Chapter Text
10 years ago
When Dany was just a little girl, before she was old enough to take to the skies, before she met Hiccup, before the Battle of the Red Death— but only a few years after her parents' flight from Berk, she took an interest in wood carving. Her father disappeared into the shed out back for many long hours, only to return smelling like birch and cedar and the sweetness of sap. He would have fine golden particles sticking to his clothes, some of it even coating his face as he wiped sweat off his brow with an already-dirty kerchief.
His hands, though long-fingered and fine— like his daughter's— were roughened by callouses due to many years of holding a saw or an axe or a carving knife. Some days they came back stained black, as if he'd put his entire hand in the cooling embers of a fire— he later explained that this was charcoal. Her mother forbade her from entering the shed due to Randolf's obliviousness; he tended to get lost in his craft, which could lead to five-year-old-girls getting up to no good around sharp objects. Because of this rule, Dany was even more curious to what her father did inside.
First, she simply watched him so her mother's observant gaze wouldn't become suspicious. With a cat-sized Drogon beside her, Daenerys took to tending their vegetable garden, which was in the space between their house and the shed. She preferred being outside, anyway, and it allowed her a first-row view of her father's comings and goings.
She watched as he stood out by the chopping block with his tools, cutting down tree trunks even bigger than her to something just large enough to pick up. On nice days, he would sit on the chopping block with his hewn-down wood and begin to smooth it with his rasp. Sometimes— when her mother wasn't looking— Randolf would gesture for her to come over. Dany approached him cautiously, glancing back at the house every so often to keep an eye on Ingrid.
He smiled at her wariness and when she was close enough, he drew her against him. The sensation made her squirm a little, since at that point, her father would be hot and sweaty from cutting the wood— an unpleasant feeling for her. She stilled, though, when he took her smaller hand in his and positioned the rasp into the correct holding position. Together, they would make long, smooth scrapes against the wood to even out the rough surface.
If he had been working with a piece for many days, he would invite her to feel how smooth it was. Dany would run her hand down the panel and marvel at how something that was once so rough could be worn down to a silken texture. She watched those smoothed pieces of wood go into the shed and vanish for long periods of time before they came out, transformed, into a table or chair or shelf. It was that part of the process that she wondered about: how did a tree become furniture?
Her chance to get the answer to that question came when her mother had gone out foraging for the day. As soon as Ingrid was out of sight, Dany slipped from the house— where she was supposed to be working on her mending skills— to the shed.
Randolf hardly noticed when the door opened wide enough to allow a small girl to slide through; it was only the awed gasp that she let out that alerted him of her presence. Since Daenerys had never been inside the shed, she was surprised by the dimly lit interior that was illuminated by the soft glow of flickering torches. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust after the brightness outside but when they did, her gaze fell on a haphazard collection of tools and materials scattered across the worn dirt floor. The uneven wooden shelves were burdened with mix of axes, chisels, saws, and leatherworking implements, their blades stained with the evidence of countless projects.
In one corner where her father sat, a massive wooden workbench dominated the space, its surface marred by nicks, gouges, and stains after years of use. Piles of timber, both seasoned and new, were stacked in precarious arrangements, waiting to be transformed into the next masterpiece.
Amidst the clutter, unfinished projects abound—half-carved dragon figurines, sturdy pieces of furniture and ornate drinking horns with elaborate etchings. A large hearth surrounded by charred logs and ash sat at the opposite end of the shed providing both warmth and a makeshift forge for metalworking.
Although she had seen the outside of the shed many times, Dany's gaze was wide with wonder at what it held within. Randolf looked up from his sketching to take in his daughter's unexpected appearance: her unruly, silvery-blonde curls that tumbled down her back, the flower crown that adorned her hair, the simple dress that wasn't long enough to hide her dirty, bare feet, and he softened. Do not enter the shed had never been his rule, so he did not see it necessary to send her away. Instead, he gestured for her to come see what he was working on.
