Safe Out of Sight - Chapter One

"Although how can you know who you are 'till you know what you want which you don't so then which do you pick when you're safe out of sight and yourself but where everything's wrong? Or where everything's right and you know that you'll never belong?" ~ On the Steps of the Palace: Into the Woods

Chapter One

Gods, the air was amazing today. Hiccup closed his eyes and let the wind rush over his skin and through his hair as he and Toothless banked right around a pillar of stone. They only just skimmed the surface of the water below before pulling sharply up out of their dive and ascending once again, further separating themselves from the earth, climbing ever closer to the endless sky.

Hiccup let his eyes flutter open, soaking in the surreal milieu of infinite clouds and light that surrounded him. He would never grow accustomed to the absolute wonder that encased his mind, the weightlessness that penetrated his soul; he was caught in a state of perfect enraptured bliss. Nothing could replace the sheer marvel of flight for Hiccup: not all of the possessions in the world, not even the return of the use of his leg. He would gladly give up his terrestrial mobility if only in exchange for flight. A boy and his dragon and the sky. He could never happily leave it.

Which was why he was surprised when some part of his mind recognized the shift in light on the horizon. Hiccup exhaled as the weightless euphoria that coursed through his veins just moments before fled him, his thoughts returning to the land he'd left far below. The sun's position on the horizon told him the time he had expected to return had long since passed.
"C'mon, bud," he sighed. "Time to head back."

Toothless made no motion to change course. Hiccup's words must not have registered with the dragon, just as enraptured in flight as Hiccup had been. He smiled and reached to pat Toothless' hide. "It's later than I thought; we really ought to get back bud."

Hiccup was taken aback when he felt Toothless' neck tense beneath his fingers. The dragon's course remained firm, unyielding. It was now obvious that he had understood Hiccup's wishes to return, but was determined to fly to the edge of the earth regardless.
Hiccup set to rubbing circles on the dragon's neck, attempting to smooth out the rigid muscles. "Toothless..." He was wary, ill at ease that he was unable to decipher his best friend's unusual behavior. "We need to go back now."

