn’t be an easy day for Jack, the announcement had happened and the whole tribe couldn’t seem to stop talking about it. His hands trembled a little, a remainder of his dream, and his mouth stayed twisted in a frown. 

“Was it too bad?” Tooth decided to ask, again suspecting the answer. 

Jack’s dreams could go from leaving him giddy and warm, full of smiles, to not being able to move for the rest of the day. It worried his family greatly, knowing that they couldn’t do anything about it, just try to comfort him after it had already happened. 

“Yeah, it was.” Jack nodded softly, sniffing into his cuff. “The Moon won’t stop torturing me with dreadful images of my mate.” 

The Moon blessed every dragon, from the moment they were born, with a companion for life. A mate. Someone that would complete them in every sense of the word. And, as they grew older, the Moon pull would guide them to each other, like she did with the seas and lakes. Jack started having his own dreams at the age of fifteen and, since then, it’s been a blessing and a curse. 

“We knew this would happen, Jack.” Tooth told him in a soft tone, small and sweet, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder and rubbing slowly, soothingly. 

“I know, Tooth.” He whispered back, leaning into her. “But now… I don’t think I’ll bear to sit and watch it happening.” 

✶

As Stoick gathers a few papers from his desk, he hears a knock coming from his front door. 

It was already dark, so he walked there with a talk about responsibility ready on his tongue, having waited for Hiccup for a few hours already. He was still ecstatic with the announcement made earlier in the day, so he wouldn’t be too harsh to his son this time. The boy probably needed some time to himself. 

Hiccup had always been a concern for Stoick. The boy was too short, too skinny and too… non Viking. But since his son proved them all wrong, killing the Red Death and shedding a new light on the dragons, Stoick couldn’t be more proud. He knew Hiccup would be a great chief and, since he became of age now, Stoick was sure that he would rapidly grow out of his thirst for adventures with Toothless and wish for a more solid life in Berk. 

Stoick had great plans for his son, he couldn’t wait to see the man he would grow into. 

“Hiccup, what did I say about coming home late–“ Stoick starts to say in a stern tone while opening the door, but who he saw on the other side made him pause. 

“Hello, Stoick. I’m sorry for intruding on your personal time, in this hour of the day, but we didn’t wish to wait any longer.” 

Stoick’s brows lifted high up his forehead but he masked the surprise of such a personal approach with a professional smile. It was not a surprise for him that they would come. In truth, he was expecting it. 

“No problems.” Stoick replied in an easy gesture, opening the door wider. “Let’s talk, Mr. and Mrs. Hofferson.”

Chapter Text

“Why do I feel like he already knows?” 

Hiccup and Toothless were in their morning flight, just like promised, but the rider’s head was nowhere near the clouds. He couldn’t help but obsess over it. Hiccup felt the weight of every minute passing, every single second felt like getting closer to doomsday. And, knowing that he could never tell this to anyone, he relied on his best friend to unwind.  

“Bud, do you think I’m going crazy?” Hiccup sighed deeply, laying back on Toothless and focusing his eyes on the fluffy white clouds… white clouds, just like Jack’s hair. “I mean, it’s always been there, isn’t it? This… weird tension.” 

Toothless warbled and hummed, making conversation with his rider. His eyes slowly rolled in disbelief, as if saying ‘are you just noticing this?’. 

“What I’ve felt for Astrid never felt this real, this… certain.” Hiccup continued, moving his hand around, in the wind, feeling the breeze. “If you put it side to side, it looks ridiculous. How could I have thought that had been the real thing?” 

Toothless glided slowly over the vastness of the ocean, getting farther and farther away from Berk. The view was stunning. The rays of light showered over the water and guided your eyes into the horizon. Hiccup would never tire of it. 

“And everyone says I’m oblivious.” He mused, scoffing a little at the sun himself. Hiccup started to hate giving his attention to people that loved to say who he was, but he couldn’t help it sometimes. “If I’m oblivious, and it got that clear for me, that only means he knows it also. Right?” 

