Chapter Text
***
Ryker stares down at the kid. The kid stares back at him with wide, frightened, green eyes. The boy can’t be older than six, half-starved and dirty. Apparently, the traders found him on board and since they didn’t want to throw him into the ocean, they brought him the rest of the way here and all but threw him at Ryker.
He is not paid enough for this.
“What’re you doing here, kid?”
The boy shrinks in on himself even more. He looks terrified. “Uh– I– um–”
Ryker sighs and then crouches down to be more at the kid’s level. “What’s your name, kid?”
“H-hiccup,” he replies softly, but he’s relaxing now that Ryker is in front of him instead of towering over him.
“How did you end up here?” Ryker asks, because no one has been able to give him that answer. No one. “Did you run away?”
“I didn’t mean to!” Hiccup bursts out, almost a wail. “But I don’t… wanna go back. Don’t make me go back! They’re gonna be so mad at me, and–”
“I don’t even know where you’re from,” Ryker interrupts. “No one will be making you do anything.” He needs to change his tactics. Desperately. Before the kid bursts into tears and makes the situation even more uncomfortable. “When was the last time you had a proper meal? You hungry?”
A hesitation as Hiccup blinks up at him. Slowly, he nods.
“Right.” Ryker stands. “Come along, then. I’ll get you some food and talk to the chief about your situation. You won’t be thrown out.”
He has to admit, at least to himself, that taking the boy to Viggo’s home might be best. For one, he’ll keep Heather distracted, and if Viggo isn’t keeping an eye on his daughter, then he’ll be able to give Ryker his full attention while they try to decide what to do with this runaway boy.
Viggo gives Ryker a look when he appears in the doorway of his home with the tiny, scrawny, six-year-old child in tow. “Don’t tell me he’s yours,” his irritating younger brother drawls.
Ryker scowls. “Shut up. He’s a stowaway. Kid’s starving and doesn’t have a home. I wanted to talk to you about him.” He glances around the room, spotting Heather immediately. The girl is peering around the corner with open curiosity, not the least bit shy, but probably a bit preoccupied to come charging at him like she usually does.
Then, he looks down at Hiccup. The boy, on the other hand, is definitely shy. And scared. He keeps flinching like he expects someone to hit him. Ryker intends to have Words with the trader who brought him in. For one, the man’s security is pathetic if they didn’t even catch the kid before he snuck on board. For another, how have they been treating the boy? “Kid, why don’t you play with Heather for a little bit?” He gestures at the young girl on the other side of the room. “I need to talk to her dad.”
Hiccup opens and closes his mouth soundlessly for a moment, glancing warily at Viggo before he hesitantly steps forward. When Viggo only looks at him, expression infuriatingly blank, he seems to take that as permission, because he approaches Heather. The girl, of course, is delighted to meet someone else her age, and Ryker is pretty sure she’s already claimed Hiccup as her new best friend before he and Viggo even have a chance to sit down.
Ryker tells Viggo everything he knows. A brief rundown of the facts. They don’t know where he came from. All they know is that he’s scared to go back, so even if he denies it, he’s probably a runaway. A six-year-old runaway. He repeats how the trader told him that the boy is extremely curious and intelligent, trying to help and understand everything around him. And as he talks, he doesn’t like the look in his little brother’s eyes one bit.
Of course Viggo would immediately be intrigued by the stories of this boy’s cleverness. “He can stay here for the time being,” Viggo decides, just as Ryker knew he would. There’s a calculating gleam in his eyes. “And we’ll take it from there.”
Ryker prays to all the gods that are listening to give him strength, because he is going to need it.
***
It’s weird to have a new home, a new parent, and it’s even weirder to have a sibling. Or… whatever Heather’s gonna be to Hiccup now. He’s never had that before. He’s never had anyone before except his dad who was barely ever home, and he’s definitely never had anyone to play with him.
Well, except Dagur, and that was barely even one week a year.
Heather drags Hiccup around to play with her or train with her almost everywhere she goes.
“You’re my baby brother,” she tells him, cheerily.