Silence hung in the orange glow of the sunset as they flew steadily onward. Slowly, Hiccup felt the dragon's muscles relax under his hand. Toothless released a reluctant groan before banking to return to the village, abandoning the open sky behind them.

~~~

The sun was nearly set by the time Berk entered Hiccup's view. Together, the pair swooped down, clinging to the outskirts of the village and landing smoothly. Hiccup quickly set to removing his riding gear, but found he was unable to work with his usual dexterity. He fumbled with his harness as his thoughts refused to focus on the task at hand.

Toothless had been pining to fly much more frequently than usual in recent weeks. Each day he became visibly more irritable the longer he went between flights. While Hiccup enjoyed flying just as much as the dragon, the increased frequency left his body aching and muscles sore, especially those in his left leg; maneuvering the tailfin with Gobber's new design and his prosthetic required muscles Hiccup hadn't even known he possessed until they began burning from the activity.

The overuse had become even more apparent in passing days, as their flights had progressively strayed further and further from Berk. But for all the impatience from the dragon and the extending flights, never had Toothless adamantly refused to turn back to the village when Hiccup wished to return.

While Hiccup certainly enjoyed their increased time spent flying together, he could not rid himself of speculations about the dragon's strange shift in behavior.

"Hiccup!"

The shout came from the village as a hulking figure in brown furs lumbered towards them. With a gulp Hiccup tried to discretely finish removing his harness and shield the riding gear from Fishlegs' view, but his efforts were futile. He had been caught.

"We missed you bringing supplies up from the docks this morning," Fishlegs said as he came to a stop several paces away from them. "And afternoon." He purposely averted his eyes from the riding gear poorly hidden from view, perhaps only to give Hiccup the benefit of the doubt, but it was clear where he had been for the greater portion of the day.

"Sorry, Fish, I really didn't mean to be gone so long." Hiccup brought a hand up to rub his neck, slightly sheepish for so blatantly avoiding village work and leaving the others to complete his chores.

He honestly hadn't intended for his absence to be an inconvenience, didn't think twice about leaving to fly that morning; he had been conditioned by years of his routine disappearances going unnoticed by the majority of the villagers. The new value bestowed upon him was still foreign, and at odds with his generally introverted nature.

Berk's transformation from cold and distant to welcoming had come much too rapidly, seeming to occur in an instant when his back was turned. Hiccup hadn't completely adjusted to everything that had so drastically changed while he lay unconscious in bed recovering and wasn't sure he ever would.

"I'd just cut back on the flying if I were you," Fishlegs offered, smiling half-heartedly.

"I'll try, but this one might throw a temper tantrum," Hiccup jibed at Toothless, who promptly lifted a paw and stomped on his human's good foot in response. Hiccup yelped and glared at the reptile who stared back with half-lidded eyes, utterly unrepentant. Evidently, the dragon viewed the jab as equal payback for the boy's insult, but Hiccup did not agree. He aimed to throw an elbow into the dragon behind him, so as to settle the score, but ended up on his rear on the ground when his target shifted nonchalantly out of the way.

Fuming, Hiccup shot Toothless another glare from the ground. The dragon merely looked smug; clearly pleased he had made his point. "I see very few fish in your future," the boy hissed through gritted teeth. Exasperated, Toothless whuffed and caved to helping his human to his feet with a swoop of his tail. It was Hiccup's turn to look smug, to which the dragon nearly rolled his eyes. Threatening his fish supply. Low blow.

Fishlegs, who had failed to respond to the fiasco as it occurred before him, continued to stand unmoving before the bickering pair. Anxiety permeated the air around him.
"Fishlegs, was there something you wanted to tell me?" Hiccup asked. Fishlegs continued to stare uncomfortably at the ground, willing to focus on anything but Hiccup. Something was up. "Fish..." he pried.

"Ah...um, I was kind of sent to let you know that you're sort of supposed to go...um..." he trailed, still not looking at Hiccup, dragging a toe awkwardly through the dirt.

"Fishlegs..."

"Your dad wants to talk to you," Fishlegs mumbled quickly. Hiccup internally groaned. "He just said to send you as soon as...well, whenever you decided to reappear."

"Thanks for the heads up, Fish," Hiccup said as he managed half a smile, but he could not keep the unease from his voice. If his father had gone as far as to send a messenger for him, nothing good could be in store for him. Fishlegs only nodded as he turned back toward the village square.

Hiccup stared after the boy from where he stood at the forest's edge and watched him disappear into the heart of the town. He exhaled slowly as the full weight of what await him upon his return home pressed down on him. He remained rooted to the spot, partially due to his aching muscles from the day's ride, but also to prolong his time away from the impending lecture from his father.

However, his father's lectures had certainly changed since the Battle with the Green Death. The condescension and scathing disappointment that previously permeated his father's regard of him had seemingly melted away. Everyone had seen his distinct transformation and now knew that Stoick regarded his son with unmistakable pride. But with that pride came expectation, which almost pained Hiccup more than the disappointment. He wondered if, had he not wished so dearly for the positive regard of the village and attention of his peers for the majority of his life, he would resent that too.

Hiccup's downward spiraling thoughts were halted by a nudge to his back. He turned to see Toothless, peering at him with wide, concerned eyes. The dragon was troubled that the boy had been quiet for much too long; it almost always meant something was amiss. He continued to nuzzle the boy until the morose scowl left his features.

Hiccup managed a laugh. "Thanks, bud." Despite his newfound acceptance from his father, friends, and potential girlfriend, the dragon still understood him better than any person he knew. He smiled, lifting a hand to scratch behind the dragon's ear-plate, at which Toothless gurgled happily. "Nothing I can do about it now except go see what he has to say," Hiccup sighed, resigning to head towards his house and the unavoidable stern talking-to from his father. He gave Toothless a final scratch behind the ear-plate as a bid goodnight before turning towards the village square.

Before he could take more than two steps, he felt a tug at his back. Toothless nipped at his tunic, preventing him from making any further progress towards his house. Hiccup eyed the dragon, bewildered by yet another display of uncharacteristic behavior from him that day.

"Toothless, what's wrong?"  He rubbed the dragon's neck in soothing, reassuring circles, but Toothless kept his human rooted to the spot, staring at him with wide eyes, almost pleading.

His boy had been in such high spirits flying all day: in the sky, every discomfort that plagued him left far below them on the ground, indistinguishable from the home aloft. Toothless could feel the weight returning to his clan brought upon his boy. It radiated from him, nearly tangible as it hung between them in the still night air; a burden. The dragon wanted nothing more than to liberate his human, allow him that same weightlessness he felt so poignantly in the sky. The freedom they both adored.

For the first time, Hiccup could not fathom what Toothless has trying to communicate. "I gotta get home, bud. I promise we'll go flying first thing in the morning, okay?" He grunted as he freed the hem of his tunic from the dragon's maw and sighed as he moved to scratch the bride of his snout. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said, wishing more than anything for the disappointment coloring the dragon's features to disappear. When his efforts left Toothless' expression unchanged, Hiccup let his hand fall and turned once again from his dragon and toward his house. This time, no tug on his tunic prevented him from reaching the village square.

Upon stepping onto the stone of the village border, Hiccup turned just in time to see his dragon dart away into the wood. He disappeared between the trees, putting yet more distance between himself and his human than before.