In a moment of energy, Hiccup straightened out again, rubbing a hand to Toothless’ head, hearing him purr below him. 

“But if he knows, and if he feels the same… Why not tell me? We’ve been friends for ten years, for fuck’s sake.” The rider murmured, sighing deeply. Then, suddenly, a bitter laugh escaped him, sudden and filled with something that resembled anger. “I can think of a million reasons why.” 

Listening to the saddened tone of his friend’s voice, Toothless made a whiny noise at the back of his throat, trying to show him how much he cared. 

“I have to marry and have heirs, that’s the guideline.” Hiccup spit, angered by the inescapable situation he finds himself in. “Of course he wouldn’t tell me anything… He would know the answer.” 

By the time Toothless and Hiccup arrived on a little island they often made pauses in, Hiccup’s face carried a much more serious look. His mind was set and he would not back down. He couldn’t sleep all night, thinking of thousands of possibilities and outcomes of the near future. And it would be near, it has to happen fast. Or else, it wouldn’t happen at all. 

“I keep thinking that everything will be alright, that we’ll sort it out.” Hiccup says loudly, walking around the sand of the silent and empty island. Toothless observed him from a spot closer to the shore, paying attention to passing fishes. “But in what world Stoick the Vast will accept his heir with a man?”  

Toothless ear plates go down and his face turns to melancholy, starting to move towards his friend with slow and unsteady paws. 

“I can’t see a realistic outcome that doesn’t involve turning my back and never coming back to Berk again.” Hiccup laughs bitterly, with a wetness to it. He drags his arm over his eyes, refusing to cry anymore. “It’s bad, bud, but I can’t live like this. With or without Jack. I can’t stand sitting by and living my life like my father, I’m not like him.” 

Toothless presses his snout into Hiccup’s side, cooing at him. The boy sighs deeply, and lets himself fall in the sand, hugging his friend’s head. As his eyes followed the clouds above again, he moved his legs, as if stretching. He wanted to feel the metal hugging his stump. He needed to remember how exhilarating the best moments of his life felt. 

And don’t get him wrong, losing a leg and giving his condolences to people who lost loved ones was horrible. But he misses it. 

That phase of his life showed him how much of the world was out there. It made him learn about real friendship, loyalty, strength… and not the one about muscles, but the one about setting your mind and heart to a cause and fighting nails and teeth for it. And, the most important thing, it showed him the taste of freedom. 

Hiccup will never forget the first time he and Toothless flew together. Yes, it was an accident, and it was by some short seconds, but the rush of adrenaline in his body, years ago, awakened him to what life truly was. And he knew that life, for him, was not sitting on a table and making false friendships with other chiefs, in the hopes to kill less people if a war raged on. It was not marrying a woman for what her family had to offer him and popping out heirs the fastest he could, to ensure the next chief in line. 

“There’s more to life than that.” 

✶

“Hey, have you seen Hiccup?” Jack’s voice echoed through the forge, as he saw Gobber working on a sword. The place looked empty, if not for the man there.  

Jack had woken up early today, getting ready for their routine morning flight with Toothless, only to realize… that they never showed up at their usual starting point. A nagging feeling started to creep up his chest as he started to search for the boy and the dragon. Jack went to the training grounds, the Cove, and even to the Chief’s house, daring to knock. But still, he didn’t find either of them. 

Jack knew Hiccup probably just went flying alone, but he didn’t want it to be true. Because, for the last five years, they always went together. Every single day. And if Hiccup decided to go alone… it meant something had changed. 

Jack didn’t want anything to change. 

“Uh?” Gobber grunted, looking up from the sword he’d been shaping. “Oh, Hiccup? No, I haven’t seen him. I thought you two always went flying with Toothless by this time.”  

“Yeah, we… used to.” Jack murmured, feeling his throat tightening, as he backed away from the forge and began to walk back home.   

