Archive of Our Own ^beta

The wind howled across the frozen cliffs, carving cold scars into the white-dusted rocks. Snow fell heavy and quiet, muting the world like a held breath. Heather stood outside the mouth of the icy cave, her arms folded tight against her chest—not from the cold, but from the growing tension under her skin.

“I said stay out here,” Ryker had barked, eyes narrowing with something more than suspicion. “You’ll know when to come in.”

She’d played her part too well. Too confident. Too informed. Ryker wasn’t dumb—not like Viggo thought. He knew betrayal when he smelled it. And now Hiccup was walking into that cave alone.

Ryker snorted as Hiccup slowly walked out into the open. "Dagur was right," he said, sizing up Hiccup. "You don't look like much."

Hiccup rolled his eyes, "Astrid was right. You look like a psycho."

Further inside the cave, everyone watched with baited breath. 

"I don't like this. Have I said that I don't like this?" 

"Yes, Snotlout, you said that already," Astrid replied with a scowl. "I don't like it either."

“Ryker,” Hiccup said warily, snow melting on his shoulders as he put his handmade shield against his prosthetic leg. “What do you want?”

Ryker smiled, wolfish. “I think you know exactly what I want. The Dragon Eye."

Hiccup’s eyes narrowed, "Not a chance."

But Ryker persisted, "I'm giving you the deal of a lifetime. Hand over the Dragon Eye, and we'll allow you to walk out of here alive."

Hiccup inhaled sheepishly as he pretended to feel around. "Ah shucks, I must've left it in my other pants."

Ryker narrowed his eyes, "How convenient."

By the entrance of the cave, a dragon hunter got into position. 

Ryker stepped forward, "Well, in that case, surrender and you won't meet the same fate as your dragons."

Hiccup narrowed his eyes, "Here's my offer. Leave now, and your men won't have to find out what burning flesh smells like."

Ryker grinned, putting his hands on his hips, "You've really got a bit of a sense of humor. Dagur really wasn't wrong about you at all." 

At the entrance of the cave, the dragon hunter drew the bow, taking aim. Surprisingly, Ryker didn't argue further, instead, he shrugged his shoulders. "Don't say I didn't give you a chance."

He leaned over, grabbing his axe out of the ground, signaling the hunter to shoot. 

Thunk.

The arrow embedded in Hiccup’s side before he could even move.

He gasped, stumbling back into the wall, the icy stone cold against his spine. His fingers scrabbled at the shaft, breath shallow. Dragon root. He could already feel his limbs beginning to stiffen. The cold wasn't from the snow anymore.

The moment the cry of pain reached the air—distant, muffled—Toothless’ head snapped up from where he crouched just a little ways past Hiccup. His ears twitched. His pupils dilated into narrow slits.

Hiccup.

There was no hesitation. Toothless leapt out from behind the ice like a shadow with wings, slicing through the air, claws scraping ice as he skidded through dragon root arrows.  Ryker’s guards barely had time to register the thud of footsteps before darkness roared through the entrance. Black scales shimmered with frost, plasma glowed at his throat. His eyes found Hiccup—slumped, weak, barely conscious, one hand stretched toward him—and that was all it took. Toothless launched. A blast of violet-blue energy shattered the ice-packed floor, sending splinters of stone and snow into the air. Guards scattered, shields raised, but they were too slow. Toothless barreled past them, fangs bared, claws tearing into the earth as he skidded to Hiccup’s side.

Toothless nudged him with his snout. Hiccup groaned, but didn’t move. He let out a low growl—not here, not now, not like this.

A second arrow fired from the shadows—Toothless twisted midair and blasted it out of the sky with a burst of plasma before it could touch them.

Heather ran in next, eyes wide with horror, blades flashing.

“I didn’t know—he didn’t trust me—”

Toothless didn’t hear her. He was already crouched over Hiccup, growling like a beast from some ancient rage. His wings flared.