“Uh, I’m not a baby. I’m six–”
“You’re tiny.” She pats his head.
“I’m barely shorter than you!”
Heather drags Hiccup half into her lap, arms winding tightly around him. “Baby brother,” she insists, into his hair.
Hiccup wriggles, trying to get away and then giving up. Not that he actually minds getting snuggled – no one did that back home. It’s just weird to have someone… grab him and not be doing it to hurt him?
“Can’t we be twins?” Hiccup protests. “I don’t wanna be the baby.”
“But you’d still be the baby. The baby twin! And I’m a year older anyway so we can’t just…” She trails off, like she’s seeing the look on his face. “Okay! Fine. We can be adopted twins.”
Hiccup smiles shyly up at her, squirms another time and then resigns himself to being stuck.
Ryker laughs. “She’s right. You’re still the baby brother, kid.”
“Hey! Don’t hurt his feelings,” Heather scolds, very seriously.
Ryker snorts. “Alright.”
Heather drags Hiccup up to her room again, which is now… their room. It’s weird to share, but it’s not bad either. Heather’s happy to share.
But now that they’re alone, he keeps thinking about something he’s been wondering for a while.
“What happened to your mother?” Hiccup blurts out, then flinches because that’s probably sensitive, and he doesn’t wanna hurt her feelings or make her mad at him.
Heather goes still, fiddling with the small axe in her hands that Hiccup still has no idea how she can pick up. She’s almost as scrawny as he is but she’s still wayyyy stronger. It’s not fair. “She died,” Heather says finally.
Oh.
Uh, that was a kinda obvious question, actually.
“I’m sorry,” Hiccup mumbles, shuffling.
“I’m not.” Heather’s reply is quiet, almost like she didn’t want him to hear.
Hiccup’s head whips towards her. “What?”
“I know it sounds stupid,” she says, not really looking at him. “‘Cuz I know so many people lose their moms and want to have them back, but I– I just really don’t miss her.” She looks sad, and now Hiccup feels really bad for asking even if he doesn’t understand why she’s saying this.
He reaches out to carefully pat her shoulder. “Uh, why? I mean what happened? Or um, I mean–”
“She hated me,” Heather blurts out, voice shaking a little. “I don’t know. It was weird adult stuff that didn’t make sense but she was mad at Dad for uh… A lot of stuff. I don’t think she wanted to marry him or– or maybe she wanted to at first and then suddenly changed her mind or something. But anyway, she was always mad at me for anything and nothing and I think whenever she looked at me, she just saw him. I don’t know.” Heather draws her knees up to her chest, green eyes wet.
“I’m sorry,” Hiccup mumbles. “I shouldn’t have asked–”
“It’s okay,” she promises.
Hiccup hugs her. Doesn’t really think about it, just flings his arms around her shoulders. She hugs him back tightly.
“I don’t even know what she died from,” Heather mumbles. “The healers said poisoning or something. It was like two years ago now.”
“Oh.” He has no idea what to say to that.
“What happened to your parents?”
Hiccup fidgets.
It’s really hard to think about either of them, but she’s his sister now. She deserves to know.
“My mom was taken by dragons years ago. I barely remember her anymore,” he admits, “but I know she was nice. Really nice. I remember her singing to me and stuff but then, she was just… gone.” Heather squeezes him a little tighter. “And my dad– he was usually busy with stuff.” Even if Hiccup misses him. Does his dad miss him? Or is he just glad Hiccup’s gone so he can’t keep getting in everyone’s way and causing trouble? ‘Cuz that’s really what he does best; cause trouble and mess stuff up.
He’s scared to know what’ll happen when he inevitably starts doing that here too.
Later that night, when they’re eating, Heather very importantly announces, “I knew you were lying, Dad.”
“Lying about what, dear?” Viggo asks, looking sort of amused.
“That you couldn’t just ‘get’ me a baby sibling,” Heather says, making air quotes with her fingers.
“I was not lying about that, darling.”
“Uhuh.” She hooks an arm around Hiccup’s shoulders again, dragging him close. “You obviously were ‘cuz I’ve got one baby brother now.”