At five years old, Dany could barely see over the work table. She stood on her toes, gripping at the edge of the wood hard with her hands. Her eyes barely peaked over the surface to see the mess of papers that lay spread out on the wood. Laughing a little, Randolf picked her up easily and set her on his knee so she could see better. Her fingers danced over the different projects he'd drawn throughout the years, lifting some up to look at them better. Some of the paper was soft, the lines faded, worn down by age as it had sat buried on the table. Bits of black sticks littered the area as well, and the girl picked one up to examine it, only for it to leave black stains behind on her hands.
"Charcoal," Randolf explained, taking it from her. He pulled an old project towards them and pressed the lead down. "You can draw with it. See?"
Dany watched as a little stick-bird began to take shape before her eyes. She looked up at her father hopefully. "Can I make birds?"
"Of course, it's easy." Then, like he had with the rasp, he took her hand in his to show her how to form the lines. "You can make lots of things from charcoal, not just birds."
He picked up another one of his drawings. His finger traced the shape of the table. "See how all the legs are the same height and the surface is even? If I didn't draw, someone would get a slanted table."
The blonde giggled at that. "It would be funny to see someone's soup spill in their lap!"
"Yes, I suppose so. But most people like having their food stay put, so drawing the designs first helps me with the dimensions."
"Dimensions?" Dany repeated, testing out the unfamiliar word.
Randolf pointed to the numbers on each side of the drawing. "The measurements. Here. Here. And here."
"How do you make it come off the paper?"
He gave her a bemused look. "What do you mean?"
She waved the drawing around. "This turns into that." She gestured to the myriad of projects in various stages of completion around the room.
"Oh," Randolf answered as he realized what she was asking. "Come and watch."
So she did. Dany spent the whole day in the shed, following her father from one end to the other, outside and inside, as he assembled the piece he was working on. Her violet eyes studied his movements closely as he chose slabs of wood and fitted joints together.
By the end of the day, Daenerys felt, with all the confidence of a five-year old, that she had learned everything there was to know about woodworking. So, as her father cleaned up for dinner, she announced: "I'm going to build a whole house."
The older man burst into laughter at that— not so much at his daughter, or in doubt of her potential skill, but amused by the claim itself. "I'm sure you will, one day. But if you are interested in woodworking, why don't we stick with animals for now?"
--
Present day
Dany finished sweeping up the last of the broken shards from her collection of projects. Her outburst of rage had been fatal for many of the pieces that she had spent so much time working on and, for the first time since she could remember, her room was actually neat.
And she hated it.
The spotlessness of it was a reminder of her lack of control, of the fact that she'd given into the temptation of her inclination for violence. The large pieces of furniture— her bedframe, the trunk where she stored her clothes, her desk and chair— all remained untouched by her anger; it had only been her own projects that had borne the brunt of her wrath. By now, Dany didn't even really remember why she'd been so furious in the first place.
Sure, Heather had pissed her off to no end and she'd felt betrayed by her friends, but had that truly been enough to set her off? Why had she given a stranger such a power over her?
Shaking her head to clear the thoughts that would surely lead to another negative outburst, she went over to her desk. Her father had made it for her when she'd taken a more serious interest in carving, allowing her to have a space to create so that her projects wouldn't get lost in the mess of his shed. It was usually just as chaotically organized as her room— and still was— but now the only items covering the surface were the drawings for her ideas. She shuffled through them to find her current notebook, which her parents had given to her last Snoggletog.
Once she'd located it and a charcoal stick, she discarded the wood splinters she'd swept up. Her mother was in the kitchen making bread for the next day, so Dany informed her, "I'm going to the Academy. I'll be back later."
Ingrid, who'd been informed of the previous events, looked up from her rolling pin to give her daughter a concerned look. "Are you sure you're up for it, sweetie?"
"Yes, mom," the blonde replied with an eye-roll. "I wouldn't go if I wasn't."
"Alright. Just be home in time for dinner."
