"That looks like it hurts," observed Astrid, eyes tracing the large bruise running up the right side of Hiccup's jaw. It looked several days old already, but the angry colors spoke to the strength of the hit.
Hiccup shrugged as if it didn't bother him, but she could see he was more closed off than usual. Stoick's attack had rattled him more than he wanted her to know.
"Can I ask," she continued with curiosity, "what's the deal with the speed healing? I've never seen a dragon's wounds mend like that."
Hiccup hummed, seeming grateful for the change in subject. "I've got a theory," he said. "Of course I have no way to know for sure, but I have been thinking about it for a few years and it makes the most sense to me."
Astrid nodded, motioning for him to continue.
"Right before I change, I feel this sort of buzzing in my veins – almost like an aftershock of the lightning from the night of the attack," he explained. "I think…well, I think that buzzing might be the Night Fury's magic in my blood. That it sort of 'activates' the shift. And if it's there all the time, just flowing through my veins, I think that magic must be what speeds up my healing."
Astrid considered it, once more taken aback by Hiccup's ability to puzzle things out. It did make sense to her when he explained it that way, but she doubted she'd have been able to draw the same conclusion herself.
He really was more clever than Berk had ever given him credit for being.
If the Night Fury's magic was always active in Hiccup's veins, flowing through the entirety of his body, it did seem reasonable to believe that its presence would have an impact. The magic would undoubtedly pass each wound, circulating a fresh dose against it with every heartbeat.
"Does it hurt? Having dragon magic in your veins?"
Hiccup shook his head, "It's more like a tingling feeling when it activates. You know, kind of how your legs feel when you sit still for too long? It's like faint pins and needles, just all over."
It didn't sound all that pleasant to her, but at least it didn't sound painful either.
She took a look at the progress he'd made on the door before she'd arrived. The sides were deeply singed and coated in a thick layer of ash, speaking to a persistent amount of fire.
"How many shots do Night Furies have?" She asked, inspecting it.
"Hmm?" Hiccup asked, before his mind caught up to the question. "I don't really know," he admitted with a shrug. "I've never tested it."
"You never thought to test it? It's been five years , Hiccup!"
He scowled, "Yes, I know exactly how long it's been, thank you for that helpful reminder." He pushed his sleeves up and over his elbows before grabbing the torch she'd brought, moving to heat the bolts on the outer latch.
"Why not?" Hiccup had a history of being far too curious, she knew it would have had to cross his mind at one point or another.
The first bolt was slowly turning red with heat from the fire. Hiccup gripped it with his left hand, wrenching out of place with a grunt. She almost missed it when he quietly admitted, "it tastes weird."
"Excuse me?"
"The plasma blast," he explained, shuddering. "It's like coating your mouth in charcoal...or ash."
Astrid couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled out.
"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," he said, moving on to the next bolt.
Astrid shook her head, unable to contain the smile of mirth creeping onto her face. It was endearing to know that even with one of the most dangerous weapons at his disposal, Hiccup was still…Hiccup.
She got to work on scratching up the inside of the door, running a piece of jagged scrap metal she'd stolen from town over the surface.
Once the door was suitably mutilated, Astrid went over to stand beside Hiccup. She felt an unexpected wave of regret as she realized that granting him his freedom also meant saying goodbye.
In a few short days, she'd grown to really enjoy his company. Hiccup was easy to connect with, despite his tragic circumstances and five year absence. Being around him was surprisingly comfortable and after getting to know the boy better, letting him return to a life of isolation and fear just felt wrong.
"Hiccup, I–" The words wouldn't come.
He gave her a sad smile, nodding to show he understood.
There was a clattering sound from above, and the duo froze. Someone or something was approaching the arena.
"We need to go – now!" She hissed, frantically pushing him towards the exit. If they could just make it to the woods, they should be okay.
They'd just made it to the gate when they found their paths blocked by a large, imposing figure. Even under the cover of night, Stoick the Vast was unmistakable.
Hiccup swore under his breath, stumbling back as his father entered the ring.
"I heard voices," said the chief, attention focused solely on Astrid. "Lass, what in Odin's name are you doing out here so late?"
Astrid's mind was scrambling. Perhaps she could pretend she'd just arrived and found the place like this? That she'd just discovered the Night Fury escaped and was rushing to alert Berk to the news?
