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Stoick added a few more logs to the fire in the hearth, and then stood back, watching the flames lick over them before starting to burn. He glanced over to Hiccup, who was still leaning against one of the wooden pillars in the house, looking vaguely disturbed. He was rubbing a hand absent-mindedly around his neck.
Stoick cleared his throat to get his son's attention, and then shifted awkwardly in front of the fire. "I'm glad you decided to stay here tonight."
Hiccup didn't respond. His bright emerald eyes were unfocused; he was staring intently at the table in front of him without really seeing it.
Stoick bit his lip. He watched Hiccup carefully for another moment, and then came forward a few steps. "Son?"
"Hmm?" Hiccup asked vaguely, finally tearing his gaze away from the tabletop and looking at his father. He stood up a little straighter, seeming to come back to himself. "Sorry, Dad. Did you say something?"
"I said I'm glad you decided to stay here tonight."
"Oh. Yeah," Hiccup agreed. He was still rubbing his neck thoughtlessly. "I mean, it was getting pretty late anyway, and given the crazy day we all just had..." Hiccup trailed off into an exhausted sigh. "I figured it was best to just stay here for the night. Fly back to the Edge in the morning." He finally pulled his hand away from his neck, and in the firelight, Stoick could see a stretch of oddly-shaped bruises beginning to form.
Stoick clenched his fists, his insides tightening further in an uncomfortable, vice-like grip. He hated that this had happened to his son, hated to imagine what he had gone through as he had changed hands over and over again to a list of different bounty hunters. No one was entirely sure what had happened in that time. Hiccup had been a little less than forthcoming in this department, and it made Stoick feel somehow worse. He took a deep breath to compose himself.
"Are you sure you don't want Gothi to look you over?" he asked.
Hiccup shook his head slowly. "No, Dad. I'm fine."
Stoick bit down the argument part of him wanted to start. Hiccup was not fine. And maybe he could use some medical attention, but he certainly didn't need disagreement and petty squabbling. It was best not to start anything. Sighing heavily, Stoick moved to stand in front of his son, leaning back on the table. It creaked obnoxiously in the quiet room, loud over the crackling of the fire.
Hiccup was now standing with his arms crossed over himself. He turned to look into the fireplace, away from his dad. He swallowed hard.
"Dad," he said, just as Stoick said, "Hiccup."
Hiccup let out a quiet huff of breath, smiling half-heartedly. "Not this again," he said.
Stoick chuckled softly. "You first."
"No, you."
Stoick nodded and took another deep breath, considering what to say. He cast his eyes around, hoping for some kind of inspiration. At least talking with his son wasn't half as awkward as it used to be. But they were still learning, still figuring out how to interact with each other, at least in some situations. It was easier up in the sky, dragons beneath them, the wind around them, the whole world open and inviting. But here, on the ground, face to face, in their house with all its history, things were tougher. Stoick sighed again and glanced back at his son.
Hiccup was waiting patiently. Of course he was.
"I just want to say," Stoick began, readjusting his position on the table, "that I..." He faltered. "You mean a lot to me, Son," he said, glancing away. "And I'm really glad that you're home safe." He gained the courage to look Hiccup in the eyes again. "But I am... concerned. I know you couldn't have gone through all of that completely unharmed. In fact, I saw-" He broke off again. Cleared his throat. "What I'm trying to say is that I want to make sure you're all right. Because the way you're acting..." He gestured vaguely at his son. "I can tell something's wrong." Whew. There. He couldn't understand how he had been so eloquent earlier. Must've been the fresh air. Or possibly the sheer relief and giddiness of finally having Hiccup back. Stoick chased his errant thoughts away and watched Hiccup carefully, trying to gauge his reaction.
His son said nothing for a long moment, watching the flames again. He folded his arms closer around himself in an unconscious gesture of self-comfort.
Stoick wished he had a fraction of Hiccup's patience.
