Chapter Text
A wild thump of your heart pressed against your chest bone.
You kept your face tucked beneath the shadow of your shawl, and paced along the pebble-strewn paths of the village. Reaching a particular store front, you viewed the door banner, painted with symbols that read: ‘Terrible Mail & Ship”. Pushing past the entrance, your sight met with Terrible Terrors loitering around the shop. A few perched high on exposed ceiling rafters, while others snoozed in stacks against window sills—sunlit and warm.
“Get ye’r tails together. We have a customer for Odin’s sake.” The store-keep pounded the words, shoo-ing away a quarreling pair on the shop counter. With a final grumble or two, the bush of his mustache lifted, creased with a smile. “Welcome in, lass. What we be lookin’ to send out today?”
You pulled the letter from your pocket. “One postage, please.”
“Pick and choose ye’r time of delivery. We’ve got; Standard, Express, and…” the man dragged his attention to one particular dragon, “possibly unreliable.”
Footnote flopped onto the counter at the address. He scattered a few others who had no interest in socializing with the clumsy thing.
“The cheapest option there is at one-copper a piece,” the man stated. “Unless you count ye’r blessings and be grateful if the damned thing gets to where it needs to go.”
“I’d like to take my chances,” you said, pinching the coin into the man's burly palm. “If nothing returns, then we’ll just have to call it fate.”
The man blew the air from his lips, marked the letter with a red wax seal, and fastened it to Footnote. With a squawk, Footnote batted his wings into the air, sending him whirling upwards. Part of you reached your hands forward, in case he throttled against the ceiling and needed a soft place to land. Fortunately, Footnote merely bumped against another Terrible Terror before swooping through a designated exit.
With a sigh of relief, you tipped your head and bid the shopkeeper farewell. Making your way outside, you almost lost your bearings when you thumped against a solid person—or two. You stumbled, and stepped back. The jostling slipped your shawl behind your head, revealing the surprise of your face.
“Ruffnut, Tuffnut,” you gasped, and they returned with a curious look of equal value. “What are you two doing here?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Ruffnut scuffed. “We’re sending our own mail.”
“Toemail, to be exact,” Tuffnut butted in, raising a jar of horrid nail clippings. “One of our cousins—four times removed—just lost both parents in a tragic boar pit accident. They also suffer from a birth defect that doesn’t allow them to grow any toenails. And believe me, there’s no way they’re making it through the grieving process without any to chew on. That’s why we’re sending ours in solidarity.”
You bellied the urge to turn green. “That’s very kind of you both.”
“Tell us about it,” Ruffnut said with a smirk and toss of her braid. “Anyway, what’re you doing here? Sending any toenails too, or what?”
“No, just regular postage; the kind without human parts….” you cleared your throat pestering for a cough. “Not for me, of course. It’s—It’s for Lord Haddock. He asked me to run this small errand for him, since he’s awfully busy with the traders today.”
“I dunno’. Something smells fishy around here,” Tuffnut squinted with a scratch of his long jaw. “And I’m not talking about the fish we stuffed in our pants this morning.”
“You’re right, my fellow womb-mate. And from my expertise in smelly-smells, I’d say this is a classic case of”— Ruffnut jutted her nose at every angle around your face— “Espionage.”
“An evil most foul smelling,” Tuffnut agreed severely. “Let’s take this from the top.”
Ruffnut crossed her arms with a firm nod. “First of all, Hiccup always delivers his mail personally. And that’s to make sure no one messes with any valuable information inside.”
Tuffnut leaned forward, whispering with side-puckered lips. “And trust us, we’ve tried. Like, a bunch of times. Pretty sure we’re the main reason he does it.”
“Two!” Ruffnut punctured the air with two fingers. ”We met our dear one-legged friend at the docks just a while ago, after we had stuffed fish in our pants. And if he had any mail to send, he would’ve done it on his way to the traders. Why’s that, you ask? Because this is the only way to the docks. And whaddaya know, it’s also the only way with a post shop.”
“Not only that, but I remember him not mentioning anything about mail to us. Something more along the lines of…” Tuffnut paused and twirled a dramatic hand. “Oh, yeah. A certain someone who's supposedly home sick with the cold of death. Or not, as we have now come full circle in our investigation.”
The twin’s roused with cheer, clanking their helmets together to pronounce their victory: “Read em’ and sheep!”
“Oh, please, please! Don’t tell Lord Haddock about this,” you begged, reaching to take Tuffnut's hands with a shake. “He—he can’t know that I was here.”
“Ew, gross. Keep your plague infested hands to yourself, missy.” Tuffnut grimaced, flicking his hands away from your grasp. “Fine, we won’t tell. Will we?”
