Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

His fingers clenched around wet grass. Jack was thankful it was night and the sun couldn’t blind him through his half-open lids. That didn't mean his waking was much more pleasant. His head throbbed with pain and he could feel something hard and uncomfortable digging into his side as he laid there. With a great deal of struggle he had managed to keep his eyes focused, and he was met face to face with the round shape of a full moon.

The ceaseless giant watched him with a fixed stare, but no eyes, filling him with a feeling of familiarity. The kind that one only gets looking at an old friend. The more he gaped at it, the more the night light seemed to be pulsating, sending him a signal. One only he could understand, although he didn’t know what made him so sure of that.

He reached his hand towards it and he could almost make out the words.

“Jack,” it spoke, with no mouth to be found. “You are a Guardian, remember.”

What did it mean? A guardian of what? He wanted to question it, but just as fast it spoke, it also fell back into its cold silence.

He arose from his position with frustration. Did he just hear the moon speak? How did it know his name?

He focused on the last memory he had. The frozen lake, the sound of cracking, the terrified look on his sister’s face, the freezing depth of the water.

Nothing made sense. Did someone pull him out of the water? Where was Flee? He called out to his sister.

“Flee?”, he asked, but the words fell flat on the wind rushing in his ears. “Mary?”

His throat felt hoarse. He must’ve been lying there a while, since his clothes didn't seem to feel dripping wet, only slightly damp around his back. The bright colour of the cloak he was wearing caught his attention. It was strikingly blue, the colour of sapphires, or maybe azure. The white spots covering his vision didn’t help him distinguish the shade. He could indistinctly recall he didn't own any blue coats, or any bright clothing for that matter. His family had much more important expenses to worry about than dyes and pigments, and he had never complained about it. Not like Flee had.

He raised his arm to inspect the garment wrapped around him. The fabric was exceptionally soft and smooth to the touch. It felt almost gentle against his fingertips, ever so faintly prickling at his skin as to tell him it was wool. The cloak was fastened with silver buttons that reached up to his neck, polished, adorned by engravings of small snowflakes in the middle of each one.

An argent thread was weaved through the sides of the fabric in immaculate stitching. On his neckline the wool overlapped diagonally across the chest in a triangular pattern, the collar shifting into a deep hood that rested around his neck and fell onto his back in an almost scarf-like manner. The warm fabric draped off his shoulders, loosely embracing his torso and upper thighs.

Did somebody wrap it around him? He certainly couldn't imagine that was the case. What would possess someone to waste an expensive piece of clothing on a poor, dying boy?

His wandering thoughts hilted when he caught sounds of loud shuffling nearby. He turned his head towards the sound. Two circular lights, encompassed by a black shadow, slowly creeped closer towards him. When it finally stopped, about a stone's throw away from him, in moonlight he was able to make out some details. The small twitch of ears, the lack of fur, and the long tail that swished from side to side. Big, shining green eyes that watched him from ahead.

While it did not look like any animal Jack had ever seen, the behaviour and mannerisms reminded him of a wild cat preparing to strike. He knew he had to move if he didn’t want to end up as the thing’s dinner. He tried to get up, but the instant hit of intense nausea and dizziness swept him off his feet. That didn’t stop his further attempts at escaping.

Fighting against gravity and his pounding head he steadied himself upwards, ready to take his leave. He raised his hands slightly, slowly, hoping the motion would not be recognised as threatening. Simultaneously, not breaking eye contact with the animal, he began carefully backing away.

”Easy,” he mouthed towards the creature as his steps became wider. A prickly sensation on his back made him come to a halt.

A point of a blade, he recognised. Just his luck.

“Who are you?” his assailant’s voice was stern, slightly nasal, and Jack could make out an edge of exhaustion in it. “What are you doing here?”

Jack hesitated. “I,” he began, eyeing the creature in front of him. Its expression shifted, now studying him with a curious stare, instead of peering at him like a predator in search of a hunt. He swallowed carefully, throat still dry from lack of usage.

“I’m Jackson. Jack,” he corrected himself with faux cheerfulness, hoping the nickname would make him appear a negligible hazard. A beat passed, the blade pressed scarcely deeper into his back, and even though Jack couldn’t see the face of the man behind him, the impatience was clear when he spoke.

“Alright, Jack,” he pronounced the name like it was foreign on his lips. “Why are you here?” he repeated slowly.

Jack tried to find the words, opening and closing his mouth, but what came out was a muffled sound of confusion. He lowered his hand, gazing down. He looked at his clothes, his feet, noticing just then that they were bare. Why was he here? Where was ‘here’? He had drowned, he was sure of it. But then how was he standing in the middle of a field with a man pressing a sword to his back and what he could only assume to be the man’s strange companion cutting off his escape?

A strong gust of wind brought him back from cogitation. He felt the pressure being lifted from his back, as his legs stumbled forward, the unexpected push nearly toppling him over. The black creature rose its body from its crouched position, ears pointing forwards, tail twitching. The creature circled, almost as if following the breeze, before drawing near, head cocking to the side. Every muscle in Jack’s body tensed at the sudden proximity, his pupils darting back and forth, studying the details of the animal in front of him.

Smooth, jet-black scales covered its body, along with a leather harness strapped to his back. Four large paws were clawing at the ground beneath them, a long tail curved at the tip, flattening the plants with its fins. Two huge wings were pressed neatly against its sides. Jack felt his jaw go slack. A dragon! It was a dragon!

His breath hitched as he reached his hand out slowly. Now why would he do that? Was he going insane?

Green eyes twinkled at him and a scaly snout pushed itself into his palm. He let out the breath he didn't realise he was holding, as a groan echoed behind him.

“Toothless…” a muffled voice rang. “Ah, it’s not like the point of dragon intimidation is for the dragon to be intimidating!” The man threw his hands in the air. “What do I know!”

Toothless, because that was apparently the dragon’s name, jumped excitedly around Jack, looking between him and his human friend. Jack followed its movements with a disbelieving smile.

“Oh, no, he’s plenty intimidating! He had me fearing for my life!” Jack exclaimed with a soft chuckle. The dragon flung its tail, catching on his legs, causing Jack to fall backwards with a surprised yelp.

He burst out into laughter that was met with a complete lack of amusement from half of his audience. Green irises gazed at him in bright moonlight, shooting him an unimpressed stare from under slightly furrowed brows. Auburn hair framed the stranger’s jaw, lips pressed together in a flat line. He kept his arms crossed, his left hand clenching a weirdly shaped hilt. Jack eyed it wondering silently where was the blade he felt on his spine just a moment ago.

“Yes, laugh it off, very funny,” the boy in front of him rolled his eyes, voice dripping with sarcasm, and Jack grinned. Whatever traces of threat have been there before they were long gone by now. This boy could not have been much older than Jack himself. “I’m still waiting.”

His joyful expression melted off into a more hesitant smile as he spoke. “I’m not sure. I think it might’ve had something to do with the ‘Guardians’?” he tried. Whoever the ‘Guardians’ were, Jack wasn’t sure it’d be the wisest to disclose he was apparently one of them.

It still seemed to hit the jackpot, as the stranger’s annoyed expression morphed into something positive, maybe even relieving. A pleasant surprise.

“The Guardians? You were looking for them?” Jack nodded once, testing. “Wow. Well, that… that was not what I was expecting,” the stranger uttered in disbelief, dragging his hand through his hair.

If there was a good time to ask about anything, there was no time like the present.