But how would she explain Hiccup? There was no way for him to sneak out past the chief without being seen. Part of the arena's design was having only one entrance and exit in order to make it a more secure setting.
When she didn't immediately answer, the chief surveyed the scene, taking in the sight of the ruined door and empty cell. Confusion and anger warred on his features as he realized what the damage meant.
When his roving eyes landed on Hiccup, he went rigid. Stoick raised a hand, rubbing at his eyes as if to clear something away. When his hand dropped and his gaze fixed on the young man once more, his eyes widened.
"Sir?" Astrid finally found her voice, "Thank the gods you're here! I came to check on the Night Fury, and saw that he escaped! I was just on my way to come find you and–"
Stoick didn't seem to hear her, instead slowly advancing on the boy like he was in a sort of daze. Hiccup continued to back away, coming to a stop only once his back hit the wall and he could go no further.
"Hiccup?" The chief asked in disbelief, scrutinizing the young man in front of him. "Could it be?"
Hiccup looked away, not meeting his father's eyes for long. Doing so exposed the bruise, and Astrid noted that it was already much lighter than when she'd arrived.
The motion only confirmed Stoick's suspicions, as it also brought attention to the thin white scar on his chin. He'd had it for as long as Astrid could remember, and she now found herself idly wondering if injuries from before the curse were immune to his new healing factor.
"Son…" The chief's voice broke as he threw his arms around the young man. The chief's voice was muffled as he exclaimed into his son's shoulder, "You're alive!"
Astrid met Hiccup's eyes, just visible over Stoick's shoulder. They were wide and panicked, and she wondered if she should intervene. She took a step forward, stopping only when Hiccup shook his head. His eyes twitched to her axe, and he raised an eyebrow meaningfully.
She blinked, drawing the weapon without hesitation. He must have a better plan than outright attacking the chief…right?
"Hi, Dad," said Hiccup, voice cracking. He carefully ducked under the man's arms, stepping out of reach with the same strange grace she now recognized from his Night Fury form. He held out a hand to stop the man from getting any closer.
His left hand.
Gods, Hiccup, seriously?
Astrid tightened her grip on the axe, rolling her weight onto the balls of her feet. If she had to get between them, she would be ready.
Stoick froze, eyes traveling the length of the scaled limb.
Astrid wondered what was going through the man's head. She felt lucky in a way, that her introduction to Hiccup's condition had been a full-fledged transformation. She wasn't sure what she'd have made of the arm alone.
"Hiccup?" She called out, getting antsy about not knowing the plan.
His eyes flitted to hers for a moment, and she saw a familiar spark in them she hadn't seen in years. It was the same wild spark she'd seen right before he'd enacted every crazy plan of his throughout their childhood. It usually ended in some sort of catastrophe or property damage in Berk.
"What…?" Stoick continued to stare at his son's draconic arm in disbelief.
"So, uh, clearly a lot has happened…and I need to tell you a story," said Hiccup, attention returning to his father's gaping form, "about an incredibly stupid viking and a very angry Night Fury."
Was he really going to tell Stoick? Like this?
Astrid positioned herself carefully at the gate, resting the weight of her axe on her shoulder. If Hiccup needed to run, she'd ensure he, and only he, was able to get past her. She doubted she could hold the elder Haddock off for long, but she could at least buy her friend a few minutes headstart.
Stoick's head turned, as if just remembering the wreckage of the Night Fury pen. His brow knit, voice low and menacing as he asked, "did that beast do something to you? Is that why you disappeared?"
Hiccup ignored him, launching into the now familiar tale of the night he was cursed. His words were a bit rushed and awkward as they tumbled out of his mouth, but they were clear enough.
Stoick shook with anger as he heard about his son's suffering that night, fists clenching by his side. He eyed the damaged enclosure once more as he promised, "I swear I'll find the beast and wring its neck…"
Hiccup shook his head frantically, "That's not…it was a different Night Fury! The one you had here…"
Astrid almost couldn't bear to listen. Her nerves were too keyed up, knowing the chief's penchant to respond to any big news with strong emotion.
After a ragged breath, Hiccup was able to piece together the words. "The Night Fury's attack, back when I was fifteen, it changed me."
"Your arm," said Stoick, nodding towards it.
"Well, yes, that's part of it," agreed Hiccup, fixing his gaze at the ground, "but not why I ran away."
