Work Text:
Fishlegs is normally the kind to mind his own business. He learned that when he was a kid, and he certainly doesn’t dig in his best friends, or really question Hiccup. Why would he? Hiccup’s their leader. He’s Hiccup – he’s a hero. The hero, and Fishlegs will admit that without even a blink. He’s good at everything. He can do anything. So, when Hiccup trails off into quiet mumbling about something, then dodges and topic jumps, he doesn’t really think about it.
He’s nearly nineteen now. But he’s still a kid. He’s probably got a lot on his mind. If he doesn’t want to talk about it, Toothless is enough to take care of him, right? Probably – Fishlegs can say Meatlug is successfully the best friend he’s ever had, his other half, his…
Well, everything.
She’s Meatlug – of course, she is.
He thinks about Heather a lot, and wishes she’s come back. He’s mid conveying as much to Astrid when a shriek rings out behind. Fishlegs whirls around to hear the twins whooping, them and Snotlout jumping from their dragon’s backs and sliding down the side of the Dome.
He blinks, then blinks again, awed and mostly confused. “I cannot believe the three of them are finally taking training seriously,” he murmurs, watching wide-eyed as the trio scramble to their feet and keep running – wait, no.
“Uh, that’s because they’re not,” Astrid answers, pointing to the Terrible Terror the trio are chasing.
“Hurry, get it!” Snotlout yells.
“I’m trying!” Ruffnut yells back.
“Why are they chasing Sharpshot?” Fishlegs asks, brows furrowing in complete and honest confusion. Hiccup’s Terror is the only one who sticks around, still loyally passing messages from here to Berk, and other places he needs to. Though with Snotlout and the twins, fi they’re in a particularly destructive mood, he doesn’t think he wants to get involved.
“I don’t know,” Astrid shrugs. “But this is crazy. And where is Hiccup?” She hops onto Stormfly, and Fishlegs clamors onto Meatlug to chase down the group of idiots. They wouldn’t actually hurt Sharpshot, would they? Probably not, they’re mean to Fishlegs, but usually protective of dragons.
“Come on, Sharpshot!” he hears Hiccup yelling, which is odd of itself. “And hey, back off!”
Even if he sounds annoyed, the other three don’t stop.
“Not ‘til you tell us what you’re doing!” Snotlout calls back, swooping down on Hookfang.
The Terror, in perfect Hiccup-training fashion, maneuverings both other dragons and zips into Hiccup’s window. Someone slams the shutters, and Tuff smacks into it full force with a yowl.
Fishlegs winces in sympathy – that definitely hurt.
“Get the door!” Snotlout shouts and the trio swoops around to make it to the front door.
Getting involved is…. well, with the trio in a destructive stampede, Fishlegs would prefer to avoid them altogether. He’s gotten that so many times, well, he’d rather never try it again.
“Hey!” Astrid yells.
There’s a muffled Hiccup yelling for Toothless inside as the twins tackle the door. Fishlegs jumps off Meatlug and follows. He’s not sure if he’s here to watch the chaos, or try to help, but Snotlout dodges Astrid’s attempted maneuvers and races for the stairs. Hookfang’s taken off, not like that’s unusual.
“Toothless, up here,” Hiccup calls from upstairs.
The Fury tries to stop them.
Ruff just rolls right across him with a snicker, sprinting for the stairs as Toothless hauls Tuffnut back.
Toothless growls in irritation and jump-flies back to the second floor.
“Will somebody explain what’s happening?” Astrid yells.
“Why are you chasing Sharpshot?” Fishlegs tries to get out, through the others are already gone.
“I got –”
“Get off me!” Hiccup yells upstairs, completely feral.
“I got it!” Tuffnut cheers. “No, I ahhhhh owwww get it off get it off get it off!!!”
Snotlout and Ruff have tackled Hiccup, who looks annoyed enough for murder. Toothless is snarling at Hookfang who’s happily guarding the window, and altogether too smug about doing so. He knows Toothless wouldn’t actually fire at him – he’s a friend, even if a very irritating one.
Tuffnut is flailing on the floor, trying to pry Sharpshot off his nose.
