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Tuff feels sullen. Sullen and lost. Lost and sullen.
Viggo stole the Dragon’s Eye right off Hiccup, apparently, and through Snotlout’s constant, pestering questions about how Hiccup could’ve managed to lose something so important and Hiccup’s yelling right back, all he’d gathered was that Viggo used the Flightmare to fire at them, paralyzing him and Toothless and took the thing right off while they were stuck.
And Tuffnut is positively furious on his friend’s behalf, angry with a sort of thing. That’s entirely not-Nut – angry is something he always hates feeling. He doesn’t want to be angry, to have people afraid of him or the rest of it. That’s Astrid’s job.
Not like he and Ruff even ever played with the thing, really, but it’s just gone, which feels like their fun is gone and everything cool they could’ve done is gone, which isn’t true, but it sure feels like it. Being back on Dragon’s Edge without the Dragon’s Eye, without Heather feels double the loss, and entirely wrong.
Not that he doesn’t wanna be here, just that being here, staring at the walls feels empty, and he hates it.
And Tuffisn’t surprised when Ruffnut sees it first. “What’s that thing doing here?”
And Tuff is looking up at the Terrible Terror sitting there, wings folded as it sits happily on the desk – and, oh, there’s a letter tied to its horn.
“You remember expecting anything?” Tuff asks.
“Were you?” Ruff sasses right back, crossing the room to the Terror and taking the letter. Her entire being just freezes up when she sees it, the frown on her face and just…
Tuff grabs the paper away from her, blinking, stunned at the name signed and scribbled on the bottom – Heather. It’s Heather.
She sent a message… to them?
Tuffnut, and Ruff, because I know you’re reading this too –
I’m sorry I left again without saying anything. I just have a lot of things I need to think about, and I need to be alone for a while. If you need something or want to talk to me, you can send the Terror back to me.
And Tuff, I know how you feel, and I’m sorry I haven’t been there all this time. Now that this is all over, I think maybe we can try? At least we can talk for a while.
It’s signed her name at the end, and that’s all.
Ruffnut grabs it away again, though Tuff’s staring, stunned speechless and stunned. Heather wanted to contact them? She could’ve sent the message to anybody, but she chose them, which is – is really sweet.
“I’m gonna send a message back,” Tuff says, grabbing a piece of paper, then staring at it and realizing, stunned and embarrassed, that he has no idea what to say. He only sends messages to their mom and a few other Thorstons back on Berk, and everybody who he talks to gets the Nut-form-writing. He and Ruff practically invited their own language. He has no idea how to talk to Heather.
Ruff seems to get that pretty quick, and pats his shoulder. “We should go tell Hiccup.”
Yeahhh, so Hiccup can steal his moment again. Greaaat.
***
Ruff seems entirely unbothered by the Terror perched on her shoulder, Tuff slumped mostly miserably in his seat.
Hiccup watches them, then looks at Toothless, who makes a little sound of encouragement. He gets the struggle – he really does. Friendships are hard. This has been Tuff’s dream from the time he was a kid. Messaging Heather would be terrifying, and…
“Can I ask you something?” Hiccup offers, finally – Dragon’s Eye forced as far from his mind as possible. “Tuff, are you serious about this? About Heather?”
“I want to be,” he offers, “I’m serious. Serious as stone.”
“Okay.” That makes things definitely harder, and Hiccup knows exactly how exhausting the twins can be. They’ve turned down just about anyone who wanted to be their friend for as long as he’s known them. But he’s never let that stop him, and if Tuff is going to get what he wants, they need to make sure Heather’s on the same page.
He’d talked to her about it, just to be sure, but maybe he’ll write a… message, too, just in case.
“Then you have to be the one to talk to her,” Hiccup says, “Ruff, too, obviously. I know you’re a package deal, and we need to make sure Heather understands that, too. I know you’d do anything for her, and so would I, but if this is going to work, you have to just be you, Tuff. She needs to learn to understand you, as you are, and you’ll have to do the same for her.”
“I’m so bad with people,” Tuff offers miserably.
Which is great, because so is she. Hiccup really hopes that’s a little something they can work through, but at least it’s something he knows Heather will understand – and not think the less of him for. He couldn’t say that about basically any other girl. “I know, and that’s okay. I – I’ll write her something, too, just… I have some things I need to say. But she approached you, and I think that means you guys are the ones she wants to talk to.”
Which hurts. Honestly, it does – Hiccup is the one who’s gone so far out of his way to help her, but it’s just not enough for her. He’s not what she needs, who she wants, and that’s always been true.
Somehow, he’s never who Heather wants him to be.
“Fine with me,” Ruffnut chirps.
“Okay. But remember, heather’s probably the sweetest girl on the planet, so I’m sure she won’t hold it against you if you take a day or two to send a message back.”
And then the twins are gone again after a brief exchange of hugs, leaving him alone with Toothless and crushing reality smothering back in – for all they try their hardest to think and talk about Heather, and as hard as he tries to look at the bright side that they saved her and the Flightmare, it doesn’t change every single one of his mistakes today.
All it’ll take is the Snow Wraith tooth, and then the Dragon’s Eye will be usable to the hunters again.
Every single dragon that’ll be hunted from now on with that thing will be because of him. Hiccup – who stupidly, foolishly thought himself smarter than Viggo fell head-over into his every last trap. He was so stupid.
Okay. Heather. Heather is something he can think about.
Toothless makes a quiet little worried sound, eyes wide and sympathetic, just as worried, slowly resting his head in Hiccup’s lap, who childishly clings right back to him, wishing for days he was younger and everything was easier.
The dragon grunts softly, watching.
And Hiccup sighs, looking back, knowing Toothless understands every one of his feelings. “I’m afraid to write to her,” he blurts, “I don’t even know if she wants me.”
Toothless grumbles a little, snuggling closer, snout pressing against his middle, and Hiccup hugs him right back, tired and desperate.
But he has to try, anyway, so he does, fast and brief, a
I don’t know if you want to hear from me right now, but I just want to know if you’re okay. And we don’t blame you for the Flightmare or the Dragon’s Eye.
And then he pushes the paper away, sighing, mind blank. There are so many things he wants to ask, how she escaped, what happened, if Dagur hurt her – if anyone hurt her, and then he just… can’t. Too much has happened too quickly.
“I will write more to her, I promise,” Hiccup finally says tiredly, caving completely. “I just… need some time to think. Not now, bud, I just…” Need to sleep.
In the end, all he does is lie awake, stare at the wall, remembering how numbing and terrifying the moment of half-consciousness fading back in after the Flightmare’s paralysis was – how incredibly violated he felt with knowing Viggo took something right off of him, and he could do nothing to stop it.
Not that it matters.
Nothing really does – anymore.
Except… Heather. He still has his friends. Or, sister, in her case.