Chapter Text
This was Berk. A miserable place of cold and wet that worked vigorously to stomp out anything warm and inviting. On this mound of stone and wood, there was only room for dragon-slaying Vikings and, quite frankly, little else. Sadly, when it came to the newest generation of adolescents on the verge of adulthood, all their oddities seemed to do was drive them away from each other.
Each of them had their own draw and what seemed to be some kind of hunger for more. The Thorston twins, Ruffnut and Tuffnut, truly were ready to throw themselves into battle, albeit with a tad more reckless gusto than even most Vikings would deem normal. Snotlout, the chief’s nephew, seemed determined to outstep his father and to snag the attention at any moment he believed would advance his standing in the village. Fishlegs was destined to be among the elite of dragon hunters, thanks to his Ingerman blood and boundless knowledge of his enemies, which bordered on encyclopedic. Clearly, the young man had far more intelligence than half the population on the wet slab of trees and mud that made up the Isle of Berk.
Then, of course, there was Astrid Hofferson. She was by far the favorite of the previous generation. Even with the disgrace of her uncle, Frozen Finn, haunting her, she faced everything with the might to rival the Valkyrjur. The only person who seemed capable of matching her fire was her cousin, Emma. At her side, the two became a competitive force of nature that often required intervention, lest the village pay the consequences with rather extreme property damage. But, in a world where dragons regularly raided and burned to their reptilian hearts’ content, what were a few more broken buildings?
The true concern came to two boys who never really fit in with their peers. First was Emma’s elder brother, Jack, who did all he could to avoid drawing attention to himself. He was content in the shadows, with most not even knowing his name or relation. In many respects, he was merely a part of the scenery. It was fitting, really. From the young age of 7, he was happier getting lost in the forest or playing with children than entertaining a war on dragon kind. Jack never made an appearance during the dragon raids and overall seemed disinterested in the whole thing, not that anyone ever minded. He mostly dealt with the aftermath of the raids, helping Gothi with the wounded as her chosen apprentice.
Jack, however, had a more problematic hobby of watching one Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third. It was a habit that may just incur the wrath of Berk’s own Chief, Stoick the Vast, and get his scrawny butt exiled entirely. He couldn’t help that the boy was a ray of sunshine on the dreary island. When he smiled– as rare as it may be– he was all the light Jack needed to make it through the day. In truth, he couldn’t remember exactly when he fell in love with the son of their intimidating Chief. Though if he were honest, it felt as if he had always loved him somehow. Hiccup was the reason Jack was studying to be a healer. Hiccup was the reason he stayed on Berk.
Emma may tease him ruthlessly for his infatuation, but it didn’t matter. Jack would cherish the rare moments of his closeness, which he would capture when he could, and return his sister’s taunting with barbs of his own. Besides, Jack was the son of “Frozen” Finn, and Hiccup was hopefully in line to be the next Chief. It wouldn’t be right to pursue that– especially since Hiccup didn’t share his affections at all.
It didn’t help that he was younger than Jack by only a year or so. Many said he was a “hiccup” in far more than his name alone. His bird-like frame and penchant for disaster had earned him the scorn of most of his tribe. His very name made some of the heartiest Vikings quake in their boots from the very idea of what havoc he could wreak. No matter his peculiar skill set or his extraordinary ingenuity, he was always the outcast of his people. His peers despised him, the elders dismissed him, and even his father was openly ashamed of him. Truly, there seemed to be nothing worse than being the disappointment of his own tribe.
Burning buildings illuminated Jack’s face in the shadows of one of the stones, as his pale hand would often hold out a balm or potion to injured Vikings who hobbled past him, snatching up the item without so much as a thank you. The young man bristled as all of his hard work was being taken for granted. It wasn’t new, of course. All everyone ever cared about was whoever brought down the biggest, meanest, angriest dragon. Not his medicines or salves or concoctions. It’s not that Jack really should care, though. He wasn’t doing this for them anyway.
A wild Gronckle had been knocked clean out of the sky by a catapult, leaving the creature with Jack directly in its sight. The beast let out a roar and charged at Jack with a flurry of its small wings beating furiously at its sides. Thinking quickly, Jack gave a great bound and dove into a controlled slide down one of the sloping grass hills, his thin frame gliding smoothly under the support beams of one of the huts. The Gronckle thundered after him and rammed into the beam at full speed, rattling it vigorously and giving Jack a brief window to flee on the other side.
Jack dusted himself off and took a brief moment to collect his thoughts, noticing the rest of his peers tirelessly fetching water to douse the flames. He kept back, preferring the out-of-sight out-of-mind approach that had served him so well over the years.
A sharp pain took the opportunity to lance through his foot and up his leg, forcing a yelp out of his throat.
