Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Nature Boy

Chapter Text

A couple weeks in, Hiccup had actually started to enjoy the chaos of dragon training. The fact he was still in danger was not lost on him, of course. He was still keenly aware of the fact that even an accidental swipe of a tail or a wing—or an axe, for that matter—could mean a swift end, but he was riding such a high as he had never felt before in his life. 

His neck ached under the weight of his new viking helmet, but it meant his father trusted him. Training was disordered and unpretentious as ever, but Toothless had taught him more in the span of a couple weeks, than he was pretty sure his ancestors had managed to learn in generations. And he had flown through the skies on dragon back, which made every bruise, every cut, every insult he had endured up to that point, worth it.

Now in the middle of a training session, he almost relaxed against the little wooden hurdle he was hiding behind, listening to the gronckle buzzing around somewhere beyond. He’d learned very quickly that despite what their first encounter might have suggested, it wasn’t very aggressive at all and only appeared that way because it got a little too excited about being let out of its cage. He was pretty sure that the dragon had picked up on the fact he was different from the other vikings and would not hurt it, too. So he had nothing to fear.

He felt a thud as Astrid joined him behind the wooden hurdle. She looked more desperate than usual, but only as breathtaking as ever.

‘Stay out of my way! I'm winning this thing,’ she said coldly, pushing down his shield to better give him her death glare.

‘Good,’ Hiccup replied. ‘Please, by all means.’

But she had already cartwheeled off, probably hadn’t even registered his words. Maybe this was how it would always be. Hiccup didn’t mind.

He’d entered the arena that morning with the intention to let Astrid have this training session, actually. He wanted her to win sometime. But now that wasn’t looking very doable anymore. He knew his dad was watching—earlier he’d spotted the unmistakable square silhouette standing above. And there was also the fact that he’d started trying to keep the others from actually hurting the arena dragons—and Astrid was an especially competent candidate with an especially sharp axe. Between that and the fact the gronckle had just spotted him and was beelining directly towards him, there wasn’t much else he could do but wait until it was upon him and go for the disarming scratch under the jaw. He heard Astrid’s battle cry, but he knew she wouldn’t reach them in time.

He wasn’t actually sure what the other vikings thought they saw him do. He never hit the dragons, not with shields, not with axes or swords. Maybe they thought his presence disarmed them, maybe they thought he was simply a very very lean kind of strong and overpowered them with his bare hands. Whatever it was, he hoped his father saw the pacified gronckle at his feet and thought the same.

Next thing he knew, Astrid was still spitting insults (something about munge buckets which he tried not to take too personally) and Hiccup knew he had drawn enough attention to himself for the day. Toothless was waiting for him to go flying.

‘So, later.’ He tried to make a subtle exit, but Gobber grabbed him with his hook before he could.

‘Not so fast!’

‘I’m kinda late for—‘, he started making up an excuse but was cut off by the cold iron of the thankfully blunt part of Astrid’s axe against his throat.

‘What?! Late for what, exactly?!’ she demanded. 

Truly, Hiccup had no idea how he would’ve finished that sentence had she not interrupted, but he was saved from having to lamely lie his way out yet again when his father’s voice boomed down from above:

‘Okay, quiet down. The Elder has decided.’

Hiccup’s heart jumped up into his throat. The elder had decided—what. Everything got very serious very quickly. His mind began to race as he was vaguely aware of Astrid removing her axe, of Gobber’s hook hovering over her head, of everyone’s attention trained on Gothi. And she was shaking her head. No.

He looked over to Astrid. He shouldn’t have been surprised. He should have let here get the gronckle. And he knew it wouldn’t have made a difference. Gobber’s hand hovered over his own head now. He’d honestly been trying not to think about this day, this inevitable day, and had done such a good job with it, that he realised he wasn’t prepared for it at all. He even caught himself hoping that Gothi had chosen someone else completely, but she was nodding in approval of him. He didn’t lift up his gaze to see her do it, but the cheering masses didn’t leave any doubt. 

She looked furious with him, Astrid. And she was right to be.

Hiccup felt the sounds of the roaring crowd pierce his skull, the sun was suddenly too bright and he felt faint. He thought he heard Gobber say something encouraging and felt vaguely happy for the man. Then Fishlegs picked him up onto his shoulder, the rest of his peers cheering for him. He looked up in time to see his father bellow down words of encouragement:

‘Ha, ha! That's my boy!’

‘Heh. Oh, yeah! Yes! I can't wait. I am so…so unbelievable excited…’ he mumbled, but he was pretty sure that in the commotion, no one was listening to him, much less picking up on his heavy sarcasm. Coming to dragon training as promised had all been well and good while that was all that it was. But in a few fateful moments, it had changed into something very different. Everyone was celebrating, but all Hiccup could think, was that he had just won the great honour of murdering a feeling, intelligent creature for all the village to watch.

