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Snoggletog had always been the best holiday Vikings could ever dream of, but ever since they began living with dragons it got even better: the promise of newly hatched baby dragons returning soon to Berk filled Fishlegs with pure excitement and hope. Sure, parting from his dear Meatlug was hard, but he knew how important it was for her to spend some time alone with her mate, something she couldn’t always easily do on the Edge. And she deserved it, after all she did for them over the years.
A thin layer of snow veiled the ground, crunching under Fishlegs’ steps as he walked towards his family’s home; the clouds were thin and scarce, letting the sun shine bright in the sky over Berk. He smiled. He was glad to be back to the village for the holiday, the Snoggletogs they had at the Edge weren’t as magical or happy, and sunny days meant the dragons would be back in no more than a couple of days.
He shifted the grip on the crate he was carrying, filled to the brim with decorations, already picturing in his mind where he’d put them and how his home would look like once fully adorned.
There it was, his home, lonely yet a comforting sight, surrounded by the freshly sown rye fields on one side and the forest on the other. It was his favourite place in the world, where he could spend time with his family away from everyone else and relax after a long day of setting up decorations around the village.
After a couple of steps the door was right there in front of him, and he had just laid down the crate and picked the first ornament to pin on top of the frame when someone snatched him by the neck of his tunic.
He yelped in surprise, arms flailing around in a frantic effort to break free, a struggle that came to an abrupt end once he realised his kidnapper was… Toothless? An unusual sight when the sun was still up.
“He-hey, Toothle-”
Somehow, the clothes in his mouth didn’t muffle the dragon’s hiss in the slightest, and Fishlegs got the hint and shut up mid-sentence.
Toothless started dragging him away, uncaring of the human’s whispered protests and struggles to break free, too focused on the hard task of lugging the boy through the snow without hurting him too much or tripping on him.
Fishlegs had no idea what he had done to deserve such a harsh treatment, he was perfectly capable of walking himself, though there was nothing to do but resign and accept his fate.
Finally they passed the edge of the forest and, safely hidden behind the trees, Toothless let him go. His tunic was now drenched in saliva, and Fishlegs shivered in disgust as it began to drip down his back.
“Uhm, could you give me an explanation now? What am I doing here? Is there a reason why you’re still up at midday? Does Hiccup need anything?” he asked, looking around himself to see if Hiccup was nearby, but plants and birds were their only companions in that lonely part of the forest. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary either.
Fishlegs got his wish, for Toothless immediately started talking, clicks, chirps and growl bouncing on the trees around them at a fast pace.
The dragon language was fascinating.
Dragons relied on a complex system of words, body language and scents to communicate quickly and efficiently, it was a system born out of sheer necessity since their windpipes were built to shoot and hold fire first and foremost, and letting too much air in their throats in order to vocalise their thoughts put an uncomfortable strain on them.
And yet all their dragons had adapted to the humans, to their useless noses and their inattentive eyes, by making the effort of using words even when just twitching an ear would have conveyed the same meaning in a fraction of the time and without fatigue. They still used their body language as a first approach, but the fact that they were open to use more words than it was strictly necessary just to ensure the humans would understand them was astounding.
Fishlegs recognised their sacrifice, and every word his dear Meatlug spoke felt like a declaration of affection because of it. She wanted to tell him what was going on in her mind enough to risk a sore throat, and he’d honour it by learning their beautifully complex language to the best of his ability.
He wasn’t Hiccup, who considered it a second nature and even spoke it with little effort, nonetheless all the countless nights spent with Hiccup practising and testing his skills over the years at the Edge had finally paid off: he was the best among the other riders, and most importantly his bond with Meatlug had strengthened and reached a whole new level. There was nothing her sweet, deep voice could say that he couldn’t effortlessly grasp.
Despite all of that, even with no distractions in that lonely and gloomy forest, Fishlegs had no idea what Toothless was saying.
The Night Fury had a thick accent that coated every word with a veil of hoarseness, which made it hard to follow his sentences even on the best days – and that day he was also repeating and correcting himself over and over again, without a break, his thoughts scattered and without a semblance of structure or cohesion.