~~~

Hiccup stared at the door: at the wood in particular, marveling at the pattern of the grain, how it wove in and out of itself, an intricate dance choreographed by nature and intertwined with the life of the tree itself.

The longer Hiccup pondered the beauty of the wood grain and its symbolic meaning within the macrocosm of life, the more he realized he was stalling. He lifted a hand, poised to latch onto the door handle, but let it hang frozen in midair. He grimaced. The thought of entering his own house should not have paralyzed him so. But he was not only entering his house; he was entering the same room as his father, who had made it perfectly clear via a specified messenger that he had a bone to pick with his son.

Despite having earned his father's acceptance, fear of disappointment was still present in their recovering relationship, and frequently made itself known in the pregnant pauses that still managed to permeate their relatively infrequent conversations. One of which just happened to loom before him beyond the door that he occupied himself with, and Hiccup realized that he'd like to face it sooner rather than later.

Once again, he drew in breath from the cold night air and reached forward to grip the door handle. However, just as his fingers brushed the brass, the door flew open in front of him. He didn't need to look up to know his father's broad, imposing frame filled the doorway.

"Ah, there yeh are, son." Hiccup released some of his held breath upon hearing more relief in his father's tone than the anger he had expected.

"Hi, dad," he offered, unable to think of anything more eloquent to potentially explain his day-long absence. Stoick moved from the doorway to ten the fire burning in the center of the room, allowing Hiccup to step inside. As he turned to close the door, Hiccup noticed that his father continually shifted his weight: fidgety, appearing very much unsettled rather than enraged.

Stoick resigned to sit in his chair by the fire, but did not look up from the floor, did not make eye contact with his son. The overwhelming disappointment permeated the dank air of the room, and Hiccup felt guilt roll from the pit of his stomach up to his throat. His father's solemnity was worse than any degree of severity he could have unleashed.

"Dad, I know that this looks bad and I know I messed up, but I really wasn't trying, I mean, I just wasn't thinking and..."

"Hiccup." Stoick held up a hand to signal his son to stop speaking as he stumbled over himself in hasty explanation. The boy pressed his lips together, relinquishing any attempt at excusing his absence. His father lifted his gaze from the wooden planks of the floor to look his son in the eyes.

