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The ocean was the first to greet Ike—the saltiness in its scent and the steady beat of its waves slowly brought the man to his wake. He hears a bustling crowd whose voices drown within each other’s chatter of various topics. Though, he can make out a couple shouts from what he assumes to be vendors. It sounded busy, but not too busy for Ike to consider it bothersome. It was like any other normal day.
He props himself up with the support of his elbows. The dim room meets him as the sun’s rays barely seeps through between its boarded walls. The fireplace at the foot of his bed has been long put out—the scent of burnt wood surrounds him.
He stretches his arms above his head to welcome the new day that awaits him. As a yawn escapes him, his surroundings come into view.
Something felt…off.
He tried to look for his glasses, but it was nowhere placed on the side table where he usually would leave it. More so, he doesn’t seem to be able to find a side table at all. He looks around once more to realize soon after that he was able to clearly make out the figures and shapes of his surroundings, and not vague nor blurred forms of it. Ike takes his hands to his face, accidentally poking his eye in the process. A soft hiss follows suit. He might have been already wearing it and forgot as he usually would, but that was not the case this time. He definitely did not feel a frame sitting atop his nose at all.
He soon notices his hands; it’s different. He’s sure that these hands were definitely his—scrawny, calloused, and a little pale—but at the same time he can’t ignore the unease he felt at their sight.
Like someone had pressed his reset button, Ike comes back to his senses. He forgets what he was doing in the moment, curiously wondering why he was looking for something, or what he was even looking for. His thoughts are quickly discarded.
Ike tosses the blanket away from his lap, swinging his legs to the side of his bed. He mentally takes note of how one of his legs felt heavier on one side, but he treats it as a fleeting thought and reasoned it on the morning grogginess. It is when he tries to stand up that his weight unevens, his body struggling to find its balance before giving into gravity with a loud thump. Ike barely lessens the impact of his fall under his arms. He looks around the floor, finding the source of his mishap before his eyes lands on his left leg—he didn’t have one. What made up for what was supposed to be a foot was a thin, metal prosthetic attached to a wooden peg.
The novelist brings himself to recover and sits up, his hands cautiously reaching for the contraption attached to this body. He felt its well carved wood under his skin, followed by the metal rod attached to it.
His exploration soon came to a halt by his doors forcefully opening, a loud bang startling him. “Hey, it’s the star of the show!” A blond man opens his arms towards the man on the floor, as if to shine a spotlight on him. “What are you doing, dude?” A woman, the splitting image of the loud man beside her, asked after. Their names come to Ike, as if he’s known them for years, “Tuffnut, Ruffnut!”
“Yeah, we heard a loud crash. You okay?” Fishlegs soon came through the door after, concern on his face. As always, the kind friend that he is.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Ike attempts to stand, Fishlegs quickly coming to his aid. He looks at his prosthetic leg once again, forgetting what he was just thinking of. “I guess I haven’t gotten used to my new body yet,” a small, bashful chuckle escapes him.
“Well, you’re up now! C’mon, Snotlout wouldn’t shut up about waiting for so long,” Ruffnut groans, as if Snotlout’s voice continues to echo in her head. Tuffnut follows her out the house.
Ike and Fishlegs exchange a look, a silent reassurance before Ike is assisted to walk out the door.
For a brief moment, the glow of the sun blinds him through the wooden frame. Ike lifts his hand to shield its flare from his eyes. A few more (unsteady) steps were taken and his vision adjusted; a gust of wind lifted loose strands of hair from his face, taking with it the scent of the ocean that greeted him this morning, and his senses were overwhelmed with the view before him.
Ike’s eyes widened in a pleasant shock. Houses huddled closed to each other before him; what once was a tiny village of just vikings now had dragons of all kinds wandering on their land. His ears were filled with the sounds of low grumbles from the creatures, some were of curiosity and some were of hunger. Above him, he hears their joyful screeches. Ike attempts to look up, just then a gust of wind passes him by—a dragon the size of his house swiftly flies past, its body casted a huge shadow above him, briefly shielding him from the blaring sun.
This was Berk—it snows nine months of the year, and hails the other three. Any food that grows here is tough and tasteless. The people that grow here are even more so. Not long ago these vikings hunted dragons for a living, but it has been changing recently. While other lands may pride themselves in their exotic parrots or ponies, Berk now has dragons.
“Oh my god, you’re finally up!” Snotlout’s voice comes into range. He appears before Ike, riding his own dragon, Hookfang. “Astrid told us not to wake you up so we had to wait for you. Now that you’re up, let’s go!” As impatient as ever, Snotlout signals his dragon to fly ahead, leaving the rest behind.