“Where are we anyway?” Jack muttered, nervously looking around. A vast field of grass spread ahead of him, some further patches of plants denser than the other, blurring around the edges in various shades of muted green dusted by the shadows of night.

The air was crisp and he could make out a distant hum of water waves crashing against rocks. The smell of salt and damp ground filled his lungs. The spots came back, partially covering his vision, but he caught the sight of an extended palm, and a cheeky expression that creeped onto the face of its owner.

“The Isle of Berk,” the stranger stated, taking Jack’s hand and pulling him upwards. “An island in the middle of the Barbaric Archipelago.”

Jack started dusting himself off, lifting his head at the stranger, expression dumbfounded. “Oh, and- I… how far is that from Hawthrorne? Roughly?” The stranger tilted his head with a puzzled look.

“‘Haw-thorne’?”

Oh. Jack did die.

The world was spinning. His head was pounding, his ears ringing, and he could feel a wave of nausea lingering. He couldn’t understand any more words coming out of the stranger’s mouth, as he wavered on his feet. He knew this feeling, he knew it wasn’t just emotions. It reminded him of the time two years ago, when a branch snapped under him and he fell plummeting to the ground, head miraculously avoiding hitting most twigs on his way down.

It didn’t save him from the two following weeks he spent in bed and his sister’s worried eyes, as she clung to his side for most of that time. He could still feel the faint sting of guilt, remembering as he caressed her hair, her face pressed against his chest whilst she begged him to stop being so reckless. He promised he would. He did not know if he kept the promise.

He blinked away the memory and tried to focus on the stranger. The boy in leather armor was holding him upwards, looking him over in concern. He snorted when he thought back to just a moment ago, when the same hands aimed a weapon at his back.

“I’m okay,” Jack slurred, although he still couldn’t focus on the stranger’s words. The stranger let out a sound Jack thought was a scoff. “I’ll… I’ll be fine,” he started, ignoring any sounds of protest. “I must’ve just banged my head a little.”

“You don’t say.”

“No! It’s okay. I just need to,” he stopped, trying to stay coherent. “Rest. I need rest. I’m just going to…” he attempted to recall his mother’s words, as she told him to stay in bed. “I have a confusion? Commotion? In my head.”

He raised a finger to point at his temple, but missed, and jabbed himself in the eye instead.

The stranger, or were there two of them now, looked at his dragon with a funny look on his face. “Yeah, I see what you mean, bud,” the man said, shaking his head. Heads? “Should we take him to Gothi?” The dragon grumbled in response.

A gust of wind blew in his face, as Jack shifted to get up again. When did he sit down?

“Oh, no, you’re not!” A firm grip held him down.

“I’ll be okay,” he repeated. “Just need to find a.. tree to sleep it off,” he didn’t know why resting on a high branch seemed like a perfectly sane idea at the moment, but he decided to temporarily stop questioning his mind. His thoughts were fuzzy enough without the extra queries.

Quiet nights were not necessarily a new development on Berk. Ever since the Vikings made peace with the dragons, there have been considerably less evenings filled with carnage, bloodshed, and hollering. Of course that didn’t mean they rid of them entirely, in fact when they did happen they were often more intense than ever, but Hiccup grew to accept occasional quiet nights as part of their new reality.

What was new were the strong gusts of wind pushing his dragon off the course Hiccup had set for their reconnaissance, leading them in the direction of the pasture. New was the strange, barefooted boy, laying in the middle of the field. New was the reaction of Toothless, who to the Dragon Rider’s confusion took to the odd boy, Jack, with just a simple puff of the breeze.

Hiccup did not know what to make of this situation.

So he did what he could to keep the boy from further injuring himself, as they flew back to the village. He should take Jack to Gothi. He knew little of head injuries, but from Jack’s ramblings it wasn’t hard to figure that was probably the case. Not his first time, too, it seemed, although that was not surprising. Injuries weren’t actually rare, even without the threat from the dragons.

The floorboards creaked under their weight as Toothless landed in front of Gothi's Hut. Hiccup could see the lights of the village flicker in the distance, and he was grateful for the raised, secluded position of their Elder's house. He steadied Jack as they climbed off the dragon's back and headed for the door. His firm knock was met with silence. He knocked again, a little louder, but yet again, it was fruitless.

Jack shifted under his grip, inspecting the fabric of his cloak. "I still don't understand why it's blue," he muttered, seemingly to himself, with a slight hiss to his voice. Hiccup brushed it off. Anything the boy had said has only left him with more questions bubbling in his throat.

Hiccup pushed the door open, noting that Gothi was probably not there. Where would an old woman like her have gone in the middle of the night was beyond him, but he didn't know if he actually wanted the answer for that. You don't live as long as her as a Viking without having a few skeletons in your closet.

The hut would be void of any presence, if not for the flock of Terrible Terrors in one corner. The dragons stirred in their sleep as Hiccup led Jack inside the house.

"I'm sure she will be back soon," he stated. “Let's just wait for her here.”

True to his word, Gothi did come back, but it wasn't anytime soon. The sun began to peek over the horizon, soft sunbeams brushing against their eyelids, as the door finally creaked open and an older woman stepped into the hut. She looked over at a stranger resting in bed, and the silhouette of the future chief, huddled nearby, laying against his Night Fury. She then promptly whacked Hiccup’s head with her staff.

The boy jolted awake with a small yelp, and his dragon shifted, letting him slide off onto the floorboards. “Gothi!” Hiccup sprung up to his feet. “You’re back!”

Gothi raised one eyebrow, leveling him with an unimpressed stare, before pointing at Jack with her staff.

“Ah! This…” Hiccup started, shrinking a little. That got him another nudge, this one to his stomach. He winced. “I might’ve found him passed out in the field. I don’t think he’s a threat? Toothless sure seemed to warm up to him quickly. Which was… odd.”

The dragon raised his head at the mention of his name. Hiccup shook his head again, remembering the reason they came here.

“Anyway, I think he might have hit his head? He wasn’t making much sense. Mostly complained about his clothes?” He said like Gothi would know what to make of it. Truth be told, he thought if anyone could it would be her.

“He told me his name was Jack,” he added.

That piece of information made the elder woman’s eyes widen slightly, as she got closer to the sleeping boy, inspecting him with careful hands, her gaze bordering between disbelief and suspicion. She finally pulled herself away from the bed, turning to Hiccup, pointing at his side as she came closer. He looked down and pulled out a small piece of charcoal she had demanded. Gothi fished out a small piece of parchment from a nearby shelf, before she grabbed the charcoal stump and started drawing out runes. She handed the parchment back to Hiccup and he graced it with a strange look.

“This…” doesn’t make any sense, is what he wanted to say, but he bit his tongue, before questioning the Elder. His hesitation clearly irritated her, as she leveled him with an impatient look, all but pushing him out of the hut. He wanted to argue, but the wooden door was slammed shut right in his face. Toothless let out a small, amused huff behind him.

“What a sharp observation, bud,” Hiccup rolled his eyes. Upon letting out a small sigh, he started climbing onto the Night Fury.

“To the forge we fly.”

They landed near the entrance, and Hiccup soon buried himself in work, scrutinizing Gothi’s scribbles for any hidden clues. He didn’t find any. In front of him sat a description of something clearly impossible to produce. He breathed through clenched teeth, brows furrowed in concentration, and straightened his back, accepting the challenge.

