Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The year Jackson was born, the most beautiful person in the world was a young native girl living in the great North American Interior. She had perfectly tanned skin, flowing black braids, and the most melodious voice ever heard upon those plains. As she came of age, it did not take long for her tribe to realize they had someone extraordinary living among them. Unfortunately, this was after the Conquest(most recorded American history is) and the tribe and the girl were enslaved and put to work in mines. Her tanned skin grew pale, her braids were cut short, and her voice was ruined by the dust of the mines.

The year Jackson turned ten, the most beautiful person in the world was a little boy living in the countryside of what would become France(this was before France). He had golden hair and rosy cheeks, an all agreed that he was the closest approximation of an angel one could see without approaching the pearly gates. The boy was thirteen years old when puberty hit, turning his rosy cheeks to pimple-dotted plains and his hair oily and greasy. While he eventually recovered, as most do after puberty strikes, the angel had fallen.

When Jackson was fifteen, the most beautiful creature was easily a young woman living in Rome(this was after Rome, everything is, even roads). She so far outpaced any other competitors that it seemed inevitable that she would be the most beautiful for many many years to come. But it happened one day that one of her many suitors(she had 327) remarked that she was surely the most perfect creature to ever walk the face of the earth(which was not far off actually, she was fifth in that respect). The Roman girl, flattered, began to ponder the truth of this statement. She spent fourteen and a half hours looking in a mirror(this was after mirrors), inspecting each of her features in succession before she came to the conclusion that the young woman had been correct, she was perfect. In that moment, she was the happiest she had ever been, and she ran through the streets of Rome, thinking joyously, ‘How lucky I am to be perfect. To be rich and kind and beautiful and young-’ and then an awful thought occurred to her. She would not always be young. Of course she would not always be young, but if she was not young, how would she stay perfect? And if she were not perfect, what else was there? She frowned at this, the first time in her life she had cause to do so, and immediately rushed to her mirror, horrified that she might have somehow caused permanent damage. She had not, but now she had begun to worry. The first worry lines appeared within a fortnight, wrinkles within a month, and by the end of a year, bags and creases abounded. Shortly after, she married the self same woman who accused her of perfection, and gave her merry hell for many years.

Jackson at fifteen knew none of this of course, and even of he had, he would have found it ridiculous. Why would anyone care how beautiful they were, much less where they ranked on such a scale? What difference would it make if you were third or sixth?(Jackson was nowhere near this high, being barely in the top twenty, and primarily on potential. Have you ever met a teenage boy who takes particularly good care of themselves? I didn't think so, and Jackson was worse than most. He hated to wash his face, never combed his hair, avoided bathing whenever possible, and walked around barefoot.) For you see, there were precious few things Jackson liked, let alone loved, and being clean or considered beautiful were nowhere on those lists.

In all the world, Jackson Overland loved precisely five things, no more, no less. The first was the thing-I should say person-who he loved more than anyone else in the world, even the precious few other things he loved. This was his baby sister Emma Overland. Of course, she was not a baby anymore, but she had been when they met, so she was eternally a child in her older brother’s eyes. They were best friends, co-conspirators, troublemakers extraordinaire, sharing everything and rarely leaving each other's side. Jackson considered it his mission to protect her from all the evil in the world, and he rather would have died than seen the smile fall from her face.

The second thing he loved-again a person, or people in this case-was his parents. Now for some people, their siblings and parents would be loved equally. Not so for Jackson. Obviously he loved his parents, but they had certain qualities that occasionally impeded on Emma's safety or happiness, so they were relegated to second place. North was the name of his father, we'll actually it was Nikolas, but no one ever called him that. As a young man, North had been convinced that they key to his fortune lay somewhere in the North, and the moment he was able, he set off North to find it. And find it he did, working as an unsurpassed craftsman in a distant Northern city. Unfortunately for him, he found not only his fortune, but also a love of gambling. Within a year he had gambled away his fortune-for a love for an activity does not guarantee success at it-and lumbered his way back South, where he settled down with Jackson’s mother, some brandy, and weekly card games, where he always lost a little more money than he could afford. The village never let him forget his Northern obsession though, hence the name North, which he carried till the end of his days. Tooth was the name of his mother, well actually it was Isla, but no one called her that. As a young woman, Isla had the most beautiful smile in the eastern half of Potin(this of course is where the Overlands lived). Two perfectly straight rows of pearly whites that were absolutely dazzling when turned on you. Once a young nobleman caught sight of her famous smile from his carriage window and was so taken with the young woman that he asked for her hand in marriage. The nobleman’s betrothed did not take kindly to this, and secretly arranged for an accident. Within two days, the marriage offer was snatched back faster than you can say scram, the nobleman gained a healthy fear of his betrothed, and Isla was missing one of her front teeth. The most beautiful smile in the eastern half of Potin now had a gaping hole and crooked whites, courtesy of a donkey kick. A year after her downfall, she settled down with Jackson’s father and her memories of perfect teeth, which hereafter became a slight obsession of hers. The village never let her forget her once-perfect smile though, hence the ironic name Tooth, which she carried till the end of her days.

Now this description may paint the picture that North and Tooth were bad parents, which is not true. They were good, decent people who cared for their children and worked fairly hard and were overall rather average. They had their faults obviously, and squabbled often, occasionally to the point where people wondered how they had produced children, but overall they were rather ordinary people with big dreams who had been forced to settle, as many have before and since. How they produced Jackson was beyond them, but they were there when he was born, and that was enough for them to accept it as a happy accident.