The roar of plasma still echoed through the cavern when the Riders burst out from behind the veil of ice, weapons drawn and eyes wide. They had waited in position, just as Hiccup had ordered. Wait for the signal. Wait for the right moment.

But the sound they heard first hadn’t been a signal. It had been Hiccup’s cry. Astrid was first through the breach, Stormfly’s spines bristling in every direction. “Hiccup?!”

The sight that met them made the world stop. He was on the ground, his back slumped against the icy cave wall, a dragon root arrow still lodged in his side. His breath fogged weakly in the cold. His head lolled to one side. Blood stained his flight suit. And Toothless stood guard, wings outstretched, his entire body blocking anyone from getting close—except Astrid.

She froze, her axe slipping slightly in her grip. “No—no, no, no—”

Toothless looked at her. His eyes shimmered with panic, wild with a fear none of them had seen before. He shifted just enough to let her approach, but his body never stopped shielding Hiccup. Astrid dropped to her knees beside him, hands shaking as she reached for his face.

“Hiccup… hey, hey, I’ve got you. Look at me. Look at me, Hiccup.”

Hiccup’s eyes fluttered open at her voice, barely. “Astrid…?”

She nodded fiercely, blinking hard. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m here. You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

Snotlout’s voice cracked behind her. “Is he… is he gonna—he’s not gonna die, right? He can’t. He’s Hiccup.”

“Get that arrow out!” Ruffnut barked, but her voice was shrill with panic. “Why aren’t we pulling it out?!”

“No,” Fishlegs said quickly, falling to his knees opposite Astrid, “Not yet—dragon root arrows can paralyze the lungs if you move them too fast. We need to do this carefully. We need a poultice, or—”

The twins stood back-to-back, guarding the group as Hookfang landed beside them with a snort, wings flaring to ward off the last of Ryker’s men.

Snotlout walked up slowly, like he was afraid what he’d see if he got too close. He looked down at Hiccup—at the blood, the arrow, the slackness in his limbs—and swallowed hard.

“Get up, Haddock,” he whispered. “Come on. You’re not supposed to go down first. That’s not how this works.”

Toothless growled low in his throat, curling tighter around his rider like he could physically keep the world away.

Astrid pressed her forehead gently to Hiccup’s. “We’re getting you home. You’re gonna be fine.”

Hiccup, half-conscious, gave the ghost of a smile. “I know.. I got you guys”

Astrid smiled a bit, even as tears fell to the snow. This was her fault, all because she didn't tell him about Heather in the first place.

The Riders worked in near silence, their breaths harsh in the cold as they clustered around Hiccup’s slumped form. Fishlegs’ hands trembled as he examined the arrow. “I-It’s definitely dragon root,” he muttered. “But I’ve only studied its effects on dragons. We’ve never treated a human—”

“Then guess,” Astrid snapped. “Educated guess. What do we do?”

“Stabilize him,” Fishlegs said, trying to sound certain. “Don’t remove the arrow yet. If the root gets into his bloodstream faster, it might paralyze his lungs. Or his heart.”

Astrid closed her eyes, gripping Hiccup’s hand tight in both of hers. “He’s barely breathing.”

Heather pulled a poultice from her satchel, one she usually used for dragon venom. “This might slow the root from spreading.”

Fishlegs took it with a nod, applying it gently around the wound. Hiccup groaned under the touch—barely. Even pain seemed too much effort now.

“That's it, Hiccup,” Astrid whispered. “Stay with me. You’re not going anywhere.”

They wrapped him in thick furs, and strapped it tightly to Toothless’ saddle.

“Toothless won’t leave his side,” Astrid said. “He can get him back faster than any of us.”

“I’ll take him.” The voice came quiet but firm.

They all turned. Snotlout stood there, fists clenched, jaw tight. He wasn’t looking at them—just at Hiccup.  “I’ll take him to Berk. Toothless and I… we’ll get there fastest.”