The following hours passed in a blur of charcoal drawings, tools wheezing and buzzing, as metal clanked around them, sprinkling the stone floor with sparks and shards. The hammer barely missed his hand when he was pulled to reality having heard a loud shout of his own name.

“Gobber, thank you for warning!” He let out an exasperated response, setting the hammer down. Toothless’ ears barely twitched at the commotion.

“Where have ye been, ye bampot?” Gobber, as always, decided to ignore his discontent. “We thought ye were dead! Stoic was about to send a search party! I told him ye’d be probably long gone by the time those bums could get to their axes.”

Hiccup raised a brow. “You thought I was dead?”

“Eh, maimed at best.”

“I have a Night Fury!” Hiccup pointed at the sleeping dragon, who only opened one eye prior to turning his head away from both Vikings, with a quiet, offended puff.

“Aye, hasn’t stopped ye before!” Gobber exclaimed, peering over Hiccup’s shoulder at the papers scattered on the table. “Is that what’s been keeping ye thrang?” Hiccup nodded once.

“I think I’m close to finishing the prototype," the boy rubbed his eyes in frustration, smearing some charcoal onto his cheek. Gobber looked to him with an amused expression, turning back to studying the papers. He picked up the piece of parchment perched up against one of the scrap boxes.

“Ye got those from Gothi?”

Hiccup eyed him suspiciously, nodding again. “How did you know that?” Hiccup said in an accusatory tone. Gobber barked out a laugh.

“Well, I reckon she sent you off to burn yeself out before botherin’ her again.”

“Wait,” Hiccup started, eyes squinting and eventually widening in disbelief. “Wait, you mean to tell me this whole thing was pointless?! It took me hours to make it work!” Hiccup gestured widely at the blueprints.

“Aye, and if I know Gothi ye were never supposed to.”

Hiccup gaped at him, and Gobber let out a low, impressed whistle, eyeing this new invention one last time, before disappearing around the corner. Hiccup has been duped by a scary old lady. He let his head fall onto the workbench.

His next visit to Gothi was ever so uneventful. The boy could not even step into the hut, being met with a scowl upon his knocking. He spotted a slender silhouette wrapped in a blue cloak and a thick woolen blanket, peering at the door from the depth of the room, with a curious expression. He raised his hand to wave, and Jack waved back.

The moment was short-lived, though, because Gothi smacked his hand with her staff, and then pointing at the sun, brought out two fingers. He was sent on his way with one final jab to the chest.

He cursed out the violent nature of Vikings. He could've easily understood the message without any extra bruises, but, alas, the brutal culture of Berk was not something he wasn’t already used to. It felt like the only emotions he's been experiencing as of late were irritation and confusion. He was beginning to think he had forgotten about something crucial.

The Dragon Rider decided against dwelling on his feelings, trying to shake off the exasperation building up between his ribs. He could do things much more useful than dwelling. He expressed this notion in a resigned tone, his shoulders dropping slightly in what was definitely not a sulking defeat. Soon, Hiccup and Toothless soared towards the pasture, nearing the place where Hiccup had first found Jack.

“See anything strange, bud?”

Toothless answered him with a clicky grumble followed by a huff.

“Yeah, neither do I.”

Hiccup didn't know what he was expecting, but that didn’t stop him from being surprised when he saw exactly nothing out of the ordinary. The grass was rippling under them, moving in fluid motions, like waves of a green sea. Small patches of snow that had yet to melt, lingering through the mid-spring, covered some of the field. Bit closer to the villageside sheep were grazing around freely, basking in the remnants of the daylight. Hiccup suppressed yet another sigh.

“I don’t thi-,” the words died in his throat, replaced by a surprised hiss when a cold breeze hit their side with great force. Hiccup steadied himself in the saddle.

“This wind situation is just getting weirder,” he mumbled. Just as he thought everything had calmed down, Toothless’ ears twitched, his neck straightened turning slightly to the left, and they went plummeting downwards.

“Oh, great.”

Landing, they found themselves in a much taller grass, and Hiccup almost rolled his eyes, mistaking it momentarily for Dragon Nip. He got off the Night Fury, noticing how his dragon's eyes narrowed in search as he leaned forward, rapidly walking away.

Scanning the area Hiccup noticed they were not far from the fringe of the forest. The tree crowns reached towards the amber-tinted sky, their shadows stretching on the ground, almost close enough to cast a shade at their legs. The soft euphony of birds singing echoed in the distance. His dragon shuffled through the grass, and Hiccup audibly questioned the Night Fury’s behaviour.

Toothless stilled, finally, before turning to Hiccup, and then shifting his attention back to the object on the ground he kept nudging with his snout. Hiccup drew near.

“Ah, you know this one is much smaller than the ones you usually go for,” the Dragon Rider said feigning interest. Toothless let out an unimpressed huff, glaring at him. “Oh, come on! You brought us here to look at a stick?” Hiccup asked incredulously.

That earned him a grumble and a film slap on the head as the left wing nudged him forward ever so helpfully.

“Toothless! It's a stick!” The Berkian explained, biting down a grin. “What do you propose we do with-,” he stopped himself, furrowing his brows.

“A shepherd's staff?”

The Night Fury blinked at him impatiently. Hiccup heaved a sigh. “It's a pasture. Or are you suggesting Stevenson attacked Jack and left him there to freeze?” Hiccup personally thought it pretty funny, but the joke clearly didn't land with Toothless, as he locked a claw around the staff and sent it flying straight at Hiccup. The boy managed to catch it before it fell back to the ground, but not avoiding the blunt hit on the head. Tough crowd.

“Yes, thank you,” he scoffed, rubbing his forehead. “Very mature. I guess there won't be much harm in checking. Not like we get to be very picky with the clues.”

The visit to the Shepherd's house was about as fruitful as his last visit to Gothi. And that is to say, not at all. Stevenson did not knock out any suspicious looking teenagers in the past few days, nor did he lose his staff.

He did, however, try to coerce Hiccup into leaving the staff behind. As he had phrased it ‘it was a good staff, if a bit unassuming’. ‘Sturdy’, he had called it.

He could keep dreaming. Hiccup was not about to let go of the potential evidence anytime soon, even if it was just a stick. Berk didn't have any other shepherds, so the chances of finding a pastoral crook that Stevenson would not recognise were seemingly slim. And yet here they were.

The sun had long fallen beyond the horizon when the pair stepped into Hiccup’s bedroom through the entrance on the roof. The Dragon Rider headed towards the door as he perched the staff against the wall.

“Alright, bud, I-”

“HICCUP!” The colossal frame of his father barged into his room. Ah. That’s what he was forgetting.

Stoic grabbed his son’s shoulder. “Son, where have you been? Gobber tells me you holed up yourself in the forge again? After you’ve been to Gothi, gods know why! First you do not report after reconnaissance, and then I hear you’ve been to the Healer’s Hut?”

“Dad, calm down! Where have I been? I’ve been just…” Hiccup turned to look to Toothless for help, but his eyes hitched on the wooden staff instead. “Investigating! Guardians! I’ve been investigating the Guardians!”

He tried his best to sound casual. He knew the show he was putting on was barely decent, although it did seem to do the trick with Stoic. Hiccup didn’t know much of the history of their tribe, but he remembered the discernible admiration that rang from the voice of his father whenever the topic of the legend would fall upon a conversation. His respect for the Guardians was infallible, even in those short moments of their mention.

And so that evening he decided to pry, if only to avoid another lecture.