“Ugh-! Son of a skag munching-” he swore, jumping from the source. He had been wrapped up in his own thoughts for so long, he didn’t notice Hiccup’s latest invention barreling past him. The indignant cries of various Vikings followed the young man up along his path, though if he heard their words, he paid them no mind whatsoever. Jack gave a small groan of frustration before hobbling after him.
Of course he didn’t stay inside.
The oncoming dive of a Nadder forced the young healer down on all fours with his arms reflexively flying up to cover his head as the scaled beast swooped down. Its talons instead wrapped around a bleating sheep and whisked it away into the starry night. Jack scrambled to his feet before lifting his cloak to shield his face from a nearby explosion of fire that sent stone and dirt cascading over his entire body. The heat washed over him like the breath of Surtr himself, momentarily disorienting him as the temperature rapidly increased around him. He staggered back and reached out with a hand to grab a nearby stone to steady himself. His progress up the slope was slow despite staying on the very fringe of battle.
Another high-pitched shriek had him ducking for cover once more as a blast of violet light lanced out from the abyssal night. Jack watched it collide with a catapult, sending it bursting with a roar of flames and the clink-clank of shattered wood and warped metal.
“Ah, great…” Jack groaned as he pushed himself up before a very odd sound reached his ears. A sharp thwap ripped through the sounds of chaos around him, and the unmistakable whirl of stone bolas spinning through the air joined it seconds after. A sharp snap and a shriek finally had him looking up to the pitch-black, smoky sky, but the fire from the burning huts made it nearly impossible to see what exactly could have made such a sound.
“I hit it… Ha! I hit it! Did anyone see that?”
A gasp tore from Jack when he crested the hill and caught sight of the young man. Hiccup was splayed in the grass a few feet away from an odd contraption. Not a moment went by before a set of clawed wings clutched tight onto the edge of the cliff face. Jack watched, frozen and mute, as a Monstrous Nightmare cleared the edge of the cliff with one great heave of its powerful wings. It crushed Hiccup’s invention like a bug under its massive foot, reducing it to splinters.
Monstrous Nightmares were arguably the deadliest of the raiders that frequented their village, no doubt due to their unusual habit of setting themselves on fire. Their gel alone could linger on their victim’s body long after escaping the dragon's notice. Jack had learned that the hard way when he stepped too close to a candle a few months ago after harvesting a fresh jar for his research.
The dragon hissed, giving chase to the scrawny Viking and nipping at his heels with razor-sharp teeth. The pair of boys instantly turned tail and ran, too wrapped up in their panic to notice the other fully. Jack risked a glance back, noticing the open jaws of the Monstrous Nightmare about to bite Hiccup in half, when he came upon a discarded hatchet. He scooped up the tool and flung it with a mighty heave, watching as it sailed over the dragon’s head to nail a nearby rope that was holding the charred remains of a support post. The blade sliced through the cord, and the smoldering pillar fell hard on the dragon’s head, crumbling on impact. It stunned the beast just long enough to buy Hiccup the precious moments he needed to get a head start. Jack managed to duck and roll underneath a collapsed hut to shield himself from the Nightmare’s sight, while Hiccup continued his clumsy run to hide behind a pillar. His skinny body was obscured by the thick, unyielding wooden construct.
Barely a moment passed for the young Viking before he flinched at the sudden spurt of flames on either side of him. His limbs instinctively curled inward, feeling the flames heat the metal that had been crudely wrapped around the wood to reinforce the base. Hands covered his head, shielding himself from the burning heat that washed over his face, drawing out a small yelp of panic from the inventor.
Jack’s heart was in his throat, his body ready to jump into action. Even in a situation where a thin healer could likely do no real damage to a dragon that size, Jack couldn’t sit by and do nothing! Just as he rose from the rubble and debris to sprint forward, the massive shape of Stoick the Vast was suddenly there, diving down to strike the beast with a pair of hard leather boots! The impact resonated through the small square with a resounding THWACK! The Monstrous Nightmare recoiled with a snarl, its pair of yellow, reptilian eyes focusing on the much more threatening profile of the village chief.
It opened its maw, ready to spurt out another gout of flame, but much to Jack’s surprise, there was no torrent of hellfire. Instead, a handful of magma flecks seemed to hop from the dragon’s mouth to sizzle at the cold dirt below, leaving the creature in a far more vulnerable position as Stoick descended upon the beast. Jack was almost impressed with how the Chief forwent any sort of armament or pleasantries, opting to bash the creature's snout with his fists to drive it back. Most vikings would hesitate to approach a Gronckle without a blade in hand, let alone a Monstrous Nightmare, making this feat of strength and will too awe-inspiring for the healer to tear his gaze away.
