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Rated: ASR · Draft · Fanfiction · #2199672
Hiccup’s nervousness alerts Stoick. wip
His son was the most transparent boy on Midgard, especially around Stoick. Hiccup never could lie to his father—before more than a word was uttered, his father knew. Years back, he realized Hiccup’s default setting was lie-to-Dad and stopped punishing the boy for it. Hiccup lived in hope of getting away with it, just once, and Stoick would not crush his dream. They had a system: Hiccup would lie and his father would refuse to believe him, then his son would repeat the lie less convincingly, and Stoick would continue to disbelieve. Hiccup had never made it past a half dozen iterations before folding.

Hiccup had not lied to him, but was holding out on his father. He was suspiciously absent when Stoick was home, and they last had a meal together four days ago. Gobber said Hiccup opened the forge early, left by mid-morning, and returned late in the day to work long past the closing time. The work got done, but the schedule was odd and Stoick’s patience was running low. He informed Gobber his son had another thirty-six hours to see him. After that, Stoick would hunt the boy down and glare at him until he broke.

Hiccup appeared home the next night. He opened the door and hesitated to enter until an impatient Toothless shoved him inside with his snout. Stoick beckoned to a chair and Hiccup sat, while Stoick gave Hiccup his full attention. His son had a secret he did not want to tell his father, and Stoick looked to prise it out of the boy. His son gave a nervous smile.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Hello, Hiccup.”

“Um...it’s good to see you.”

“Same here, son.”

“So, how’s the tribe?” Stoick raised an eyebrow. “Well, yeah, it’s good to see you.”

“You said that.” Stoick heard the Night Fury sigh, and Hiccup decided to get on with it.

“You know, Dad, I really need to talk to you about something. I just wanted the timing to be right. I haven’t been able to work it out the way I wanted, but I’m hoping you’ll just listen, okay?”

“All right. Tell me what it is.”

“Well, I know you want me to become Chief sometime and I’m going to need support. The council will support me, but I need to have peers—people like Astrid —around me too. I mean, Gobber and Spitelout are your age.”

“So you want Astrid’s support? Why not ask her, son?”

“Well, I think she’d support me anyway. Astrid’s a great person to put in charge of things, and I don’t have to worry about her. I want someone else I can trust to run the village if Astrid’s not available.”

Hmm. The boy was thinking about being Chief. Maybe the lessons are sinking in. He could retire soon, and let Hiccup take the job. “So, do you have any candidates in mind for the position?”

Hiccup sidestepped the question. “Ideally, I’d want someone with a decent idea of what to do if I had to be gone for a while, who knew about the duties of being a Chief. I want more than having someone I trust. Not that it’s a bad thing, but I trust Fishlegs and don’t think he’d be a good choice, long term.”

“No, I cannot picture that either—too bookish. Maybe in the future, but not now.”

“So, I was thinking, you have Gobber and a few others to help you—including Uncle Spitelout.”

“You want to put Snotlout in charge, son?”

“Well, I’ve been looking at some of the history of Berk. The Jorgensons are one of the original families on Berk, just like the Haddocks are. We’ve always been the Chief’s line, and the Jorgensons are usually warriors. Every Haddock Chief has had a Jorgenson or close kin to the Jorgenson line to support him. I mean, you have Uncle Spitelout, and he’s even kin now.”

They were stepbrothers, and raised in Haddock house. Spitelout did have that advantage. It didn’t make the man less of a thorn in Stoick’s side, but there was less to explain to him about duties and responsibilities. He was a stubborn arse with a sharp tongue and a temper as bad as Stoick’s, but his brother was loyal and would follow his Chief to his death. He could do worse than trust Spitelout.

“I’m going to have him around, anyway. Snotlout’s the eldest Jorgenson son; he gets to take over from Spitelout. We already work together on dragon academy stuff, and you have us patrolling the island. Training him is just more of the same. It’ll be good for everyone and the tribe will benefit. Really,” Hiccup saw the doubt on Stoick’s face, “Snotlout can do this with some training, and I’ll be the one doing it. It will barely affect you.”

“Barely?”

“It’s a good plan. I’ll be making these decisions sometime, so why not prepare now? I’ll give him an overview, focus on the big stuff and maybe polish a few skills. Come on, Dad, this will work.”

Those last three words got Stoick. Hiccup was good at making things work—unconventional but capable of finding a way through problems. Hiccup freed a dragon, the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself, and named him Toothless. He led inexperienced teenagers into battle and defeated a monster. He lost his leg, and responded by making himself a better prosthetic. Only Hiccup could do that and succeed. Now he wanted to train Snotlout. The boy was thinking to his future and it did no harm to let him experiment.

“All right Hiccup. I approve.”

“You’ll let me do this—train Snotlout?”