The third thing Jackson loved was his horse. The young man was an accomplished rider, and rode Wind-for that was the horse’s name-with all the force of a hurricane. Any who saw them ride would swear that they were flying, so hard and fast did Wind run with her rider. Jackson loved that horse more than almost everything else in the world for the chief reason that Wind was his best(and only) friend other than Emma, and the horse enabled his freedom. When he rode, he was not a farmer’s son, but a spirit of wind and winter, free to go wherever he wished and never settle down. Which brings us to the fourth thing Jackson loved; winter itself. Jackson’s village was cursed every year with one of the harshest winters you could find outside of the Arctic Circle. But he saw foot upon foot of snow as a blessing instead of a dangerous nuisance. He never grew cold(even if he did he would never admit it), never grew tired, never ceased to see every snowflake as the most miraculous thing to ever grace the world with existence. The coldest season made a dervish of him as he spread trouble, started play fights, and built grand fantasies out of snow and ice. While the village was covered in white, it was easy to pretend that it was a distant land of snow and magic and miracles instead of the dull brown mud hole(not to insult mud holes) that it really was.

To be quite honest, Wind and winter were tied for third place of things he loved. He would give both up for the sake of his family, but would be hard pressed to choose one over the other. Both meant freedom from everyday life, a brief taste of the adventure he so craved. There was only one thing about ordinary life that Jackson enjoyed at all, which happens to be the fifth and final thing he loved. Tormenting the Farm Boy.

The Farm Boy was more of a young man now, but he had been a boy when he started working for Jackson’s family. If he had a name, it had long since been forgotten by the Overlands, save for North, but he was often too drunk to remember it when the topic came up. So Farm Boy remained Farm Boy. Jackson was extremely fond of ordering him around,“Go get that for me Farm Boy.” or “Farm Boy, you smell, have you taken a bath in your entire life?” or other things of that nature.

“As you wish.” Was always the answer, even to the nastiest comments. Even when Jackson would later apologize for the more mean-spirited things(Because he was a nice boy at heart, just a bit of a trouble maker), “I’m sorry Farm Boy, please forgive me.” All he would receive was “As you wish.” Beyond that, the two often worked together on farm chores, and when the day was done, Jackson would say “Good night Farm Boy, sweet dreams.” and the Farm Boy would reply “As you wish.” and go to his little shed near the animals. According to Tooth, he kept it clean and read when he had candles.

“I’ll leave the boy an acre in my will,” North was fond of saying(They had acres then.)

“You’ll spoil him.” Tooth would reply.
“He’s worked hard for years, he deserves something.” Then, rather than continuing the argument(they had arguments then too), the two would turn on Jackson.

“You didn’t bathe.” His mother would accuse.

“I did too.”

“Not well then, you smell of Wind.” His father would join in.

“I was riding.”

“Well, you better go wash again, no one will want to marry you if you smell of stables.”

“Oh, come on! Who cares about marriage?” Jackson exploded. “I don't need anyone, I've got Emma and Wind and that's perfectly fine.”

This was a common argument in the Overland household. Truth be told, North and Tooth quite missed the days of little children in the house, and were eagerly waiting for the day their children would settle down and make them grandparents. Their oldest child was not exactly on board with these plans.

But whether Jackson liked it or not, things were beginning to change. Now Jackson was barely in the top twenty of most beautiful, and that primarily on potential. Nonetheless, he was still in the top twenty, and that was more than enough to turn heads. Shortly before his sixteenth birthday, Jackson realized that it had been over a month since any of the village youths had spoken to him. While this was not precisely uncommon, as Jackson avoided most people’s company, it was odd to not even receive a nod as he rode through town making milk deliveries. He finally cornered a young boy named Jamie one morning in the market.

“What's going on?” He asks simply. He hoped that it was something easily fixed. He did not like being invisible much.

“Don't play dumb, you know what you've done.”

“I really don't Jamie, just tell me!”

“You’ve stolen them.” His tone left no room for argument as he pranced away, but Jackson already had his answer. Them. He'd stolen the village youths. There were many youths approaching marriageable age, and the most popular all had their eyes on Jackson. Girl's would walk with him as he made deliveries, fawning over his strength, “It's not very hard, the Farm Boy lifts more.”; boys would offer to brush Wind, “No thank you, the Farm Boy does that.” And they all asked to accompany him on his rides and adventures with Emma, to which he always replied, “No thank you, we prefer to go alone.” “You think you're too good for anyone, don't you?” “No, it's just more fun with Emma.” Which was true. Around his family  he was troublesome, full of laughter and light, but outside that, he really did prefer to be alone.

As time went on, the youths stopped following him around, instead talking about him where he could hear them but do nothing. They would whisper in alleys as he walked by or gather outside his window at night, spreading rumors, “I hear he wears a mask to cover horrible sores.” “I hear he’s simple, and doesn’t have a single thought in his head.” “I hear he spread his legs for-” When the taunts grew too terrible the Farm Boy would emerge from his shed and thrash some of them, sending them fleeing for at least a few days. Jackson never failed to thank him when he did this, bandaging up his wounds afterwards. (The boy tried, but he was only sixteen, and rather noodlely, so he rarely escaped his fights unscathed.) Jackson would apologize and thank him, but all he would ever hear in return was “As you wish.” So that was the way things went throughout Jackson’s sixteenth year, the only change being the addition of the Farm Boy to Jackson and Emma’s rides, which made Jackson happy for some reason he could not place. Tooth would just smile knowingly and make a comment about the Farm Boy’s teeth( She really did have an obsession).