Stoick, even without his axe, was nonetheless still a potent threat, driving the beast off with only a handful of solid punches. Jack wouldn’t be shocked if they did hit with the force of a hammer strike. He heaved a sigh of relief and looked back to Hiccup, who was- not surprisingly- standing like a poor sheep caught by its shepherd. Even Jack gave a sympathetic wince as the wooden pillar, now too weak to support its own weight thanks to the dragonfire, collapsed and sent its burning top careening down the slope, smashing huts and abodes to splinters, leaving the rest of them in palpable silence.
Everything devolved until Gobber gave Hiccup a slap upside the head, guiding the Chief’s son up the trail and past the mocking words of the rest of the Dragon Killer trainees. Gobber dropped his hand to the boy’s shoulders, and that was when Jack noticed the blood.
“Wait!” the boy called, shoving through the crowd with his spindly arms and squeezing his thin frame between much larger individuals just to keep up with the pair.
Gobber thankfully turned at the call, and Hiccup had a sway to his step when he followed suit. “What now?” the old blacksmith grumbled, but when he saw Jack, his expression turned a bit more inquisitive, “Jack? Ya shouldn’t be out here either, Gothi’ll need ya helpin’ ‘er with the wounded. If you got hurt-”
“Yes, I know, I’m the only other healer we have, and I’m fine,” Jack rushed. “And Hiccup is bleeding. A wound like this can be serious, so you should let me look at him.”
He cringed at his choice of words. Sure, he spent a fair time watching the boy, but he never just sat and stared! He thinks. No! He wasn’t that creepy! He did watch, however, when Hiccup's thin fingers brushed behind his ear and came away wet with red.
Gobber leaned over to get a better look and scoffed. “Ah, now- That’s just a bump on the noggin! No Viking ever died from that!” Gobber bristled, trying to wave away the young man, but Jack stood his ground, digging his heels into the dirt.
“Do you want to take that chance? At least just let me get a look at it?” he implored, as Hiccup stared dumbly at the blood, like he was struggling to process the fact that he was injured at all.
“Oh,” he mumbled. “I guess I hit my head…” Stepping closer, Jack tilted Hiccup’s head to get a better look at the source of the blood, but cursed at the low light. He couldn’t see the cut itself through the auburn locks. Hiccup’s hair was thicker than he anticipated, which made his job even harder.
“Are you dizzy?” He asked slowly, his fingers gently pushing strands of hair away to try and get a better angle.
Hiccup expression scrunched up, trying to rack his brain before he pressed a hand to his face. “A little… I’m sure it’s nothing serious, I’ve had worse.”
The frown that took Jack’s features was one of displeasure. He grabbed Hiccup’s wrists, pulling his hands up to look for any damage. He was prone to getting hurt but seldom asked for help. Normally, Gobber just had him rinse the blood from his hands- as if that were any form of proper treatment. Jack lost count of how many times he had to talk to Gobber about injuries like this. Hiccup’s palms were a menagerie of healed cuts and burns. He had some grit and scuffing on the heel of his hand, but overall, he seemed fine. Just a head wound and a minor concussion from the looks of things. Luckily, his words weren’t slurring so it didn’t seem there was any brain damage. Nothing that wouldn’t heal with time, but Jack couldn’t just let the cut fester.
The sluggish bleeding that soaked into auburn locks reminded Jack of blue lips and cold skin. He had to be sure the wound wasn’t more serious. Hiccup was so warm. So real, and Jack resolved long ago to keep him that way. He squeezed the boy’s wrists gently and pulled him towards the Chief’s hut. “I still need to take a look, in case it’s a deeper gash than we think.” Jack had the fleeting realization that he was holding Hiccup’s hand, but he shoved the giggling flutter in his chest away. He had work to do.
“Are ye sure ya aren’t making a big fuss about nothing?” the Blacksmith grumbled, prompting Jack to look the bigger man in the eye.
“I’ll just be there long enough to treat him, then I’ll be out of your hair, and no one will be the wiser!”
Gobber looked like he very much wanted to argue the point, but all he managed was some half-hearted muttered prayers for the gods to give him strength, and gestured with his axe hand for the pair to follow him up to the hut.
Jack stayed quiet through the short journey, even though it felt like an age. He stayed at Hiccup’s side to catch him if he staggered, but to his surprise, the boy held his own. If he would hazard a guess, probably from nothing more than a stubborn determination that Hiccup faced everything else with.
Words sat at the tip of his tongue. Reassurances and comfort were always Jack’s first thought when it came to Hiccup. If Gobber wasn’t there, he may have burst with the platitudes that knocked all logic from his skull.