That, paired with his strange behaviour of earlier and his big, round, almost pleading eyes, led Fishlegs to question whether something serious was going on. He looked… Nervous, not frightened but timid, which was unlike the fearless dragon he had grown used to or the adept and powerful king of the Edge’s nest that so often solved any issues with grace and determination.
“I’m afraid I have no- I didn’t get what you just said, Toothless, is there a problem, is something wrong?” he asked again, worry seizing his heart, and he tried to remember any detail he could of the previous days in search of a clue to solve the mystery… Everything had looked normal to him, it was a normal week of winter solstice and Snoggletog…
Toothless sighed, a behaviour he had so obviously taken from his rider, and repeated himself, this time limiting himself to a few simple yet coherent key words:
“You help me, gift for Hiccup, keep it a secret. Can you?”
Oh, that made sense. That explained why he had been mercilessly dragged through the snow (his trousers were still damp and cold from that) and the look in his eyes.
He nodded, patting his head, a soft smile on his face. Of course he’d help him, why wouldn’t he? Decorating his house could wait, or maybe his dad would do it instead.
At that, Toothless’ mood changed, and he went serious all of a sudden, as if something had scared him, as if a danger was nearby - his pupils shrank into small slits, and he lowered his head as he stared up at Fishlegs like he would to a potential enemy.
Fishlegs had no idea what caused such a strong reaction, but even if logically he knew that Toothless would never hurt him his instinct was shouting at him to turn around and run as fast as his legs allowed him to; he didn’t, that flaming gaze halting him on the spot, judging his every move.
“You must keep it a secret. It’s important”
He almost hissed the words, articulating each and every one of them with such a solemnity they seemed to take deep roots and echo inside his brain. Toothless then softened his face, lowering his guards, and Fishlegs was finally able to take a breath.
“I trust you with my life. But with this I’m entrusting you with Hiccup’s life, and not in the way you’re used to. Can you keep a secret?”
Fishlegs gulped, his heart gaining speed, his mind spiralling with terrifying images of macabre nightmares and one question repeated with no end in sight: why him?
This behaviour was incredibly suspicious, the seriousness, the secrecy, every alarm in his head was set off, and the shadows provided by the thick canopy of leaves above them only added to the eerie feeling in his heart.
And yet, despite all of that, despite his desire to flee and never be the subject of the dragon’s stare ever again, he nodded and swore secrecy.
Because this wasn’t a feral, rabid dragon. This was Toothless, a dragon who had saved him countless times over the years and defended him against every foe, but most importantly a friend, a trusted member of his team, of his family. He trusted Toothless, and not only in battle. He trusted him to take care of them, of the dragons and the riders alike, he trusted him to be there in their moments of need and their everyday life, to share their joy and their sufferance.
He trusted him to know him, to be aware of what Fishlegs could and couldn’t do, what his boundaries were and what he was comfortable with doing.
So he nodded, the knots tying his stomach melting away at the realisation that the show of power and intimidation he had just displayed was nothing more than an overreaction born out of protectiveness for Hiccup. Whatever this secret was, Hiccup’s life depended on it somehow, no wonder Toothless had put up such a fuss!
The change in his behaviour was immediate. Toothless jumped around with a joyous grin, his tongue dangling from his mouth, and delved deeper into the darkness as he gestured for the human to follow him.
Fishlegs couldn’t help a brief laugh of relief from escaping his lips, he was glad to see the dragon’s merry side again.
Through slopes and bushes, navigating with ease and confidence the maze of shadows and glittering sunbeams, the silence only broken by the crunching of the snow beneath them and Fishlegs’ heavy breathing, their long walk finally came to a stop at the edge of a flower field.
Fishlegs gasped at the sight, his eyes wide open in wonder.
Countless flowers of any kind crowded the clearing, each trying to grow taller and prettier than their neighbour, glistening in the dew that hadn’t had a chance to melt yet; the light bounced off the petals and coated them with a delicate golden hue that only enhanced their natural charm.
The shadows the trees were casting upon them shifted and danced around when a gentle breeze wafted among the stems, carrying with it the soft sound of rustling grass.