“Twin,” Hiccup corrects in a whisper.
“Twin,” Heather agrees.
Viggo eyes them both.
Hiccup leans a little closer into Heather’s side.
What?
Adults are scary.
And parents are terrifying, and now he’s got a new one he’s supposed to please somehow, like he didn’t screw up last time already.
***
Settling into a life in the Grimborn household is… strange. Terrifying. Because apparently, Hiccup is one of them now. His name, for all intents and purposes, is Hiccup Grimborn. Viggo – uh, dad. He should call him dad now, right? Even if it’s still weird – didn’t push him to reveal what his name used to be. He simply accepted it when Hiccup had mumbled that he didn’t want to say.
He’ll probably be mad when he finds out that Hiccup is the heir of Berk. Because he is going to find out. Probably. Maybe if Hiccup is really, really careful not to share too many details about his past, no one will ever know. That seems nice. He doesn’t want them to know, because then he’ll have to go home, and he doesn’t want to go home. He has Heather here, and she’s so nice. He’s never had a sister before. He doesn’t want to lose her.
Viggo makes a point of spending time with both of them every evening. It’s weird. Dad never did that. Oh. Er. Dad is Viggo now, though, right? But anyway, point being, no one on Berk did that for him. Maybe his mom did back when she was still alive, but then she was gone, and he was so alone. He always treasured the time that he got to spend with his dad – previous dad, that is. But now, Viggo makes it seem so… normal.
He’s patient with them, even when Heather interrupts him constantly to chatter about something entirely irrelevant. He doesn’t yell. He just says her name in this firm tone that silently demands she listen. And she does. Sometimes, Hiccup thinks that Viggo even finds her amusing when she does things like that. It’s so strange.
Another thing that Hiccup has realized about his new dad is that he’s… intense. Or maybe that’s not quite the right word for it, but if he’s focusing on you, then you know it. He has a way of looking as though he can see everything and know everything. He’s calm and collected all the time, and when he’s upset, you know you’re in trouble. He’s just never gotten mad at Hiccup, so Hiccup doesn’t really know what Viggo might do if Hiccup crosses one too many unspoken lines. What are the rules here? No one has ever told him, and he’s having a hard time figuring it out on his own, because Viggo just doesn’t react to things in a way that Hiccup is used to.
Sometimes, Hiccup overhears him talking to other adults. He never yells at them, but his voice goes cold in this you will listen to me and you will do it now or you will regret the consequences sort of tone. He never uses that tone on Hiccup or Heather, though, or even on Ryker. Not that Hiccup has seen anyway.
The wind is howling outside, nearly shaking the house from how strong it is. Hiccup has seen his fair share of bad winter storms on Berk, but this one is even worse somehow. Viggo told him they’d probably be snowed in for a while, so they gathered a whole bunch of supplies and firewood and locked up all the doors and windows. It was exciting at first, until the storm hit, but now it’s just windy and icy and cold, and Hiccup shivers under his furs.
Heather is sleeping already, or he might be tempted to crawl in next to her and whisper until they both fall asleep. He rolls over and sighs. This is the second winter he’s spent with his new family. The first one wasn’t so bad, except that he was new, and everyone kept looking at him, and there was one boy who kept making mean comments to him. He called Hiccup a runt and a weakling and said he’d never survive the winters here.
Viggo overheard the remarks, and his expression just went cold. It was the first time that Hiccup saw him genuinely look angry. “I must have misheard,” he had said, and his words were cool. The calm before the storm. “I’m sure you were not wishing death on my son, were you?”
The boy panicked, and his mother stepped in and forced him to apologize. Most of the other children have kept their distance from Hiccup ever since.
After a few more minutes, Hiccup sits up. The house is mostly quiet, but maybe Ryker is still awake. Or Viggo, though Hiccup feels a lot more uncertain about approaching his new dad. At least Ryker is easy to read. He tiptoes from his room and makes his way to the main room where he hears some movement.