The rest of the gang’s dragons appear one by one, each of them hopping onto their backs. The twins left off first on their respective dragons: Barf and Belch. “See ya in the Grand Hall!” They say as they lifted off. Fishlegs followed suit with Meatlug. “See ya!” He waves before being carried away.
Ike let his eyes wander while searching the land and skies. Only short moments pass before a familiar silhouette appears before him. It descends hastily from the sky, immediately greeting the novelist with a cheery growl. A set of nothing but gums greeted him in a smile. A pair of eyes as big as the moon eagerly waits, its tongue barely hanging out of his mouth.
“Hey, buddy!” Ike opens his arms, and Toothless immediately allows himself into the man’s embrace. The Night Fury lowers his head to Ike’s shoulder where the human takes the opportunity to gently slide his palm across his neck, feeling the texture of the dragon’s scales under his skin. It was cold and damp, the sign of a healthy dragon. Toothless was rare of its kind, and arguably the only one left. It wasn’t long ago that Ike had shot him down—who would’ve thought that their fated meeting would have meant something more for the land of Berk?
“Shall we get going?” Ike asks. Toothless tilts his head for a brief moment, trying to understand his own friend’s question before he starts leaping on the tips of his paws. He circled around Ike excitedly that way before settling. He lowers himself, allowing the man to position himself onto Toothless’ back. His prosthetic leg settles onto the flat metal which hangs from its saddle, capturing the metal rod onto its hook. At the end of Toothless’ tail, a red artificial tailfin opens itself up—as good as new.
“All good, bud,” Ike pats the area around Toothless’ neck. The Night Fury nods, and they take off.
It was a messy flight, albeit a brief one. Toothless’ size tends to accidentally hit a few things here and there though he did try to be careful. Nonetheless, no one seemed to be angry about it compared to how vikings would have usually reacted to before.
Finally, they arrive at the tall doors of the Grand Hall. Ike kept his arms around Toothless to keep himself standing. Carefully, they approached the entrance. Ike places his free hand over his chest, feeling his heart steady with every breath he takes in. With the help of his dragon buddy, they open the doors.
“Happy Birthday, Hiccup!!”
Handfuls of flower petals of every kind and colors fell from the sky upon Ike’s entrance. Familiar faces surround him from close friends to family, all ecstatic emptying the petals from their hands. Toothless was influenced by the joy and colors around him that he leaves from Ike’s side to catch some of the confetti in his mouth. He tasted a few that landed on his tongue before scrunching his face, deciding he did not like its taste. Ike giggles at his companion’s reaction.
“Hey, son, you’re finally here,” Large hands rest on his smaller back. Ike looks up to meet the face of his father, Stoick—his thick beard covering almost half his face, but the smile could never go unnoticed with the way his eyes crinkle at its corners. “Happy Birthday,” he greets, quieter than the crowd. “Thanks, Dad,” Ike returns the smile.
“Cake’s ‘ere!” Tuffnut exclaims. “Move!” Ruffnut attempts to dash ahead of him, but her braid has been grabbed by her twin. “Not on my watch!” he retaliates, and their banter goes into a rally.
“No cake for anyone until Hiccup gets to blow out his candles,” Astrid’s voice emerges from somewhere in the room. She has her hands on her hips; a habit showing her strength and grace. The blond stands before an empty area of the long table that had already been filled with freshly cooked dishes of meat and vegetables, carefully placing a plate of cake. It was of color pink and cream, strawberries generously decorated its sides.
Everyone hurriedly gathered to take their seats, saving a space for Ike somewhere in the middle where he gets to have the spotlight for himself. “Come on, Hiccup!”
Ike limps his way towards a seat, both Astrid and Toothless immediately coming to his aid. As he sits, Astrid settles beside him. Toothless opens his mouth, charging a fire in his gut to which Astrid quickly stops by lifting her palm to his face. The dragon pulls his head back, quickly snapping his mouth close.
Fishlegs grabs a match and strikes it upon the wooden surface of the table, lighting it on fire. Covering the flame with his palm, he brings it to the single unlit candle pressed into the cake, bringing its light to life. On cue, synchronous, rhythmic claps surround the dragon rider. “Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to Hiccup, happy birthday to you!”
Ike blows out his candle on the last note, his friends and family resounding a cheer. Immediately, the twins and Snotlout grab their plates and utensils, fighting for the best part of the roasted lamb on the table.
Ike thinly smiles at the liveliness that engulfs him. He had almost forgotten it was his birthday. He had been so occupied with the changes Berk had been going through and as well as he with his leg lost and much more to be done for Toothless and him. An unease pangs in his heart—perhaps the change had been causing this period of emptiness for him.