He blinked fast as the wind blew around him, almost as if it was making fun of him. As if it was telling him how stupid he was for thinking everything would be the same after yesterday. He needed to get his heart out of the way and think clearly. Hiccup wouldn’t need Jack glued to his side anymore. He wouldn’t need morning flights together, or escaping to silent clearings when the noise got too loud, or to hold his hand when he needed grounding. 

He was about to be chief. He would forget Jack and everything would be how it was always meant to. 

“Hey! Jack!” Suddenly, a voice cut through his thoughts sharply, making him stall in place. 

As he turned around, he could see Fishlegs’ blond hair, running towards him at an easy pace. Jack frowned, he was never too close to Hiccup’s friends. In fact, Jack suspected that they didn’t really like him, so the white haired boy always kept his distance. 

“Hello Fishlegs.” Jack said politely, eyeing the redness on the cheeks of the other boy. “What is it?” 

“So…” Fishlegs puffed a bit, still feeling tired from the run. “Have you seen Astrid?” 

Jack frowned again, looking around himself as if thinking the boy had asked the wrong person. 

“No.” He replied, shrugging a little in confusion. “Pardon me to ask, Fishlegs, but why would I know?” 

The other boy lifted a hand to his head, also shrugging in an awkward gesture. “You’re always with Hiccup, I don’t know. She was supposed to be in the training grounds but she’s not.” 

At this, Jack almost felt like laughing. The wind was playing tricks with him again, spitting on his face and saying ‘see? They’re probably together now, in that flight that you were supposed to be.’. 

“No, Fishlegs. I haven’t seen her.” 

✶

Astrid Hofferson did not believe in luck, she believed in rightfulness. 

When the announcement finally came, she didn’t waver, didn’t even tremble. She knew she was the safest choice, the public’s favorite and, of course, she already has history with Hiccup. She was always there when the boy most needed her and, as if this wasn’t enough, they kissed twice. Twice! 

Astrid knew how the boy thought, how he worked, and she was not worried. In fact, she was already being prepared to be chieftess. Her parents teased her at supper sometimes, asking what she would demand first of her husband when they were finally wed. Astrid just laughed, a little embarrassed. 

She liked Hiccup, truly. Not with the feverish kind of love sung in bard songs, but with something steadier. With admiration and familiarity and trust, which in Berk counted for more. And he liked her too. She had seen it in those small, careful moments when no one else was looking. Hiccup never offered softness lightly. 

So when Stoick spoke to the tribe, all Astrid heard was confirmation of what had already been true in everyone’s minds for months. Of course she would stand beside him. Of course she would help Hiccup to lead. Of course it would be them.  

Anything else would be reckless. 

Astrid carried no illusions about romance or destiny. Berk did not survive on those. Berk survived on people who did what needed to be done even when it was not romantic, and especially when it was not easy. She had always been that kind of person. Disciplined, pragmatic and loyal to the bone. If something had to be carried, she would carry it. If someone had to be trusted, she made herself trustworthy. If leadership demanded a wife who could keep order, maintain alliances, and raise heirs who would not crumble under pressure, then she could be that too. 

The sea wind pushed Astrid’s hair back from her face, cool and bracing. She lifted her chin to it, letting the certainty settle in her bones. This was right, this was earned, and it held a satisfying certainty that, for once, the future was clear. 

She was not forcing fate, she was fitting into the shape it had already carved for her. She did not need Hiccup to adore her with wild, reckless passion. She needed him to respect her, to trust her and to choose the future that made sense for both of them and for Berk. 

And he already did.

Chapter Text

“It's not true, is it?” Jack breathed in short gasps, blinking back tears. “You didn’t choose her.” 

They were in the middle of the forest, it was dark and only a few rays of sunshine were able to break through the canopies of the trees. Jack’s heart was beating a mile per minute, making his blood rush so fast that he felt like fainting at any moment. His vision was dancing in a dangerous way, making tears threaten to fall.  

“Jack, of course I did.” Hiccup’s voice sounded distant, detached. There was a hard frown in his face, making his eyes look so different from the ones that Jack knew so well. “You thought that I would choose you?” He laughed. 