“But of course not,” Ruffnut smirked knowingly at her twin, who returned with a brewing leer of his own. “All for a price.”
You gulped. “What kind of price?”
With downward glances at your feet, they raised the jar of toenails and shook it in your view. A weak cry fluttered out of your mouth. Although you detested the thought of it, it was a small price to pay for sworn secrecy.
Or, so you thought.
The tilted slope back to the Haddock home never felt laborious before. But your legs weighed heavy at the crest of the hill. When you fought to heave open the door, the mounted wood may as well have been quarried from stone. Ignoring the feeling, you hastily discarded your garments, dressed in your customary nightgown, and sprang into bed where you draped a wool blanket over yourself. Burying your head into your pillow, you turned to view the bloom of fading daylight outside the window.
For a moment, you lost yourself in your imaginings. First came a delightful thrill, a pleasant hope of something to come; then a horrible remembrance. A terrible guilt.
Toothless hopped past the view of the window. Bounding inside, the round of his eyes glistened with fealty and pride. Trotting to the side of your cot, he lowered his head and placed a delicate green on your pillow case. A clover…you lingered on it lavishly.
“Thank you, Toothless.” Drawing a long breath, you buried it gently beneath your pillow. “I feel much better already.”
Footfalls and the clank of metal came up to the home. The door opened quietly and Hiccup light-stepped in. You stirred and softly groaned, as if just coming to. When he saw you wakeful, he shut the door promptly and hurried to stand beside your cot.
“Welcome back,” you greeted with a smile, although it felt weak against your cheeks. “How was the trader’s today?”
Hiccup disregarded the question for small talk. “Your color’s gotten paler.”
He glanced over your weary form, then withdrew to examine the unlit logs of the firepit. He took note of the barely eaten wood; with only the edges charred and ashened. Not even a hint of warmth; for at least a few hours, he suspected. “When did the fire go out? You must’ve been cold.”
“Ah, I didn’t seem to notice. It may have been while I was sleeping,” you murmured, drawing the blanket higher.
Hiccup remained silent; neither nodding nor agreeing with the answer. After rekindling the fire, he placed himself at the side of your bedding. He bent forward, drawing in your features with a speculative eye. He raised a hand and threaded his fingers through the strands of hair nested behind your neck. A searing heat ran through you; whether by fever or nerves, you couldn’t distinguish.
“Look’s like you haven’t been completely honest with me,” he said, revealing a toenail pinched between his fingertips. With a half-expectant, half-disgusted look about him, he hurried to flick it away and wipe his hand clean against his sleeve. “Can’t say I’m a fan of the twin’s methods but, I’ve gotta say, they can be real crafty when they want to be.”
Double-crossed, you thought. Quiet figuratively and literally speaking. And to no one’s fault, but your own. Your eyes pinched closed, and your face reddened with humiliation. How foolish were you to think you could get away with something like this?
“I should probably mention I didn’t ask the twins to spy on you. They have a way of doing their own thing half the time.“ He spoke with sincerity. ”Just so happened you were caught in whatever scheme they wanted to entertain today. But it also happened to be the same day you decided to ignore how sick you were and leave the house.”
A breath caught in your throat. “I didn’t mean to—“
Turning your attention over, your words fell short. Taken wholly by an expression that hadn’t the slightest trace of a furrowed brow or tightly cinched lip. Within Hiccup’s face a sadness glowed against the fire’s light. A sadness you hadn’t thought could burn holes through your heart.
“Even though you don’t have to tell me, I want you to know—whatever you’re planning to do—I’ll support you as best as I can. But in the meantime...please, don’t get out of bed again.“ He hoisted himself up, laying the topic to rest for your sake. It seemed he did a lot of things for your sake. He continued evenly, “I picked up some fresh medicine from Gothi’s on the way home. She said it would help you sleep tonight. I just need a minute to prepare it.”
When he swept away, your hand raised to catch him. “Wait,” you spoke, pinching the edge of his leather brace, “before you do…could I tell you something?”
He paused, then eased in a smile at your request. “Anything.”
When he returned to the side of your bed, you casted your nose to the ceiling, too shy to face him during your telling's. You steadied your heart and breaths as you spoke; starting from Johann’s elusive buyer, all the way to your toe nails being clipped for ransom. All the while, you took glances at him whenever you mustered the courage to do so. But Hiccup never appeared insulted or appalled—only attentive and curious. Still, you sought to apologize at length. And make amends for your lack of obedience as a servant…and lack of honesty as a friend.
Fiddling with your fingers, you gathered enough will of your own to turn towards him. “Forgive me, for not being truthful. And for tricking Toothless. And, for all intents and purposes, trying to conspire with the twins. For everything, really.”