No one argued. Astrid placed a hand on Snotlout’s shoulder. “Get him to Gothi. Don’t stop. Don’t let him go cold.”

“I won’t,” Snotlout said, already climbing onto Toothless behind Hiccup.

The wind sliced through the sky like blades, but Toothless flew faster than he ever had. Snotlout leaned over Hiccup’s body, whispering anything he could think of.

“You better not die on me, you twiggy idiot. You hear me? I’m not gonna lead the Riders. I don’t wanna be chief. That’s your job, remember?”

Hiccup didn’t respond. His face was too pale. His body felt too light.

Snotlout grit his teeth. “Come on, man. I’m not letting this be the end of your story.”

Toothless hit the ground running, barely skidding to a stop before the Great Hall. Villagers turned. Gasps rippled. Snotlout jumped down, tearing at the bindings.

“Stoick!” he bellowed. “We need help! Hiccup’s been shot—dragon root—he’s not—he’s not waking up!”

Stoick stormed out of the hall like a landslide of fury and fear, eyes locking immediately on his son’s motionless form.

“What happened?” he demanded, already lifting Hiccup into his arms like he weighed nothing.

“Trap,” Snotlout panted. “It was a trap. No one was there to warn him. We didn't know dragon root could do this to people. We couldn’t help him. We didn’t know what to do.”

Stoick’s jaw flexed, but he nodded, moving fast. “Get Gothi. Now!”

The old healer appeared within minutes, her staff clicking on the stone as villagers cleared a path. She didn’t waste time. Her sharp eyes flicked over the wound, the color of Hiccup’s lips, the stiffness in his limbs. She motioned, urgently, for her assistants to bring specific herbs—some rarely used, others pulled from a chest carved with ancient symbols. Stoick hovered over her, silent, watching with the same tension of a man holding back a storm. Snotlout paced, hands in his hair, glancing back at Toothless—who had refused to leave Hiccup’s side even now, wings tightly folded, tail twitching with anxious jolts.

“I should’ve flown faster,” Snotlout muttered. “I should’ve—”

Stoick spoke then, voice low. “You got him home. That’s what matters.”

Snotlout blinked. The words felt like a boulder off his chest—but only just. Gothi turned then, nodding to Stoick. She’d done all she could. The antidote would take time. Hours. Maybe more. If his body responded. All they could do now… was wait.

Night had fallen over Berk like a thick, suffocating blanket. The cold still clung to everything—stone, rooftops, hearts. The Great Hall burned low with only a few torches as Gothi remained seated near Hiccup, still unconscious on the makeshift healing bed. Toothless hadn’t moved in hours. Outside, in the quiet darkness just beyond the hall, the Riders gathered. None of them spoke. Not at first. Then Astrid stepped away from the door, her arms folded tightly, her back stiff, her face unreadable.

“I need to say something.”

The others looked up—Fishlegs, Ruffnut, and Tuffnut. Snotlout had gone to get food, but the rest stayed behind.

“This was my fault,” she said flatly.

“What?” Fishlegs frowned. “Astrid—”

“No.” Her voice was sharper than she meant, but she kept going. “Don’t argue. I need to say it out loud.”

They were silent, listening.

“I was planning with Heather,” she said. “We were trying to be careful, trying to stay ahead of Ryker. We kept it quiet because… I didn’t want Hiccup worrying. He already has so much on his plate. He trusts me to watch his back.”

She looked down at her gloves, flexing her fingers like they were burning.

“But I lied to him. We all waited in the wrong place. Heather wasn’t in the right spot. And when Ryker figured her out—no one was there to warn him. No one.”

Her voice cracked.

“He got hurt because I thought I could outplay Viggo and Ryker. I thought—” She stopped, blinking rapidly. “I thought I was helping.”

Ruffnut kicked at a patch of snow. “Well, that plan did suck.”

Tuffnut nodded solemnly. “Worst plan ever. Not enough smoke bombs.”

Fishlegs cast them both a warning look, then turned gently to Astrid.