“Son, this may…” Stoic held back in hesitation, but ultimately caved in. “I suppose you would have found out eventually.”

"Our people have endured this island for seven generations. We have lived here, bred here, protected this place for over three hundred years! But alas, it was not until a century ago when the Island fell under the protection of something even bigger. A non-human force, akin to some in our legends. The stories not even our ancestors believed to be true. A Guardian!"

"You see, Hiccup, your great, great grandfather believed in this Guardian, and so he was given the privilege to perceive him. And when the Twilight of the Gods arose, Tragedy rooted itself in every corner of the Earth, and the nightmares brought death and filth to our doorstep. He sought out anything to protect our people! Each time he had failed, coming back to less than he had left. A great famine had struck, turning people against each other. Their eyes and minds hollowed by hunger that caused irrepressible inhumane actions, even for those of our kind. Finally, he had nothing more to turn to, surrounded by everything unholy. But the Guardian considered him and made him an offer.

“The Island would fall under his absolute protection, but we would need to be cut away. The entire Barbaric Archipelago would cease to exist to the World Beyond. And so ever since we have been sheltered here. This is our land. And should the day the Tragedy has perished come, we would be returned to conquer foreign lands once more."

“What, so we're trapped here?” Hiccup gestured wildly, trying to make sense of the tale he had just been told, biting through the questions that swirled furiously in his mind.

“It was what had to be done, son. Had our ancestors declined, our fate could be not so kind as to even offer us a burial. Not to speak of Valhalla.”

"And the dragons?"

"Why don't you ask your Night Fury?" Toothless let out a sneeze. "To the best of my knowledge, you know of them more than I.”

Although Hiccup tried to shift his attention from the stories of desolation and famine that fell onto his tribe all those years ago, he was not doing a very good job. Sleep could not find him that night, as he tossed and turned in bed, thinking of the world beyond the horizon. The vast land he had been searching for, dreaming about. Could Jack have come from that world? Had he seen the Tragedy? The calamities of the apocalypse?

Was it even still present?

The Dragon Rider groaned, finally caving in to the insomnia, accepting his fate of burning the midnight oil. He had begun making the much needed improvements to his flying suit., yet his thoughts were still plagued with questions. He felt a strong urge to shout at the strange boy he had found in the field, at the Elder that kept brushing him off, at his ancestors for not caring enough to write down their history in any coherent way. At the world for chaining him down to the Archipelago.

He had been exploring, making the map. He thought they had been advancing. His hands shook over his drawings, charcoal smearing the page. How much longer would he be supposed to thrive in false hope, had he not found Jack, had he not started meddling? For how much longer would he believe himself an explorer? Would he be stuck here forever? This could not be it.

And what about all those people outside of the protected lands? Will they cease eventually, as all things do, lost to the destruction? Even if he managed to escape this gilded cage, would there be anything left for him beyond it?

The unanswered questions left his mind pulsating and his body numb. He took a shaky breath and pulled himself together. This would not be his life.

“Hiccup, you're alive!” Fishlegs’ relieved cry welcomed him back to the training arena the following morning.

“You’re back from the dead. And just when we were about to throw a party!” Instead of a celebration Snotlout threw his hands in the air with exasperation.

Astrid pushed past him. “Snotlout, you were panicking even harder than Fishlegs,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You wanted to go search for him yourself.” The shorter Viking shot her a frustrated look of betrayal, trying to deny everything she had claimed.

“Hiccy, you’re back! We were just discussing the ship we were going to burn! It was very small, to honour your small posture,” Tuffnut announced solemnly, just before his sister added in a grave tone: “Yeah, it had one metal mast to honour your metal leg.”

“Ha, ha.”

It was about as warm a welcome as he had expected. The drama of it all really vexed him. It wasn’t the first time he’d disappeared for a day or two. Gods, and people said he had a flair for the theatrics.

Work soon passed in a blur. Hiccup remembered counting the seconds and quipping back at the Riders whenever their teasing resurfaced. In all honesty, it never truly managed to fade out.

He could faintly recognise his actions, working more on instinct, rather than putting his mind into scrubbing the soot and carbon off the stone walls or tending to the dragons. He knew the twins set out to taunt Snotlout, or maybe the other way around, whilst Astrid and Fishlegs had engaged him in a conversation about a new, mysterious dragon species and foreign lands.

The concept left him tasting ash on his tongue. The number of islands left for him to explore was an enigma, for all he knew they might run out within the next year, maybe a couple. What would he do then, knowing he had explored all he was allowed to? Knowing there was more, just outside of his reach.

Jack was another conundrum. He did not look like a Viking, didn’t carry himself in such a way, and yet here he was, in the middle of Viking Islands. Of course, Hiccup did not claim to know every individual person in the Archipelago. Jack could have been just another person born there, longing to explore, just like him. Could he have been looking for a way to escape the faux sanctuary? Is that why he had been looking for the Guardians?

A man of such an outlandish name and frame, thin and flimsy, he could not possibly belong to this violent place. Just like Hiccup didn't belong for most of his, still ongoing, teenage years.

A ludicrous thought came to his mind as he contemplated Jack's origin. Would it be possible Jack’s hometown was outside of the Archipelago? Hiccup thought it preposterous at first, that being said, if Jack had found a way to enter their hidden lands, it would mean there could surely be a way to leave them. Maybe the reason Jack ended up here was the mistaken belief in Guardians’ presence. It seemed like a fair human error to make.

“What's up with you?” Astrid cornered him later once they had gathered for supper in the Meade Hall. “You're acting strange.”

“Me? Strange?” Hiccup deflected. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Who’s strange?”

Astrid stared at him unaffected. “Save it,” she deadpanned, pulling his ear. Hiccup managed to avoid spilling his stew. “Talk.”

“I… My dad told me something the other night. I guess it just stuck with me,” he made a last attempt to shrug the topic off. The blonde’s grip loosened on his ear, and he was able to slip away from it, but she did not yield.

“Is this about chief training again?”

“No, it's,” he sighed, shaking his head in defeat. “How much do you know about the Guardians?”

“Oh, like the one who steals your teeth?” Ruffnut slid onto the bench, squeezing in-between them. Hiccup yipped in surprise.

“Where did you come from?”

“Or the one who stalks your every move! Keeps tabs on your behaviour,” Tuffnut exclaimed, hooking his arm around Hiccup’s shoulders. The twins ignored the curl of his lip, chittering between each other excitedly. Soon his sceptic reactions felt like whistling into the wind.

“I heard he has a weird thing for chimneys.”

“Doesn't one of them bring about the devastating winter?”

“Oh! Remember when they threw the eggs at our grandfather's house?”

“No, that was us.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Enough!” Hiccup chimed in, rolling his eyes yet again. “Not exactly what I meant.”

Despite his own words he wasn’t actually sure what it was that he meant. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to achieve by telling Astrid about his new revelation. Get her off his back, that was obvious. Was it the wariness that everybody had already known they were trapped, playing into his fantasy? Was he worried that everybody was still treating him like a weak child, not able to handle the truth?

“Why on Hel do you even want to know about some psycho spirits?” Snotlout demanded impertinently, straightening himself and raising his chin in a manner that made Hiccup consider fibbing.

“Apparently, according to my father, Berk falls under a Guardian's protection. I'm not sure which.”