It was a mesmerising sight, and an unusual one as well, that fitted a warmer season such as that of the Midnight Sun better than the cold Snoggletog.
But Fishlegs wasn’t going to complain. If nature had decided to bloom there it must have had its reasons, and he’d gladly keep admiring the patch of colours as long as he was allowed to.
The charming moment ended when Toothless nudged him, reminding him of his presence and the reason they had come all the way there.
Right, the surprise, the secret Hiccup’s life depended on in mysterious ways he yet had to understand. He wondered whether the flowers were a bait, perhaps hiding some dangerous trap lurking under their alluring colours. It wouldn’t be outside the realm of possibility, not for them at least.
But Toothless then entered the field without a worry, trying to land where the sea of flowers was less thick and covering the distance with big jumps.
Another image popped up in his mind and he cringed at that, shaking his head as if to get rid of it; suspicion was taking shape and morphing into a famished monster ready to devour him as he watched the dragon look around as if in search of something.
What if Hiccup was sick, or poisoned, and needed one of these flowers lest death took him in its eternal embrace after a long and agonising suffering? He didn’t spot any medical crop, just a harmless and powerless display of beauty, but they oftentimes had to work with far less back in the Edge.
And yet Toothless was enjoying himself there, and if he thought about it, they hadn’t rushed through the forest but casually strolled instead.
Toothless chirped and turned towards him, his big, round eyes gleaming with unbridled joy, his tail raised as to not bring too much destruction to the fragile plants under it.
“Come, no fear, no danger” he called, softening his gaze.
Once again, Fishlegs was asked to set aside his worries and place his trust on the dragon, which would have been an easy task in that colourful corner of heaven, but the weight of those ominous words still lingered on his heart and wrapped it tight in apprehension.
He took a deep breath and pondered his situation. Once again, he chose to dive into uncertainty to follow his friend.
He took a step forwards, but despite his resolution he couldn’t quite shake all his fears off: he still rushed through the field, his eyes darting all over the place to detect any sign of danger, and he stopped right next to Toothless, who pointed his paw towards some short, brownish flowers in front of him.
“Do you like them?”
Out of all the questions the dragon could have asked, this was so not the one he was expecting, and he snorted in surprise, completely taken aback by those words.
“If I…? Well, yes, I mean, they’re pretty, like every other flower here”
“Look closely. Beautiful. Like Hiccup, same colour, right?” he insisted.
The colour was indeed incredibly similar to his best friend’s hair, the resemblance was undeniable. And once he kneeled down to observe them better he found he had to agree with Toothless; the auburn petals were covered in light freckles and curved into themselves as if to hide and protect its precious content inside from prying eyes, yet the yellow core still managed to peek through and get a chance to shine under the sunlight. Long, green leaves crowned the flower, complimenting and even enhancing its charm.
“This flower is amazing, I love it, is it your favou-"
Fishlegs never had a chance to finish his sentence: Toothless laughed and lost even the last semblance of control as he slammed hard into his side, sending him to fall and crash his back against the grass and snow beneath him, his air forcefully pushed out of his lungs.
He tried to breathe and talk, but the sound of pained wheezes was all his mouth could produce.
The Night Fury’s mood swings were starting to annoy him, but he couldn’t voice his frustration as long as his chest ached and his lungs refused to fulfil their duty. Once the sting in his ribs dulled, though, so did his bitterness, for he could never stay mad at the dragon, whose enthusiasm was definitely contagious and appreciated, albeit it could use a bit of gentleness.
“Is this why you… Why you brought me here? To show… These flowers… You found?” he hissed, slowly getting back up with a rasped grunt.
Toothless nodded with energy, and the glint of sorrow in his eyes for the pain he had inadvertently caused quickly disappeared; his tail got restless once again, wreaking havoc on the pink hellebores behind him. Unlike earlier, however, he didn’t seem to care.
“Are you going to give some to Hiccup? Is that your gift?”
Another nod, this time slower and less certain, his expression almost enquiring as he tilted his head sideways.
“You were so serious earlier, with all those words about secrets, trust and Hiccup’s life on the line… What was that about?” he finally posed the question he had been meaning to ask ever since they first passed the forest’s edge.