“But you were trying to help," he said.

“You weren’t the one lying to Hiccup,” Astrid snapped. Then, softer, “I was. I didn’t tell him what we were really doing. I told him I’d check the cliffs and stay with the team. He looked me in the eye and said, ‘I trust you.’ And I lied.”

Her breath hitched.

“And now he’s in there, unconscious, barely breathing, because I let my pride get in the way of doing what was right.”

She turned her head away, as if ashamed to let them see her cry.

Fishlegs stepped forward, placing a steadying hand on her arm.

“You made a call,” he said gently. “A wrong one, maybe. But none of us are perfect. Hiccup wouldn’t blame you—he’d say you were trying to protect the people you care about. Just like he always does.”

Astrid didn’t answer. Her shoulders trembled.

“You care,” Ruffnut added after a beat, her voice surprisingly calm. “That’s what matters."

Astrid turned to them, eyes red-rimmed but resolute.

Tuffnut nodded, throwing an arm around both Astrid and Fishlegs. “Group hug of grief and guilt. It’s what Hiccup would want.”

Astrid almost laughed—but it came out as a tear-soaked exhale instead. Then, without a word, they all turned and went back into the Hall. Back to Hiccup.

The fire had long since burned to embers in the Great Hall, casting the room in a low, pulsing orange glow. Hiccup lay still on the fur-covered cot, his chest barely rising beneath the thick blankets. Toothless sat at his side, head low, one wing draped protectively over the cot like a living shield. The others had fallen into a restless, staggered sleep. Astrid curled up on the bench near the wall, one hand still loosely clutching the hem of Hiccup’s blanket. Fishlegs and the twins were upstairs. Snotlout had dozed off in a chair with a mug still clenched in his hands.

All was silent—until Toothless moved. His head jerked up sharply, pupils narrowing into slits. Something was wrong. He let out a low, rumbling growl—not in aggression, but warning. His ears flattened. He nudged Hiccup’s arm. No response. Then, Hiccup’s body arched violently.

Toothless let out a panicked shriek, lunging toward him, trying to steady him with his snout and claws. Hiccup was convulsing—his limbs jerking uncontrollably, breath wheezing through clenched teeth. His eyes fluttered, but they didn’t open. Foam gathered at the corner of his mouth. Toothless reared back and howled. It was a sound no one had ever heard before—primal, broken, terrified.

Snotlout bolted upright, nearly knocking over the chair. “What—?!”

He turned to see Hiccup thrashing, Toothless pacing in a tight circle, practically clawing at the stone floor.

“STOICK!!” Snotlout shouted, already sprinting for the door. “GOTHI!! HE’S SEIZING!! HE’S DYING—SOMEONE HELP!”

Boots slammed across stone outside. Stoick burst through the doors a moment later, hair unkempt, still pulling on his cloak.

“What happened?!”

“I don’t know—he was fine—Toothless woke me up—he started shaking, I don’t—!”

Gothi arrived next, moving fast despite her age, staff pounding into the stone with sharp, purposeful strikes. Without hesitation, she dropped to Hiccup’s side, checking his pulse, eyes scanning his spasming body. She didn’t speak—she couldn’t—but her expression said everything. This was bad. Stoick stood frozen for a second, watching his only son writhe helplessly, limbs jerking like a puppet cut from its strings. Then he knelt down, cradling Hiccup’s head, trying to still him. “I’ve got you, son,” he whispered, voice trembling. “Stay with us.”

Toothless pressed himself into Hiccup’s side, his chest rumbling with desperate vibrations, crooning softly, as if trying to calm him. Astrid stumbled forward, awake now, wild-eyed with fear.

“What’s happening?!”

“The dragon root—” Fishlegs appeared, breathless, skidding into the room. “It—it must be in his nervous system. A delayed effect or… or a reaction to the antidote—!”

Gothi wacked her assistant, gesturing for herbs and a specific tonic. She worked fast, placing something bitter under Hiccup’s tongue, forcing a drop down his throat between spasms.