All those involved will tell you that things truly began to happen the day the Count came to visit, but really it began about three weeks before that, shortly after Jackson’s seventeenth birthday, when he encountered a man on one of his many rides. The man commented on his beauty, which in itself was not unusual, as no matter what your opinion of Jackson was, you had to concede he was rather beautiful. But what made this encounter special was that this was the first nobleman to notice him, and it is this man, whose name has been lost to time, that first mentioned Jackson to the Count.

The land of Potin was settled between where Sweden and Scotland would eventually reside(this was before Europe). In theory it was ruled by King Mani and Queen Stella. But in reality, the king was barely hanging onto life, could barely tell day from night, and spent most of his time muttering and the rest drooling. He was very old, most of his organs has long since betrayed him, and many of his important decisions had an arbitrary quality that rather bothered the leading citizens of Potin.

Prince Kotzmozis actually ran things. If there had been a Europe, he would have been the most powerful man in it. Even as it was, no one within a thousand miles wanted to mess with him. He was a competent leader, to be sure, but anyone who had ever met him would agree that the man was absolutely terrifying. This nightmare’s right-hand man was the Count. His name was Alvin the Treacherous, a nasty name for a nasty creature. How he’d gained the name Treacherous, no one really knew, and no one wanted to find out. Everyone unlucky enough to meet him simply addressed him as the Count, as he was the only Count in the land, the title given to him as a reward from the Prince for completing a particularly nasty job, or so the rumors went. It was whispered that even the Prince did not trust him, and had given him the job to keep an eye on him. The Countess was not the Count’s wife(as no sane woman would ever marry a Treacherous), but his mother Excellinor(who had married a Treacherous, let that say what it will about her sanity). She was a nasty creature, just like her son, but with impeccable taste(this was just after taste, so she was the only woman in all of Potin to have any any, so no wonder it was considered impeccable) and the elegance of a far younger woman. In sum, these two comprised the whole of the nobility of Potin, were the second most powerful people in the land and had been for many years.

“That man must have lovely teeth.” Tooth remarked dreamily one morning after breakfast. Emma wandered over to the window to see what her mother was staring at, looking for the focus of her comment. Then she let out a great shout,

“Da! Jack!”(I should add that there was exactly one person in the world who did not call Jackson by his given name, and that was his sister, who called him Jack, which suited him far better than Jackson. She was the only one allowed to call him that, however). The two came racing over from the breakfast table, and were met with a grand sight.

“The Count’s carriage,” North breathed. “The workmanship is absolutely flawless.”

“How lucky we are to have seen it.” Replied Tooth absentmindedly, and Emma rolled her eyes as Jack snorted. Neither of them really approved of their parent’s near worship of the nobility.  Secretly though, they both wished they could see the carriage a bit closer, if only to see if it really was as great as it seemed. As if in response to their unspoken wish, the grand carriage suddenly turned down the road to the farm. Tooth wheeled on her husband,

“What did you do!? Did you pay your taxes?!”(This was after taxes, everything is).

North flung his hands up in panic, “I did, I did! Even if I didn’t why would they send all that to collect taxes?!” he yelled, wildly pointing at the carriage. As their parents squabbled, Jack pulled Emma aside.

“Hey, I don’t know what’s going on, but if something bad happens, go get Wind and get far away, you hear me?”

Emma pretended to think this over, “Okay...but only if you come with me.”

“No, if you get the chance, you go, okay? I can take care of myself.” By that time, the carriage was outside their front door, and the adults trooped outside to meet their fate, whatever that may be. Trembling, North and Tooth approached the carriage and politely inquired as to what the Count wanted with them.

“Cows,” the great terrible Treacherous said from inside his golden carriage, face darkened my shadow. “I would like to talk about your cows.”

“My cows?” North said.

“Yes, you see, I’m thinking of starting a little dairy of my own for the holiday season, and since your cows are known throughout the land as being Potin’s finest, I thought I might pry your secrets from you.”

“My cows.” North repeated, hoping he was not going mad. He may have been a drunkard and a gambler, but he was no fool. His cows were terrible. If there were any competition from the village, he would have gone out of business immediately. Granted, things had improved since the Farm Boy came to work for him, but that did not make his cows the finest in this or any land. But he knew better than to argue with the count. “What would you say my secret is my dear?” he stalled, turning to Tooth.

“Oh, there are so many.” She fibbed, for she was not a fool either, especially not concerning their livestock.

“You two are childless then?” The count asked, hoping to hurry this along.

“No sir.” Tooth answered.

“Well, go fetch him then,  perhaps he will be quicker with his answers than his parents.” Tooth went off to get Jackson while North wondered,

“How did you know we had a son?”

“Well,” the Count snapped, “I guessed. I assumed it had to be one or the other. Some days I’m luckier-” He simply stopped talking then. Because Jackson had emerged from the house. Now, it has to be said that the Count didn’t even like men. Quite the womanizer actually. And it has to be remembered that Jackson was barely in the top twenty; his hair was uncombed, his skin dirty, clothes ratty and smelling of horse, and still a child, barely seventeen, with the remnants of baby fat. Nothing had been done to him. Nothing was there but potential. And yet the Count could not look away.