Hiccup hadn’t known Jack for years. He didn’t know that Jack was always in his corner. He had been at his side since the beginning, and the idiot didn’t even know it.
Hiccup had stayed silent and sulking even as they entered the house and Jack set to work placing him by the fire and parting his thick hair. Jack’s hair kept falling over his eyes as he worked. He was just starting to get frustrated when Hiccup spoke.
“I really did hit one.” His voice was so small and bitter. The years of dismissal were catching up to him all at once. Anyone should have been able to see that.
“Sure, Hiccup.” Gobber dismissed from behind them both. The tone made Jack’s blood rage, but he just silently pinned back Hiccup’s hair.
He winced when Jack got a little too close to the cut. “He never listens!” he said through the hiss with a large sweep of an arm.
“Neither do you.” Jack snipped, putting his hands to Hiccup’s jaw to straighten his head. “Stay still!”
He grumbled and settled again, elbows on his knees. It was quiet for only a moment, just long enough for Jack to lean close with clean cotton, before he was straightening again. “And when he does, it's always with this- disappointed scowl! Like someone skimped on the meat in his sandwich.”
Jumping to his feet, he paced the length of the hearth. His arms swung in wide, angry gestures as his voice dropped to an impressive impression of his father, all things considered. “Excuse me, barmaid! I'm afraid you brought me the wrong offspring. I ordered an extra-large boy with beefy arms. Extra guts and glory on the side. This here, this is a talking fishbone!”
Jack watched as he paced and gestured. He tried so hard not to grin and be amused by this new side of Hiccup. Instead, he quirked an eyebrow and raised the cotton and cleaner. “Are you done? Feel like you’re going to drop yet?”
“Actually,” He mumbled, taking a step and almost swaying into the fire. “Now that you mention it…”
Jack managed little more than a squawk before lunging forward and catching the younger boy by the shoulders. “You- You- Sit down!”
Hiccup fell to his seat again with a grunt. This idiot- gods, Lady Freyja, why did it have to be this disaster that held his heart? He swiftly cleaned the cut of grit. Thankfully, there wasn’t a lot. So he soaked the cotton in antiseptic. Hiccup flinched under him, and he soothed a hand over his shoulder.
Gobber shook his head, “Now, you're thinking about this all wrong. It's not so much what you look like, it's what's inside that he can't stand.”
For a moment, there was absolute silence as Jack and Hiccup turned in sync to stare incredulously at the Blacksmith. Jack was the first to speak up with a scowl, “You really thought saying that was a smart idea?”
Hiccup rolled his eyes, “Yeah, no, he’s right. Thank you for… summing that up so clearly.”
Gobber finally saw that he might have spoken poorly and waved his hand in irritation. “Look, the point is, stop trying so hard to be something you're not.”
Hiccup gave a defeated sigh, gently rising after Jack was done cleaning the cut, “I just want to be one of you guys.”
Jack could only watch silently as Hiccup stepped around him and quickly crawled up the stairs. His heart broke with each step, and Jack couldn’t find the courage to reach for him. Instead, he turned a dark scowl onto Gobber.
“With all due respect, which isn’t a lot, that is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say. Given your history, that’s really saying something!”
“Well now, ya know I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Then please, “ Jack hissed, trying to remain calm, “Try to THINK before you speak? Gods above, if the whole village did that, I’d actually get a holiday for once!”
“It really wasn’t that bad! Boy just needs to find his niche like you did. I mean, look at him! Bah- Why am I even arguin’ about this with you anyway? Hiccup understood what I meant.”
“If he were anyone else, you would have lost that stupid tooth of yours! If it were Astrid, I would be stitching you up! If you said that to me, well- You wouldn’t have to worry about me bothering you anymore.”
“Well-“ Gobber’s voice darkened without ever losing that jovial tone. “Was that a threat? Didn’t think ye had it in ya.”
Jack shook his head, double-checking the floor for anything he may have missed before taking long strides to the door. “Not a threat, a warning. What you said was wrong, and if you said that to me when all this started, then we would have a very different relationship.”
When he made it to the door, he found himself hesitating. A carved stone game piece lay right next to Jack's foot. It had likely been dislodged by the dragon raid, but still… when Jack stooped to pick it up, anger shot through him. A hunter piece from Maces and Talons. Wasn’t this an expendable piece? Was this the world's way of reminding Jack of his place? He knew well where he stood in this godforsaken village.
He dropped the game piece on the shelf with its set, the piece landing with a hard clack.
“I’ll see you at the council meeting.” Jack threw over his shoulder.
“Oh,” Gobber crowed. “Yer attendin’ meetin’s now?”
“Gothi thinks I should be more involved.”
He truly didn’t mean to slam the door, but Gobber didn’t deserve his remorse.