Hiccup was taken aback to see, not frustration of exasperation, but hurt there, causing the guilt in his throat to thicken. "The others had tae complete yer village task s today." The guilt choking Hiccup prevented him from speaking. "Yeh cannot just decide to leave without tellin' anyone where yeh're goin' or when yeh're comin' back." Stoick sighed. "I understand the treatment yeh've been used to, but our lives are different now, changed for the better because of yeh, Hiccup. Yeh do understand that, son?"

Stoick paused to gage his son's comprehension, hoping the boy could see where he was coming from. "These people are open now tae look to yeh for leadership, an' have accepted yeh as their future leader."

Hiccup's stomach dropped. Oh, Gods.

"It's time yeh look toward yer future role as chief."

No. Nonono, this was not supposed to happen. Not yet, not now. The subject of Hiccup's eventual inheritance of the role of chief was one that had been carefully maneuvered around throughout the larger portion of his life; the thought of Hiccup the Useless one day ascending to chiefdom had, until recently, struck fear in the hearts of the Hooligans.

It was Hiccup's understanding that he was unanimously regarded as unfit for the job and the chiefdom would eventually be held by Snotlout, the next qualified heir in their bloodline. At least, that was the plan until his commendation as Hiccup the Useful via a severed left leg.

The premise had previously been so thoroughly avoided with him that, while it lurked somewhere in his subconscious mind, he almost forgot he would have to face the topic with his father in light of recent events.

"I'm not a leader, dad..." he tried weakly, desperately attempting to steer away from the topic.

"Yes, yeh are," Stoick insisted. "Yeh're ready to start takin' on more of a leader's responsibilities."

"Actually, I'm really very extra-sure that I'm not."

"It's time, Hiccup," Stoick boomed. Firm, unmoving. Hiccup was immediately taken back to the last time his father stood before him like so: insistent, unrelenting, too set in his ways to even ponder his son's input. Only after leading his warriors into a lethal battle by way of his own folly and indirectly instigating events that led to his son's close sweep with death and amputation did he open his mind.

"This conversation is feeling very one-sided." Hiccup spoke through gritted teeth, his voice low. Stoick's expression softened as he recognized the reference to their conversation many months ago, from another lifetime it seemed. Never had he anticipated such far-reaching implications of that seemingly insignificant exchange. The chief exhaled slowly, doing the best he could to acknowledge the viewpoint of his heir.

"That's nae what I want this tae be, Hiccup." He stepped closer to the boy, willing him to glimpse some shreds of understanding in his expression. "The role of a chief is somethin' yeh have to be willin' to take on."

Hiccup was silent, dying for the topic to be left alone.

"I'm not."

Stoick was quiet as well. They both stood still as the tension between them became too viscous to bear. Stoick, releasing another long-held breath, turned back to the fire and set to adjusting the burning logs. Embers of ashen tinder and still burning kindle glowed beneath the charred fuel. The silence had long since become unbearable, yet Stoick declined to dismiss his son, who stood awkwardly behind him, inching toward the stairs and cringing every time a new log was thrown on top of the fire. The crackling flames hurriedly engulfed the firewood, wasting no time in devouring their fresh offering of fuel.

"Think on it," Stoick said, effectively ending their conversation. And with that, Hiccup immediately bolted up the stairs and out of sight.

The cold darkness of his room was wonderfully inviting after the suffocating dryness and heat of the main floor. Upon entering, Hiccup became painfully aware that he was both mentally and physically drained from the myriad of strange occurrences that day, and made a beeline for his bed. He flopped onto his back, aching to remove his prosthetic to allow the wound to breathe, but far too fatigued to force him limbs to do so. In fact, he was far too tired to do anything beyond close his eyes to sleep. Therefore, he would not think about the prospect of being chief one day as his father had asked him to do (he wasn't sure he ever would), and he would not think about Toothless' increasingly odd behavior. He instead pushed his anxieties to the deeper recesses of his mind and let himself drift into a fitful sleep.

Downstairs, the newly stoked fire continued to burn. It ate at its freshly provided fuel until the glowing embers grew into a blaze.