“The Count would like to know the secrets behind our cows darling.” Tooth said gently. The Count nodded along, still staring, open mouthed. It was quite rude actually. Even North noticed a certain tension in the air. Jackson was even less of a fool than his parents, he knew that whatever this was about, it was certainly not cows.

“Ask the Farm Boy then, he tends them.”

“And is that the Farm Boy?!” A shrill voice erupts from the carriage, and the Countess's face appeared at the window. It seemed impossible that she was the mother of the large dark count. For one, she was thin as a whip, and small, dwarfed by the carriage. Second, she looked younger than the Count, younger even than Jackson’s mother. Smooth skin painted in pale pinks and luscious reds, sparkling jewels hung around her neck, not a wrinkle to be found. Her dress had more colors than had ever been seen in the small village. Jackson wanted to shield his eyes from the brilliance. It seemed as if the rumors of witchcraft were true.

North was the first to recover, glancing at the figure peering around the corner of the farmhouse. “It is.” A strange feeling was growing in Jackson’s stomach, and he cut in,

“He is not dressed properly for such an occasion.”

“I have seen bare chests before, now bring him here,” the Countess replied. Then she called out sharply, “You!” She pointed a perfect finger at the Farm Boy. “Come here,” she snapped her fingers impatiently, “Here!” The Farm Boy did as he was told, head bowed in shame. Jackson had a point, he really did not seem fit to meet the splendor of the noble couple.

He was clad only in old blue jeans(blue jeans were invented considerably before most people suppose) and worn boots. His hands and arms were dirty, and his hair was askew and sweat-slicked to his forehead. The strange feeling spread from Jackson’s stomach to his lungs, and he had trouble breathing for a moment.

“What is your name boy?”

“Hiccup, your Grace.”

“Well Hiccup , maybe you can help us with our little problem. You see, my son would very much like to learn about the cows you tend to. We are simply dying with the desire to learn the secrets behind the success of these cows, and desperately need your assistance. Now what is it that you do that makes these cows the finest in all of Potin?”

“I just feed them, your Grace.”

“Well then, the magic must be in your feeding, show me how you do it then Hiccup.”

“You want me to feed the cows? While you watch?”

“Bright lad.”

“Umm...okay then…”

“Now if you please.”

“Oh yeah, ah, this way I guess-wait.”

“What?” The Countess snaps.

“Your dress’ll get dirty.”

“That’s no matter, I only ever wear them once anyway. Now,” she sticks out her arm, “lead me to these cows.” So Hiccup grabed her elbow and led the Countess to the cowshed, group in tow. And as they watched the Farm Boy feed the cows, no one actually watched the cows. North and Tooth were watching the Count, who was watching Jackson, who was watching the Countess. Who was watching Hiccup.

The Countess was still staring at Hiccup. Jackson lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling. Every time he closed his eyes, the Countess was still staring at Hiccup. He got up and paced his room. The Countess was still staring at Hiccup. He crept down the stairs, went to the kitchen, and poured himself a glass of water. The Countess was still staring at Hiccup. He practically threw his glass into the sink(sinks were also invented considerably before most people suppose), stormed back upstairs, and collapsed on his bed. The Countess was still staring at Hiccup.

A knock came at his door, and Emma poked her head in.

“Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s with all the banging?”

“It’s nothing.” Jack had a habit of lying to his sister when he was upset. Didn’t want her to get upset too, you see. Unfortunately(or maybe fortunately) for him, she had picked up on that years ago, so instead of leaving, she sat down on the edge of his bed.

“What are you doing? Go back to sleep, I’ll be quiet.”

“What’s going on Jack?”

“Nothing! I told you nothing is going on!” Emma raises an eyebrow.

“ Really? I would have thought it was something about the Count’s visit today.” Emma Overland was the least foolish member of the family. She knew exactly what had happened earlier, even if the rest of the family did not. She knew the reason for the Count’s visit, the Countess’s interest, and Jack’s sleeplessness. Now she just had to help Jack figure it out for himself.

“It was a very strange visit,” she wheedled with the finesse of a master. “Why do you think they were interested in cows of all things?”

“They say they were interested in cows,” Jack explained, with the air of someone telling a secret to a dullard(Emma had to keep herself from rolling her eyes), “But all she really did was stare at Hic-the Farm Boy.” He said hurriedly.

“Really?” Emma pressed, with wide innocent eyes.

“Really. And she couldn't stop... touching him.”

“Interesting-”

“Why!” Jack exploded a little bit, and Emma knew she was on the verge of a breakthrough, “Why would the perfect woman, the most perfect woman in the entire country, be interested in Hiccu-the Farm Boy? Because believe me, she was interested. There is no other way of explaining that look .” He flopped backwards onto the bed, arms spread dramatically.

“Why do you think? I mean, if she was looking at him like that , something about him had to interest her. Facts are facts.” Emma was perhaps enjoying this a little more than she should have.

