Chapter Text
The first part of spring has finally reached Dragon’s Edge. We've all been itching to shed our winter layers—physically and mentally—and take advantage of the warmer weather. With spring comes fresh air, melting snow, and the sudden urge to purge all of your personal belongings. Astrid has offered me several pieces of her old, worn-out weaponry to add to my scrap pile. Fishlegs has been tending to his rock garden. The twins have spent the last week dusting the cobwebs out of their boar pit. Snotlout was perched out on his roof all day yesterday, polishing the big, metal “S” on the front of his hut. As for me? I’ve been tackling odd jobs all week. I've tinkered on a few projects I’ve left on the shelf too long. Then I cleaned out my hut, top to bottom (where I found a couple of other unfinished scraps that caught my attention). Yesterday I resized Toothless’s tail fin since he’d recently outgrown it (and while I was at it, I gave my own stash of prosthetics a good polishing). Today, Astrid and I have been a crack stable team, freshening up the stalls and giving the whole thing a good airing out.
Speaking of the air, it’s been getting thicker and thicker. What started as a gentle, cool breeze at the start of the week is currently a sticky, stifling mess. I especially noticed it today in the stuffy stables. I’ve long since rolled up my sleeves and took off my armor. Now I could feel the back of my tunic beginning to stick to my skin from sweat. Astrid has also shed her shoulder pauldrons and the armored outer-layers of her skirt. She’s now leaning casually against her broom handle, wiping the sweat from her brow. I do the same with my own.
“I think I’m going to call it a day,” she tells me, giving me a glance with wearied eyes.
“Sounds like a good idea,” I agree, propping my own broom against the wall. “We should probably tell the others to help board things up while it's still light out. There’s got to be some kind of storm headed our way.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Astrid remarks. “Spring on Berk can change at the drop of an ax. I’m sure this place won’t be much different.”
Once we get the rest of the gang on the same page, we spend the rest of the afternoon battening down the hatches. The humid air soon revealed itself in the sky as daylight diminished. A storm front was approaching Outpost Island, and making good time of it. After we finish our tasks, we gather in the Clubhouse.
“Everyone, brace yourselves for a rough night,” I warn before the others head to their huts at nightfall. Astrid and I linger behind for a few more moments.
A low rumble echoes in the distance and my breath catches in my chest. Thunder. I can feel my face blanche.
“Hiccup, are you okay?” Astrid asks with understanding in her voice.
“Yeah,” I half-heartedly shrug, not meeting her gaze. “I’m going to try to get some shut-eye.”
Before I can turn away, she takes my hand and pulls me closer. She locks gazes with me for a moment, studying my eyes. Her blonde hair frames her round face perfectly. It almost appears to glow in the firelight. While I stare into her azure eyes, the flighty feeling in my chest gives way to warmth. My free hand wanders to her back. Hers wanders to my chest.
I realize suddenly I don’t want to go back to my hut. I want to pull her even closer. To feel her warmth as she leans her body against mine. I want to take in her scent—the smell of smoke and sweat and wood that lives in her hair and on her skin. I wish that Astrid and I could stay here. Just the two of us. All night, braced together against the storm.
I tilt my face closer to hers and she does the same. Our lips almost touch.
“We should…” Astrid breathes, flustered. “We should head back before the storm hits.”
I exhale the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. My heart aches, but I understand the look in her eyes.
It’s just not that perfect moment yet. For either of us.
Our fingers brush together one more time before we let go, heading out the door of the Clubhouse. Astrid leaves first.
When I reach my hut, Toothless meets me as I go inside. He gives me a once-over sniff as I shut the door tight. I scratch him under the chin and he goes to curl up on his bed. As I crawl into my bed and pull up the covers, I hear the low growl of thunder again. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to sleep, ignoring the little voice in the back of my head telling me to run and hide.
/////
“You’ll all see for yourselves!” I’d cried into the night, my voice nearly drowned out by the deafening cracks of thunder around me. A younger version of me stood on the deck of my father’s ship, the Pure Adventure, clutching a metal-tipped spear in my white-knuckled grip.
What I was about to do was crazy. I was probably delusional. Definitely stupid.
The questionable reasoning of my plan never had time to sink in. I had a point to prove, and I had to prove it fast. Toothless’s neck was on the line. I had to save my best friend.
I held the spear high above my head, poised to fix it to the ship’s mast.
“When I attach this metal rod to the top of this mast,” I announced, practically screaming over the storm, “the lightning will be drawn to—”
I never got to finish that sentence. In a split second, a bolt of lightning shot through me. My soul had been severed from my body. I gasped, but couldn’t scream. My muscles convulsed as I choked on every breath. Blinding white light snapped instantly into darkness as I felt my body drop to the sea below…
Somehow, through the pain and numbness, I could still hear the muffled thunder…
/////
“Gah!” A shout escapes my throat as I shoot up in bed. A sharp crack of thunder outside rattles me to my core. I anxiously rub my left arm, waiting for the quick adrenaline snap to subside. I gasp for air as my throat threatens to tighten. I try to focus on the pounding of rain on the roof of my hut instead of the pounding of my heart in my chest.