“Yes, son I’ll let you do it.” Hiccup looked unsure and Stoick sealed the promise to ease his mind. “My word as Chief.”

“Your word as Chief? Yes!” Hiccup threw his fist into the air and Stoick smiled. His son was still a boy at heart. “I’ll see if Snotlout has talked to his dad tomorrow.”

“What does Spitelout have to do with this?”

“Well, we might have to make a few changes.” Hiccup began rubbing his neck.

“What kind of changes?” He gave Hiccup a long stare; the boy was up to something.

“We really don’t have a lot of extra time together. We’ve got training and patrolling; you take me with you a lot, and Snotlout’s still learning weapons work from his dad. Hanging out at the academy doesn’t work, either. Fishlegs has all these questions and the twins try to destroy stuff, and it’s impossible to teach him anything with that going on.” Stoick nodded.

“So, the only way we’re going to spend time together is if Snotlout moves in here.”

“Moves in here.”

“Uh, yeah. But it’s a good idea, right? Snotlout won’t be in your way—he’ll share my room. I’ll be the one training him. I’m going to teach him stuff and he’ll be my responsibility. You won’t have to do anything, Dad.” Hiccup was rubbing the back of his neck continuously now and avoiding his father’s eyes. Stoick could still reject this; he never agreed to having the boy move in.

“You are not adopting a pet, Hiccup, you’re inviting your cousin to live under this roof. When did you intend to tell me this part of your plan?”

“Well, I figured it would come up as we talked this over. You know, just let the conversation flow and find a good moment...” Hiccup took a deep breath. “Maybe it needed more preparing.”

“Hiccup!”

“It’s not final, Dad. Spitelout needs to approve it, and I don’t know what he’ll say. He might not want his son living here and learning the Chief’s work. I mean, it doesn’t involve weapons training, and they’re both into that. Actually, Spitelout’s really good with weapons and Snotlout wins Thawfest every year, so what reason would he have to agree to this anyway?” Hiccup rose and began pacing.

“I’m sure you can think of some.” Stoick’s voice was dry.

“Well, he might think it makes clan Jorgenson look good. He grew up here, but Snotlout’s being invited. His son living in the Chief’s home looks like Snotlout is better than kids like Fishlegs or Gustav. So it’s an accolade and he gets bragging rights.”

“Continue.”

“Spitelout sees me as a kid, but he knows I’ll be Chief and I’m choosing Snotlout in advance for that day. One day, I’ll become the Haddock, Dad. I’m asking his son to prepare for responsibilities I plan to give him. He’ll know when Snotlout takes his place that he’ll be okay, because he trained for it. And, if Spitelout can’t make a council meeting and Snotlout has to substitute, he knows Snotlout will have me to support him. It relieves some of his worries about his son.” Stoick doubted his son cared about Spitelout’s peace of mind, but it was a decent tactic. Thor knows he worried about Hiccup. “He might even think Snotlout would give me valuable Jorgenson perspective.”

“True. None of that is decisive, but it is persuasive.”

“Then there’s the final thing: if he agrees to this, Spitelout will be able to directly influence me. Because,” Hiccup stopped pacing and looked into Stoick’s eyes, “I want him to teach me to fight.”

Stoick choked. “Why would you want that?”

“Because I need to know how to fight, Dad. We’ve both been taken hostage. Alvin chained Toothless and threatened to kill him if I didn’t train his dragons. Hel, Dagur was going to kill you. Take away Toothless and my prosthetic and it’s a lot harder for me to fight or escape.” The conviction in Hiccup’s voice caught his father’s attention. Hiccup was right; without the leg he was trapped. Hiccup would give his life to protect those he loved, but he wouldn’t throw it away. He was a target and a lever to use on Stoick and Berk.

“Spitelout will pound you into the ground.”

“Are you kidding? He’ll enlist Snotlout, and both of them will pound me. With Snotlout living here, he can help me limp home.” Hiccup grinned. “Snot will never let me forget I asked for it, either.”

‘What weapons are you thinking about?”

“I want to discuss that with him, but I’m willing to try any weapon he wants: axe, mace, staff, wrestling, dirty tricks, I’ll learn them. He can show how to use the prosthetic as a weapon. Spitelout can hold me down, take my leg, tie me up. I don’t care, I want him to do that, Dad, if it helps me learn. I might be able to improvise a staff or a spear if I’m taken but I need to be able to use them. The Chief protects the tribe and fights for his people, and they are going to be my people. I will not fail them.” Hiccup’s jaw was set, and he’d leaned forward, palms on the table, unconsciously imitating Stoick.

“I agree with you, son. I know Spitelout’s willing to train you, but he might refuse the rest.” Hiccup blew out a breath and relaxed.