But finally, Hiccup spoke. "You're right, Dad," he said. "There is something bothering me."
Stoick moved off the table and stood up straight, immediately alert.
"But it isn't what you think," Hiccup said hurriedly, reading his dad's alarm with a quick glance. "I'm not hurt - not that badly, anyway."
Well, at least he was starting to get some information out of him. "Okay," Stoick said, nodding. He could work with this. "What's bothering you, son? You can talk to me."
Hiccup walked over to stand in front of the fire, and Stoick followed him, standing at his side. Hiccup sighed deeply, closing his eyes. He bit his lip. Stoick started to wonder if he had decided against telling him.
But then Hiccup said suddenly, "I meant to kill him."
Stoick's eyes widened, and for a moment he lost the capability of speech. He had no idea what he had been expecting, but this was certainly not it. He cleared his throat and unstuck his tongue. "Wh- what did you say?"
Hiccup sniffed and pulled his arms around himself tighter. "The bounty hunter - the last one." He stared into the fire, eyes distant. "We- we fought while I was trying to get away, and he tackled me, and we rolled... over the edge."
"Over the edge?" Stoick repeated, frantically trying to keep up with the story. He knew which bounty hunter Hiccup was talking about, but when did this happen? Where?
"Over the edge of the cliff," Hiccup said. "Where you found me. We rolled over the edge."
Stoick opened his mouth and didn't know what to say. That cliff was high above the water below, more than likely a fatal drop. How had they-?
"I managed to grab onto part of the cliff," Hiccup explained. "But the bounty hunter grabbed onto my prosthetic." Hiccup shifted, his tone starting to pick up an odd note of pleading. "His weight was pulling me down. I couldn't hold us up. He was telling me to pull him up, but I couldn't. I couldn't have, even if I'd wanted to. He was making me lose my grip. We were both gonna fall. So I- I reached down..." Hiccup trailed off, his voice thick.
"You untied your prosthetic." Stoick filled in the pieces. "I see."
Hiccup nodded. "And I keep telling myself that I had to do it. I know I had to. And he ended up surviving anyway, somehow. But... but that doesn't change the fact that I did it. I did it. Knowing that he would fall to his death. When I untied it, I knew what I was doing." He finally met eyes with his dad, his expression haunted. "I meant to kill him," he whispered.
Stoick reached over and drew Hiccup to himself, holding him tightly. "Okay, Son," he murmured. "Okay." He felt Hiccup hugging him back. After several moments, Stoick drew back, holding Hiccup at arm's length, hands on his shoulders.
"Listen, Hiccup," he began. "You already know this, but maybe hearing it from someone else will help: You did what you had to do."
Hiccup was watching him with wide eyes, hanging on to his every word.
"Taking a man's life," Stoick continued, "is never easy. And it shouldn't be. Do you understand? I know that you feel bad, son, and that actually makes me glad."
Hiccup's brows knitted together. "It does?"
"Yes, it does. Because it means that you know the value of a life. This is essential for every viking and for every warrior, but especially for every leader." Stoick gave Hiccup a sympathetic smile. "I know how you feel, son. And it's good that you feel like this." He ruffled Hiccup's hair encouragingly. "If you did that, and felt nothing - then we would need to talk. But this? This is good. We don't need to talk."
Hiccup looked away and swallowed.
Stoick placed a heavy hand back on Hiccup's shoulder, causing his son to look up at him again. "We just need to sit," he finished. And so saying, he pushed Hiccup gently down onto the bench behind them, and then sat beside him. They watched the fire together, and sank into a warm, companionable silence.
After a few seconds, Hiccup leaned over, resting his head against Stoick. "Nice punch, by the way," he said softly. Thanks, Dad, he meant.
Stoick wrapped an arm around Hiccup's shoulders and smiled at the memory of Ryker spinning around with the force of his blow, and then dropping unceremoniously to the ground. "Yeah, it felt pretty good." You're welcome, Son.