Viggo is there, papers spread across the table in front of him, and he’s massaging his temple in the way that Dad used to when he complained of migraines. He looks up the moment Hiccup steps into the doorway, almost as though he sensed him somehow. Hiccup is good at being quiet. He doesn’t know how Viggo always knows he’s there.
“What’s wrong, my dear boy?”
“Can’t sleep,” Hiccup mumbles, still standing in the doorway. He doesn’t mention the nightmare that woke him.
“Why don’t you come here?” Viggo suggests, and Hiccup takes the invitation gratefully, scampering across the floor to stand next to him.
“What are you doing?” he asks, leaning up on his tiptoes to get a better look at the papers. It’s almost hard to read them in the dim lighting; the fireplace isn’t burning as brightly as it was earlier, and the lamp on the table has such a small flame.
“Tribal work,” Viggo explains. He picks Hiccup up and settles him in his lap as though it’s an afterthought. It’s not calculated, not planned. It’s just something that he does now, and Hiccup finds himself relaxing as he curls closer. “If this storm is as bad as predicted, we’ll end up lower on supplies than I would like. I’m trying to calculate if we have enough to push through, or if we should take an emergency trip to a nearby island.”
Hiccup nods. He understands what his new dad is saying. Maybe not everything, but enough. “Can I help?”
Viggo chuckles, fingers carding through Hiccup’s hair gently. “I don’t need any help right now.” He pauses. “But I appreciate the offer.”
“Really?” Hiccup isn’t pouting. Definitely not. Even if he is a little disappointed. He doesn’t want to go back to bed right now. “What about– ice?”
There’s a pause. “Whatever would I need ice for, dear heart?”
“Chiefing migraines,” Hiccup answers. Isn’t it obvious? “Before I came here, sometimes my dad wanted ice for his chiefing migraines.”
Viggo goes very still. “You were the chief’s son?”
Oh. Oops. Oh no. “N-no!” Hiccup blurts out, panicked. “Of c-course not. I was just–” Just what? Think, Hiccup, think. “I just knew him. ‘Cuz the village wasn’t very big, and–”
“Hiccup.”
He goes quiet, and Viggo shifts him a little so he can look at his face. Hiccup turns his head away, staring at the floor.
“Look at me.”
After a moment, Hiccup lifts his head, trying desperately to hide the panicked fear that he feels. What if they send him away for this?
“It doesn’t matter to me where you came from,” Viggo tells him, his hand warm and reassuring on Hiccup’s shoulder. “You’re my son now, and I’m not letting you go. I was simply surprised. I expected a chief to take better care of his child.”
Hiccup lets out a trembling breath. “O-okay,” he whispers, leaning forward to wrap his arms around Viggo’s neck and cling to him.
“Now, why are you really awake?” the man questions, arm going around Hiccup’s back to cradle him closer.
“… M’had a nightmare,” Hiccup admits finally, words muffled against Viggo’s shoulder. “And I’m cold.”
“Well, we can fix that easily,” Viggo answers. He stands, adjusting Hiccup’s weight in his arms as he carries him back to his room. He sets Hiccup down on the bed, pulling the furs up over him and getting another one out of the storage space on the far side of the room. He drapes that one on top, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Is that better?”
“Yeah.” Hiccup snuggles under the added warmth, finally no longer shivering.
Viggo’s fingers brush through his hair again. “Then get some rest. You’ll need it.” He stops to check on Heather before he heads to the door, pausing only when Hiccup calls after him.
“… goodnight, Dad.”
Hiccup can’t see his new dad’s face, but the way his steps falter is answer enough.
“Goodnight, son.” His voice is soft, softer than Hiccup has ever heard it, and he grins to himself, even as Viggo steps outside and closes the door quietly behind him. It’s the first time that Hiccup truly feels as though he belongs with this family. They didn’t just take him in because he had no one. They took him in because they wanted him, because he belongs with them. He has a home, maybe for the first time. Here, he is loved.
***
At eleven, Heather’s already impossibly good at weapons, and Hiccup can barely do a thing. He can’t even lift the axe that she swings around like nothing. He’s always been behind like that but he’s not exactly that little anymore, so it’s something he’s gonna have to learn eventually somehow.