_____________

Slipping away was, unsurprisingly, a lot harder on that day than it usually was. But Hiccup had gotten quite good at sneaking around in the last couple of weeks and he put his new skill to use. Gobber had released him from obligations at the forge for the day, so that was one less place he was expected to be, which was good. To the other teens, Hiccup said that his dad, the chief, wanted him for lunch at their home (which was true), whereas he told his father that his ‘friends’ had wanted to celebrate with him somewhere else (also true). But of course, he planned on keeping neither appointment.

Having finally escaped to his thinking cliff, Hiccup thought about what he needed to get before they could go.

He wasn’t sure when he had decided they were leaving, but somewhere between the moment Gothi had made her choice and when the last viking had slapped the wind from out his lungs in congratulation, he’d realised they couldn’t stay. It had been nice while it lasted—living a double life. A lovely dream. But reality had set in again with his father’s return from the expedition.

Astrid had looked so angry with him—all because she thought he would get to kill a dragon instead of her. His peers who used to shove him around, had suddenly begun to treat him with dignity, only because they thought he would soon kill his first dragon. To the whole village he was no longer a nuisance because he could finally help them kill more dragons. To his father he was finally a son to be proud of. They all treated him like a completely different person, but he wasn’t changed at all—it was all just one big trick. Behind it he was still the same little Hiccup. The only one who had ever accepted that version of Hiccup, was Toothless.

And he could never let them find Toothless. The dragon needed him.

Thinking about it now, he realised it was always going to come to this. He hadn’t been able to kill a dragon before he’d found out the truth about them, and he certainly wasn’t going to be able to kill one now. Not that he would ever want to again. He could think of nothing more…reprehensible, more disgraceful.

And he knew that was exactly what they would all think of him if they found out about even just a fraction of what he was doing behind their backs. They could barely accept him when he was simply inept—they would be horrified now. They could never love him, his own father could never love him if he knew.

_____________

His thoughts weighed heavy on him as he snuck back into the village and through the streets where he had grown up, the streets he knew like the back of his own hand. A couple times he was almost spotted, but he always managed to slink away into some shadow at the last moment. An ability he must have picked up from Toothless, thought Hiccup with a sad smile.

Soon the forge’s back entrance was in sight and the second the coast was clear, Hiccup was in. He weaved silently and undetected past a hard-at-work Gobber and into his nook to pack up some things he figured he might need while on the run: maps, charcoal, parchment, tools for tail fin maintenance, thread, needles, a small sheep bladder of oil for the gears in Toothless’ tail, and of course his notes and schematics. Toothless’s tail fin worked fine at the moment but it could definitely use some upgrades to improve sturdiness and stability during flight. He was thinking of trying a different way of drawing out the metal… 

He got lost in thought checking his notes, only to be jolted out of it by the sound of Gobber’s heavy asymmetric steps getting a little too close, making Hiccup jump into the dusty corner behind the door. Gobber had no reason to go into his nook but Hiccup was afraid he’d given himself away with all the shuffling, and really didn’t want to have to awkwardly lie again, especially not to his mentor. As Gobber moved away, whistling contentedly to himself, Hiccup relaxed again and continued carefully placing things into his satchel bag. A satchel bag that Gobber had gifted him for his birthday a few years ago. He’d secretly thought it was a lame gift at the time but had used it almost every day since.

Hit by another wave of introspection, he realised Gobber had always been there—or had at least tried to be. His father, probably because of his chiefly duties, hadn’t had the time or the patience for Hiccup’s constant antics, but Gobber had. And without everything he’d taught Hiccup about blacksmithing, craftsmanship and dragons, Toothless wouldn’t have a new tail fin at all. 

Gobber would be so disappointed when Hiccup wouldn’t be there to claim the monstrous nightmare’s head tomorrow. After all his training, after all the wisdom he had imparted. Hiccup could hardly bear the thought, but he even briefly tormented himself with the image of how Gobber would react if he ever saw Toothless, with all those dragon-killing weapons that Hiccup had repurposed into a prosthetic, a saddle. He remembered with horror how he had actually brought Toothless to the forge one night. What had he been thinking?

After checking he had everything and then checking again, Hiccup snuck back out and ran. He was afraid if he didn’t, that he might change his mind.

_____________

Back at the Haddock hut, Hiccup silently slipped into his home through the back entrance, as if already a stranger. He heard his father below him, humming to himself while tending to ledgers or documents, hopefully engrossed enough not to hear Hiccup packing up a spare tunic, trousers and some furs into a humble basket. He couldn’t take too much—Toothless would be carrying all of it and him on his back. His eyes landed on the helmet. He was never going to take it.

