Chapter Text
After all these years, Hiccup remembers losing his leg like yesterday. He remembers the shock, the sorrow, the adrenaline waning at the thrill of riding Toothless again. He remembers taking his first steps from waking up; unyielding, like a newborn yak finding its feet.
He also remembers the funny feeling: the times he’d wiggle his toes or kick his feet, expecting a response from both legs, not just one. Times he’d roll out of bed at first light and fall on his hands and knees, expecting two feet instead of one.
Worst of all, he remembers the pain. The ache after a long day in his stump, the sharp stabs of pain like a knife up his leg when he landed wrong, the days where he’d pretend to be sick and ditch his dragon training academy with pains that left him immobilised in bed. Those days often ended up in him having to clear up after the twins and/or Snotlout inevitably set something on fire, and it honestly didn’t make the rest days anymore, well... restful .
He groans as he drags himself out of bed, tying on his prosthetic and leaning on Toothless when it begins to rub against his skin after a few steps. He grits his teeth. Today is going to be awful and he can feel it down to his bones. The feeling only worsens as he mounts Toothless and flies to the clubhouse, his prosthetic rubbimg and twinging at every little movement of Toothless's tail fin.
“Mornin’ gang,” he says, forcing cheer into his voice. Astrid eyes him, her gaze gliding up and down his body, and says immediately, “you look like Niflheim.”
“I just got back,” he replies humourlessly, heading to the kitchen where Snotlout stirs a pot of porridge for breakfast (he's a surprisingly good cook, Hiccup and the others found when they went to the Edge). His leg aches as he stands beside his cousin, doling out bowls and helping him serve. As it happens, he's not hungry, so the majority of his portion gets scraped around the bowl by his spoon until Snotlout whines about being hungry and he gives the rest to him.
When breakfast is over, and Astrid declares something about a “training exercise practice,” everyone groans and, for once, Hiccup is tempted to agree. They've all been working their hands raw to build new defences against the Edge, especially since the incident with Ryker and the hunters. Although everyone cares deeply, Hiccup can tell from every little thing she does that she was the most disturbed. After all, she’d nearly drowned and had her dragon stolen; compared to that, he could deal with a little pain.
So when Astrid leads the others to the arena, he walks beside them, his gait unsteady and limping. He’ll get through this; he always does.
Astrid walks them through the exercise, a simple defensive drill. Hiccup and the twins were assigned to the team pretending to attack, while Astrid, Fishlegs and Snotlout were to come up with a plan to hold the Edge down. Hiccup and the twins were instructed to go away -Hiccup’s heart leapt at the possibility of rest- and come up with a plan.
The twins talked back and first all the way back to the clubhouse and that, in tandem with the burning sun, made his head pound like a hammer was driving a nail down the centre, splitting it in two. He listens idly to the twins arguing back and forth about Thor-knows-what, nodding along as he leans on Toothless more than he would care to admit. Thankfully, they don’t notice, and take their -standing, to Hiccup’s dismay- positions at the Maces and Talons board.
“And how is a Maces and Talons board supposed to help us?” Hiccup frowns, not in the mood at all to deal with their antics today.
“ Au contraire, mon frère, ” Tuffnut says, wagging his finger. “We have a mighty fine plan- you were listening when we told you, right?”
“Oh, uh...” It dawned on him that he was not listening when they told him. He decides to lie. “Yeah, yeah, it was a great plan.” A yawn escapes his mouth, and his face burns with humiliation. “Let’s hear it.”
“You weren’t listening, were you,” Ruffnut says, eyeing him critically. Try as he might to pretend the twins are muttonheads, they’re smarter than the team knows, and perceptive to a fault.
So, he decides to drop the act and tell them the truth. They are his friends, after all. “Sorry, I’m just a bit off my game today,” says Hiccup.
“Do you need to sit down, or something?” says Ruffnut.
“I can give you some of our Thorston family cures,” Tuffnut chips in.
As much as the offer tempts him (sitting down, not the Thorston family cures), if the twins are leading the mission, Astrid will immediately assume he’s skiving. And he’d rather deal with an aching injury than an angry Astrid Hofferson.
“No thank you, I’m-” he stops, his vision starting to swim. His fingers grip the table, trying desperately to ground himself against the waves of panic and pain swamping him. He’s fifteen and learning to walk on his feet again after losing one of them. He’s sixteen on his first flare up, desperate and tired and sneaking to Gothi’s for willow bark medicine. He’s nineteen with a practice attack to lead.
“Fine,” he croaks out, before the agony in his leg overtakes him and the world goes dark.