“You earned that,” Astrid tells him seriously.
He did, but still, Fishlegs goes to peel Sharpshot free. The Terror jumps onto his shoulder, chirping happily.
Tuff, at least, peeled the letter free.
“Get off,” Hiccup orders again, and the two of them finally get up, grumbling. Hiccup limps to his feet, glowering.
Fishlegs is actually just glad he’s not on the receiving end – Hiccup is so scary when he tries.
“I cannot believe you,” he starts flatly.
“Will someone tell us what’s going on?” Fishlegs ventures.
“Hiccup’s sending super-secret letters to someone, and we want to know who,” Tuffnut answers, holding the paper triumphantly.
“Uh, isn’t who Hiccup’s talking to Hiccup’s choice?” Astrid asks. Fishlegs is confused, too. They all send letters all the time. It’s the fastest and really only way of communication to Berk. Fishlegs sends letters to his mom all the time, and she to him. He’ll pass word on to his siblings through her every now and then, though rarely. And Heather – he writes letters to heather all the time. Everyone knows they all do.
He knows the twins write letters to their own mom all the time, and Snotlout to his. Astrid will write to her parents, her father, mostly, because her terms with her mom still aren’t great since the dragon thing. Astrid’s mother never fully got aboard with dragon training. And she’ll write dozens to her siblings. Hiccup…
Okay, alright, maybe this is a little bit unusual. He’ll pass bimonthly letters with Stoick and Gobber or so, but otherwise, Fishlegs knows he has no one back on Berk. No one to miss. It’s sad is what it is.
“Maybe,” Tuffnut grumbles, shoulders slumping, one hand on his nose. “But he’s being so weird!”
“Did you fight with Stoick again?” Astrid asks.
“What? N – no, I didn’t fight with anyone. Look, guys, who I talk to really is my own choice.”
“Not when you’re being so weird!” Snotlout grumbles. “Everybody knows you don’t talk to your dad. And you don’t have a mom, or siblings. Or friends, so…?”
Fishlegs swipes the paper from Tuffnut’s hands, though his eyes still catch a name scribbled on the corner – signed for Hiccup. Which isn’t surprising, but what’s odd is the handwriting. The letters are… sort of large and blocky instead of Stoick’s brief, curling scribbles.
Stoick never puts much time into writing. Fishlegs has seen his letters – they’re rarely more than a few sentences unless he wants to complain about something on Berk. It makes his heart ache so much sometimes. His own father died six years ago, but Fishlegs’ memory of him are bright. He was always really… nice.
Doting, not quite like his mother, but still.
All of Fishlegs’ memories of him are fond, though loaded with grief.
Stoick doesn’t give half of that to Hiccup, and his other parent is dead.
Gobber, for his part, scrawls pages and pages full of incoherent gibberish and more sketches and Gothi-speak then Norse, and Fishlegs has no idea what any of that means, but Hiccup always nods along like it makes perfect sense.
And they get letters from Berk in packages. Not one single, solitary letters – whoever this is, it’s someone… different.
And this isn’t Heather’s handwriting.
“They’re not coming from Berk,” Ruffnut adds. “Did you teach a dragon to write?”
Hiccup groans. “Alright, guys, just –”
“And if it’s not Stoick or Gobber or Heather, who is it?” Snotlout asks.
“You couldn’t have just asked?” Astrid asks flatly.
“You think this wasn’t asking?” Tuffnut scowls, wiping blood off his nose.
There’s an awkward pause.
“Who Hiccup sends letters to is his own business,” Fishlegs intervenes carefully. “Right, guys?”
“Though I’ll admit I’m curious,” Astrid intervenes.
Hiccup groans. “May I?” he asks, holding his hand out. Fishlegs drops the parchment into his palm. “Thanks. Look, I know you’re curious, but you really don’t have a right to be digging in my private things, and you definitely don’t have a right to be scaring Sharpshot.”
The said Terror has fluttered back to Hiccup’s shoulder, hiding behind his head as it perches on his back.