Ike looks around him once again. In this dimly lit hall surrounded by the warmth of the fire, he feels distant . The music and joyous tunes of song drowns to a low volume, as if listening from the depths of the sea. Ike felt like a spectator behind a red line in museums as he watched the people around him move in blurs. At any moment, they could still completely and it would be like looking at paintings.
He was soon pulled out of his trance by a hand on his shoulder. Astrid smiles at him. She brings her hands from behind her back, holding out a book bound by a thin rope wrapped around it, a blue gem-like rock locking it shut. “Happy birthday, Hiccup,” she says. It takes a while for Ike to process the gift before him. He takes it into his hand, running his fingers on the leather bound cover. He untangles its rope, turning to the first page where a message was written in their native tongue.
For the lands you may discover.
The rest of the pages were blank except for that one part. Ike looks up at Astrid who could already read his mind. “We got together to make that book for you. You know… for you stuff,” she says, drawing circles on the floor with her shoes, hands hidden behind her. Ike gives her a thin smile. “Thank you, Astrid.”
Astrid, pleased with the gratitude, then leaves his side to join the rest of the party once more. Ike, now forgetting what he was thinking moments before, is now distracted by the book in his hands. This was not his first time holding one, but it did feel as such. It was as if he had discovered something magical.
He couldn’t properly process the entire day, more so his own birthday—something was missing, yet he can’t put a finger on it. It was as if a void had been formed in his chest. Though no matter how long he pondered on this, the farther he seemed to reach an answer. But somehow this book made all that feel… right .
Time moved in a blink of an eye, the party passed just as the moon did—music of celebratory tunes were sung as they gathered around the table, along with stories of old and new, aspirations, dreams, and mundane things.
A gentle nudge on his arm pulls him back from his thoughts. He meets the eyes of his buddy; Toothless looks at him with worry and concern on his face. He may be a dragon, but he’s no different from a man’s best friend. He can sense Ike’s emotions be it sadness, joy, or the unnamed unease he’s feeling at the moment.
“Hey, bud,” Ike rubs Toothless’ head. The dark creature lets out a purr, his gummy smile showing once again. The man realizes how the venue had gotten completely quiet; he looks around, and finds it was only Toothless and he left, along with a few more unfinished dishes and dirty plates. “Shall we get going then, bud?” He asks. Toothless vibrated his throat in agreement.
Ike pushes his knees, standing up to grab onto the saddle that sat atop his dragon friend. In one expert swoop, he carries himself over and settles into his seat. Toothless walked them both out the doors; night had already descended—the stars rejoiced around the moon.
Toothless spreads his wings, his artificial tail following and they take off.
Ike relishes the harsh air going against his face. His eyes always felt dry in this process, and his nose froze from the cold wind but it all becomes worth it when they reached the clouds.
Toothless stills as they reached peak. They give into gravity—Ike releases himself from his seat, falling back. He doesn’t feel fear; he sees Toothless on his way to catch him. And he knows he will, he trusts him. So, he flutters his eyes shut, spreading his arms out as he gives himself to the sky.
For after what felt like forever, he breathes for the first time. The heavy feeling that had been bothering him the whole day doesn’t disappear completely, but it gradually subsides. He relaxes.
This state of rest felt more familiar to him—he knows this feeling, or at least he remembers. It was like cotton on his skin, it was soft and light. Then, voices resound within his ears though he does not know whom they belong to. They seem to be saying something he couldn’t quite understand.
Eyes kept shut, he furrowed his eyebrows, focusing on their words. It started off as murmurs, then the different tones and foreign accents became clear. He’s able to make out a word; though he is not quite sure what it meant. “ ...ke, Ike-–“
“—Hiccup!”
Ike shot his eyes open, hastily raising himself from his horizontal position. He felt dirt under his palms, the uneven texture of soil bringing him back to his senses. He looks around—it’s still night; not much time has passed. He feels warmth by him. A well lit campfire waltzes its flames into the sky, illuminating his surroundings. Upon further observation, he recognizes the place to be where he first met Toothless. He searches around for the creature; he was called a Night Fury for a good reason. He was particularly hard to find during times past sunset. But Ike finds him rather easily, perhaps as a result of their bond. Toothless sleeps peacefully beside Stormfly by a small lake, the still flow of the water lulling them to sleep. He finally notices that Astrid had been sitting across from him on the other end of the makeshift fireplace.
Concern was written all over her face. She seemed to want to say something, opening her mouth then closing it. She decides where to begin. “You okay? Had a nightmare?”