“Why are you doing this, Hiccup?!” Jack gasped, backing out into a tree. Bark dug into his shoulder blades. He felt cornered. 

Hiccup only stared, expression unreadable and distant in a way Jack had never seen. “Doing what? Being honest for once?” 

Jack’s breath snagged. “Honest about what?” 

“That you were wrong.” Hiccup said flatly. “About everything. About us. About there even being an ‘us’ to begin with.” 

Jack shook his head. “We’re friends– at least that–” 

“We’re not.” Hiccup cut in without a heartbeat of hesitation. “We’re not friends, Jack. We never were. You cling. You follow. That’s not friendship.” 

The words split Jack open. He pressed one hand to the tree to stay upright. 

“You thought I would choose you?” Hiccup’s voice dipped into something mocking, incredulous. “You thought there was even a question?” 

Jack’s throat closed up. “You didn’t choose her.” 

“I did.” Hiccup answered without looking away. “Of course I did. Why would I choose a dragon? Why would I ever choose you?” His mouth curled, like the word itself tasted foul. “It’s disgusting that you ever thought I could.” 

Jack’s breaths were short and sharp, his eyes widened in surprise. “You knew.” 

“Of course I knew.” Hiccup snapped, suddenly sharp. “You think I didn’t notice? You think I didn’t see what you really are? And you still thought I’d stay near you?” He gave a short, humorless laugh. “I’ve been avoiding you because I don’t care. That was the hint. You just refused to take it.” 

“Hiccup…” Jack whispered, tears finally breaking loose. “Please–” 

“I don’t want to see you again.” Hiccup said, quiet but merciless. “Not ever.” Hiccup didn’t move. Didn’t blink. He only looked at Jack like something he finally had the excuse to discard. 

“You keep acting like I ever wanted you.” He said softly, almost gentle, and that made it worse. “I never did. I was just waiting for you to figure it out.” 

The forest held its breath, as if waiting for the final blow. 

“And now you have.” He finished, turning away. “So stop embarrassing yourself and vanish.” 

Jack jolted upright with a wet, tearing gasp, as if a hand had been ripping him down into the dark and let go too late. His vision went white at the edges. For a second he didn’t even know where he was, the only clear thing was the crushing echo of those words still in his skull. Stop embarrassing yourself and just vanish. 

His lungs refused to work. 

He dragged in air wrong, sharp, too fast, and it made him cough and gag. Tears were already pouring down his face before he realized he was crying. His fingers fisted the blanket so violently his knuckles ached. He bent double over his lap, shoulders shaking, and his entire body felt like it had been dropped from a height,  trembling and light-headed. He tried to breathe deeper but his chest cinched tighter, like a rope was closing around it from the inside. 

The nausea hit without warning. 

He clamped a hand over his mouth, fighting against the sudden wave of revulsion and heat in his throat. His stomach lurched so hard that his muscles spasmed, dry heaving once, twice, nothing coming up but acid. He rocked forward, with his forehead to his knees, shaking like he was freezing. 

“It wasn’t real.” He croaked, voice shredded. He tried again, lower, desperate, as if repeating it could change what his body believed. “It wasn’t real– it wasn’t.” 

His breath hitched again into another violent, stuttering sob. He pressed the heel of his palms into his eyes so hard it hurt, as if pain could overwrite panic. 

But the dream clung to him like something physical. The tone of Hiccup’s voice, the disgust, the turning away… It was all so vivid that his body reacted like it had actually happened. He could not make his body stop shaking. He squeezed his eyes shut again, forcing his breathing into steadier counts, clinging to the rhythm like a rope out of ice water. 

In – one, two, three.

Out – one, two, three. 

Slowly, painfully slowly, his pulse stopped screaming in his ears. The room around him began to exist again. The air felt real, the mattress under him felt real, his own body came back into focus. 

Then, he felt it. 

In his spine. On his shoulders. A familiar pulling weight he had been too panicked to register. He looked down, and saw the shadow of his tail curled under his legs, tense and bristled like an animal ready to strike. His wings, half unfurled behind him, trembled with the echo of the fear that had chased him out of the dream. Thin moonlight caught on the membrane, making the veins glow faintly. 