After a tense eternity, the seizure slowed. His body eased. Twitches. Then stillness. Everyone froze. Toothless whined, nudging Hiccup’s chest. A faint rise, a faint fall. He was breathing. Astrid sank to the floor beside Toothless, her face crumpling in silent sobs. Stoick stayed kneeling, one giant hand resting gently on his son’s sweat-soaked hair. Snotlout wiped his face, not realizing until then that he’d been crying too. Fishlegs took a shaky breath. “He’s alive.”

But the fear still lingered in the room like smoke. Alive. But for how long?

Hiccup didn’t wake that morning. Or the next. His body was still, his breathing shallow but steady under Gothi’s care. The antidote had taken root. The seizures had stopped. But his eyes remained closed. The Great Hall had become a sanctuary of silence. The fire never died. Toothless never left his side. And one by one, the Riders found themselves drawn to Hiccup’s bedside — to say what they hadn’t had the courage to say before.

Fishlegs sat beside Hiccup with a leather-bound journal in his lap, flipping through sketches they had made together of dragon species, dragon root experiments, new saddle ideas.

“You know,” he murmured, “you always acted like I was the smart one. But you were always ahead of me. You just… didn’t brag about it.”

He chuckled weakly. “You let people think you were reckless. But you were always five steps ahead. You still are, right? You’ve got a plan. You just haven’t told us yet.”

He closed the book gently and placed it on Hiccup’s chest. “I’m holding down the science stuff for now. But you better wake up soon, or I’ll mess something up trying to invent without you.”

The twins didn’t know how to talk in a whisper, but somehow they managed. Tuffnut brought a helmet. Not one of Hiccup’s — one of theirs. Ruffnut had painted “Fearless Twigsicle” on it in bright blue paint.

“You’re one of us, man,” Ruffnut said, sitting on the floor cross-legged. “You’re the straight guy in our chaos. That’s, like, important. Like a… like a keystone.”

Tuffnut nodded solemnly. “The sensible glue in our glitter-filled madness.”

“We’re gonna use this helmet to channel good luck into your dreams,” Ruffnut said. “Unless you’re dead. Then it’s a helmet of mourning. But we prefer the lucky thing.”

They left it at his bedside and quietly walked away. For once, the twins weren’t laughing.

Snotlout waited until the others were gone. He sat on the edge of the bed and stared at Hiccup for a long time without saying a word. Then he cleared his throat, arms crossed over his chest.

“You remember when we were kids, and I said I’d make a better chief than you?”

He laughed, but it was hollow. “I didn’t mean it. Not really. You… you’re the one who always got back up. Even when everyone else thought you wouldn’t. Even when you thought you wouldn’t.”

His voice cracked. “I flew you here. I saved your life. But that doesn’t count for anything if you don’t wake up, Hiccup. Because I don’t want your stupid chief job. I just want you to live.”

He reached out, hesitated, and then gripped Hiccup’s hand. “I’m not leaving until you open your eyes, Twig. My job is to bully you, I can't do that if you're not here.”

Astid didn’t speak right away. She sat beside him, her hand in his, and stared at his sleeping face like she was trying to memorize it all over again. “I should’ve told you,” she whispered. “About Heather. About the plan. You trusted me, and I broke that.”

She leaned forward and rested her forehead against his. “I lied to you. And then you almost died. And I don’t know how to forgive myself for that. But if you wake up, I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you never have to do this alone again.”

She pulled back and kissed his knuckles, her tears slipping down over his palm. “I love you. Please come back to me.”

Late that night, Gothi dismissed everyone from the Hall. But not Toothless. He refused to leave the cot, his tail curled tightly around it. When the Hall was finally empty and the fire burned low, he rose to his feet and looked down at Hiccup. He nudged him gently. No response. Toothless let out a soft, sorrowful rumble and rested his forehead against Hiccup’s chest. The heartbeat there was faint — but steady. Alive. Still, it wasn’t enough.