Now that got a reaction. He felt some of the tension in his chest melt away, his shoulders ever so slightly relaxing when the Dragon Riders gaped at him. Prying eyes clearly searching for any traces of joke or sarcasm on his face. Hiccup turned to his supper, absently paddling the contents of the bowl with his spoon. He was far too sleep deprived for the flavour of chaos that was about to ensue at their table.

“Wait! You're telling us our island was created by one of those crazy vættirs?”

“How is that not common knowledge?!”

“Come on, guys, he's not being serious. He can’t be.”

“Oh, no, I'm serious,” unfortunately, went unsaid. “Although I’m fairly sure it’d just been hidden by one, not created.”

The group was soon prying out any bit of information he could offer. Hiccup was determined to leave the parts about Jack out of his story, if only for the time being. He didn’t want to deal with widespread distrust just yet. He was certain that his omission had created some phantom holes in the chronicle, and the Riders would surely realise that in their own time, but for now he could blame it on exhaustion.

The Hall was empty by the time the vultures were satisfied, and Hiccup could taste copper on his tongue from the amount of times he had to bite it. The Dragon Riders sat alone, illuminated by the dimming lights of flickering candles. They finally agreed to drop the topic temporarily when Hiccup reminded them about their early duties, although he wouldn’t be surprised if half of the group did not sleep a wink that night.

They parted ways, finding their dragons playing just outside of the Great Hall. Everyone went on their way, bidding him goodnight in their own fierce ways. He climbed onto Toothless and poised himself before riding off into the night. Tomorrow was the day he could go back to Gothi’s Hut. Tomorrow he would get answers.

His knuckles hovered in the air, barely a hair’s breadth away from the oaken door, as he tried to brace himself for whatever was to come. His dragon huffed behind him impatiently. Even though Hiccup knew he was dragging it out, he could not help but be a tad tense over the forthcoming encounter. The longer he stood there, hand inching over the aged, crooked planks, the more he felt the ridiculous pit in his stomach fill with dread.

After yet another minute had passed the wind picked up. Wooden chimes hung over the entrance clattered against each other in a cacophony of hollow clanks. A condensed gust of wind he recognised from the recent days blew forcefully into his back, and he was promptly pushed against the door. Failing to find his footing, he grabbed the handle and fell right inside, onto the rough floorboards covered faintly in specks of ash. His side hit the floor with a thump, and the wind around him soon ceased. He let out a muffled groan as he tried to gather himself, Toothless snickering behind him.

He turned to Gothi, who seemed to continue gearing up, unfazed, and the chocolate-haired boy, who was sitting in bed, looking down at his collapsed figure. Jack seemed to be about as startled as he was amused.

“Hi there,” Hiccup greeted with a sigh, attempting to brush over the display of his momentary ineptitude.

Jack’s head tilted to the side ever so slightly, the skin beside his eyes crinkling a trifle in a hesitant smile. “Hi?”

“There goes the first impression,” the Dragon Rider muttered with a sheepish chuckle, lifting himself up. “Or would that be the second?” He inquired, striving to rub ashy particles off his sleeves.

“First for me,” Jack replied with a snicker, pointing at his temple.

“I take it you don’t remember much then?”

Jack scoffed with amusement. “Try nothing,” he admitted with a hint of bitterness hiding in his voice. “Zero… ish? It’s all a blur, really.”

“Hm, I hope making a fool of myself is better than poking you with Inferno.”

The old lady observed their interaction patiently with faint merrit twinkling in her eyes. Her hands swiftly tended to her Terrible Terrors, petting each one with gentle care right before she began to take her leave.

“On another note, Gothi,” Hiccup turned to the Elder, stopping her in her tracks. She raised an eyebrow looking at him quizzically. “I finished.”

He reached into his back pocket and lifted a small object in her direction. It was a cylinder tool, roughly the size of his thumb. Warm copper clashed against the cold tone of polished iron, metals welding together, adorned by engravings of dragon scales. A tiny, wing shaped crank handle stuck out of one side, whilst the further end of the cylinder device thinned out into a rectangular opening.

Gothi looked up at him, her expression almost impressed before turning satisfied. Gothi raised her hand placing it on his, and gingerly forcing his palm closed around the instrument, she nodded. She lifted one finger, pointing it at an hourglass standing on a nearby countertop. His puzzled gaze followed her out of the hut, lingering as the door slammed behind her.

“I’m so confused.”

“You’re telling me, I woke up in a blue cloak,” the resting boy replied with a shrug.

Hiccup whipped his head around, suddenly remembering Jack was there. What was it with his mistrust towards blue fabric? Hiccup supposed it wasn’t that common to find blue pigments around those parts. Maybe Hawthorne truly was located in the Archipelago? In spite of his own theory, Hiccup recalled the confused glance the boy had cast at him after the Berkian had brought up the island chain. He supposed he could cross that speculation of the list. Or waitlist it, since Jack had also seemed to not be thinking very clearly at the moment.

As if his entire meltdown wasn't being waitlisted.

The topic of his contemplation shifted in bed, a shadow of a smile plastered on his face. In broad daylight Hiccup was able to make out his features the moonlight did not allow him to. He knew already that Jack was shorter than him, frame nearly as thin as Hiccup had been a couple of years ago, but now the strange boy was partially covered with a heavy woolen blanket, leaning his back against the wooden log as he sat on furs.

Brown strands of hair fell down onto his eyebrows, soft pink dusted his cheeks, and bright, hazel irises watched him carefully, vaguely perplexed. The features seemed common, and yet there on this boy they appeared to contribute together to form an almost fae-like visage.

Jack brought a hand to his lips, and the sound of throat clearing brought Hiccup out of contemplation. He shifted on his feet instantly feeling rather awkward. He fidgeted with the whistle he still held in his left hand. Calloused fingers played with the handle, tracing the dragon scale engravings before pocketing it yet again.

“You seem to be doing better,” he commented lightly.

“Ah, whatever the old lady keeps giving me will have me running again soon. I can forgive her the foul taste.” He smirked prior to adding, “And the countless bruised ribs.”

Hiccup winced in sympathy, “Ah, the brutal nature of Vikings. Gothi is our village Elder. She is probably the best healer we have ever had, and possibly the scariest woman you will ever meet.”

“Don’t forget the greatest conversationalist,” Jack grinned.

Hiccup sighed a breathy laugh, “I knew I was missing something.”

Jack blinked rapidly, squinting his eyes in thought. “Would you mind filling me in on what happened?” He asked with a frown. “All I remember is…”

A black shape peeked through the roof entrance, hinges of the trapdoor creaking in a high pitched sound. Green eyes fixed at them, staring intensely in what Hiccup recognised as sheer discontent.

“Ah, sorry for leaving you outside, bud,” Hiccup rubbed his neck, grimacing apologetically.

Toothless fell down onto the floorboards with such grace and ease only a dragon could possess. He grumbled disapprovingly at his best friend, but his mistake was quickly forgiven and forgotten when the Night Fury turned to Jack with an excited chirp.

“The shadow!” Jack exclaimed with a laugh. “Of course, I remember you! I think.”

The Night Fury purred, inching closer to the bed. Jack placed his palm on its neck, scratching the black scales gently. A wide smile spread across his lips when Toothless’s purrs grew louder, and the dragon lowered his head onto the boy's lap, closing his eyes in contentment.

“Yes, it appears Toothless here has a soft spot for strange boys we find passed out in our field,” Hiccup gestured at his dragon rolling his eyes. He came closer, leaning over to nudge the Night Fury with his elbow. “You're thinking of replacing me yet, bud?”