He hadn’t even noticed the shift. 

His throat closed with a different kind of dread. He tried to move and one wing jerked in response, still on survival instinct. He ran a shaking hand over his face, then over his chest, trying to ground himself, reminding his body that it was over. Nothing was actually happening, nothing was attacking him, and no one was speaking those words. 

“It was a dream.” He whispered to the wings, to the tail, to the part of him that believed he was in danger. “It was just a dream.” 

No one had seen it. He had time.  

He could calm down before anyone… Another deep breath. The tremors eased further, though the tail still twitched now and then as if it didn’t fully trust the silence. He stared at himself, the truth of what he was made visible, and the dream’s echo came back to him, sick and cruel. 

Why would I choose a dragon? 

He pushed the thought out before it could root. Another slow inhale. Another slow exhale. He closed his wings by force, muscles protesting, in a deliberate act of reclaiming control. It was just a dream. Hiccup didn’t know about him being a dragon, it was impossible. Jack was always very careful in his night flights, and he made sure no one noticed his instinct-guided ticks. 

Breathe. Hide first. Fall apart later. 

Jack forced his breathing to hold steady just long enough to get off the bed. The wings quivered behind him as he stood, brushing the wall and shaking dust from the plaster. His tail dragged over the floorboards with a low scrape, and the sound alone made his stomach knot. 

He needed air. He needed distance. 

The house was quiet as he slipped out the back, barefoot, shoulders hunched to keep the wings close. The night air hit him like cold water, sharp, clean and mercilessly bright under the moon. He flinched at it. He always did. 

He hated that thing hung up there. Hated the way it always pulled at the worst parts of him, forcing things to the surface he would rather bury until bone. If the moon had a face he would have bitten through it. He walked until he could no longer see any houses in the far distance, afraid of someone seeing him. Only then did he stop, breath fogging in uneven puffs, wings shifting restlessly against the breeze. 

He hadn’t seen Hiccup all day. Not even a glimpse. Not even a wave across the square. Not even a distracted smile in passing. Hiccup always made time, even if only a second, he always found him. Today… nothing. 

And in the absence, the dream felt less like a lie. 

What if this was the hint? What if Hiccup had finally understood what Jack was, really was, and simply pulled away in the quietest, kindest way he could? No fight, no scene, just… absence. Just letting the space do the talking. 

Jack swallowed hard, arms wrapping around himself, making a cocoon with his wings. He remembered stupid little things. Hiccup brushing frost off his hands and saying “You get cold before I do”. The way he always paused before leaving, like waiting for an invitation. The way his voice always softened when Jack laughed. They were small… but they were real. Weren’t they? 

Or had he imagined all of it the way he imagined that Hiccup would choose him? 

His wings flexed wide, unthinking, needing release. Before he could second guess himself, Jack transformed fully into his dragon form and launched into the air, the ground dropping out beneath him with a rush of wind tearing past his ears. 

He didn’t fly for direction, he flew to outrun his head. Up and up through the cold bite of the night, every gust of wind was like a physical command. Stop thinking, stop thinking, stop thinking– 

But even above the trees, with nothing but sky and his own wing beats for company, the thought chased him like a hunter. What if he doesn’t want to see me anymore? 

The sky swallowed him whole. 

His wings cut through it in long, desperate strokes, white and sleek and furious. The sound of them was like cloth ripping open the night. The forest was a blur beneath him, the coastline streaked past in jagged dark shapes. He didn’t think, he only fled. Then, in a pang of sudden grief, his throat convulsed with a sound that, even though dragons did not cry the way humans did, made the emotion still tore through his chest all the same. The same ache. The same helplessness. 

He hadn’t felt this kind of collapse since the first night the transformation claimed his body. He remembered the way his bones reshaped, his skin burned, his wings erupted from his shoulder blades under moonlight, and he had screamed alone until his voice died in his throat. 