Had dragons been known to drop their jaws in surprise, Toothless’ would have surely dislocated and landed on the ground, his disbelief clearly written all over his face. Maybe also paired with some ill-concealed disappointment.
“If you don’t get it, I can’t tell. Not alone. Just say, do you approve of this gift for Hiccup?”
Well, it looked like he wasn’t getting any answer or explanation. At least Hiccup was safe and not in danger.
But this was obviously important to Toothless, so he didn’t just humour him; his words were sincere when he picked some of those flowers for the thumbs-lacking dragon and answered:
“I approve”
The gathering dusk coated Berk’s sky with darkness as Fishlegs dragged his weary limbs home, suppressing a yawn. The path to and fro through the forest had not been easy nor short, not to mention the toll all the emotions of the day and the expectation for the impeding Snoggletog was taking on him: he couldn’t wait to lay in his bed and get some well-deserved sleep.
There it was, still in the distance. The sight poured some energy in his heart, and his steps grew steadier as a result. He was almost there…
For the second time that day he yelped as someone grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks and preventing him from reaching his secluded haven.
“Hey Fishlegs, I was just looking for you!”
It was Hiccup, in perfect shape and with a weird, unreadable expression on his face.
“Hi Hiccup! Do you need anything?”
“Actually, yes, I need your help. I’m sorry to bother you in the evening, but Snotlout said you’ve been resting and meditating the whole day, so I figured you wouldn’t be too tired, right?” he chuckled nervously, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck.
Right, that’s what he had told Snotlout that morning, before Toothless kidnapped him to show him the flowers. A part of him wanted to politely refuse and send Hiccup away, but how could he? He could never deny help to his best friend. Besides, curiosity was rushing through his veins, and he had grown kind of used to sleep deprivation over the years.
“Sure, what is it?” he replied, knowing he had made the right choice when he saw Hiccup sigh in relief.
“It’s something a bit… Private, is your home free tonight? We need a place where Toothless won’t find me”
And that’s how they ended up in Fishlegs’ dining room, every door locked and the windows closed shut as Hiccup struggled through the laces of his tunic that refused to come undone.
Fishlegs placed his hands on the other’s, noticing after lots of fruitless efforts how he was avoiding his gaze and trembling all over, trepidation and anxiety clouding his eyes.
“It’s okay Hiccup, it’s just me. I’m here to help you” he spoke softly, and to show he meant it he began untying the clothes for him.
His breath caught as he saw what was hidden beneath the fabric.
Dark blue lines and patterns filled Hiccup’s chest, the ink traced carefully from the neck to the hem of his pants, though he suspected they kept going even lower than that. It reminded him of the Berserkers’ tattoos, a visual representation of someone’s life and personality carved into flesh and muscles.
Hiccup had only drawn on himself, but the sentiment behind it seemed similar, for every line circled around old and new scars like a story of his life written in skin rather than parchment.
Maybe that was the reason why, even after witnessing Hiccup shirtless countless times before, this time it was as if only then was he truly seeing him for the first time, every part of him laid down bare in front of him.
A whispered “Wow” left him before he could stop it.
“I feared you’d judge me” Hiccup replied in the same tone, his voice barely audible over the cracking of the fire in the hearth.
Fishlegs lifted his finger and used it to gently push his chin up, so that their eyes could meet on the same level.
“I’d never”
That seemed to give Hiccup his confidence back, and an amused smile returned on his lips as he took a small vial from his satchel with a gleam in his eyes.
“I appreciate it more than you could ever imagine. Now, what we’re doing now has to remain a secret, it’s absolutely imperative that no one, and I mean no one, knows about this, ok?” he asked, injecting a bit of authority into his voice just like he so often did with the dragons of his nest when they misbehaved.
It was in moments like this that Fishlegs remembered the man he held as a dear friend was more than just their leader, but also a king to their dragons alongside Toothless, a title he thoroughly deserved, a title bestowed on him due to his sheer determination, protectiveness and inner strength.
But Fishlegs wasn’t going to let some assertive words stop him: he was dead set on getting some answers.
“Your secret is safe with me. But what exactly is ‘this’?”