“I’ll admit I’m curious too,” Fishlegs interrupts, poking carefully. He doesn’t want to pressure Hiccup, but he’s intrigued. Hiccup has never had a friend other than everyone right here, and he’s never been secretive about things. At least not… really? He’s an awful liar. And he doesn’t like lying.
Hiccup crosses the room, sitting on his bed’s edge. “Does it really matter?” he asks with a sigh.
Everyone blinks collectively.
Fishlegs feels a little bad for putting him in the spotlight. He wishes he could talk to him elsewhere, but the others won’t leave with no answers. Besides, he will admit that he is fascinated.
Hiccup groans and throws his hands up. “Fine. Dagur. I’ve been talking to Dagur.”
“Why?”” Fishlegs asks, mystified. “Why would you be talking to Dagur?” Dagur, who hunted Hiccup and Toothless for years, made it his life’s mission to kill them, went so far out of the way to hurt every one of them, and destroyed Heather’s life. Even if she loves him – yeah, he’s confused. Dagur never couldn’t bring up some of his worst memories. Probably all of theirs.
Hiccup turns away. “It’s… complicated.”
“Ohhhh, now I need to know.” Snotlout scrambles across the room to sit by him. “Tell us!”
Toothless grumbles, irritated, pattering over to Hiccup and taking up his other side before anyone else can reach him. Meatlug does that for Fishlegs, too. Their dragons are awesome.
“What could you possibly have to say to Dagur?” Astrid asks, equally mystified.
“That’s why I didn’t want to tell you about it.” Hiccup shrugs. “I knew nobody would get it, and I don’t know if I do, either, but don’t you ever wonder why he helped Heather escape?”
Fishlegs knows. Dagur cares about Heather. Somewhat, probably terribly twisted, but family is everything to any Viking, and he was still her brother. That doesn’t mean heather accepts it, or that Fishlegs himself is ready to go there yet.
“I don’t know.” Astrid shrugs. “As a trick?”
“That’s what I thought, too, but you haven’t seen this. These.” Hiccup taps the pages. “I still don’t know how to feel about it.”
“Whoa!” Snotlout yelps, jumping backwards like he’s been punched. “You’re telling me your secret friend is Dagur?”
“He’s not my friend!” Hiccup groans, rubbing his forehead. “He’s… I don’t know what he is.”
“Don’t say brother,” Tuffnut grumbles. “Because I have certified Nut only rights on being Hiccy’s brother. Me, just me, and uh…” He trails off. “Belch?”
Toothless hisses at him, showing all his teeth and flattening his ears. That must’ve hit a nerve.
“Eew.” Astrid shudders. “Don’t even go there.”
Since when, Fishlegs wonders in half hysterical panic, did Tuffnut consider Hiccup his brother? Does Ruff? He’s starting to think he missed something of massive importance. Though it is actually sort of cute, it’s mostly petrifying.
“How did you pick up contact with him?” Fishlegs asks tentatively. “It’s been months since we’ve seen him.” IT couldn’t’ve happened back before, right? The secret Terror messages started… within the last several weeks or so, which is weird.
Hiccup rubs at the back of his neck. “Well, the thing is… okay. Okay, I saw him. Once. He was off on a nearby island.”
“And you didn’t tell us?” Astrid demands.
He shrugs. “There was nothing to tell. By the time I made it back, he was gone. We got ambushed by a group of hunters. He saved my life, and Toothless’s, and then he was gone. I asked him to keep in touch, and, well… I guess he did.”
“Whoaaaw.,” Tuffnut breathes, wide-eyed.
Ruff squeaks, nodding.
“Too weird!” Tuff wails and runs for his life.
“Yeah,” Ruff agrees panickily. “This is too weird.” She runs after.
“You’re telling me, honestly, that you think Dagur could have changed for a better life?” Astrid asks skeptically.
Fishlegs does.
It’s crazy, but… he trusts Hiccup. His best friend wouldn’t let himself get talked into believing a sign of good in someone completely absent. He, more than anyone, knows what Dagur is capable of. Except Heather, and she doesn’t love Dagur for nothing. It’s not something she’s ever talked to Fishlegs about, but he can tell, and Hiccup has…
Well, Hiccup and Heather have been talking about him a lot. Sharing stories, everything. Something only the two of them can ever understand.