Everyone on Berk was already telling him he was pathetic because of it. And he’s seen the looks that some of the other children and adults here shoot him, even if they never say anything about it.
Ryker finally pulls Hiccup aside for private sword lessons during one of the times he’s on their home island for a while. Hiccup’s using a wooden sword so at least it’s something he’s strong enough to pick up.
Hiccup lifts it with his left, pauses at Ryker’s glance, and starts to shift it to his right instead.
“Use your dominant hand,” Ryker says. “You can train with your right later. Get down the basics with the one you’re used to using.”
Oh, uh….
He shifts the sword back to his left again. “Everyone always told me the ‘proper’ way of training was starting with your right,” Hiccup mumbles. That’s what Stoick told him the times he tried to teach him on Berk. It always ended badly, with him getting impatient at Hiccup’s slowness… and how exhausted he was at even holding the pathetically tiny little weapon he’d been given.
Ryker scoffs. “The ‘proper’ way to start is whatever way you learn it the best, kid.”
Uh.
Okay.
He has no clue what to say to that so he says nothing, instead trying to follow the instructions he’s being given.
Ryker’s not getting annoyed at him so that’s… something.
“You’re doing good,” Ryker tells him, after they’ve been at it for a while. “Your forms still need work but you’re doing well. Being a good sword fighter doesn’t only come from strength.”
Well, that’s… uhh… Not what he expected.
Maybe weapons’ training doesn’t always have to be very not fun.
Hiccup finds that he actually looks forward to it a little after that.
***
They’re ten and eleven now. Hiccup doesn’t remember Heather running off this much when she was younger but there’s times she’ll just… disappear for a while and never say anything about it afterwards, and this time Hiccup finally goes to find her.
She’s sitting on a perch by the cliffside, overlooking the water. She startles a little when she hears him coming. “Hiccup?”
“Uh.” He settles onto the snow next to her. “Are you– are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she insists, right off.
“Really?” he objects, frowning.
“Really.”
“But… you’re being weird.”
She sighs. “It’s just… nothing, really. It’s not important.”
Sometimes, he really wishes she’d just talk about stuff instead of getting all weird and avoiding his questions. “But you don’t seem to think it’s nothing,” Hiccup counters, arms wrapping around his knees and leaning his head on them as he turns to look at her.
Heather fidgets a little, staring out at the water for long enough that he’s almost not sure she’s gonna reply. “None of the friends I make ever last,” she says finally.
“Oh,” Hiccup blurts, then feels stupid because what kind of useless answer is that, anyway? “I– I know. I mean, I’m not sure I’ve ever been able to make any friends here or… really even before, back on my own island.”
But Hiccup knows what she means. The other children around their ages pretty much always avoid them and when they do talk to them, it sometimes feels more like it’s just because they’re either being polite or maybe want something.
And Hiccup’s never been great at knowing how to talk to people, since on Berk, the other children pretty much only ever bullied him. They don’t do that here but not talking to them instead doesn’t exactly feel much better.
Well, there was one time that one of the other children hit him, and the child’s parent had just… panicked and forced him to apologize – as though anyone ever used to be bothered about someone hurting Hiccup.
Stoick would’ve told Hiccup he needs to get a spine and hit back – as though he isn’t too weak for that to make a difference.
He has no idea what Viggo would do.
He just knows that he’s not blind enough to not know why everyone acts like they’re completely untouchable for being the chief’s children, or why they act like crossing either of them may be the same as crossing Viggo.
Hiccup never told anyone about the hitting incident. He doesn’t want to get people in trouble or hurt because of him.
“You’ve really never had friends before?” Heather asks.
“I mean, I guess there was Fishlegs but it always felt like his parents wanted him to spend more time around someone who wasn’t so bad at Viking stuff,” Hiccup says.
“You’re not bad at Viking stuff,” she protests, indignantly.
“Uh, I kinda am. You’re still way better at axes–”
“So? You’re better at swords.”