The dragon let out a playful trill, eyeing him with an almost challenging expression, and he gasped in mocking offence.

“I’m sure I’m more of a seasonal attraction.”

“We have about three seasons here, and two of them are snow.”

“Sounds like you’re not getting rid of me for a while then,” the outlander mused with a toothy grin. “So, about bringing me up to speed?”

The auburn-haired boy reached to the side, sliding an old wooden stool towards the edge of the bed. He lowered himself and, having rested his elbow on Toothless’ leathery wing, began telling Jack of the circumstances which had led them to their current position.

Admittedly there wasn’t much for him to say, as the outlander hadn’t told him much to begin with, and much to Hiccup’s disappointment it didn’t seem like he would be able to answer his numerous questions anytime soon. Numbing frustration filled his skull as he recalled Gothi’s vaguely veiled recognition. She knew things about Jack, things possibly even Jack did not know himself.

Toothless’ ear twitched towards the door, his head following the direction a moment later, eyes zeroing on the entrance. Hiccup paused, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Footsteps echoed right outside accompanied by the sound of husky whistling. It took the Berkian less than a second to leap towards Jack, reaching for his shoulder and pinning him down, hand already lifting the corner of the blanket the boy had been partially covered by. Hiccup pulled the wool over Jack’s face, hushing his muffled protests.

The door creaked open right as he started pushing himself upright. Toothless slid forward, covering the hidden silhouette with his tailfins to his best effort. A thickset man walked in. His long beard reached down to his chest, tied in neat, dark blonde braids. Bushy eyebrows pinched together in confusion and the whistling ceased.

“Little Chief? What on Hel are ye doin’ here?”

“Hello, Randver!” Hiccup's voice came out strained, far too cheery and a little too high pitched, for which he gave himself a mental kick. “Fancy seeing you here! Gothi just left.”

The Viking in front of him raised an eyebrow at him expectantly, armor clanking metallically as he straightened his shoulders, “And ye’re here because?”

“I’m here for,” he hesitated. “I was here for a routine check up! You know, missing limbs and all, really annoying.”

The man’s eyebrows rose higher, somehow, forehead wrinkling as they neared his hairline. The Dragon Rider’s lips thinned out into a flat line as the older Viking lifted his prosthetic arm, eyeing it meditatively. Hiccup shot Toothless a disbelieving look and the dragon reciprocated with a disappointed huff.

“Ye know, I’ve been thinkin’ it’s been rather troublesome of late,” the Viking contemplated. “Ye sayin’ she knows how to help?”

“Oh, absolutely!” Hiccup let the traces of uncertainty on his face be masked by faux confidence. “You know Gothi.”

The Viking continued to ponder, but nodded eventually, and informed Hiccup of an accident that had taken place. Apparently, someone thought it an awesome idea to test Changewing’s spitting range in the middle of the village. The situation was resolved, but not without some injuries. “Let her know when she comes back, chiefling,” Randver grunted before taking his leave.

Oaken door snapped shut behind him and Hiccup fell backwards onto the stool almost immediately with a grunt of relief. This could’ve gone a lot worse. Amber eyes peered at him curiously, as Jack’s fingers yanked the heavy blanket off his face.

“What was that?” he asked, stupefied.

“The village is not really keen on strangers. We've had a multitude of… issues lately. I'd like to avoid any unnecessary panic,” Hiccup shifted in his seat.

“You haven't told them about me?”

“I'm... getting to it? There's just so much about it, and everyone will try to poke their noses in, then it'll all get messy. I hope to resolve this quietly since Gothi hasn't sounded the alarm!”

Jack squinted at him, all tease. “You're not scared of me though, right?”

Hiccup snorted, “I'm not one to judge abilities by looks, but you don't seem very dangerous. Besides, Toothless here might be a Night Fury, but he is still my best friend. If he thought you were a threat he'd let me know.”

“Maybe I tricked him.”

“With your head injury?”

“Maybe I'm a very good actor!”

Jack sat cross legged on the bed with a joyous expression that contrasted his aggravated tone. Hiccup found himself resting his chin against his fist, lifting an eyebrow playfully. It hadn’t been long since he had met Jack properly, but the Berkian had reached at least one conclusion since they’d started talking. Fun didn’t seem to be hard to come by around the outlander.

“Yeah, somehow I doubt that. A threat would not try so hard to sell me a cause for concern.”

“Maybe I was more of a threat with my memories intact! Maybe I came here to steal your,” Jack pursed his lips, mulling it over. “Socks?”

“I didn't take you for a troll. Also, what did you plan you’d do against a whole island of angry, very tired Vikings?”

“Hm, fair point. Good thing I don’t want socks anyway.”

“Yes, what's with the bare feet look?”

“I think it might have been a fashion statement before the whole amnesia thing,” The Dragon Rider couldn’t determine if the honey eyed boy was being serious. “Best to stay true to my ways. Maybe it's a curse! Maybe I'll explode if I put shoes on.”

“You're more likely to explode going barefoot into the village. I'd rather not know what's littering the ground these days,” Hiccup breathed out the end of his sentence with a slight shiver.

“I'll take my chances.”

“Don't push your luck.”

The outlander reached forward with a chuckle, continuing petting Toothless like he had before being interrupted. A bout of silence fell over them. Hiccup let himself break it yet again.

“Speaking of going outside, though, what would you say we go somewhere outside of the village? I could show you around and we wouldn't risk somebody walking in.”

“Wouldn't going outside technically make it more risky?” Jack countered.

“It should be fine as long as we’re quick to get to the woodline.”

Jack leaned forward, his index finger taping against his lips considering. He then graced Hiccup with a mischievous grin. “Hm, I would, but perhaps following a stranger into the woods may not be the smartest idea,” he mused. “I’d like to think I grew somewhat less reckless since my little sister turned eight.”

“Huh, I suppose I haven't introduced myself yet have I?” Hiccup blinked in realisation.

“It really adds to the mysterious allure.”

The Dragon Rider deadpanned a mock gratitude. “Woo, thanks. I'm Hiccup. That big goof there is Toothless. Which you already know. And you’re on Berk, which I am not sure you remember.”

Jack blinked at him, his smile widening. “Hiccup?” He queried. “Like... like?” The boy managed to let out one choking sound before his voice melted off into soft giggles.

“Yes, yes, haven't heard that one before. Still nervous?”

“Ohoho, not at all! By all means, lead the way, my dear Hiccup!” Jack laughed, stretching his arms with a relieved grunt. “I've been cramped inside for far too long.” He lifted himself up, pointing at the Night Fury that had already sprung towards the entrance. “Does that mean we get to fly on dragonback?”

“Hm, maybe let's leave the flying part for when you’ve fully recovered.”

Having left the hut, Hiccup guided them towards the edge of the village. The fact that by then the sun had stood high in the sky by great means did not aid them in their escape. Jack stayed flat on Toothless’ back, and they climbed down, all the way from the peak of the Dragon Tooth.

They reached the woodline swiftly, traveling in haste pace, avoiding making any unnecessary noises to keep cover. On the sly Jack observed the back of his new acquaintance from the dragonback. Wind-blown, auburn hair was tied in two small braids sticking out from behind his left ear. Leather armor fit him like second skin, shuffling as he walked with a rhythmic stride.