Ike lets out a sigh, his shoulders dropping. He hadn’t realized the tension his body had been holding this whole time. “I think so,”
Astrid stands from her seat, settling beside Ike. She scoots closer, hugging her knees under her chin. “What was it?” The blond asks.
Ike’s eyes find themselves attracted to the stars. He ponders on the question, trying to recall the dream. “I don’t know,” he answers. “I don’t remember.”
And it was quiet for a while. Only the low hums from both sleeping dragons along with the crackling of burnt wood could be heard.
After a few moments, Astrid speaks up. “You’re not you, are ya?”
The question catches Ike off guard, either because it sounded crazy or because it sounded… right . “What?”
“You’re not our Hiccup, are you?” She repeats.
“W…What do you mean? I’m Hi—“ Ike pauses. “I’m Hiccup.” No, that didn’t sound right. The name itself felt foreign on his tongue. But it shouldn’t—who else would he be if not Hiccup, son of Stoick?
Ike Eveland.
He hears a voice again, perhaps it could be the same one that called out to him awhile ago. Ike shots his head up, looking around for its source in the sky, the trees, the rocks, or the wind. Perhaps he acquired a new skill and understands dragons now, but he finds the pair of scaly creatures to be fast asleep. Has he gone crazy?
Ike stands up, Astrid follows his gesture. He walks towards the lake. There, he sits close by with his knees folded beneath him. He leans forward, staring into his reflection—brown hair which falls loosely below his eyebrows, freckles, and a scrawny body that definitely belongs to Hiccup.
“Hey, are you okay?” Astrid rests her hand on Ike’s shoulders. A gesture of concern and care. Ike meets her eyes as calmly as he possibly could, “If I’m not Hiccup, then who am I?”
Ike!
The voice calls out to him once more. It was kind and caring; a name said with so much adoration. Astrid sees the shift in the man’s eyes—a realization that has not yet reached him. “I believe you can find the answer yourself,” she says, pointing back into the lake.
Ike hesitates for a while, confusion written on his face at what Astrid could possibly mean. But he follows nonetheless.
He turns his body once more to face the water and leans in to hover above its surface. He couldn’t make out his reflection at first as the waves of the water prevented a clear image.
An unease stirs within him. He closes his fists that rests on his lap as he intently watches the uneven surface of the water. He waits, and waits, and waits, the anxiety growing more in his chest. “Please, who are you?” He whispers as if in a silent prayer.
Ike!
The water finally stills. And Ike sees himself.
A pair of emerald eyes stare back at him in its wondrous glow; blue tips that accented silver hair fall flawlessly hangs below his eyes. Thin lips are parted in awe. Ike brings his fingers to brush some loose strands that poked his lashes, surprising himself in the process as he sees his own reflection following his movements. It finally dawns on him that the man he’s facing through the lake is him.
His next instinct was to reach his hand into the lake. He pauses for a while, inches away from the water’s surface. A lot of questions flooded his mind, and it all unified into one thought: would all of this be worth it?
But curiosity gets the better of him, whether this curiosity belonged to Hiccup or Ike. He dips his entire hand into the lake, and like a harsh tug, the water pulls him in.
He didn’t hear Astrid call out to him, nor did he see Toothless awakening from his own sleep. He faces the surface, the soft moonlight engulfing his own body. The figures he was once with slowly start to fade out of view.
The water calms down around him, as if cradling him in its arms. Ike seems to endlessly sink towards nothing, but he does not feel a panic. He hears the crackling of shells resound into his ear like small whispers, though he cannot seem to form its words.
Once more, it resounds. This time, Ike is sure it’s trying to say something though the syllables are vague. He tries to focus, furrowing his brows once again. He closes his eyes, completely submitting himself into the water.
Ike Eveland!
—
Ike feels a gentle breeze brush his cheeks as his eyes flutter awake. His surroundings are blurry, but he’s able to make sense of his room—his walls surrounded by shelves of books tinted under the light of the sun that seeps through his windows. He then hears tiny squeaks, it didn’t take him to wonder to whom it might belong to.
The novelist rises from his bed, stretching his arms above his head as he lets out a yawn. He faces the side of his room where the rest of his streaming gear are, vague images of cotton-like figures scattered around the area. He hears tiny squeaks below him; a pair of Quilldren had his glasses sit atop their soft heads to which Ike took from their hold. “Thank you,” he says in his quiet voice. Though it’s hard to tell, they smile.
He sits the pair of specs atop his nose, adjusting the chains behind his neck. He watches the little helpers around his room—some dusted shelves, others cleaned his streaming set up, and some were still fast asleep under the soft sunlight. “Good morning, Quilldren,” Ike greets with a smile, the corner of his lips meeting his eyes in a beautiful crescent. They respond in joyous squeaks and little jumps, greeting back, the feather quills atop their heads swaying in delight.