That broke the seriousness of the conversation and Hiccup’s face lighted up with joy.
“A gift, for Toothless. When we stayed on Berserker Island for Dagur and Mala’s wedding we saw an old man, covered from head to toe with thick, intricate tattoos: you should have seen Toothless’ expression, he was beaming, he was – he chuckled at the clearly amusing memory – he was in such an awe, he couldn’t keep his eyes off him! So I spent the whole day designing this pattern and taking care of my front, but as you can imagine I can’t quite reach my back, and that’s where you step in”
Fishlegs listened in attentively, now wishing he had been able to see it. He then cleared the table and gestured for the other to sit on top of it to give him a better access to the skin in his back.
Shortly after handing him the vial of ink and some instructions on how he wanted the tattoos to look like, Hiccup turned his head sideways towards him and spoke again, his light tone gone and his words once again serious:
“Do you like it? Do you think it’s a nice gesture?”
It was the same question Toothless had asked him regarding his gift, the brown flowers. It was as though he was supposed to understand the importance of his own opinion, as though the reason of all those mysteries laid right in front of him, so close yet invisible to his eyes.
Fishlegs’ hand faltered mid-air, the ink already coating his fingers slowly dripping back into the vial.
“It’s- it’s your gift, why do you care about my thoughts?”
This was the wrong thing to say.
The closeness they had been sharing just a moment earlier vanished, Hiccup’s shoulders dropped and he snapped his neck around to stare back again at the wall in front of him.
Regret seized Fishlegs’ heart like waves during a storm, quick, strong and impossible to placate: he couldn’t grasp the meaning behind that request, but its importance was clear, and that should have been enough for him. So he decided to not to press the matter further and went back to tracing delicate lines on his friend’s back.
His skin was soft, littered with scars and freckles, and more sensitive than he had imagined: his soft touches sent small shivers down his spine, and he saw every muscle move as it happened. Hiccup had been right, that was an incredibly private moment, almost intimate, the warmth of his bare back reaching him stronger than the fire in the hearth.
“I think it’s a lovely gesture” he whispered once the last line was drawn.
And he meant it.
“You are an amazing friend, Fishlegs. There’s no one I’d rather have by my side than you, you know that. But if you didn’t get why I’d ask you to do this for me, then I can’t explain it. Not on my own at least, I’d have to ask Toothless. But this, this is all I was hoping for” he replied, before getting up and hugging him.
Fishlegs wrapped his arms back around his friend, careful to avoid touching the tattoos he had just applied, a warm smile on his face.
When Hiccup arrived at the cove, Toothless was already there, waiting, enjoying the nightly breeze that caressed his face and scales.
Gods, he had never felt this nervous in his life.
This was the moment that decided his future, that would shape his relationship with Toothless for the rest of his life, for better or for worse. If it went wrong…
No, he wasn’t going there. He had to believe in them, he had to give them a chance.
“Trust your instincts” Stormfly had suggested before leaving, and he repeated that sentence over and over again to build up his confidence. He wondered if Toothless was equally as anxious as he was, because he didn’t look like it, he looked as composed and calm as ever.
Normally he’d draw peacefulness from it. Now it only worsened his raging emotions.
He walked towards his dragon until they were facing each other, a short distance between them; he gulped and rubbed his sweaty hands on his pants, then looked up to meet those green eyes who had charmed him all those years earlier.
Who was he kidding. This was Toothless, his best friend best friend first and foremost, there was nothing that could come between them, no matter how this night went.
Stormfly’s words echoed in his head again, but this time he believed them, believed in himself, and followed her advice.
He bowed deeply, tilting his head up to see Toothless doing the same in front of him, his expression soft and welcoming.
He removed his tunic and his pants, letting the moonlight shine over his freshly dried tattoos that covered his whole body; Toothless’ eyes widened in recognition, and his merry chirp resonated around them.
“Toothless, this is my gift for you, vouched for by our dear friend Fishlegs, who knows both me and you well enough to judge it. With this I intend to show you that I don’t just care for your strength or your power, I care for all of you, your interests, your desires, what makes you the dragon you are and sets you apart from anyone else – his voice cracked, having to fight through the lump of emotions that was piling up inside him – there’s no one I want to spend my life with but you”
He then grabbed a pair of black gloves and the vial of ink from the satchel he had laid on the ground and kneeled down, offering the ink to the dragon with his gloved hands.