Then, mid flight, anger came next. He twisted mid air, banking hard until he was facing the moon directly, wings beating against its silver pull like defiance alone could break tides. He bared his teeth at it, a low guttural snarl tearing out of him.

You won. Are you happy? You tear the wings out of my spine and then you take him from me too. 

He roared, a vicious sound that shook his ribs, and, for a moment, the fury felt strong enough to burn the world down. 

And then, as fast as lightning, it just drained out. 

In a moment he was beating his wings so fast that he could feel every muscle moving with exertion, the next, he let himself fall. The fury collapsed inward into nothing. The static came. The cold. The empty. He was free falling in direction to the sea below. 

Then, when he almost reached the water, he stabilized himself and began to glide. Not flying, no. He had no destination, no intent. Just… motion. Suspended between sea and sky with nowhere to belong. Not dragon enough to live in the wild forever, but not human enough to stand beside Hiccup in daylight.  

He flew, because stopping would mean thinking again. 

— 

Stoick had been in a good mood since sunrise. 

Finally, after years of chaos, dragons and sleepless nights, things were settling. There was an order again. A future. He could almost feel Valka smiling at him from whatever sky she rested in. 

Hiccup walked beside him down the path from the Great Hall, arms folded tight and shoulders high. But Stoick, too full of momentum to see his reluctance, clapped his son on the back with a heavy hand. 

“It’ll all go smoother than you think.” Stoick said, grinning. “The Hoffersons are already speaking like it’s done. Good family. Knows the job. Astrid’s a fine match, strong and steady. She’ll keep you right, and Berk too.” 

Hiccup’s reply was a thin hum of acknowledgement, eyes fixed anywhere but on his father. 

Stoick pressed on. “’Course, we’re not sealing anything yet. No rush.” He lied, the excitement in his tone betraying him. “But it’s the smartest choice, and everyone knows it.” 

“Mm.” Hiccup glanced toward the cove path as if calculating escape routes. “I really should… Toothless is probably–” 

“I’m not finished.” Stoick interrupted, more eager than stern. “There’s… another matter.” 

That made Hiccup stop still. He recognized his father’s serious, business-like expression. 

Stoick lowered his voice, with the sort of confidential pride men use when delivering good political news. “I got word this morning. Chief Halvar Stonehelm, from the Ironcliff Tribe, wants to meet us. Talk about a merge, he says. Join blood, name and trade under one banner.” He huffed, half amused, half disgusted. “Can’t say I fancy the idea. Berk’s Berk. We stand on our own feet.” 

Hiccup’s jaw tensed at the word blood. 

Stoick continued anyway, almost delighted by the novelty of it. “But it’s worth hearing the man out. It says a lot that they’re looking our way. Which means we’re doing something right. So I told the man I’d give him a week, and a week only, to try and convince me. If by the end of the week I’m still not moved, we’ll stay with the Hofferson’s. And, well, if there were to be a merge… It means options, son. It means alliances, it means strength, and it means–” 

“–I really do have to go, Dad.” Hiccup cut in, a little too quickly, already taking a step back. “Toothless needs a flight before the weather changes.” 

Stoick laughed, indulgent. “You’ve flown almost every day of your life, you can miss one. Come back inside, we’ll–” 

“I can’t.” Hiccup said again, softer but immovable, something brittle under the calm. “Please. I… can we finish this later?” 

For the first time, Stoick actually looked at him. Really looked. And he saw how pale the boy was around the mouth, how tight the muscles at his neck were. He exhaled through his nose, relenting. 

“Later then.” He said gruffly, nodding. “But not much later. We have a week.” 

Hiccup nodded once, almost a bow of relief, before turning away so quickly it looked like flight in human form. Stoick watched him go, pride still warm in his chest, unaware that the future he imagined and the one his son dreamed of were not the same at all. 

— 

Hiccup tore through the morning sky on Toothless’s back, wind whipping his hair into a frenzied halo, heart hammering like a war drum. 