He’d already put on his leather riding gear at the forge, so this was it. He only had to find some provisions for the initial trip and he was leaving.

As soon as he realised this, he started to hesitate, felt his movements lose urgency. He heard his father humming the melody to the song every viking, from the youngest child all the way to the oldest elder, knew in their sleep.

I’m a viking through and through…

What would he think—his father? That he’d run away because he was a coward? That was almost true. Or that he’d been carried off by a wild dragon, after all? He would grieve…wouldn’t he? Hiccup realised he had to leave a note, but what on earth could he write? The chief was a pillar of vikingness, the proverbial viking who was ‘a viking through and through’. The dragons were his mortal enemies, now and forever.

Hiccup couldn’t confess his sins, he just couldn’t. His father probably wouldn’t even believe a note that told the truth. And yet, a million options raced through his mind: he could take the opportunity to air every petty grievance he had ever had—to make it hurt more, or he could leave out Toothless to soften the blow, or he could explain nothing…

The longer he stood there, paralysed, the more and more seriously he considered just coming out and saying it. People could change, he thought, even vikings could. This was his own flesh and blood. His father—his only living family.

But when had that ever meant a thing? An angry tear threatened to run down his cheek as Hiccup thought of every dead dragon he had ever seen. Dead at his father’s hands. The hands he remembered from early childhood as rough but warm and caring—they were soaked in blood. That blood wasn’t something that simply washed off when your son brought home a particularly unusual pet. And Hiccup would surely never see those hands as clean ever again.

He left as silently as he had come, a whisper in the wind.

_____________

‘Toothless, we’re leaving!’ Hiccup yelled out. He hadn’t spotted his friend yet, but he was around. ‘We’re leaving. Let's pack up. Looks like you and me are taking a little vacation, forever—‘

What was that? There was a sound like a human’s voice. A far off human voice that was getting closer. Had they heard him? He scrambled for his basket, his bag—where was Toothless? He whipped around and spotted the dragon perched on the big rock he liked. But he didn’t looked relaxed as Hiccup had gotten used to seeing him. His ears were raised and one twitched slightly, his pupils were so thin they were barely visible at all from the distance.

That was it, Hiccup thought, it was over, they were getting caught, not only together, but in the act of running away. Basically—they were dead.

Still, he ran to Toothless, leaving his basket behind a rock that wasn’t even big enough to hide it, hoping, praying, that whoever was coming would just turn around and walk the other way.

By the time he’d reached Toothless he could tell it was a female voice, letting out a scream in frustration now and again, and he could make out the unmistakable thump of axe meeting wood, too. He recognised the voice now. What kind of sick amusement were the gods getting from sending Astrid to this exact corner of the woods, right at the worst possible moment?

Toothless was growling deeply, unmoving. Hiccup started whispering softly to  him, desperately trying to calm him down, pushed with his whole body weight for Toothless to move in the other direction—she would see them, he tried to make the dragon understand. His heart beat so hard he barely heard his own whispers over its thundering, and Astrid was only getting closer.

‘Please, Toothless, we need to hide, now. Come on, bud, all I ask is that you trust me on this—‘

Finally, as if Hiccup had uttered the magic word, Toothless, turned around to let him get on his back, and they shot up into a pine tree, where Toothless perched on a high branch. Even over the last weeks, Hiccup hadn’t been able to figure out how much of what he said Toothless actually understood, but he had a hunch that it was more than the dragon let on. In moments like this, he could have sworn he actually understood every word.

They sat there silently as Astrid’s rampage lead her right to the cove, right to the very tree they were watching her from. She was yelling insults again, directed at no one but also somehow at everyone, and maybe even a little at herself. She threw her axe with so much power that the next tree it embedded itself into coughed up a whole family of wrens and a squirrel.

Hiccup watched, hardly breathing, terrified of being discovered. She had only to look up and squint… But he also found himself pulled to her, almost wishing for her to look up and squint. 

‘Hiccup!’, she bellowed into the open.

Had she followed him? Had she come looking for him? To finally confront him about his secrets?

He could try explaining…everything to her. She was his age, not set in her ways like his father or Gobber, or her own parents. There was room to manoeuvre, surely. 

Should he have Toothless land in front of her? Maybe not while she was holding that axe. He could feel Toothless repeatedly shifting ever so slightly beneath him, breaths shallow and quick, clearly uneasy at the weapon. Should he call out to her from above? No, she would run. They could easily catch her if she did, but that didn’t seem conducive to changing someone’s mind…

While trying to formulate a plan which he may or may not have eventually found the courage to execute, Hiccup failed to realise that Astrid had stopped madly running around, taking her anger out on conifers, and had trained her sight on something at the far end of the cove. Toothless had noticed, however, and huffed quietly but markedly, bringing Hiccup back down to earth. He lightly patted the side of the dragon’s skull in thanks.