There was a tense silence at those words, as Hiccup had confirmed that he'd chosen not to return to Berk. That he'd willingly left his father and his tribe behind.
"Look, I can't prove it until sunrise, but Astrid will back me up if you don't believe me," he said, daring a glance back up at his father. "The dragon cursed me that night – like something out of one of the crazy old legends Gobber's always going on about. From sunset to sunrise, this is me," he explained, waving a hand in his general direction. "From sunrise to sunset…"
Hiccup trailed off, eyes wandering back to his former cell.
Stoick followed his gaze, looking baffled. "What are you saying?"
His son groaned, running a hand down his face in frustration. "I really hate saying it," he confessed. " Please don't make me say it. There are only two characters in this story: the idiot viking and the angry Night Fury. You had one of them in that cage all week, and I've already told you it wasn't the attacker. Do the math."
Astrid shook her head, wishing she could put him out of his misery. She held her tongue, knowing it was not her place to interrupt this tale, but it grated on her to no end.
Stoick scratched his head, still appearing at a loss, much to Hiccup's clear frustration.
"Gods, do I really have to say it?" A note of hysteria crept into his voice. "Fine – it was me ! I'm the other Night Fury!"
The color began to drain from Stoick's face, even as he denied the claim. "That's impossible. You're not a dragon, Hiccup."
"I wish that was true," said Hiccup bitterly, drawing in on himself. He gestured to his jaw, drawing attention to the mottled bruise with a clawed finger. "Would have spared me that swing of yours earlier."
The chief tensed, reminded of when he had struck the Night Fury in the jaw, just hours ago. The placement of this bruise was the same section of jawline he'd hit.
"But, that's impossible!" Sputtered Stoick, shaking his head as he protested once more, "I hit a dragon."
"You hit me ," corrected Hiccup, voice firm, "and you couldn't see the difference between me and any other dragon. Hel, you still can't! Why do you think I never came back?"
"It's true," said Astrid, unable to keep quiet any longer. Her voice was solemn as she addressed her chief. "I've seen him change with my own eyes. Hiccup is the Night Fury."
Stoick braced himself against the wall with one arm, looking shaken by her testimony.
"I overheard you today, while I was in the ring," said Hiccup, voice soft. "You and Gobber were talking about clipping my wings, crippling me so I couldn't fly."
Stoick's eyes widened, a sort of grim sort of acceptance starting to surface. "There was no one around to hear that…"
Hiccup tapped one of his ears, shrugging. "I hear pretty well, when I'm like that." He hesitated for a moment before continuing, "Thanks, by the way. For talking Gobber out of that. I don't even want to think about what part of this me I'd lose in the process. A toe, a foot, a leg…"
Stoick raised his free hand, halting the grim train of thought. He looked like he was going to be sick.
"Hiccup," called Astrid, eyeing the sky. "Dawn is coming. You need to go."
The boy followed her line of sight, clenching his jaw. "You're right," he agreed, heading for the gate. As he crossed the threshold, he threw a look back over his shoulder at his father. "Come on, you might as well see it for yourself."
The large man trailed behind, following the younger vikings out of the arena.
Once Hiccup had put distance between himself and the ring, he turned to face his father once more. "I am sorry, for what it's worth," he said. "I didn't want to leave, or to make you think I'd died. I-I made a stupid mistake, and I'm still paying for it. I really didn't have a choice. I still don't."
"Hiccup–"
"Let me finish," he insisted, eyeing the rapidly brightening horizon with grim resignation. "I'm the one with a time limit here. Once the sun rises, I won't be able to finish. I just…I want you to understand that it's still me – still my mind." He swallowed hard, "I still love you, and I miss you…and gods , do I miss home. And I know that in a minute, you might not feel the same, but just…I'll leave Berk alone. I won't come back, I promise. Just…don't come after me, please. This curse is bad enough without having to look over my shoulder all the time."
Stoick blinked, taking in the scrambled speech. There was a lot to unpack, emotions and thoughts jumbled into a mess of words that only Hiccup could construct.
Astrid watched the first of the sun's rays break over the sea, cutting through the sky like knives. She readied her axe once more, eyes fixed on the chief for any signs of violence.
From the corner of her eye, she saw the now familiar flash of purple flame followed by the glimmer of ink black scales.
Stoick dropped to his knees in shock.