“Well, what could it be?  I mean, he does have nice hair, all sort of red, sort of bleached brown. But anyone would have hair like that if they worked in the sun all day. And he does have cute teeth, I guess, with that little gap, but who cares about teeth besides Mom? Yeah sure, he’s kinda tall and lean, but that’s just because he’s young. And I guess he’s got some muscle, but anyone would if they worked all day. And his skin is freckley and tan at the same time, I don’t know how, but it is, but anyone would have skin like that if they worked in the sun all day!” Then Jack sits straight up, “It must be his eyes. Hiccup does have nice eyes, I mean, you gotta give credit where credit is due. They’re all shiny and green like the forest in summer, and they sparkle when he’s excited about something, or after a really long fast horse ride. Did you ever notice that when he started tagging along on our rides? He doesn’t talk much, but he says a lot, ya know? It’s all in the eyes. I bet those eyes are what emeralds look like.” Jack hugs a pillow as he rambles.

Emma yawns. While she very much wants to witness the next few realizations, it’s late. Besides, Jack will never admit anything to himself if she’s there. So she makes to leave.

“You’ve never seen emeralds, Jack.”

“But I said I bet. Bet means I’m guessing, that’s probably what emeralds look like-you know what? Go back to bed, okay? We’ll talk more in the morning. I already feel a little better. We figured it out, the Countess was interested in Hiccup because of his eyes.”

“Ok then big brother. I’ll see you in the morning.” She gives him a peck on the forehead, then leaves the room, closing the door behind her.

Jack tries to settle down to sleep, and is just about to drift off when his eyes snap open. People don’t look at people the way the Countess was looking at Hiccup just because of their eyes.  

“Oh no.” Jack gasped as a terrible scene unfolded in his mind’s eye. Now Hiccup was staring back at the Countess . He was feeding the cows, tan skin slick with sweat the way it always was and Jack was watching as Hiccup looked, for the first time, deep into the Countess’s eyes. Jack jumps out of bed and begins to pace his room again. How could he? Oh, it was alright if Hiccup looked at her, but he wasn’t looking at her, he was looking at her .

“She’s so old,” Jack mutters under his breath, “and stupid.” She had to be, to get something as priceless as that dress all dirty, or to focus on Hiccup’s eyes when there were so many other perfectly nice things about him. Like those little braids in his hair that looked like they would be fun to play with. Or the careful way he tended all the animals, even the ones that had bitten him, and most of them had bitten him at some point. Jack knew, he’d been bandaging him up for years, which had seemed like an annoyance at the time, but now just seemed like a missed opportunity to talk to him. Jack had tried many times over the years to get him to talk, but Hiccup never had, so he’d given up after awhile. Then Hiccup has stopped getting bitten, or at least needing bandages, and the opportunities to talk had ceased altogether, which was a shame, he thought, because when Hiccup had spoken earlier today, he’d had a nice voice. Jack wondered what he would talk about. Would he talk about those little thingamawhatsits he built when he thought no one was looking? Would he tell jokes? Then a horrible thought occurred to him, what if Hiccup would talk about the Countess? And the horrible image was back in his mind, of them looking at each other, Hiccup and the disgustingly old Countess. She really was old, with little piggy eyes and too much face powder and her too big painted mouth and….and….and...Jack flailed and thrashed on his bed, throwing a pillow across the room. It hit the wall with a thud, and on the other side, Emma smiled as she drifted off to sleep. Jack had figured it out.

It was a very long night for Jack. There have been three great cases of jealousy in all of recorded history. This case was a very close fourth on the all-time list. He was outside Hiccup’s shed before dawn. He could hear him already awake, so he knocked. Waited. Hiccup appeared in the doorway. Behind him was a glimpse of bookshelves and candles and a tiny bed.  He waited. Jack looked at him, blue eyes meeting green. Then Jack looked away. He was too beautiful.

“I love you,” Jack began. “I know this may seem a bit crazy, ‘cause until recently all I’ve ever done is torment you, but I’ve known I loved you for a couple hours now, and I loved you for a long time before that, I just didn’t know it. I used to think I only loved teasing you, but then I realized that I hated it when you were sad. I realized I loved to see you smile, like when you smile after long rides or when you’re building something. And I really thought about it, really thought about it, and I realized you smiling makes me happier than the first snow of winter, and that’s saying something! You look free when you smile, when you’re happy, just like I am, just like we are on those rides, the long rides through the forest-your eyes are like that you know? Well, they are. And the more I thought about it, I realized that I would give up every single ride for the rest of my life if I could see that freedom in your eyes, that happiness. I love that about you, I love you, the passion you have for things, the way you help everyone, even me, especially when I didn’t deserve it. I love everything about you, and I hope you’ll let me prove it. I know I can’t possibly make up for every horrible thing I’ve done to you, but I’ll try my hardest. And I know I can’t possibly compare to the Countess in skills or smarts or looks, well, maybe in looks, but that’s not important, and I saw the way she looked at you. But she’s old and has other things to worry about, and I’m seventeen and only want you. Hiccup-I’ve never called you that before have I? Hiccup, Hiccup, Hiccup. Please tell me I have a chance.”

He was quite out of breath after that statement, and breathes heavily as the newfound silence stretches on. Hiccup just stares at him. The entire world is still, the silence deafening, Jack’s breathing the only sign that time is progressing at all. Then Hiccup raises his hand,

“I’m sorry-” Jack almost bursts into tears right there. Hiccup doesn’t love him back. Why would he? Jack backs away slowly, stammering, interrupting whatever heartbreaking words Hiccup would have said next.