These Thor-forsaken storms… I get the same nightmares every time.
The memory of being struck by lightning is one I won’t ever forget. How could I? How could I not remember the sensation of being ripped apart and put back together at the same time. The pure terror in my mind as my body spasmed. The panic as my heart stopped and restarted over and over.
Gosh, Hiccup, snap out of it! The pressure in my chest is coming back. I try to shudder the feeling off. Toothless is pacing by my bedside. Another flash of lightning flickers briefly into my hut around the hangar-style door. The light makes the Night Fury's nervous, verdant eyes appear to glow.
“I know, bud,” I tell him, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. “I’m not a big fan of storms, either.” The lightning is followed by another startling crack of thunder. Three seconds, I count the time between light and sound. It’s getting closer. I snatch up my metal prosthetic from my bedside table and strap it on. Toothless grumbles as I clumsily throw my clothes on and drape my hooded coat over my head.
“Have to check on the others…” I mutter as I shove my foot into my boot. “I think the Clubhouse might be the safest place for everyone. Not as high up.”
There’s a pounding on my door. Sounds like someone beat me to the punch. I fumble with the buttons of my coat and crank open the hangar. Astrid stands outside, a shivering, drenched mess.
“Hiccup, come on!” she calls out. “We’re all going to the Clubhouse.”
“You read my mind!” I shout over the deafening downpour. I have to steel myself against the onslaught of rain as Astrid and I sprint over the bridges and balconies connecting my hut to the center of Dragon’s Edge. Toothless bounds after us, attempting to shield us with his wings. "Thanks, bud!” I call back to him.
As we scramble into the Clubhouse, the Night Fury quickly shakes himself dry, starting at his head and shuddering all the way down to his tail. If I wasn’t already soaked through, I would be now.
“This storm!” Astrid exclaims. “It’s one of the worst I’ve ever seen.”
“No kidding!” I hear Fishlegs’s voice from across the room. “This is going to be one for the record books.”
“If you see someone’s hut floating past,” Snotlout adds as he sits huddled by the fire pit, “it’s probably mine.”
“Yeah, it’ll probably be on fire, too!” Ruffnut laughs. “That metal ‘S’ on the front is a lightning magnet.”
“Your hut’s already been struck twice.” Tuffnut shrugs his shoulders. “You might as well face it: Thor’s got it out for you, Snotlout.”
“Shut up, Tuff!” Snotlout scoffs. “That’s ridiculous!” He puts a hand over his heart, raising the other in a pledge. “I have never done anything to anger the gods in my entire life.”
Are you sure about that? I ask him in my head. That proposal of yours to give Thor a statue of yourself dressed like him? Sounds like blasphemy to me.
“Everyone accounted for?” I try to change the subject.
“I think so,” Fishlegs replies. “All of us are in here.”
“And the dragons are all in the stables?”
“Yep. Took some convincing, but they’re all in there. Even the Night Terrors.”
I let out a sigh of relief. “Good,” I muttered. “That’s good.” I help Astrid out of her jacket and drape it on the edge of the fire pit where the others had already deposited their own outerwear to dry. I then shed my own dripping-wet coat and lay it to dry beside hers. The both of us huddle by the fire to warm up. “All we have to do is wait it out, I guess.” I shrug my shoulders.
We are all quiet for a brief moment. The rain pelts the roof and a low rumble of thunder sends a shiver down my spine. I try to keep my breathing level, but a choked gasp is starting to tingle at the back of my throat. I squeeze my eyes shut, putting my head down as I draw my knees to my chest.
Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out.
More thunder. Louder.
Come on, Hiccup. Pull it together. Don’t freak out.
A flash of lightning flickered outside. It takes everything within me not to stand bolt upright.
Don’t freak out!
“Hiccup?” Astrid put a hand on my back. She whispers discreetly in my ear. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I reply quickly, though I still lean into her touch. We briefly make eye contact. A look of understanding crosses between us.
Astrid is the only other person I’ve told about the nightmares, apart from Dad. They’ve happened off and on in the three years since I’d been struck. Every time I convince myself I’m past it, the memory will drag me up by the shirt collar and slap me around again.
Toothless nuzzles my shoulder with his snout. I stare into the fire pit, hoping to lose myself in its glow.