There was an almost imperceptible hitch to his hip movement whenever he’d pivot a little too sharply, and Jack glanced at the metal prosthetic attached in place of where his left foot would be. Vikings were a novelty to him, so were the dragons, and had he not made it out into an adventure tale in his head he’d surely be freaking out. World knows, he freaked out after waking up in what he thought at the time to be a witches hut.

Maybe he wasn’t so far off about that.

He hadn’t met many soldiers before, or warriors, which sounded more like a term Vikings would prefer, but he had heard of people losing their limbs on battlefields. He had seen pictures of prosthetics made of wood and iron. He wondered if that was the case with Hiccup as well. He selfishly hoped there would be an epic tale behind it to discover.

Once the Berkian decided they were out of earshot of the locals, Hiccup’s pace slowed down, and he walked steadily beside Toothless. Dirt and gravel crunched under their feet, interrupted occasionally by a particularly metallic grind when Hiccup's prosthetic would brush against a bigger rock. Jack sat up, legs dangling on the sides of the saddle.

“Can I ask you something?” Hiccup ruminate, voice cautious.

“Shoot, chief.”

“How do you even…?” The Rider squinted, his expression wry like he had just tasted vinegar on his tongue. Jack lifted an eyebrow in response, amused.

“I was in the room, you know.”

“Ah.”

“So?”

Olive eyes turned to the side, lips parting and closing again, and Jack recognised the motion from whenever his father thought about the best way to phrase a question before bringing up a serious topic. Hiccup’s fingers played nervously with the leather straps on his bracer, and he finally uttered the question. “I know you said you don’t remember much, but do you remember how you got here? To Berk, that is.”

Jack closed his eyes in focus, brows pinching in irritation when he couldn’t recall anything new. He remembered the moon and its distorted voice, the shadow over his head, which he now knew as Toothless, and a prickling sensation on his skin. He remembered the hand extended in his direction and the phantom exhaustion seeping through his bones, like he had been running for a very long time.

But he couldn’t remember his journey. Nothing in-between his experience on the pond and his waking in the field. Just the aching feeling of hopelessness.

“No,” he sighed. “No, I don’t think so.”

He opened his eyes looking up at the bright, blue sky. Birds and dragons alike flew over their heads, largely hidden by majestic tree canopies. The trees on Berk grew even taller than the ones he had seen in Hawthorne, competing for sunlight with their greatness. It’d be very satisfying to climb one, Jack had decided. Maybe he could see the ocean from its top, like he had from the windows of Gothi’s hut.

He had seen an ocean before, having joined his father on a trip to the Province of New Jersey. Their stay had been rather short, though, and all he caught was a glimpse of the endless blue waters when their carriage passed it by. He wasn’t allowed to admire it openly like he had here.

Openly, but still from a distance.

“I do know it involved the Guardians though,” he attested, having noticed Hiccup’s dissatisfied expression.

“Involved?” He perked up. “Directly? You’ve met them?”

“Maybe…” Jack trailed off. Who were the Guardians anyway? The question burned on his tongue, but he swallowed the urge to ask it, knowing he had dug this hole himself. There wasn’t an easy way to climb out of it now.

“The Guardians…” Hiccup hummed. “One of them closed the islands off. For our protection, if you can believe it. My father certainly does, and he isn’t really the type to go around trusting fables. But it does make getting you wherever you need a lot harder.”

Jack blinked. Hiccup wanted to help him? Jack supposed the boy had gotten him medical treatment, but he hadn’t truly expected more. He never imagined Vikings to be hospitable.

“Closed it off?” He repeated in search of clarification. Perhaps there had been some underlying details. Were the Guardians governmental officials? Had he become a bigwig? Being in the position to seal off an entire archipelago would pose a pretty good explanation for the blue coat. It wouldn’t, however, explain how he’d have achieved that in a matter of months, mythical creatures and amnesia aside. “You can’t leave? Why?”

“Because of Ragnarok."

“Ragnarok?”

“Um, the end of the world. Annihilation. Carnage. Whatever you call it,” he waved dismissively. “The apocalypse?”

“The what?!”

Hiccup looked at him quizzically. “The… You forgot?”

“I-” Jack blurted out, voice raised. “I’m certain I’d remember something like that if I had known it! When did it happen?”

“Ages ago! We’re currently the, what, fourth generation? I’d say about a century, though Vikings aren’t exactly very good at historical tracks, it’s hard to settle on the exact year.”

“But,” Jack’s stomach dropped horrified at the realisation. “It’d have happened before I was born!” Numbness overrode his muscles, blood turning cold as he thought back to his family back in Hawthorne. The possibility of them searching for him, yelling his name, voice dripping with panic, like he had heard Mary shout before plummeting into icy depths. What did truly happen? Did he honestly forget that much? He couldn’t have!

“Wouldn’t that be like… a part of my general knowledge?” He continued desperately. “I didn’t forget how to walk! Or speak!”

“Yes,” mused the boy in leather armor, hand lifted to hold the branch in his path away from his face instinctively. . “You do speak Norse pretty well. Maybe your village really is somewhere in the Archipelago?”

“I- what? Norse? You’ve been speaking Norse this entire time?”

“What, like you haven’t?”

“No, I,” he breathed. His frown deepened, amber eyes looking into the olive green in search of a jest. “Have I?”

This conversation already seemed to be bringing nothing but extra questions. Jack worked hard in his head to unravel even the smallest knots just to make it count for something. The apparent language barrier appeared to be non-existent. Jack had been fairly sure he was speaking English before Hiccup brought it up.

Now, Jack has never been a man of logic. Sure, he'd been to school and possessed general knowledge of the world, passed onto him through numerous figures in his life, but his mind wasn't one for science or facts. He didn’t hate education, just the stillness. But he spent his free time with children, making up stories, stirring up snowball fights, and goofing around. He'd occasionally try to teach them something, only through fun experiences. That was what made him succeed most of the time.

It was also what planted the idea of becoming a teacher in his mind. His mother was delighted, but his father’s stern eyes, even with the faint shadow of a smile, corners of his lips forced upwards, told him he had a different plan for his son. His father had tried to push him in the direction of a trade he found more dignified.

He never dismissed his plans outright, but if additional lectures on economics or politics were of any significance, Jack knew he could forget about them.

That being said, he was a man of creativity and wonder. Not logical thinking. So, just to spare himself from another headache he could sense on the horizon, he had decided to indulge in the idea of magic. If only for his own encouragement.

It felt justified, after all, dragons were supposed to be creatures of fairy tales. Who was he to decide what else could or couldn’t be true?

They continued making their way through the woods, leaves shuffling and birds singing above their heads. The area they had found themselves was sparsely littered with mossy boulders, forest floor covered in little ferns, and Jack guessed they had entered the steeper part of the timbered hill. He loved Hawthorne, honestly, but his little village in the Province of Pennsylvania could not compare to the vast beauty of the Island of Berk. The way so many elements of nature bled into one another to form such a spectacular landscape was enchanting.

Even without the dragons, the scenery alone would be enough to convince him something else was in play here.

Hiccup instructed Jack to walk the small distance they had left to which the outlander excitedly agreed having missed being carried by his own two feet. “Toothless can’t fit between the rocks, he needs to glide down,” the Berkian explained.

They tore through the dense foliage, squeezing through a small gap between two massive rock faces covered in vines, moss, and thick roots. Smaller pebbles and pinecones covered the ground, but he didn’t find it as bothersome as he had anticipated. To their view came a lake, just in the center of the hidden area, which he heard Hiccup refer to as ‘The Cove’, by which the black dragon sat waiting. Right behind him, in the distance, Jack could make out a small waterfall that flowed into the pond, water breaking the surface with a thrumming sound.

