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Hiccup reached forward, tears stinging his eyes and flowing down his cheeks. Astrid stood in front of him, a terrified look on her face. He had become erratic - completely unlike himself. “Astrid please, I need it.”
In her hands was a small pocket knife, the same one that Hiccup had had for a majority of his life. It was a constant figure, since he was a boy and his father had gifted it to him. He was never one for big, flashy weapons - besides Inferno of course - but holding a knife like this was something he was comfortable with.
It had gotten a lot of use, though not doing anything that it should have been. There were still faint traces of blood flecked on the blade. The last time Hiccup used it, the knife had been getting dull, he should have gone down to the forge in order to sharpen it, but the thought had slipped his mind. That was the day that he had been found out.
See, when the blade got duller, that meant Hiccup needed to press harder - just so he could see and feel the blood that normally seeped out so easily. He hadn’t meant to keep this little game of his up for so long; he assumed that he would have grown out of it after he was accepted by the rest of his village: that was five years ago. Hiccup knew what his limits were though, it wasn’t like he wanted to die anymore, he had a village to run, but it was a quick and easy way to release the stress that was always building up inside of him.
Astrid held onto the knife tighter as Hiccup struggled to get it out of her grasp, “We’ve talked about this, you’re not allowed to have it.”
Hiccup wanted to scoff at that, he was twenty years old, he could handle having a knife - but that would be a lie. He wasn’t allowed to have any blades on him when he was alone anymore, nothing sharp enough that he could pierce skin with. The entire thing made him feel like a child. Everyone said it was in his best interest, but Hiccup doubted that. Every day he spent without his knife was another he was thinking about it. There was a running tally of marks he deserved; he never said the number aloud.
Astrid had been the first person to find out what was happening with Hiccup - she had caught him in the act. Really it had been because of Toothless, recognizing what was going on and then running out to get Astrid when Hiccup wouldn’t stop. It ate him up inside; Hiccup didn’t enjoy watching the people around him worry or be scared that one day he would cut too deep and that would be his last - but it wasn’t like he could give it up though.
There had been a lot of blood, that was what Astrid had told him later. Hiccup was used to it though and barely noticed what was happening around him. His brain would shut off, calming and turning to a fuzzy state. When the cleaning time came he would move in a dazed state, but that was alright, as long as everything was cleaned up.
He didn’t wipe the blood that time though, his mother had: watching the scene before him made him sick to his stomach. Astrid had held him, saying something to the chief about everything being okay. She had wrapped his arms and legs: Hiccup didn’t even remember slicing his thighs.
That had been two months ago, since then he hadn’t been allowed to hold his knife in private. Hiccup was always one to find a way around things though, and had snatched it from where it was hidden while Valka was out. At first it made him feel bad, for what he was about to do, but as the red lines started to form the feeling faded. It didn’t matter, nothing mattered anymore. There was only him and the sting as the metal grazed his wrists. One, two, three - he lost count after that.
That was where Valka found him, staring down at his bleeding arms with a glassy look. She had snatched the knife out of his hands, placing it on the other side of the desk. Astrid had walked in to, which was when she took the knife and stood at the other side of the room. Valka tried to hold her son back from getting the weapon again, but Hiccup struggled against her, “Please, I just need to finish, then a promise it won’t happen again,” everyone in the room knew that was a lie. If Hiccup was left alone he would continue until he finally dropped from blood loss. He would accidentally go too far, cut too deep, bleed for too long, and then he would be dead. Nobody could handle Hiccup dying.
Astrid bit back tears, “I know its hard, giving it up, but we just want you to be safe.”
Hiccup wanted to collapse, the blood loss was finally getting to him again, “You don’t trust me?”
Both women looked at each other, twin solemn expressions on their faces, “Not with this Hiccup.”
He wanted to scream; he wanted to convince them that he was fine. He had been doing this since he was thirteen of course he was safe! He hadn’t died yet and had no plans to. Hiccup could control himself, it was just a bit harder now that Valka and Astrid wanted him to get clean. “W-Why?” His brain was getting foggier by the minute.
Astrid sighed, tucking the knife into her belt loop. The blood was still shining on it. “You can’t stop by yourself. This,” she gestured to him, “Only proves it.”
Hiccup’s struggle dwindled until he felt like he was going to collapse. He teetered over to his bed, where Valka helped him sit down. The chief didn’t say a word after that, instead, he let Valka tend to his wounds, ignoring her worried words.
He was going to get that knife back.