“Well, if we’re all stuck in here for a while, we might as well find something fun to do.” Fishlegs wanders to the far end of the Clubhouse, rummaging through the bottom tiers of a shelf. He pulls out a tucked-away crate of game pieces and odd baubles, plopping it down on the gathering table. “Who’s up for a few rounds of Maces and Talons?”
The twins scramble over to their seats and claim their stakes against each other. “Winner takes stable duty for the other for a week,” they finally decide after toying around with other ideas of humiliation and methods of torture. Snotlout trails after Ruff and Tuff. “I call the winner next round!” He grabs the seat next to Tuff.
Astrid gives me a playful shove and stands up. “Are you in?”
“I, uh… I think I’ll join in later,” I tell her, giving her a weak smile.
“All right,” she replies. “Maybe if you wait a bit, you’ll get to lose against me.”
“Hey!” I smirk, swallowing the nervous lump at the back of my throat. “Who holds the Dragon’s Edge Maces and Talons Chieftain title here?”
“Fishlegs,” Astrid replies.
“Yeah, but only on a technicality! I had that final game in the bag last time.”
“The technicality was that you lost,” Fishlegs argues, but his tone of voice is playful.
“Only because Toothless knocked over the table!”
“Which counted as interference! That meant you had to forfeit.”
“Where does it say that in the rule books?” I laugh, deciding to get up. “Must be number fourteen: ‘Forfeit on account of clumsy Night Fury’. Or is that twenty-seven?”
“House rules, Hiccup,” Fishlegs retorts. “No dragons allowed.”
“Not my fault!” I offer back in a teasing tone. “He got loose! Though I guess I should’ve double-checked the—”
CRACK!
We all jump at the sound of a nearby lightning strike. The air suddenly smells faintly of smoke.
Something’s caught fire.
“—stable door…” I finish. I make a break for the door, peering through the crack.
“Hiccup!” Astrid calls behind me. The others murmur around the table as I catch a pinhole’s glimpse of the storm outside. A hazy, orange blaze flickers in the distance. Someone’s hut? No, too close… No, it can’t be…
“It’s the stables,” I tell the others. “The lightning hit the stables.”
“My dragon is in there!” Snotlout exclaims.
“All of our dragons are in there!” Astrid snaps at him. She rushes over to the door to meet me. Adrenaline courses through my heart as it drops into my stomach. I snatch up my still-damp coat from by the fire and throw it back on.
“Stay here, gang!” I shout. “I’ll be back.”
“You’re not going by yourself!” Astrid protests, gathering her own jacket.
“I’ll be fine.” I struggle to keep my chest from heaving as another roll of thunder sounds. “You stay dry. Stay warm.” I give her a quick peck on the cheek. “I’ll be right back.”
I don’t wait for her to protest before I crank open the hangar and bolt outside. The cold rain slaps me in the face. A nearby, orange glow pulls my attention toward the stables and I run in their direction. Several of the dragons have already bailed—I see the silhouettes of Stormfly, Hookfang, Barf and Belch, and the Night Terrors flying off and away in all directions. There’s one dragon, however, that's noticeably missing…
Meatlug.
I race inside, narrowly dashing ahead of a piece of the rafters as it fell. I almost didn’t register it. That could have killed me. “Meatlug!” I call out to Fishlegs’ Gronckle. A cry echoes from the back of the stables. The building is filled with an amber haze as the fire grows. Smoke makes my eyes water and the back of my throat sting. I cough raggedly, searching through the firelight. “Meatlug!"
I find her huddled behind a fallen beam. It’s trapped her. She’s too big to squeeze around it. “Come on, girl!” I’m just barely able to slide through the narrow opening. “Let’s get you out… of… here…!” I struggle against the beam, trying to push it away. It doesn’t budge. A cough rattles out of me as I start to feel light-headed. The mix of the effort and smoke almost brings me to my knees. There isn’t a chance in heck I’m going to be able to move it.
It’s getting hard to think… Come on, Hiccup…! Focus!
An idea hits me. It involves more fire, but seeing that the stables are already lost, I don’t think that’ll be a problem. “Meatlug, give it all you got!” I encourage her, gesturing wide toward the fallen beam. “Fire away!”
She listens without question, spewing out a good deposit of lava onto the wood. It starts to melt away into ash. “Atta girl! Give it another go!” I shout before coughing again. Spots swim in my vision. She gives it another try. The beam is split in the middle, making a Gronckle-sized space for her to slip through. “Yes! That’s it! Go! Get out of here!” I take off after her as she catches the air and races out the hangar door. I make it out of the burning stables, just taking my first strides onto the platform outside. “I’m right behind–”
CRACK! A flash of white light assaults my eyes. There's a scorching feeling against my face and body. A tingling sensation courses over my skin and the smell of char and ozone fills my nostrils. A mighty force shoves me to the ground. A shout of terror escapes my throat. As my head hits the floor beneath me, my world turns from white to black.