Yeah, definitely magical.

“I think we're going to have to start from the beginning here.” Hiccup began after they sat down to talk again, resting at the water’s edge. “If we want to learn anything, looking for how you got here might be a good start.”

"My village didn't have dragons." Jack blurted out.

"Are you-"

"I know I have gaps in my memories, but I'm sure." Jack cut in, not unkindly, shaking his head. "My little sister, she loves stories. Every night I'd sit by her bed and tell her a new one. About fallen kingdoms, and faeries, and werewolves, and... dragons. But that's all they were. Stories."

Hiccup looked thoughtful, hands on his prosthetic as he adjusted the fabric around the wood.

“I need to get back to her,” Jack half-whispered, sounding utterly heartbroken. “She needs to know I'm okay.”

He bit his lip and nodded. "You must've found an opening. I don't know how you did it, but I'm sure we can figure it out. According to my father nothing was supposed to get in." His gaze lifted, following words soaked with determination. "You did."

Jack's eyes widened, mouth agape. His lips twitched into a near-smile, moving his chin to the side as his eyes lingered on the chief-in-the-making.

"We could search the island," he let his mind wander. "Nothing is ever left without traces." He paused in realisation recalling the gesture the healer woman had made when he had first expressed his doubts.

He tried to recreate it, one hand extended in front of him, as he drew a wobbly line across his palm with a finger of the opposite hand.

"I think that's what Gothi was trying to tell me."

Hiccup looked reflective, but ultimately not surprised. "That would explain some things. She seems to know an awful lot about you. And trusts you enough to hide you from the Stoic the Vast. All it took was for me to tell her your name and she seemed fascinated! I'm not sure I've ever seen her that way.”

They fell into a contemplative silence. If what the village healer had been trying to tell him was in fact to search for traces of himself he wasn't sure where to start.

He stretched his legs, the balls of his feet sliding down the rocky shore, and dipped his toes in the water of the pond. He grimaced, the cold sensation reminding him of his unfortunate fall. The last thing he could remember. The terrified, shrieking sound his sister had made, one he'd rather have forgotten forever.

Maybe it was still a little too soon to act so casual around lakes.

He pulled his knees up, resting his chin in the gap between them. He still felt the uncomfortable cold nipping at his skin. Looking down he saw a thin layer of hoarfrost covering parts of his toes, his skin responding with faint redness.

Okay, this was definitely not normal.

He was growing more curious by the moment. Going back to the place he had woken up in could be a good start for his investigation. He expressed that to Hiccup, who was now hovering over Toothless, looking at the scribbles the dragon had made in the ground behind them with a large branch.

“We've searched the area already,” he responded, lifting his head up. “But perhaps it'd make you remember something.”

“Did you find anything?”

“Not really, just a shepherd's crook, but,” he winced, his Night Fury turning to him with an unimpressed stare, the tree bough long forgotten on the ground. “The wind. There's something strange about it. It seems to… communicate? With Toothle- this is crazy. I sound crazy.”

As on cue a gentle burst of air swept against them, ruffling Jack’s hair ever so slightly.

Jack froze, eyes widened. A shepherd's crook? Like the one he had used to push Flee off the traitorous sheet of ice? The topic of the wind could wait another moment, no matter how much Jack wanted to reassure Hiccup he believed him, his mind wrapped itself around the staff and didn't plan on letting it go anytime soon.

“The crook, did you keep it?” he pried, whipping his body around to fully face the auburn haired boy who occupied himself with futile attempts at wrestling with his dragon.

“Yes. We checked with Stevenson, our shepherd, but he's never seen it before.”

“I think it might be mine.”

“Yours? Were you a shepherd?”

“No,” Jack snorted. “Or maybe. In a way.” He thought back to the village children, always flocking around him, chattering and blabbering, looking for fun or guidance. In a way he did tend to them. “But I remember having a crook before… In my last memory.”

Hiccup observed him inquisitively, but Jack didn’t elaborate.

Instead he stared at the sky. Minutes passed, and the sun had begun disappearing behind the trees, nearing the horizon. The soft orange glow began painting the clouds and tree tops golden, signifying approaching dusk.

“Oh no.”

Jack turned to the Rider, eyebrows pinched slightly in concern.

“The sunset,” Hiccup exclaimed, getting to his feet. “There was supposed to be a council meeting today at twilight. My father,” he coughed with a grimace. “He… made it clear I wouldn't get away with missing this one.”

“How many did you skip before?”

“Four in a row,” Hiccup muttered, avoiding his eyes, but his expression turned amused.

Jack barked a laugh, sending him a grin, “You're more rebellious than I took you for, Chief-boy.”

“You don't know the half of it,” Hiccup said with a laugh, rolling his eyes.

“Well, you can tell me all about it tomorrow. Let's get going,” Jack hastened, before adding, tongue-in-cheek. “I wouldn't want to get accused of keeping you away from ‘responsibilities’.”

They made their way back rather swiftly. It was fortunate that Raven Point was just a fifteen minute walk, and they found themselves back in the village before the sun managed to set completely. Jack saw the tight expression worn by the Rider's face, his hands tapping against his leg, and decided to cut his misery short.

“Go, go! I can get back to the Hut on my own.” Hiccup sent him a doubtful, hesitant look. “Seriously! This isn't my first time sneaking around! It's a short walk from here.”

“Alright,” the Berkian sighed, climbing onto his dragon. “But you better not collapse on your way.”

“I'll be fine,” Jack drawled reassuringly. “I'll stretch my legs a little more.”

Hiccup looked like he wanted to say something, but faltered looking at the horizon. The glowing shape was barely visible and carried on rapidly disappearing. Soon all that was left were faint steaks of leftover sunlight.

“I'll see you tomorrow,” Hiccup stressed out. “I promise.”

Jack sent him an earnest smile, rushing him with a wave of his hand.

The council was as boring and loud as ever. His father quickly dismissed his offhanded apologies when Hiccup burst into the Great Hall taking a place at the already filled table. The Dragon Rider had a feeling Stoic's good mood came from the apparent absence of Spitelout.

Hiccup let his mind wander back to his earlier conversation. Despite being a complete stranger Jack had a certain charm to his person that made his presence almost addictive.

Charisma was dangerous, Hiccup knew that first-hand, but he wanted to naively think it was just Jack's easy-going personality that made him so affable, and not some underlying plan.

But the way Jack spoke about his little sister drew his attention. There was no faking in the raw adoration the boy had for his family, no evil in the way he had been attempting to conceal the suffocating loss and confusion with jokes. Perhaps Hiccup simply didn't want to believe Jack a cruel, manipulative mastermind. The image didn't fit in his head, like using an entirely too big screwturner on a locksmith’s screw. Like putting one saddle on a Hideous Zippleback.

He knew the others would disagree. He could try to convince his father, maybe he'd buy the explanation if he would hear about Gothi's approval. The Dragon Riders were another story entirely. They wore their distrust proudly, like armor.

Contemplations were cut short, echoing voices coming to a halt, when the door to the Hall was forced open and into it, at last, arrived Spitelout, dragging a wiggling figure behind him by an arm. A certain boy, wrapped in a deep blue cloak.

“I found this one snoopin’ ‘round the Healer’s Hut!”

Gods dammit.