Ike stays in his position for a while, staring at his blanketed lap. He feels like he came back from a rather long journey, though his memory is foggy. Was it a dream? He wonders. He closes his eyes as he attempts to recall any memory, but his mind stays blank. How strange.
His deep pondering is interrupted by sudden knocking. Quilldren all gathered to the door, staying on the side where it does not sway open (to admit unfortunately, a lot of these puffballs have fallen victim to being bonked , as they would say, by it). One by one, swiftly and expertly, they stacked up on each other until they were tall enough to reach for the knob. Upon the soft click, the door swings open.
“Happy birthday!!” Four men greet in chorus, one of them elongating the last syllable into an endless “ayyyyy!”
“Ikey!” A blond exclaimed as he opened his arms, diving to give Ike a hug. “Oh my god, Luca, wai—!” Ike stopped him too late, he had already been captured in his embrace as they fell back into the bed.
“Oh, me too, me too!” Mysta takes his hat off, readying himself for launch. Before Ike could say his second protest, the detective had already jumped next to him, wrapping the novelist in a tight hug.
He only had a single bed made to fit just for him, but though he’s being pressured by two men too big for their own good, he doesn’t find it in himself to scold them. He hears their silent giggles, and he gives into their aggressive cuddle.
“Come on, you two,” A deep voice emerges. Vox folds his arms at his chest, wearing the same, thin smile Ike had. “We don’t want to kill the boy on his own birthday,” He shakes his head.
“Alright, everyone get ready!” Shu walks in last, holding up a cake in his arms. Luca and Mysta allow themself to release the novelist from their hold, standing beside the sorcerer.
Shu held up a cake of pastel pink, adorned with a fresh, white cream drawing at its outlines, and its whole surface covered by freshly sliced strawberries. And at its center was a candle that took the shape of a letter ‘B’, a humorous touch by Luxiem. Ike giggles upon noticing. “What the heck,” he says to himself.
“Alright,” Shu cues. “3, 2, 1–”
“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you!” They sing in chorus, clapping their hands in rhythm while Shu sways his head to compensate. The Quilldren joins them, either squeaking to the tune or jumping gleefully in place. Some sat near Ike, some were on either of Luxiem’s shoulders, and some were celebrating from different corners of the room. “Happy birthday, dear…”
“Icheal!”
“Ikey-wikey!”
“Ikey!”
“Mike!”
They each say his nicknames in unison. A brief giggle passes them at the messy mix, but the song must go on. “Happy birthday to you!”
As they hold the last note, Ike blows out his candle and a resounding cheer celebrates him.
The novelist’s gaze softens as he watches their smiles, arguably outshining the sun seeping through his curtains. He feels something soft at his cheeks, Quilldren have gathered onto his shoulders, snuggling to his cheeks. He allows himself to bask in the warmth that surrounds him, bringing a finger to pat one of the little puffballs. “I’ve missed you,” he says in what he thinks to be a whisper. But Luca, as sharp as ever, hears him.
“Miss us?” The mafia boss looks at him curiously. The Quilldren, along with the rest of Luxiem, gave him the same look. Ike shakes his head. “It’s nothing; I just felt like I had a long journey,”
Ike stands, and Vox takes that opportunity to give him a pat on his back. “Well, my boy,” he says. “You’ve got an even longer journey ahead of you today!”
“Mhmm!” Mysta nods his head. “Nina reserved KBBQ for lunch with everyone else!”
The four start heading for the door, Shu coming out last with the cake still in his arms. “We’ll leave this in the fridge for you and Quilldren, Ike,” he says. The sorcerer then turns to a couple of Quilldren. “Can you show me the kitchen, please?” He requests. The little cotton-like figures nodded, hopping as they led him out the room.
Now, Ike was left alone, but he didn’t feel lonely. A pang of warmth blooms in his chest.
This was not Berk—this world experiences four seasons a year. The food here is delicious; he especially loves strawberries. As he readjusts his glasses, he finds a book sitting atop his side table. He may have a flurry of novels, but he knows his corners—he doesn’t remember purchasing a leather bound item. Perhaps it was a gift left by the Quilldren; they were always full of surprises. He tugs the blue gem-like rocks under its knot, untangling the rope that binds it. As he turns to the first page, he finds a writing in proper script.
For the experiences that shall become your story.
This was not Berk; it had no dragons, but it was home. After all, home is not a place in and of itself, but rather what you make of the place you are in. And Ike would not change his home for the world, or any other world for that matter.