‘What is she looking at?’ he breathed.

He watched her creep slowly in their opposite direction, watched her slowly raise her axe above her head, but he still couldn’t make out what she had spotted. He squinted, he leaned, and only right in the moment before Astrid had trained her axe to come down did he see that she was about to chop into a very little moss-green terrible terror. He opened his mouth in the beginnings of a silent yell, but Toothless seemed to have been way ahead of him, because the night fury snapped off a small twig which had been under his claws, sending it falling to the ground. The terrible terror, which had been lazily sniffing around some tree roots, probably looking for insects to eat, snapped to attention and was off before Astrid had time to bring down her axe anywhere near it.

Hiccup watched her swivel on her toe and use both arms to launch the weapon in no particular direction but with enough momentum to unbalance her and make her fall on her haunches. She screamed again, but for the first time Hiccup didn’t find her outburst charmingly typically ‘Astrid’. He found the sound shrill and grating—pitiful.

That little dragon had done nothing to her. Terrible terrors were not honourable kills, nor were they particularly good to eat, nor was their hide very workable. And that one had been so small…barely the size of a cat. She’d had no reason to go after it, other than to stroke her own wounded ego. Astrid…how could she?

And then it hit Hiccup. Like a boar stampede it hit him. She could because that’s who she was. Astrid—the perfect viking, the perfect warrior, the perfect dragon killer. She was the heir his father had always wished for, Gobber's perfect student. She was everything they needed him to be. Unwavering, unfaltering. He could not change her mind about dragons any more than he could teach a pike to climb trees. She was a viking. 

Hiccup, simply put, was not.

_____________

They sat in that tree for another half hour, long after they’d seen Astrid dejectedly trudge back to the village, just to be sure it was safe. Toothless had relaxed and was warbling softly, sensing Hiccup’s distress.

‘Alright, Toothless, let’s get going.’

His legs tightened on the dragon’s flanks and with the sound of branches creaking, they half-jumped, half-glided back down in to the cove. Astrid hadn’t seen the basket in her anger, so he scooped it up, went over its contents once again. 

Spare clothing, spare furs, some dried fruit and fish, his water skin. His satchel of supplies fit in the basket too, so after he checked it he packed it in as well. Tentatively, he also checked the small dagger he had hidden in his boot, as well as the larger knife which he had strapped to his belt. The former was his own, the latter was his father’s. Hiccup hadn’t planned on stealing it or anything, but he’d seen it on a workbench at the forge, where the chief had probably left it to be sharpened, and had taken it on impulse. His father had so many, Hiccup was sure just one wouldn’t be missed. 

It was unusual somehow—the weight of a weapon in his hands combined with the weight of the knowledge that he intended to use it. Over the last few weeks he’d gotten used to running around completely unarmed. But he didn’t feel safe like that anymore, not even on Berk, and he suspected it wouldn’t exactly get safer out there. He knew Toothless would take care of him, but he also needed to be prepared to take care of Toothless.

Standing next to his best friend, in their cove, where his whole world had changed, all his belongings on his back, Hiccup realised that this was it. They were all set to leave. As the finality of it seeped in, his thoughts slowed back down and he realised he felt a little frail. This was the first truly quiet, resolute moment Hiccup had gotten since everything started to go wrong. All too suddenly, it was like a spell was lifted and every emotion he had been too scared to fully feel all day came flooding in at full force.

The space in his chest where his heart lived began to physically ache, hot tears finally streamed down his face and he felt weak and tired. Toothless let out a questioning trill. Hiccup hated that he made his friend worry.

‘It’s,’ he sniffled, ‘it’s alright, bud. We don’t need them, do we? All we need is each other.’

He tried to swallow away the painful lump in his throat.

‘They want to hurt you, but I won’t let them. And they haven't exactly treated me like a prince either, if we're being honest. I don’t belong in a place where killing dragons for sport is what makes you worth something. There’s nothing here for me, and they’re all better off without a traitor like me getting in their way anyway.'

Toothless whistled at the word ‘traitor’.

‘Oh, don’t worry, Toothless. I’m glad to be a traitor if it means it means doing what I know is right.’

He petted the dragon’s nose, climbed on his back, and together they took to the air. But they weren’t leaving Berk just yet. There was one more traitorous thing they had to do.

_____________

The sun was threatening to set soon when they landed on one of Berk’s sea stacks, soundlessly, unseen. Now they had only to wait for night to fall, for the absolute cover of darkness when Toothless owned the skies. For now they waited, watching the dragon training arena. Planning their incursion.

Astrid’s words replayed in Hiccup’s mind: Our parents' war is about to become ours! Figure out which side you're on.