“These gloves are made with your scales, because no matter what, my hands are yours. This is my promise of love. Whatever I do, I’ll do it for you, whoever I am, I am because of you. I offer you my gift, in hopes you’ll do me the honour of accepting it”
He took a shaky breath and waited, his heart thumping in his chest and echoing in his ears. The cold didn’t bother him, he hardly registered the snow under his bare leg, for a fire of love and trepidation was raging inside him, warming him from his core.
Just like the first time his hand had made contact with Toothless’ snout, he didn’t dare to look, and closed his eyes, his head bent down.
And when he felt the weight of the vial disappear and a warm tongue lick his hands, a joy unlike anything he had ever experienced before exploded in a waterfall of tears, the culmination of years of questions, bottled feelings, fears and love.
His gift had been accepted. He had been accepted.
He rose again, without wiping the tears off his face or trying to muffle his sobs; he had no reason to, not now, not when he was allowed to be vulnerable and show him even this side of himself.
Toothless bent down to pick something in his mouth and gently placed it at his feet. It was a bouquet of flowers, though the flower itself was buried underneath its big leaves and long roots.
“Hiccup, this is my gift for you, vouched for by our dear friend Fishlegs, who knows both me and you well enough to judge it. With this I intend to show you that you’re precious to me and I hold you dear, beautiful yet fragile, though never defenceless. You anchor me with your strong roots, you gave me hope and a new life of freedom when I thought I was lost, there’s no one else in this world I’d rather spend my life with”
Toothless spoke fast, his words laced with all the emotions his heart was able to pour.
He opened his wings, and Hiccup held his breath at the enchanting sight of those same petals scattered like freckles on their skin.
“This is how I choose to view my own wings, because no matter what happens, they are yours. Wherever I go, you’ll always be with me, a part of me, and my wish is for you to think the same. I offer you my gift, in hopes you’ll do me the honour of accepting it”
Toothless had always looked composed and controlled to everyone else, but never to Hiccup. He had always been able to recognise the fierce feelings so clearly displayed through all his body, from the way he held his tail to the width of his nostrils, but not even he had ever witnessed such an intense wave of pure love emanating from him.
Hiccup picked up the flowers, smiling as he saw they were the same colour of his hair, and clutched them to his chest.
He accepted Toothless’ gift. He accepted him.
They each took a step towards the other, closing the distance between them and dancing together to the rhythm of their hearts, now entwined until the end of their lives.
Fishlegs was finally in bed, ready to sleep and wake up well-rested for the day of Snoggletog and all the traditions and activities he’d participate in.
Even though his limbs were sore and fatigued, however, his mind refused to give him peace, denying him the comfort of the dreams no matter how much he tossed and turned.
Something wasn’t quite right, he knew it, there was something he was missing, he just had to think harder about it – after all, both Toothless and Hiccup had looked at him as if he was supposed to be aware of the context behind their antics. That could not have been a coincidence.
He wondered why they had chosen that day out of all the possible options for their surprises; he would have expected them to go with their nest given they were its kings, it only felt fitting for them to be there with their dragons in the most important moment of their lives, when they spent time alone with their mates or chose one if they didn’t have one already, exchanging the mating gifts and-
Oh. Oh.
For someone who proclaimed to have an incredible and intuitive knowledge of dragons, he sure had been slow to piece together the mystery. He should have known indeed, how could he have been so stupid?
It all made sense. The gifts, the need for his approval, even the secrecy, because he knew the law, he knew what they’d risk if word got out. His heart swelled at the thought that he, Fishlegs, had been trusted with something this big, this delicate.
The news itself didn’t come as a surprise though. Hiccup and Toothless had always chosen each other, even when they were cursed enemies, even when choosing each other wasn’t an option: they had fought against the world for the bond they shared, a bond whose fate was now sealed for eternity.
Dragon, human, the physique didn’t matter, only what was inside it: after all, love is love.