It just had to be the arena.
Hiccup understood the practicality of the choice – after all, it was late and much of Berk was winding down for sleep. They needed a place to practice that was far enough away from town that it would not be a bother to the villagers. The arena was ideal: secluded, with ample space to move about and even designed with combat in mind.
It made a lot of sense. That didn't mean Hiccup had to like it.
Stoick had insisted on leading the way – almost as if he suspected Hiccup would find a way to slip away without an escort. Though the thought was tempting, he'd already agreed to the training. He wouldn't go back on his word for this, no matter how he felt about the situation.
There was a tightness in his chest as he stepped through the familiar gates once more, memories of his days trapped within resurfacing. He'd been gawked at, he'd been attacked and he'd been imprisoned in this very ring. It made his skin itch to be back within those walls.
He hadn't returned since he'd released the dragons from their cells. By the looks of things, no one else had either. The door from his first holding pen was still missing, a glaring reminder of the night he'd made his first escape. The night his father had uncovered the truth.
The cell looked even smaller than he remembered, the floor now coated in fallen leaves and other debris the wind had blown in over time. The other doors were shut, having been sealed tight since the villagers first realized they were empty. His eyes tracked over the old Timberjack door, his second home within the arena. Gobber's trick latch glinted in the moonlight, only recognizable to the trained eye.
While it had been quite some time since Hiccup had been in the arena, somehow in that moment, it also felt as if no time had passed at all.
He didn't have time to dwell on the feelings, however, as he caught sight of an unexpected guest.
"What are you doing here?"
"What?" Asked Astrid, a smirk playing on her lips. "Did you really think I'd let you have all the fun?"
Hiccup rolled his eyes. Astrid had to be the only person on the entire island who would consider extra weapons training to be fun .
"She's 'ere," corrected Gobber, striding in behind the Haddocks with a grunt, "because you'll need someone ta train with – I'll be observin' yer technique, but she'll be th' one duelin' ya. No use in havin' ya swing at th' air."
Stoick clapped his son hard on the shoulder, giving a reassuring squeeze. "Well, I'll leave you to it, then."
"You're not staying?"
"I've got business to attend to – a chief's work is never done," reminded Stoick. It was a sentiment he'd often repeated throughout Hiccup's life, a constant reminder that the Haddock line had a deeper responsibility to the people of Berk. "Good luck, son."
"I guess I'll see you later," said Hiccup, watching his father's swift exit with relief. A degree of pressure had been lifted off his shoulders, knowing that at least if he embarrassed himself horribly in the lesson…there'd be one less witness to see it happen.
"Astrid 'ere will be yer main fightin' partner," explained Gobber, moving to unlatch a chest of weaponry. "Once ya get a good handle on it, we'll see abou' bringin' in some others to 'elp. Th' more people ya duel, th' better yer technique should be."
The chest creaked loudly as Gobber heaved it open, the metal contents clattering together loudly from the force of the motion. Hiccup flinched at the unpleasant sound, rubbing his ears to clear away the painful ringing.
"Most Vikings 'ave a weapon o' choice," said Gobber, gesturing to the contents. "Like Astrid o'er there with 'er axe. Before we can fin' out what you favor, ya need to get a feel for each of 'em."
Hiccup nodded, stepping forward to join his mentor.
"Yer time in th' forge gives ya an advantage," Gobber continued, reaching down to dig through the chest. "Yer very familiar with all th' weapons of Berk – ya kno' exactly 'ow they work. Most new recruits 'ave to learn the in's and out's o' them all, but I think we can skip tha' part and get straight to th' fightin' bit."
Wait. What?
"Uh…my dad said we were just going to talk through the basics. You know, safety? How to grip the blades?"
"As I've always said – I believe in learnin' on th' job!"
Astrid started to laugh, attempting to conceal it with a forced cough. It wasn't terribly convincing.
Without warning, Gobber shoved an axe into Hiccup's hands. It was heavy, and he lurched backwards a step as he tried to steady himself under the weight. "A little warning next time?"