The sun had just climbed over the horizon, gilding the clouds in gold and crimson, but he didn’t notice. He couldn’t. Nothing mattered except the piercing voice in his head, screaming. A week. A single week. 

“Bud!” He exclaimed, voice cracking over the wind. “What do you mean we have a week? A week?!” 

The dragon purred, wings steady, but Hiccup’s eyes were wide and panicked, darting from cloud to cloud as though he could catch the answer in the shape of the sky itself. Every second felt like a spike through his chest. A week… a week to do what? To lose him? The thought made his stomach twist so hard he could taste bile. 

“I don’t have more time!” He yelled, flinging his hands into the air as if the very clouds could hand him answers. “I can’t wait! I can’t! Do you hear me, Toothless? I cannot wait!” 

Toothless warbled, rolling his eyes in what might have been exasperation or pity. Hiccup didn’t care. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the dragon’s neck, claws digging into the leather straps. “I can’t sit here. I can’t do nothing. If I procrastinate a second more, I’ll lose him before I even start.” 

The horizon stretched endlessly, empty except for the jagged line of cliffs and the shimmer of the sea below. Hiccup’s chest heaved. He wanted to cry, to scream, to shake the world until it gave him the clarity he needed. Instead, he did all of it at once. 

“Why does it have to be like this?!” He shouted at the sun, at the clouds, at whatever gods or fates were listening. “Why does everything have to be so fucking hard?” He threw his head back, voice breaking. Hiccup was shouting at Toothless, at the sea, at the sky, and at himself. He didn’t even know what he was hoping for. Answers? Forgiveness? A miracle? Because he’d certainly need one. Toothless dipped low, catching him with a gentle nudge when he almost slid off the saddle, but Hiccup grabbed him tighter, clawing onto control in a moment of madness. 

The wind tore through him, cold, and Hiccup felt the rush of panic settle into something else. A raw, primal clarity. If nothing else, I can move.  

He drew a ragged breath and let himself scream once more. Pure frustration and anger, nothing more. It echoed against the cliffs, bouncing across the waves, in a single, desperate sound. Then he straightened, with his heart hammering and eyes wide with resolve. I know what I have to do. I know what I must do. 

“Toothless.” He said, voice quieter now, but sharp with determination. “We’re going to the forge. Now. Every scrap, every piece, every little charm, I need them all. For Jack. Everything I can do, I’ll do it now.” 

The dragon hissed softly, lifting into the sky again, steadying Hiccup as he leaned forward. They swooped over the village, over the docks, and past the quiet homes still catching the first light of morning. Hiccup’s mind raced faster than the wind beneath Toothless’s wings. A week. Less than a week to prepare. 

One week to do the impossible. 

By the time they landed in the village square, Hiccup was trembling, eyes bright with a frantic fire. He didn’t stop to speak to anyone who might be watching, he ran. Feet pounding over cobblestones, and hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. The forge was his destination. The forge was action. The forge was salvation. 

“Toothless.” He called over his shoulder, ignoring the dragon’s soft purrs and curious whistles. “Keep watch for me, bud. I can’t lose time.” 

Inside, the smell of fire and metal, of oil and ash, filled him with a strange comfort. He grabbed hammers, chisels, scraps of leather and wood. Every tool, and every piece of metal became a lifeline. A step forward. A step toward Jack. Each clang of metal against metal was a countdown, a reminder that he had a week. 

Hiccup worked like a machine, but in the midst of hammering, cutting, and etching, his mind raced just as fast as his hands. 

The first step was the gifts. The courting gifts. A tradition Berk had kept alive in honor of Viking practices, though most young men and women only performed them half-heartedly these days. 

He grabbed a length of braided silver, feeling the smooth texture beneath his fingers. The first gift was simple, yet essential: a necklace. 

Not just any necklace, but something that could carry meaning, something that Jack could wear and always think of him. He sketched a small pendant in the dust on the workbench, imagining a piece shaped like a Viking love knot. The Viking love knot is a symbol of eternal love and unbreakable bonds, crafted in the form of interlacing loops with no beginning and no end. The endless loops embodied the idea of infinity, a visual promise that love and commitment would remain steadfast, just as the intertwined lives of two people were now joined together. Freyja would watch over this gift.  