Toothless curled himself into a protective ball around the cot, his wing resting gently over Hiccup, as if shielding him from the world. His eyes glistened, wide and aching.

Hiccup had never gone limp in his arms like this. There was just stillness, helplessness.

Toothless let out one soft, broken chirp. The kind he used as a hatchling. The kind he hadn’t made in years. And then, in the silence of the night, he began to hum. Low and rhythmic. The same pattern Hiccup had always used to calm him when he was afraid.

Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.

Like a lullaby for a boy who wouldn't wake up.

The fire in the Great Hall had burned down to a whispering glow. The room was still, save for the occasional crackle of wood and the faint rise and fall of steady breathing. Toothless stirred first. Something changed. The warmth beneath his wing shifted. A sound—a breath, caught and rasping—drew his head up immediately. His ears twitched. He leaned in. Hiccup’s fingers moved, barely. But it was enough. Toothless froze, then lowered his head to nudge gently at Hiccup’s shoulder. Another breath—this one deeper, though labored—and then, finally, a flutter of eyelids. Hiccup blinked once, then again, everything hurt. The ceiling above him was dim and golden. He could smell soot. Hear fire. Feel… wings?

“...Toothless?” he rasped, voice dry and cracked like old parchment.

Toothless let out a sound so soft and broken it almost didn’t sound like him—a crooning whimper, part relief, part disbelief. He nuzzled into Hiccup’s chest and rumbled, his body vibrating with a storm of emotion he couldn’t put into words. Hiccup coughed, winced, but managed a shaky smile. “Hey, bud…”

Toothless whined, nosing at his hair, his shoulder, his hand—needing to feel that he was real. That he was there.

“I’m okay,” Hiccup whispered, and though he wasn’t—not yet, not really—it was enough for Toothless to believe him. For now.

The dragon’s body pressed close, wings curled protectively around the cot, his head resting gently beside Hiccup’s. Warmth flowed through him like sunlight breaking through snow.

Hiccup let his eyes close again for just a moment. His fingers tangled into the familiar softness of Toothless’ ear.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he murmured. “Like always.”

Toothless gave a low trill.

“I missed you, too,” Hiccup breathed.

They stayed like that for a long time—dragon and boy, rider and best friend—wrapped in quiet, trembling peace.

Outside, Berk slept. But in the heart of the Hall, the light of hope had flickered back to life.

The night was quiet, but Snotlout’s sleep was not. He twitched beneath his blanket in the corner of the bunkhouse, tangled in his furs. His brow was furrowed, breaths coming in ragged bursts as the images clawed through his dreams. Hiccup was falling. Through ice, through fire, through sky. His face was pale, eyes empty. Toothless was roaring and couldn’t reach him. No one could. Snotlout screamed in his dream, running—too slow—hands outstretched. He caught Hiccup’s limp body just before it hit the ground, but it was too late. He was already cold.

“No—no, no, no—come on, Hiccup, wake up! I didn’t mean it! I didn’t mean anything I said! I’d trade places with you—just OPEN YOUR EYES—!”

He woke with a start, gasping, heart racing. The room was dark, the fire low. His fists were clenched in the furs. He wiped his face and found tears there. For a long moment, he just sat in the silence, listening to the wind batter the windows. Then he stood up. Still shaking, still reeling from the nightmare, Snotlout pulled on his boots and shoved open the door to the Great Hall.

Snotlout stepped in quietly, expecting the same stillness. The same suffocating fear. But then— A sound, a cough to be specific. Snotlout blinked and stepped closer. And there, sitting up slightly in the cot, was Hiccup, awake. Pale, sweaty, and propped up with effort—but awake. Blinking groggily at the firelight, one hand still resting gently on Toothless’ snout. Snotlout froze.

“...Hey,” Hiccup rasped.

Snotlout didn’t move at first. His face twisted between about five different expressions—shock, disbelief, anger, and finally something dangerously close to tears, although he would never admit it.