Hiccup huffs, because he can’t think of a good argument right now. Other than, no, he knows he’s not nearly as good at fighting as he ought to be, and he never has been, but he knows she’s trying not to make him feel bad. “Anyway, uhh… I guess we still have each other.”
“Yeah,” Heather agrees, throwing an arm around his shoulders. She still looks broody, though. Hiccup doesn’t really know what to say to her about it.
He can’t deny that he gets lonely too sometimes, even if it feels silly because he has his family here, and he doesn’t need anything else. He just… wishes there wasn’t always something about being around most other people that leaves him feeling sorely out of place, like he’s just… not quite one of them.
***
The one thing Hiccup likes most about this place is that he’s not the town laughingstock for being below average at fighting. He’s progressing as a sword fighter under Ryker, but it doesn’t feel like enough. Heather has surpassed all the other children in her age group, and on the few occasions that Hiccup has seen Ryker or Viggo fight, he’s always left feeling both awe and jealousy. Because he’ll never be that good.
But Viggo doesn’t seem bothered by Hiccup’s lack of progress. He always tells him not to worry about it.
Hiccup realizes quickly that Viggo appreciates his mind. He says Hiccup is clever, and he seems to enjoy playing Maces and Talons with him or talking to him about problems they’re having and asking Hiccup to find a solution. That’s more than Stoick ever did.
And somehow, in the course of a few years, Hiccup ends up in the forge. Sometimes, his solutions require building intricate and complicated contraptions which also means he needs to be good at blacksmithing. Somehow, it’s the one thing that he’s not a failure at – most of the time, at least. Hiccup is good at creating, good at constructing, and it’s something that he’s proud of. Viggo always encourages him to be creative, and he never bats an eye, even when those creations go badly.
Like now.
He was trying to make an explosive device. He swore he had it entirely figured out so that it would only detonate when it was supposed to. But the calibrations must have been off, because he had exactly five seconds to realize what was going to happen before it did.
And there is, unfortunately, no way for him to clean this up and pretend it didn’t happen. Hiccup stares, wide-eyed, at their home. Or what used to be their home. At least he didn’t destroy the entire thing, but the front wall is scorched and has a… rather large hole in it now. Oops. He should probably have taken the explosive device outside to the caves – or some other uninhabited area so he wouldn’t cause property damage.
“What did you do, kid?” Ryker asks, with a certain tiredness that seems reserved just for moments when Hiccup did something that resulted in disaster. It’s not disappointment, at least. Hiccup doesn’t think he could handle it.
“Uh–” he squeaks.
“Never mind,” Ryker says, shaking his head. “Are you hurt?”
Hiccup shakes his head. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “I should have– been more careful.”
Ryker snorts. “Yeah, you can say that again.” He carefully steps into the house to survey the damage, muttering to himself about things that are probably best not repeated.
Heather just laughs when she sees. It’s not funny, and they both know it, but the situation is absurd, to say the least. “How do you accidentally blow up the house, Hiccup?” she teases, and her smirk is playful not mocking, so he’s not annoyed. Or not too annoyed, at any rate. “That shouldn’t be possible.”
Viggo’s reaction is the most unpredictable. He surveys the damage with keen eyes, expression showing nothing. “I dearly hope,” he says at last, “that you didn’t destroy my office or lab.” He turns toward Hiccup fully. “Now tell me. What did you learn from this failure?”
It takes some careful prompting from him to get Hiccup to settle down enough to talk about what he’d been working on – and then a little more for him to offer his opinions on what he should have done better. If this had been Berk, Stoick would have been shouting at him. But here? Here, it’s somehow not even a big deal. Viggo is more curious with how Hiccup can make it work properly next time as opposed to trying to make him stop so he doesn’t destroy anything further, and Ryker doesn’t even yell.
It’s… nice.
And it’s nicer still to know that this is one way that he can do something for his family, for his tribe. There is no one who surpasses him in creativity or ingenuity, and Hiccup is proud of it. He’s good at creating things. And if he can make something that works? That’s even better.