Once she'd given assent, the girl padded outside to where Drogon was waiting, his head lifted as he watched the entrance to the cottage with his flame-orange eyes. He must have heard that we were going out, she mused as she climbed onto his back. She had always said that dragons understood more than they let on, after all.
--
Almost everyone had already gathered in the arena by the time she arrived. The rest of the gang looked up as Drogon's shadow fell over them and she waved, waiting patiently to properly greet them until he landed. When she walked over to join them, Astrid grinned at her. "Good, you're here. We can finally hear what news Gobber has. I'm sure it's got something to do with Thawfest."
"Thawfest? What's that?"
The other girl stared at her with slight dismay. "What do you mean, 'what's that?' Don't tell me that you've never heard of Thawfest!"
Dany shook her head. "Outcast for fifteen years, remember?"
"Surely your parents had stories about it?" When she shook her head again, the Hofferson quickly filled her in: "Thawfest is an annual event that allows Vikings to show off their strength and bring honor to their family name. Snotlout's won every year in our division and he won't let us hear the end of it. You got to join it with me!"
Before the blonde could respond, Gobber called for their attention. Dany was amused by the flag that stuck out of his prosthetic hand in place of his usual mallet. "Dragons! They are now officially a part of Thawfest. There will be three additional events: The Fly and Shoot: which will require you to fly straight and shoot straighter—" He paused as flames shot over his head, thanks to Barf and Belch. "Hey!"
"Sorry, we were on the wrong head," Tuffnut apologized.
He and his sister changed places. Once they were seated again, they fired another blast, which made Ruffnut nod in satisfaction. "I knew something felt weird."
They fired another shot, burning the blacksmith's flag in the process. Tuffnut sighed with relief. "Ah, much better."
Gobber continued: "the next event will be the Freestyle, where it's up to you to impress the judges with a trick of your choice."
Dany looked up just in time to see Astrid soar overhead— when had she gotten up in the air? — where the blonde balanced carefully on her dragon's back while performing a handstand. "Ah! The Nadder Wing Walk. Impressive, Astrid."
The Targaryen clapped for her best friend, who flipped so that she was on her feet again and bowed exaggeratedly at her from the air. Fishlegs approached the older man tentatively, raising a finger in the air in question. "Um, excuse me? Meatlug and I were wondering if there were going to be any intellectual events. A puzzle perhaps?"
Gobber patted him half-heartedly on the shoulder. "I'll. . . take that under advisement, Fishlegs." He moved on quickly: "and let's not forget the hurdles, where you will be asked to—"
He was once again interrupted, this time by an excited shout of "woohooo!" as Snotlout flew into the ring. Hookfang skidded upon arrival, his claws kicking up dust that went straight into Hiccup's face. When the dust had cleared, Dany could see that the brunet was wearing medals— dozens of them, in fact, and they covered his chest like gold plating.
She frowned at his boastfulness, which was even more obnoxious than usual. He approached Hiccup without much regard for anyone else, immediately starting in with: "you know what I love about the Thawfestival Games? Winning. You wanna touch one of my medals just to see how it feels to be a winner?"
He shoved one of them into the other boy's face, causing him to rear away from it, caught off-guard. "Uh, no. I think I'll pass."
Snotlout remained undeterred as he swung around to address the rest of them. "My family has never lost a Thawfest Games ever."
"Oh, here we go," Astrid sighed, having returned to the group.
"Dragons or no dragons, I'll do what I do every year: bring glory to the Jorgenson clan. And you'll do what you do: embarrass yours." Snotlout laughed in Hiccup's face before he turned to Dany, showing off the medal to her. "So, Daenerys, since I'm shoe-in for first place, what do you say we skip all the nonsense and go celebrate my victory? I know ladies love a winner—" He shot the brunet a smug look. "—not a loser."
"Um. . . no thank you," the Targaryen replied quietly, her gaze dropping down to her bare feet. She clutched her journal a little more tightly to her chest, as if it were a shield against his words.