“No, no, I’m...I’m sorry, sorry, I’ll...sorry.” Then he turns and runs, runs away from this terrible pain in his chest. Wind is standing near the barn, and he jumps on without a second thought. “Take me away, girl.” he whispers, and they’re off, flying across the fields. He doesn’t have a plan, no real thoughts as he sobs into Wind’s mane. Hiccup didn’t love him and that was that. Why had he even dared to hope?

“Wait!” A shout interrupts his thoughts, and he looks behind him to see Hiccup chasing after him on a horse. “Jack! Come back!” Something in his chest flutters at Hiccup calling him Jack, be he squashes it down and bends further over Wind’s neck, urging her on. Hiccup’s going to get his revenge, he thinks, revenge for years of torment. No matter that he would never actually do that, why else would he be chasing him?

“Jack!” Hiccup shouts again. Jack keeps riding. No one can match him on a horse, no one. Wind pours on even more speed, fully expecting Hiccup to drop off any second. But he doesn’t. He keeps pace with Jack, still screaming for him to stop. What could he want? Jack steers Wind towards the forest, hoping to lose Hiccup in the trees, but the farm hand weaves through the greenery, only a step behind Jack. Before he realizes it, they’ve made it to the river, and Wind stops short. He practically flies off her back before he realizes they’ve stopped, and then he’s leaping off, trying to run. A hand grabs his wrist from behind with a desperate shout,

“Jack! Please, just, wait!” Hiccup’s breathing heavy, hair plastered to his forehead. “Why-why are you running?” He pants out.

“You don’t love me. Of course you don’t, but I told you I loved you and you don’t and I couldn't stand it because I’m so stupid for just blurting out I’m in love with you-”

“Jack!”

“What! I’m sorry, I’m trying to say I’m sorry-”

“Jack, I’m trying to say I love you too, you big drama king!”

Silence.

“W-wh-what?”

“I’m sorry, but your rambling is driving me craaaaazzzy, and if you could just listen for a second, I think everything would make a lot more sense.”

“Say it then.”

“I’m trying to!” His hands are flying wildly, “It’s-it’s just, it was your stupid smile okay! A few years ago when that massive snowstorm hit with the snowdrifts the size of North and you had a smile splitting your face that didn’t leave for a week and you hit me in the back with a snowball and we got in a fight and when we were done throwing snow at each other we just fell backwards into the snow and your hair was all covered in snow and,-” He takes a deep breath, slowly bringing his hands down, “You smiled. And I was a goner.” He pauses again, then continues quieter, “I started noticing things. Like, how nice you were to Emma, and how good a rider you were, and the way your eyes sparkle when the light hits them just right, and just….everything.” He slumps down, a weight lifted off his shoulders. The two stare at each other.

“You like my smile?” Jack offers bashfully, the slightest hint of one playing on his lips.

“That’s what you’re focusing on!?”

“It’s a lot of information to take in! And you still haven’t said it!”

“I’ve been saying it for years if you’d been listening!”

“How? How were you saying I love you?!”

“As you wish! Every single time I said that I meant ‘I love you’! I just couldn’t actually say it because I was scared!”

“Well I’m scared too! Every time I went on rides with you or threw a snowball I felt something! And I couldn’t figure out what it was, but now I know, and this is all very weird, but in a good way…” He trails off, running out of steam.

“It’s-it’s kinda a relief,” Hiccup starts quietly, “I mean, at least we know we feel the same way.” He ventures a smile, and Jack returns a cocky grin,

“You still haven’t said it you know.”

“Is that what’s bugging you? Fine, here it is, I Love You. Want me to spell it out? I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U, and I can do it backwards too, U-O-Y-”

“I get it, I get it!” Jack interrupts, struggling to smother a laugh, “Man, you’re going to be a handful, aren’t you?”

“Oh,   I’m going to be a handful? Says Mr. Runs-away-before-anyone-can-get-a-word-in-edgewise.”

“I didn’t know what else to do!”

“Well I know what I want to do.”

“And what might that be?”

“Well-” Hiccup's bluster is gone, and he stares at some dirt on his boots.

“Hiccup?” Jack looks up, smiling, eyes shining.

“Do you have any idea how nice it is to hear you say my name?”

“Probably just as good as it feels hearing you say mine. Now, quit stalling, what do you want?”

“To kiss you.” He blurts out, rubbing the back of his neck. “Can I?”

Jack smirks, “As you wish.”

Hiccup stops short, “You-you-” He stammers as Jack cackles, practically combusting with frustration, then he steps forward. They’re about the same height, so their noses brush as he leans in, and then they’re kissing.

There have been five great kisses since their invention(it may surprise you to know that, yes, there was a time before kisses, back when couples hooked thumbs). And the precise rating of kisses is a terribly difficult thing, often leading to great controversy, because although almost everyone agrees with the formula of affection times purity times intensity times duration, very few have ever been completely satisfied with how much weight each category should be awarded. But on any system, there are five that everyone agrees deserves full marks. Well, this one left them all behind.