***
His dad and uncle fight a lot. Well, usually it’s more in a Ryker objecting to something Viggo is doing, and Viggo saying something completely scathing, usually to the effect of ‘what good would a game be saddled with an inferior opponent’ or ‘Thank Thor he at least gave you strength of body’.
Hiccup is rarely around when those conversations happen, or maybe it’s that he didn’t notice it as much when he was littler, but he’s eleven now, and he… notices.
That’s why he finds himself slipping out of the house and chasing after Ryker after one of those squabbles.
He doesn’t even know what he’s doing, just….
Trailing along behind him as quietly as he can, trying to think of words and mostly completely failing. He knows how to ask his sister if she’s okay. He has no idea what to do when adults start being mean to each other.
Ryker pauses to look over his shoulder, suddenly. “You need something, kid?”
Hiccup freezes. “Uh–”
He thought he was being quiet, because he really wasn’t planning to announce his presence until he figured out what to say.
“Not exactly,” Hiccup mutters, shuffling. “I just…”
Ryker eyes him. Not impatiently exactly but more like he’s really not in the mood for talking right now.
If someone said something like that to Hiccup, he really wouldn’t be either.
He has no idea how his dad can be nice and also so… mean? It just leaves him with the same uncomfortable knot of feelings he… tends to feel a lot and never quite knows what to do with it.
Because he can’t stand seeing anyone hurt, and it’s… a lot harder to know what to do about it when it’s because of someone in his family. Even more so when it feels like he’s the only one who even feels like that.
“I just wanted to know if you’re okay,” Hiccup blurts out.
Ryker stares at him.
Hiccup feels himself flushing. “Um,” he fumbles. “I mean, I– never mind. I should probably go–”
“I’m fine,” Ryker interrupts. “That’s what you came out here for?”
“Uh. Is that weird?”
His uncle laughs, like he didn’t quite expect the response. “Well, I can’t say I expected it.”
“Uh… it just… seemed nice?” he offers, uselessly.
Ryker pats his shoulder. “I’m fine, Hiccup. You don’t need to worry about that.”
“Um. Okay.” Hiccup kicks at the snow, wishing he could find something to say that actually feels sensible. “Has he always been like this?” he blurts out.
“Well… he wasn’t many years ago but things changed as we got older. But that’s a story for another time.”
Uh.
Hopefully nothing changes with him and Heather as they get older. That sounds awful.
Hiccup doesn’t know what to say to that, so he just hugs him instead. That’s probably the most he can really do about the situation anyway.
***
“Don’t touch anything,” Viggo says for what feels like the thousandth time. “Not unless you ask me first.”
“We’ll be careful, Dad,” Heather replies, a hint of exasperation creeping through.
“Really, really careful,” Hiccup promises fervently as Viggo leads them into his lab. The place is almost entirely underground, and it’s separate from the rest of their home to keep anything from being contaminated. Shelves covered with an assortment of jars and containers line the walls, and everything is labeled neatly in Viggo’s handwriting. A desk up against the wall is littered with papers, and there’s another worktable of some sort that has a collection of random items on it, most of which Hiccup doesn’t even know the purpose of.
“Now remember, this isn’t a game,” Viggo begins, looking between them. “This is serious. Poisoning is an art. Too little, and it will do nothing. Too much, and it might be linked back to you– or the effects will set in too quickly. You don’t want that.”
Hiccup bites his lower lip, fidgeting a little. “What if I don’t wanna poison anyone?” he blurts out when he sees the way that Viggo’s gaze has settled on him.
“Face-to-face combat is generally considered more honorable,” Viggo allows. He’s not upset by the question. More thoughtful than anything. “It’s what Ryker would do. But sometimes, you need to be subtle. That’s when you use poison.”
Hiccup forces himself to nod, his heart flipping uncomfortably in his chest. He doesn’t want to kill, but he can’t say that. He already knows that his dad won’t even understand. It took time for Hiccup to realize that send them to the pit didn’t mean locking the people up somewhere, but rather, throwing them into a Whispering Death hole to be eaten alive. Likewise, make them have an accident didn’t mean hurt someone, but rather, kill them without it looking like a murder. Viggo kills. He’s ruthless, and others see him as cold and uncaring. Calculating.