As always, Astrid had her back. She put her hands on her hips as she retorted: "I think you should focus on practicing for the Games before claiming victory, unless boasting part of your winning strategy, Snotlout?"
He grinned. "Absolutely. You know what they say, 'if you've got it, flaunt it.' And I've got plenty to flaunt." He let his medals shimmer in the light before he turned to climb on Hookfang's back. "Let's go, Hookfang." As they rose out of the arena, he raised his voice to shout: "I WILL CRUSH YOU ALL!"
--
Despite the promise she'd made to her mother, they both knew that she'd be home much later than dinner. Night had fallen by the time she left Astrid's house and she still had another stop to make. Feeling a bit nervous since she knew the chief would be home (and that he didn't like her very much), she hesitated before knocking on the door.
As expected, Stoick answered, and he looked around for a moment before his gaze dropped to her height. "Daenerys," he greeted her coolly. "What can I do for you?"
"Um. . . is Hiccup home?" she asked, before mentally slapping herself. What a stupid question. Of course Hiccup was home. Where would he be at this time of night? "I-I mean, can I see him?"
The chief stared at her for a moment, his green eyes scrutinizing her appearance for what felt like an inordinate amount of time. Dany squirmed a bit under his inspection, her own eyes firmly on his boots. He let out a quiet 'hmph' and turned away. She thought he might close the door in her face— which wouldn't be that much of a shock— but to her relief, he didn't. She made to follow him, but he gestured for her to stay where she was. "I'll bring him out," was his short explanation.
She didn't have to wait long as Hiccup appeared a few seconds later. He looked a little concerned at the sight of her on his doorstep at such an odd time. "Dany? Is everything okay?"
"Yeah," she replied, clutching her journal to her chest. Both of her arms were wrapped around the worn leather binding and her fingers clung to each side tightly. "I. . . wanted to tell you that I'm not participating in the festival."
He frowned. "You shouldn't let Snotlout put you off because of his boasting. He's always like that."
"I know," the blonde agreed with a faint smile. "It's just. . . I don't like competing very much and I. . . I don't think I'll even attend the event. At all. I just thought you should know."
"Oh." Hiccup deflated a bit at the thought of not even getting to see Dany in the stands. Her silvery-blonde hair made her easy to spot and his potential victory over Snotlout (finally) would have made it just that much sweeter if she was there. "Can. . . I ask why?"
"It's too loud," was her immediate response. "There's too many people, all of them shouting. Besides, I have to work on drawing new projects since, well. . . you know," she trailed off awkwardly, not wanting to bring up Heather.
"Hmm," the boy said, his gaze suddenly much sharper. Dany felt like she was under observation for the second time that night, but Hiccup's keen look made her feel a lot different than Stoick's did. She felt her cheeks heat up the longer he stared at her and she ducked her head, allowing some of her blonde curls to hide her face.
Remembering the second reason why she was there, Dany quickly reached into her vest pocket to pull out the present that she'd brought with her. Tucking her journal under one arm, she reached for the brunet's wrist, which snapped him out of whatever train of thought her words had prompted. She grasped his wrist and turned his hand over so that his palm was face-up.
Even though she had done this gesture a hundred times by now, even though he knew exactly what was going to happen, his heart still sped up, still skipped a beat as her fingers brushed against his skin. When the blonde took her hand away, something glittered in its wake. Hiccup took the lumpy rock between two fingers and tilted it towards the stars to catch light on it.
"Fools gold," the Targaryen explained softly. "The 'fool' part is for Snotlout, obviously— to remind you that you can beat him, but even if you don't, you shouldn't let him get to you. If you try your best that's all that can ever be asked of you. The 'gold' part is for luck. I'm sure you'll get a real gold medal at the end of this. I thought you should have it since I won't be there to. . . cheer you— er, everyone— on."