“I’m not bothered by all that stuff," he said while baring a look of amusement. "And as for Toothless, you’ll have to take that up with him.”
The both of you set your attention to the grumbling Nightfury, who flopped on the ground, exhausted by his wasted efforts and lack of recognition. After all, he did find the most dangerously veiled leaf on this whole sharp-object-throwing island called Berk! All for the sake of a sick maiden. His heroism had to account for something—even a belly rub for all he cared for. You apologized sincerely, and thanked him once again for his valiant efforts. Toothless snorted and groaned in light. And you accepted what you considered was a dragon’s way of forgiveness.
Hiccup’s gaze traversed back to you. “If I could mention one thing, now I do wish you had told me sooner. I would’ve delivered the letter for you. That and, spared your toes from the twins.”
“I think it was a fair punishment,” you said with a hum and wiggle of your feet. Your toes did feel cleaner, and that was something you could thank them for.
He paused after his own chuckle. “You’ve gotten me even more curious; what’re your plans with all that coin? If you don’t mind me asking. Johann can be one for tall tales, but I don’t think he’s exaggerating this time around. And I’m just remembering our conversation from the other day. Maybe it’ll be enough for—land or some random worldly possession—and who knows, maybe even a title.”
“Maybe,” you savored the dream of his words, thinking perhaps, it was possible in the near future. The implication seemed too surreal. You shook your head, “But our home comes first. Once we have enough goods to last through Winter, and if there’s any coin left over…”
“Don’t worry about that. It’s my job to take care of our supplies along with my Dad. I won’t let you pitch in even a single lint ball from your pocket.” As he talked, he pulled the blanket up to your chin, his whole face soft and bright. “Speaking of which, the trader’s looked like they took an interest in the saddles. I won’t get an official trade offer till tomorrow, though. But Gobber and I have a pretty good feeling about it.”
You curled your fingers against the blanket with a flowering smile. “I’m so glad to hear that.”
After another pleasant exchange, he excused himself to prepare your medicine. While you waited, you turned your attention to the window, watching the paint of sunset melt into the winking stars of twilight.
Little by little, your skin felt like a weary drape, with a color almost yellow as a daffodil. Except, you suspected you didn’t look as pretty as one. Flower or not, your appearance hadn’t scared your young Lord away. When he finished in the kitchen, he kneeled at your bedside with a bowl of one of Gothi’s pungent tonics. Although you lacked any sense for smell, your nose wrinkled at the pool of gurgling black water. There was reason to suspect something living was part of the recipe.
Hiccup noticed and, as an act of good-faith, took a courageous sip. Attempting to hum in satisfaction, his lips pruned until he couldn’t withhold a nauseous gag. Even Toothless snorted against the brew.
With an appreciative smile, you took the bowl and brought it to your paled lips. You withheld a shiver and the curl of your toes. The texture of slippery ingredients trailed like wet hair down your throat, curling in the pit of your stomach.
“You sure are something else.“ He took the bowl and, with a grimace, settled it down. “It’d take days for me to drink that. And my dad? No way. Knowing him, he’d rather die an honorable death.”
A dry laugh escaped you, until it felt like cracked pepper filling the pits of your throat. Clasping a hand against your mouth, you strained against the cough till your muscles ached and lungs shrivled.
Hiccup forged a look of concern. “Does it hurt?”
“Only a little,” you croaked and settled your heavy head back against the pillow. “But I’ll be first to say it hurts far less than watching you wield a broom.”
“Between you and me, I’m more of a ‘sword-on-fire’ kind of guy,” he mused just above the crackles of stoking wood. “Apparently, it burns the dirt right out. Only downside, it also burns the floor—catches it on fire, actually.”
“Sounds like you speak from personal experience,” a weak laugh parted your lips. “I would’ve never guessed.”
He brought a hushed finger to the grinning of his lips. “And no one ever will.”
“Well, It’s a good thing you’re not a villain, then,” your words fell to tired whispers. “Else the world would be…in much trouble.”
You wanted to forever be suspended in warm conversation, even if it bothered your throat and lungs. But you felt the heaviness of the world. And the effects of the medicine began pulling you into a place where things like forever didn't exist. Like the dying fire in the room, you would be nothing more than soot. A pile of dust breaking from the slightest wind. Only to be carried out the door in the night, where no one, you feared, would ever question where you went. The thought of it squeezed your breaths and raised a thick layer of sweat to coat your skin.
With clenched eyes, and waning consciousness, you felt a cool wet cloth wipe at your flushed cheeks. The burden of your chest gave one last strained breath. And like the veil of night, your mind went dark.
…perhaps certain things were better left forgotten.