He adjusted his grip on the handle, trying to redistribute the weight evenly between his hands. It was clearly an older weapon, as evidenced by the lack of a leather grip – a staple of Berkian weaponry throughout the last few decades. The handle was especially difficult to grip in his right hand, the icy cold of the bare metal biting at his exposed skin.
"I think we can rule this one out," he protested, already feeling the strain on his muscles. There was no way he'd be able to hold it for long.
"No' so fast! Ya 'ave to at least try it ou' first!" Gobber argued, narrowing his eyes as he regarded his apprentice. His eyes widened and he brought up his good hand to clasp his forehead. "Oh, Thor – I almos' forgot! Ya need a shield! Can't 'ave Stoick thinkin' I'm not properly preparin' ya, now can we?"
Hiccup nearly lost his grip on the axe as a shield was thrust into his arms. After some careful maneuvering, he was able to slide his right arm through the thick restraints. It was heavy, but not nearly as bad as the weapon, which proved even more difficult to grasp with just one hand.
"I'm really not sure this is a good idea."
"Nonsense!" Gobber waved him off before turning towards Astrid, "Go on, take a swing!"
Hiccup sighed, heaving the weapon up into what he hoped was a defensive stance. He eyed Astrid warily, not sure he liked the small smile she was sporting.
Well, he thought to himself with resignation, at least I heal fast.
Astrid was no fool.
Though he made a valiant attempt to cover it, she could tell that something was bothering Hiccup.
It wasn't exactly a secret that he hadn't wanted to take part in weapons training – in fact, that was the very reason she'd volunteered to assist. She'd hoped he'd be more at ease in her presence than he'd be if faced with any of their peers.
She'd been the first to volunteer, but not the last. To her surprise, Snotlout and the twins had also expressed interest in joining the sessions. Gobber had been enthusiastic about the prospect of having so many volunteers, but he'd only needed one to start. Since Astrid was the best warrior of the bunch, she'd gotten the honors.
She'd expected him to be resistant. She'd expected him to try to get out of the training. What she hadn't expected was for him to grit his teeth and really try to wield each weapon – yet that was exactly what he did.
Gobber was quick to note that the boy's technique was sloppy and that his posture was weak. Hiccup didn't have the arm strength that most of the more popular viking weapons required. Instead, he excelled where most did not. He was incredibly agile and fast, almost slippery in the way that he fought. He moved like water, flowing with an inhuman sort of grace.
It was quickly determined that he favored smaller, more precise weaponry. Astrid hadn't been able to disarm him when he'd used the smaller daggers, making them the most promising choice for close-range fighting. She suspected he'd do just fine with a lighter sword, but was not able to test the theory as Gobber only had a heavy broadsword among his training supplies.
Perhaps that would be a project for him to explore in the forge.
"We can try somethin' a bit more long range next time," Gobber had promised, suggesting that Hiccup could excel with a crossbow or throwing knives. Night Furies were well known for their accuracy and the blacksmith seemed keen on testing whether or not that transferred to Hiccup's human side.
Hiccup had been quick to agree, almost too quick by Astrid's estimation.
Once Gobber had excused himself for the night, she confronted him. "Ok, out with it."
"Huh?"
Throughout the training session, she'd noticed a careful blankness to his expression. That, combined with the lack of his trademark quips gave her reason to worry that whatever was eating away at him went beyond annoyance at being forced to train. While some of it could be chalked up to beginners' nerves, she suspected there was something else at play.
"What's got you so keyed up?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Hiccup."
Hiccup sighed, closing his eyes.
"I'll wait," she warned, crossing her arms.
After a few moments of tense silence, he gestured broadly to the arena around them. "Fine. Just, you know…being back here. Fighting in here – I don't know, I guess it's just…freaking me out a little. I know that's stupid–"
Oh.
"It's not," argued Astrid with a small frown, feeling a flash of annoyance at herself for not making the connection. Now that she knew, it seemed so obvious. "I think anyone in your position would feel the same."