And maybe he is, maybe he is, but he’s never been cruel to Hiccup or Heather. He’s always been patient and kind. Hiccup knows that he’s seeing a side of his dad that other people don’t see, but that doesn’t mean he’s unaware of Viggo’s darker side. Not anymore. Even if it’ll never be directed at either of them, Hiccup knows it exists. He knows that his dad is a killer. And… it’s hard. It’s a hard thing to fathom, so he tries not to think about it too much.
He doesn’t think that Viggo will understand if he says that he doesn’t ever want to kill. Because he has to do it anyway, right? It’s inevitable. That’s simply part of being a Viking. Eventually, he’ll be in a position where he has no other choice, and he’ll have to do what he was taught.
So, when Viggo begins to teach them about poisons, and the difference between healing and harm, Hiccup listens carefully. He doesn’t have to use this knowledge, but having it is important. Viggo always says that knowledge is its own kind of weapon. Just knowing about poison could even save a life someday. He’ll know what to look out for, what symptoms or organs will be affected, and what antidote can be administered.
And that… will have to be enough.
Hiccup doesn’t have to kill in order to know how.
***
“Don’t worry, you’ll get your dragon hunting chance soon enough,” Heather promises, lightly punching Hiccup’s arm.
“I know,” he agrees, even if he actually doesn’t. He might be trained to fight, but it’s not his specialty, and he’s still not near as good as her.
She’s fourteen, already captured her first dragon, and now, she’s leaving to go on a slightly more extended trip with Ryker.
It’s going to be weird for her to be gone. They did everything together when they were young, but sometimes, it really feels like that’s become less and less true as they’ve gotten older, because they just… aren’t into the same things. He misses when that wasn’t true. But he’s in the forge much of the time now, and she’s way more into fighting.
“See you later, baby twin,” Heather says, a little teasingly.
“I think I’m a little too old to be called the ‘baby twin’,” Hiccup replies dryly.
“Is baby brother better after all–”
“Why does it have to include that word at all?”
They both laugh, Hiccup trying not to think about how much his heart aches at the thought of her being gone for a while. It’s kind of silly when it’s not like she won’t be right back but still.
They exchange a final hug before she leaves, and Hiccup stays down at the dock, watching until the ship has disappeared from sight.
And as it turns out, he’s actually the one who is right this time about how soon he’ll get out there to do dragon hunting himself.
He does go with them not all that long later but… Well, let’s just say that his first efforts at catching a dragon are mostly memorable for their sheer embarrassing-ness and epic failure levels.
Heather teases him about it even if she doesn’t do it mockingly,
His dad just assures him that he’ll get it eventually, and it’s fine if his skills are in another area, anyway.
His uncle just drops snippy comments about how he’s still a toothpick and better not do anything to get himself eaten until he grows up a little.
So… he doesn’t feel too bad about it, but he still really wants to be able to catch a dragon of his own.
Heather keeps going on missions now, and she’s good at it. But the more time ticks by, the longer it’s been since he really got to be with her a lot. It’s part of – you know, actually getting older, but he wishes it wasn’t. He misses her. She seems happy out there, though, and maybe like she’s actually gotten a few friends now that she’s out hunting. He’s happy for her, but he just… wishes things weren’t so different. But she’s more about hunting now, and Hiccup’s way more about spending time in the forge.
Even now that Hiccup’s almost fifteen, he’s still never captured a dragon before.
Maybe part of it is also a little that he… well, he can fight but it’s still not something he really… enjoys? Not in the way the rest of his family does. They never hold back when they’re fighting.
Hiccup does.
Even if that’s not very Viking-like. So maybe that’s his problem - that he can’t really be good at if it he isn’t truly putting his heart to it.
Maybe none of his family think less of him for his inability to have captured a dragon yet – even if he’s heard the whispers and looks from plenty of other people in the tribe, though they’ll never be obvious about it – but… still.
Hiccup wants to prove that he’s capable of capturing a dragon, to himself if nothing else.