“I have no idea,” Hiccup answers. “But if there’s a chance he did, I mean… who would’ve thought you would learn to accept dragons?”
Astrid’s hands are on her hips now, and she scowls. “Hiccup, I was the first to accept them. After you.”
“Ew,” Snotlout whispers.
“I know. But before that? You would’ve tried to kill me, too. I mean, none of you are insane, but still. He’s…” Hiccup sighs, shrugging. “Anyway, I got a letter to reply to, if you don’t mind giving me a minute. Oh, and one more thing – do not mention this to Heather. I’m trying to work things out with them.”
He’s so… sweet.
Hiccup’s had no one his whole life, and he spends it trying to help other families get and stay together. He doesn’t have them, but he’s still trying to get Dagur and Heather together again. Where they need to be. With each other – even if…
Heather calls Hiccup her brother. Freely now – something that started from Dagur. How much deeper is their relationship than Hiccup ever said?
Snotlout jumps out the window onto Hookfang, and Fishlegs carefully pets Sharpshot again, who purrs at him and jumps to Toothless.
“You and… Dagur?” Fishlegs asks tentatively.
“I know how crazy it sounds. It’s crazy to me, too. I – I didn’t want to –”
“I know,” Fishlegs promises him, because he really does. hoping there’s good in someone is… terrifying and tentative at once, while being very, very overwhelming. “I’m just impressed that after everything, you still want to see good in him.”
Hiccup sighs. “He is my brother. The closest thing I’ve ever had to one.”
Now’s not a good time to ask about Tuff. Actually, it’s a question Fishlegs doesn’t want answered, because it’s vaguely horrifying. Hiccup does not need to be indoctrinated into the ways of the ‘truly disturbed’. What terrifies, surprises maybe, but also really doesn’t is how attached Hiccup still is to Dagur. He knew he used to be, but it’s been years, and he sort of thought it just disappeared for some reason. Because he never asked.
“I didn’t know you still cared about him so much.”
Hiccup shrugs carefully, smoothing the parchment out. Sharpshot has jumped over to watch him write. Toothless is crouched beside Hiccup, carefully peering over his shoulder like that alone could explain what human words are to dragons. Fishlegs, for all he tries, has never been able to determine what dragons draw. Still, the sentiment is the same. Both of Hiccup’s dragons, and they’re attached to Dagur in the same way. That doesn’t come from nowhere.
“It’s complicated. I think about him a lot. I mean, I’m the one who put him in prison. Alvin’s not a great captor. I would know.”
Just like that, little things dropped, about Hiccup’s time with Alvin – something he never says more than a few sentences about at a time. It still haunts him, Fishlegs thinks. He still has questions. Hiccup changed so much after that. He came back different. Older, more… more ingrained into the real world like reality just formed around him for the first time between the Isle of the Night and Outcast Island. It hurts to think about even years later.
“Dagur really earned his time in prison,” Fishlegs reminds.
“Oh, I don’t disagree. But I still put him there. He was calling me. I know Snotlout told you. He laughed about it. But it really… really wasn’t funny. He thought I’d help him. And I walked away.” Hiccup looks down at the charcoal in his hands. “I had to keep Toothless safe. And Dad, and Berk and all of you. But still. I left him there for years. I mean, maybe – maybe his anger is justified.”
Maybe.
Fishlegs believes him. He understands, at least. Imprisonment is awful. It’s happened enough times that he’s starting to get the hang of how to handle it, but really. He does, very deeply understand that guilt. Lines in reality can be so, so confusing.
“Everybody tries to tell me I’m a hero. Dagur… is just what came of some of my worst mistakes. And no, I haven’t forgotten what he did to any of us, but I haven’t forgotten what I did to him, or that he saved our lives.”
“If he helped you, I can be grateful for that,” Fishlegs replies. “Though Dagur being anything but our enemy will take some getting used to.” It’s weird, but he’ll give it his best try – for Hiccup and Heather.
Hiccup’s smile is soft, sincere. “I know.”