“Then Spitelout will have explain why he turned down the offer. It would make him look bad after you agreed, even given your word to me as Chief. Your brother doesn’t like looking foolish, and it will give you an advantage over him. Not that you would use that; you’re the Chief and set the example.”

“You can skip the flattery, Hiccup. I’m not an idiot.” Stoick saw Toothless offer Hiccup an exasperated look that Stoick interpreted as “did you really try that?” Stoick eyed his son. “I suppose my disagreement would make me look bad, and Snotlout might point that out to his father.”

“Okay, yes, I told Snotlout to mention it to his dad. Having Snotlout here is still a good idea, but Spitelout might need incentive. You can’t tell me he wants to turn this down. He loves one-upping you. Training his scrawny nephew, Heir to Berk, is irresistible. We can use that.”

“We, son?”

“This is going to be a pain, Dad. Spitelout’s not subtle,” Stoick snorted, “and he enjoys rubbing your nose in the greatness of clan Jorgenson. You can make that into a positive. Okay, one,” Hiccup started ticking off points on his fingers, “you want me to be the best Chief I can, so letting me study under an elite warrior is a great choice. Two, it means the tribe will see me as someone who will be decent in a fight, because I learned from Spitelout. Three, the Chief will still see to the tribe, putting Berk’s concerns above getting me better at fighting. Snotlout said I fight well with a sword, but I don’t want to depend on that. I’m never gonna be you, Dad, but I can improve.” He dropped into a chair, temporarily out of words.

“Is there a fourth reason?”

“I’d like to whip Snotlout’s butt at Thawfest next year.” His son grinned again and Stoick chuckled back.

“So, What you’re saying is this plan is good for us, good for them, good for the tribe, and might get you a medal.”

“Well, yeah.” Hiccup looked sheepish.

“Go ahead then. I’ll talk to Spitelout and you can tell Snotlout I agreed. When does he move in?”

“The day after Spitelout agrees.”

“There’s a council meeting tomorrow; I can speak to him after.” Stoick saw Hiccup rise to depart, and adopted a stern gaze. “We are not finished. I have questions about this enterprise.”

“What?” His son’s voice held surprise.

“How did you get Snotlout to agree to this idea? I’m sure he wasn’t eager to take on more work or move in here.”

“I told him I needed him, that you’d see him as more capable, and he’s an excellent fighter. I said I wanted us to get along better and I trust him.”

“Was there anything else? Did you make him any promises, Hiccup? Tell me I haven’t agreed to tricking my nephew or my brother.”

“A lot of it I said to you, stuff like it makes Spitelout happy and it’s good for the Jorgensons. I said he wouldn’t see you except at mealtimes, but that’s the only promise I gave. We shouldn’t be seeing each other much, so I’m not tricking him. He’s someone I know will fight with me and for me, and I made sure to tell him. I owe him that.”

“Ah. That would do it.”

“Do you want to ask me anything else?”

“No, that’s all, son.”

“Good. I have some stuff to do...” Hiccup started to rise.

“Sit down, Hiccup. Please.” Here he was, running off again, and Stoick had only just seen him.

“Wait. Dad? I thought we were done.”

“Hiccup. You have hid from me for most of a week. We have not eaten a meal together in five days. Stay here, son. Please. I want to here all about this hare-brained scheme of yours, and what you plan to do to your unsuspecting cousin.” Hiccup bit back a smile. “I think Toothless will wait.” The dragon lay by the fire, limp and snoring. “Do you plan to leave again, or can I see something of you?” His son startled, then stroked his chin.

“There’s nothing crucial and Toothless isn’t about to move. I’d like that.” He examined Stoick, then stated, “Mead for you tonight, and no ice. Nice going, Dad. I’ll go get it fetch some for us both.” Hiccup had read Stoick’s stress for years, and could calibrate his dosages of mead, ale, and ice to a hair-breadth.



§ § §




“I didn’t need to offer any other arguments after that. I was tempted to tell him he’d become attractive to girls, but that would be trickery.” Toothless sniggered and Stoick realized he was the dragon equivalent of Hiccup, stubborn, intelligent, and a smart aleck.

“I remember living in the same house as Spitelout. It’s not easy having a sibling, and you will be living like that with Snotlout. You have no experience with this, Hiccup, and it will be harder than you expect. Both of you being the same age does not make it easier. Your free time shrinks and your stress increases when Snotlout walks in the door, and I need to make you aware of this.” Hiccup had no experience coping with siblings and Snotlout would not be the only teenager in the house learning new things. Spitelout passed on his stubborn nature to Snotlout and the arguments between the two boys would be impressive.



§ § §


“It’s not just about me, not when they hold someone else hostage. I won’t be a tool when I can be a weapon.”


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