Next, the rings. Rings were straightforward in concept, but monumental in meaning. Viking couples exchanged rings to symbolize their bond with trust, loyalty and unity. Hiccup had to pick metals, size them and carve them. He needed one for Jack and one for himself, symbolizing a connection that said we are tied, we are together, we are chosen. But he couldn’t just throw together something pretty. Each ring had to tell a story, reflect the life they shared, the small moments no one else could see. A ring wasn’t just a ring, it was a promise. And promises weighed heavily on Hiccup’s chest. 

Then there was the handfasting. The ritual of binding hands together with a cord. 

It was an ancient tradition, and though most of Berk’s younger generation didn’t understand the weight behind it, Hiccup did. He could already imagine it: Jack’s hand, warm and steady, clasping his. The cord, thin but strong, binding them not as a constraint, but as a declaration. A symbol that, from this moment on, their lives were entwined, and their fates tied together. He would need to craft the cord himself, braid it with care, carve the runes along the length. Each knot, each rune, would be a prayer to the gods. Thor for protection, Freyja for love and harmony, every ancient blessing channeled into tangible care. 

And then… the sword. That was the part that made his chest tighten. 

This was one of the most followed and most respected tradition in Viking culture. It demanded an heirloom, passed down through generations. A piece of family history. But Hiccup had no sword to hand down. Every heirloom had been lost, broken, or buried under the ashes of the war and the chaos before Berk had risen again. So he’d have to make one. A new sword for Jack. A new beginning. A blade forged not from history, but from intention. A blade that could grow with them, that could one day be passed down, as a symbol of protection and unity. 

He could feel Toothless nudge the side of his leg, and Hiccup gritted his teeth against the rising tide of panic. One week. One week to create all of this, and the sword would take the most time. He’d have to design it, forge it, carve runes, balance it… But it had to be done. 

Each item carried a weight that Hiccup felt in his chest like a storm. The necklace, the rings, the handfasting cord, the sword… they weren’t just gifts. They were symbols, prayers, intentions and vows. Each had to speak without words, carry meaning without explanation. They were the language of Vikings, of gods, of their ancestors. They were the language of love that Hiccup wanted to honor. 

He paused for a heartbeat, running a hand over the neck of the pendant he had started carving. His mind swirled with images of Jack’s face, eyes wide in surprise when he received the first gift. Jack’s fingers brushing his own as they braided the handfasting cord. Jack’s steady hand gripping the hilt of a new sword, holding it like a promise Hiccup would never let falter. Each image tightened the urgency in his chest, but also gave him a calm clarity. Panic had fueled his flight across the sky, but here, at the forge, he could act. He could move with intention. He could build. 

He could honor Jack without collapsing under the weight of impossibility. 

The runes had to be carved right. Protection, loyalty, strength and trust. “Freyja.” Hiccup whispered under his breath. “Keep him safe. Keep him steady. Let him see me. Let him trust me.” He worked faster, but not carelessly. Precision was more important than speed now. Each knot, each carved rune, was a step toward the goal. 

And for the first time since hearing Stoick’s words, Hiccup allowed himself to breathe. 

The fire of the forge wasn’t just a tool, it was a chance. A way to channel fear, desperation, and urgency, into creation. He could do this. He would do this. And he would make sure that when Jack received these gifts, he would understand not just the weight of tradition, but the depth of Hiccup’s heart, the ferocity of his choice, and the certainty of his devotion. 

Hiccup inhaled the forge’s smoke and heat, letting it fill him with a grounding rhythm. He would honor Jack. He would make sure every piece spoke louder than words. 

The day stretched ahead of him, filled with sparks, fire, and determination. And Hiccup, for the first time in hours, felt like he was moving in the right direction. 

One piece at a time. One rune at a time. One gift at a time.