Hiccup snorted. "Would they?"
"Yes," she insisted, voice firm.
The arena held a lot of history for Hiccup. She couldn't begin to imagine how he must feel being back inside again, but she knew that it must be a mess of emotions to work through. There had been a time when he'd truly believed that he was trapped there, and that he might die within the walls. That level of fear had a tendency to etch itself into one's very being, sometimes forever.
"Even if that's true, it doesn't change anything. I still need to find a way to move past this," Hiccup insisted, meeting her gaze with tired eyes, "I need to. It's over – it's been months! I'm fine. I know I'm fine. I can't keep living in those memories, it's not even…ugh!"
In his frustration, Hiccup had kicked the side of the weapons chest with his good leg. Wincing at the impact, he glared at the offending object as if it had been the one to attack him .
"Hiccup," said Astrid gently, moving to help steady him as he teetered off balance. "You went through an ordeal in this place. I'd honestly be shocked if it wasn't still haunting you."
He grunted, looking away. "That's just it, though. It wasn't that bad…at least, not once you knew. I was perfectly fine coming back here on my own terms before – it wasn't a big deal! I don't understand what's changed."
"When you came back here, you believed it was your only way to stay in Berk," she countered. "You were able to overlook the bad – and it still was bad at one point, don't deny it – because you had no other options. That doesn't mean it ever felt safe."
His silence was agreement enough.
"You know," she continued, guiding him to sit atop the weapons chest. "It's not that strange for warriors to have strong reactions to battle sites. My father still refuses to go out by Raven's Point – says he saw a kid get dragged there during a raid in his teens. He thought he could save the boy so he grabbed his sword and followed. Apparently the boy was in charge of shearing the sheep and, well…I guess he was covered in wool and a Monstrous Nightmare thought he was a sheep. It didn't end well."
Hiccup turned to her, horrified.
"The point is," she said, squeezing his hand. "Sometimes traumas stick with us. This place…it holds bad memories for you. That's not going to just disappear overnight, but that's okay. You might not be able to move on quickly – not in the way that you want, but maybe you can take control of it. Find a way to rewrite what this place means to you. You know…make good memories to overshadow the bad."
"Good memories?" He didn't sound very convinced. "Like what?"
Astrid let go of his hand, instead gripping her fingers tightly in his tunic and pulling him towards her. "Like this," she whispered against his lips, feeling his hot breath on her face. With a final tug, she brought his lips to hers in a soft kiss.
Hiccup hadn't been able to sleep. Between the anxiety that being back in the ring had wrought and the sheer giddiness of his kiss with Astrid…his mind refused to be silenced.
He tossed and turned, trying in vain to find comfort in the thick nest of furs and blankets that had replaced his old bed. He sighed, staring up at the ceiling in exasperation.
His eyes traced the familiar patterns in the wood, a habit he'd adopted as a young teen. He'd had a habit of getting in trouble in those years, often being sent to his room in order to keep him out of the way while his father cleaned up his mess. It hadn't been intentional, but he'd always been accident prone. At least the curse had given him a new grace that seemed to have fixed that problem.
Gods, he had spent a lot of time in this room.
Hiccup watched the fire race across his face, temporarily blinding him as he shifted in the dawn's emerging light. He blinked a few times, taking in the scene once more with much sharper eyes. As a Night Fury, he could see the smallest cracks in the wood and even the glint of the nails between the boards.
He rolled to his feet as quietly as he could manage, mindful of Stoick sleeping below. His own sleep was a lost cause – he needed another way to clear his thoughts.
Hiccup crept down the stairs, pushed open the back door and slipped out of his home with practiced ease. Once outside, he stretched out his wings, shaking out the stiffness as soon as there was room to do so comfortably. Being up in the air had helped him sort out his thoughts in the past – it couldn't hurt to see if a flight could offer some relief now.
Perhaps it was time for a little bit of exploration. He had been meaning to check out that strange ice fortress for days.