“You—” he choked. “You—you’re awake?”

“Yeah,” Hiccup said softly. 

Snotlout stared. “I'm gonna kill you if you ever do that again!”

Hiccup scratched the back of his head sheepishly. 

"Yeah, I already heard enough from Toothless."

Snotlout glanced over at Toothless, who just put his head up, looking proud of himself.

"Uh, yeah? You almost died, like for real this time. Not one of those big gaps between you and death. No, this time you literally could have just died, been dead. Forever."

Hiccup rolled his eyes, "Yes, thank you, Snotlout."

After a beat of silence, Hiccup looked at Snotlout curiously. "So, uh- what were you doing in the Great Hall so late?"

Snotlout paused, it hadn't occurred to him that Hiccup would question him for that.  “I just came in to check if the fire was still going,” he muttered. “That’s all. Not for you”

Hiccup gave him a tired, crooked smile. “Well… pretty good timing.”

Snotlout walked up, slowly, then dropped into the chair next to him like his legs couldn’t hold him anymore.

“You’re seriously the worst,” Snotlout whispered, not looking at him. “You scared the crap out of all of us. Out of me.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

There was a pause. Then Snotlout reached out and punched him lightly in the arm.

“Don’t ever do that again, you damn fishbone.”

“I’ll try not to,” Hiccup said, eyes closing briefly. “No promises.”

Snotlout sat with him in the silence, the weight of the nightmare finally lifting. 

Morning broke slowly over Berk, the first soft rays of sun spilling gold across the rooftops and snowdrifts. The storm had passed, in more ways than one. Inside the Great Hall, the fire had been rekindled. Snotlout still sat by the cot, head resting in his hands, half-dozing upright. Toothless lay curled beside Hiccup, his ear twitching now and then at the sound of quiet, even breathing. Hiccup shifted slightly and opened his eyes again—less hazy now, less lost. He could feel the warmth of the fire. The weight of Toothless’s wing. The dull ache in his side. But he was awake, alive.

He cleared his throat. “Snotlout...?"

Snotlout jolted awake with a snort, blinking like he hadn’t really believed Hiccup would still be there.

“You’re still here,” he mumbled.

“You’re surprised?”

“Kind of, yeah.”

Before Hiccup could reply, the doors burst open.

“Is he—?” Astrid’s voice cut through the room like a spear, eyes already searching, frantic.

She froze when she saw him sitting up, eyes open.

“Hiccup?”

He gave her the smallest smile. “Hey.”

Astrid was at his side in a heartbeat, dropping to her knees, brushing his hair back from his face, her hand clutching his like a lifeline.

“You’re awake,” she whispered, voice breaking. “You're actually awake.”

Behind her, Fishlegs barreled in and nearly tripped over the hearth.

“Oh Thor, oh Thor, you’re okay—oh—don’t ever do that again, Hiccup, I mean it, I was already planning your funeral—”

The twins followed with less subtlety.

“Do we still get to keep your helmet if you died in spirit?” Ruffnut asked brightly.

“No,” Hiccup croaked, grinning faintly. “Nice try, though.”

Tuffnut placed a hand over his heart. “The Fearless Twigsicle lives again. Let all of Berk rejoice.”

Stoick came last, quietly, slowly. He stepped inside and took one long look at his son, eyes drinking in the sight of him upright, talking, breathing. Then he exhaled, and nodded. No words. Just relief.

Hiccup swallowed hard, his throat thick. “Hey, Dad.”

“You scared us,” Stoick said, voice low.

“I scared me too,” Hiccup admitted. “But... I’m still here.”

The group slowly gathered around him. Some sat, some stood. Toothless remained curled close, eyes half-lidded in contentment, his tail gently tapping against the floor. For the first time in days, there was laughter. Real laughter, tired, shaky, real laughter. Hiccup looked around at all of them—at his friends, his family—and let himself breathe.