They rode back home slowly, fingers intertwined and goofy smiles on their faces. Their hair was mussed and lips a bit swollen, but they didn’t care. The rest of the Overland’s certainly did though. The moment they entered the house, Emma saw their hands and cried out “Finally!” North gave Hiccup a pat on the back that sent him reeling, and Tooth was ecstatic, practically flying around with excitement. The two blushed, thoroughly embarrassed but very happy. And so for two weeks, things seemed pretty perfect. They spent practically every waking moment together, working on the farm, riding with Emma, kissing(a lot). The future seemed as if it was made of gold, there was even talk of wedding bells. Christmas(which has also been around much longer than most people suppose) even passed during that time. Jack was delirious with happiness.

And then his parents died. A week after Christmas, disease spread through the village, taking people from every household, North and Tooth included. It struck suddenly, one day they were fine, the next they were bedridden, the day after, dead. They left a grim truth behind. There was no money.

Practically none anyways. North had always gambled more than he could afford, even more during the holidays. He’d gambled most of his money away and spent the rest on extravagant celebrations. There were debts to half the town. And no money. Every week, there was less to eat, and the remaining members of the Overlands(plus Hiccup) were forced to sell land and furniture to try and prolong the inevitable. Jack felt as if he were in a nightmare, reality slipping farther and farther away. They went to bed each night with growling stomachs, all curled up together on the only bed left. That was comfort at least. He still had his loves. The snow had melted, Wind had been sold, his parents were dead. But he still had Emma. He still had Hiccup.

But then the day came when Jack arrived home from his milk deliveries to find Hiccup with a bag over his shoulder, standing next to Emma at the door. They were finishing an argument.

“You’re too young.”

“Am not.”

“We already agreed-”

“I know.” Emma sighs. “Jack’s not going to like this.”

Jack steps forward, “Like what?”

“I’m leaving.” Hiccup states quietly.

“Leaving?” The floor seems to sway, then he shakes his head. Emma was there. “Now?” His voice comes out high and desperate.

“If I don’t leave now, I’ll never be able to.” Hiccup fidgeted, not meeting Jack’s eyes.

“Why do you have to go in the first place?”

“You know why.” He did. They needed money, needed it desperately. “I’ll sail to America, win us a fortune.”(This was just after America, but long after fortunes)

“Emma, can you give us a minute?” He refused to let her see him like this.

“No. I’m not a baby you know!”

“No, but you are ten. Just...give us a few minutes okay?” She huffs, then storms out of the room. She was almost definitely eavesdropping, but Jack spoke anyway, the words coming out in a rush. “ I’ll come with you. We both will, we can do this together-”

“Jack.”

“We’ll just get out of here, leave the farm and get on a ship, go wherever-”

“Jack-”

“NO! I’m not losing you too!” He cries out, voice breaking, tears threatening to spill.

“We have to do this Jack.” It wasn’t fair, he thought. He still got a thrill every time Hiccup said his name. “It’ll cost too much to get all three of us over there. And you and Emma should stay together. If I go, I can send back money and save the rest, and you guys will have food…” He was rambling, gripping the strap of his bag like a lifeline, “....I lift right out, this makes sense, it does.” It was unclear who he was trying to convince.

“You do not just lift out! We need you here, I-I need you here.”

“You think I want to do this? I don’t want to go, but I have to.” He sighs. “It’s not forever, just as soon as I can get us some money. Then I’ll come back, or you can come wherever I end up, and we’ll have a life. We-we could even get married if you want. If you want.”

There is no breath left in Jack’s lungs. He wants to scream, to shout, to grab Hiccup tight and never let him go, dam the consequences, but the look in Hiccup’s eyes matches his own. No one wants this. But there was no other option. So he swallows, breathes, manages to get out, “You better come back in one piece.”

“What he said!” Emma pipes up from the other room, causing everyone to break into laughter. It’s refreshing, lessening the lump in his throat. He pulls Hiccup into a hug, breathing in the smell of him.

“I love you.” He whispers into Hiccup’s shoulder, and Hiccup whispers it back, leaning in for a kiss.

“Can you two not be gross for a minute? I want to say goodbye too!” They pull apart with a quick kiss-Emma lets them have that one, they need it. There’s more hugs, a few tears, and then they’re at the door, and he knows this won’t be forever, it’ll just feel like it.  They embrace one more time.

“You come back. I don’t care if everything goes wrong and there’s no money, just come back.”

“As long as you’re here waiting.”

“Don’t make me sound like some sort of damsel.” He pulls away, a small pout on his face, eyes shining with mirth and tears.

“But you’re so pretty.” Hiccup teases, cracking a small smile.

“That’s it, get out!”

“Without one kiss?” Jack tries very hard to keep up his facade, he does. But then he surrenders to a kiss because who knows how long it’ll be until he gets another one. Then Hiccup turns to Emma,

“Take care of him, okay?”

She nods seriously, “Okay.”

“Hey! I can take care of myself!”

“Sure you can gorgeous.”

“Don’t call me that!”

“Okay, okay!” Hiccup raises his hands in surrender. “I love you.” He says earnestly.

“I love you too.” And then they’re kissing one last time, and this is really the last time, and it’s over far too soon, and then Hiccup is walking away. He stops at the road that turns onto the farm, shouting back,

“Stay gorgeous!” Jack can practically hear the smirk.

“I’ll get you for that! I love you, but I’ll get you for that!”

“I know! Love you!” And then he’s around the corner, gone from sight.

“He’ll be back.” He says, partly to Emma, mostly to himself. It’s taking every ounce of big-responsible-brother willpower to not go racing after Hiccup and hold him and kiss him and maybe do some other things, and tell him screw his plan, they can go together. But he doesn’t. He stays right there, staring at where Hiccup disappeared, then goes inside to make dinner for him and Emma.

What he really wants to do is absolutely nothing until Hiccup comes back, but then he really would be a damsel, which he most certainly was not. He mutters this to himself as he and Emma settle down to bed that night.

“Jack, you’re not a damsel, we’ve established this, now can I please go to sleep?”

“But he called me gorgeous!”

“Why is this a problem again?”She asks wearily.

“Because-because...Oh I don’t know! But I don’t like it!”

“I’m assuming you want to get revenge?”

“I want to make him eat his words.”

“How?”

Then an idea strikes. “I got it!”

“What?”

“I’m going to make myself pretty.” He announces with a flourish. “That’ll show him to call me gorgeous, I’ll floor him.” He hums self-satisfactorily. He thinks for a moment. “Emma?”

“Whaaaat?”

“How do you think I could, you know, look nice?”

“You’re asking this now?” Jack turns the puppy dog eyes on her. “Fine! You could bathe for one. Wash your hair, dig out that forest behind your ears, change your shirt-”

“Alright, alright, I get the idea. It isn’t easy being clean is it?”

“Nope. Welcome to the rest of the world. Took you long enough to get here. Now can I pleeeeeaaaasssseeee go to sleep?”

“Yeah, sorry, it’s just-”

“It’s Hiccup, I know.”

“Go to sleep, okay?”

“Okay.”

So the next morning, Jack began his work(Actually he didn’t get started until the early afternoon because of all his chores, he was doing the work of three people, but when he got to work, he really got to work.) First he took a nice cold bath, scrubbing every inch of himself, and it is not an exaggeration to say that years worth of dirt and grime came off. It soon became clear that his skin was the color of porcelain, not a blemish to be seen. While his hair dried, he would exercise, trying to get a bit of muscle(he was rather bony), and wash his face. His ice blue eyes looked even brighter against his newly pale skin. And then he would brush his hair. His hair which previously had been mostly mud and grime colored now resembled the most decadent chocolate, as if he were a sugar treat with the very top dipped in the richest molten cocoa. To be perfectly honest, he hated all of this, but he did it anyway, because wouldn’t Hiccup be surprised when he saw him all clean like this. (Also it was a welcome distraction from the missing).

And very quickly now, his potential began to be realized. From twentieth he jumped to fifteenth within two weeks, an unheard of change in such a time. And three weeks after that he was ninth and moving. The competition was tremendous now, but the day after he was ninth, a letter arrived from Hiccup, and just reading it put him up to eighth. That was what was really doing it more than anything, he was in love, and that love was growing constantly, and people were dazzled when he delivered milk in the morning. Some people could only stare, but many talked, and found him kinder than before. Even the other youths would nod and smile and ask after Hiccup, which was a mistake unless you happened to have a lot of spare time, because when somebody asked Jack how Hiccup was doing-well, he told them. He was fabulous, things were looking up, there were letters every week, soon they’d be together again….Listeners had a tough time paying strict attention, but they did their best, because Jack loved him so completely.

Which was why Hiccup’s death hit him the way it did.

He had written just before he sailed for America. The Valkyrie was his ship, and he loved him. There was a bit of money in the envelope, with the promise of more to come, and it had seemed like they wouldn’t be separated long at all. Then there were no letters, but that was natural; he was at sea. Then the news came.

Jack came back one morning to find Emma wooden, barely holding back tears. Jack cast off his bag and kneeled in front of her, checking for hurts. “Hey kiddo, what’s going on?” He lifted up her chin to meet her eyes.

She mumbles, gesturing weakly to a piece of paper in her hand.

“What was that?”

“Carolina coast. Without warning, at night.”

“What?” He furrowed his brow.

“Pirates.” Barely a whisper. Jack sunk down to the floor. Quiet in the room.

“He’s-he’s been taken prisoner?” He managed. Emma was crying silently now.

“No. It was Grimbeard. The Dread Pirate Grimbeard.”

“The one who never leaves survivors.” Jack stated simply.

“Yes.”

“Oh.” Suddenly Jack was talking very fast; “Was he stabbed?...Did he drown?....Did they cut his throat while he was sleeping?.....Did they wake him up?” He stood. “Sorry, I’m being stupid,” He shakes his head. “The way they got him doesn’t matter. I’ll….I’m….I’ll be in my room. There’s some food in the cupboard...make what you like...I…”

With that he hurried to his old room, now stripped of furniture. He stayed there two days. He would have stayed longer, but there was Emma to think about. When he finally came out, the second morning after he heard the news, he apologized.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

“Jack, it’s okay. Are...are you okay?”

“I’m alright.” He set about making breakfast. Emma watched him closely. He’d changed.

In point of fact, he’d never looked better. He had entered his room just an impossibly lovely boy. The young man who emerged was a trifle thinner, a great deal wiser, and an ocean sadder. His chocolate hair had snow white running through it, making him appear other worldly. His eyes had new depths to them, they understood the nature of pain. Beneath his features, there was character, and a sure knowledge of suffering. He was eighteen. The most beautiful person in a hundred years. He couldn’t care less.

“You sure you’re okay Jack?”

“Fine.” He sipped his cocoa.

“Really?”

Jack lied, “Yes,” then thinking better of it added, “But I will never love again.”

And he never did.