Hiccup didn't say anything, too busy staring at both the gift and the girl to remember to even say 'thank you.' She left after a quiet 'good night,' leaving him smiling a bit dopily after her. It was only when he took so long to return that Toothless came out, curious to what was keeping his best friend, that he shook himself from his fond thoughts. The Night Fury let out a knowing rumble and nudged the boy lightly with his snout.
The brunet shot him an annoyed look. "You know I hate it when you do that. Dany is just a friend."
But the warmth in his stomach caused by the piece of the fool's gold rock in his pocket suggested otherwise.
--
Needless to say, the first day of the Thawfest Games were a wash for Hiccup. He lost spectacularly to Snotlout in every event, leaving the shorter Viking with three points, which was more than all of their scores combined— a total that came to a big, fat zero. He decided that a stop at Dany's was in order, both for a pick-me-up and to give her the invention he'd made in the hopes it would encourage her to watch the next day's match.
He landed Toothless in front of the Targaryen's small cottage, where his dragon immediately went over to greet Drogon. The larger dragon ignored him momentarily as he was fighting with his brothers over what looked like the remains of a yak, though Hiccup wasn't particularly inclined to stay long enough to know for sure (that's what he hoped it was, anyway.) He quickly made his way to the door where he knocked to announce himself.
It took a minute for someone to answer, but when it did, Dany was on the other side. His expression became fond as he took in her slightly disheveled state: her silvery-blonde hair— already unruly— was made even messier by flyaways that stuck up haphazardly around her head. There was a dark smudge on her cheek, presumably where she'd pushed away some of her hair. When she removed her hand from the doorknob, he noticed that her fingers were stained a sooty black.
"What are you up to?" he asked curiously.
As usual, the blonde's eyes were focused elsewhere besides his face; she was currently looking past him at their dragons. "Redrawing some of my older designs. I've improved since I first started carving so I thought I should start from scratch instead of copying old models."
He winced a little at the reminder of Heather, unable to keep the guilty feeling from creeping up (because he'd chosen a stranger over his best friend. Who would do that?) Her tone indicated that she wanted to talk about something else, so he offered, "the first Thawfest Games were today."
This caught her interest and her gaze shifted so that she was looking more at his chin than past him. "Oh? How'd they go?"
"Terribly. For me, at least. They went great for Snotlout."
She offered him a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry. He must've been especially. . . obnoxious after that."
Hiccup let out a wry chuckle. "Like you wouldn't believe. Anyway. . . I, um, wanted to see if you had. . . changed your mind about going to the games? I could— er, Toothless could really use some support in the stands. You know, if Drogon was there."
Dany had already begun to shake her head before he'd finished speaking, but she still replied, "I. . . don't think so. I would like go to cheer you— um, Toothless on, but. . ."
"It's still too loud," the brunet finished for her, pretending to sound dejected. The girl made a sound of agreement. "Well, that would be disappointing. . . if I hadn't made these!" From behind his back, he produced his latest invention and held it out to her.
The Targaryen took them with obvious confusion as she studied the construction. It had a flat, thin metal band that was curved into a u-shape. Either side ended with a padding of brown fur that was shaped in an oval. "What is it?"
"I call them earmuffs," Hiccup announced, rather grandly. "You wear them on you ears to muffle the sound. Get it?"
The blonde still looked puzzled (as no, she didn't really 'get it'), but she followed his direction regardless. The padding was soft on her ears and the metal band was lightweight enough that it didn't hurt her head. She jumped a little when Hiccup tapped her on the shoulder and realized he'd been speaking to her. She pulled one of the earmuffs off to question, "sorry, what?"
He grinned broadly. "They work! I mean, I knew they would— I only tested them about a dozen times, but I could be biased to my own creation. I even had Bucket wear them while Mulch hit his, well, bucket to see how they reacted to that sort of noise. And of course I had the Tuffnut put them on— I washed them after, I promise— while Ruffnut screamed in his ear and he complained that it took all the joy out of being deaf. But—"
"Hiccup," Dany interrupted him gently. She was smiling at him now, her lips curling upward in a way that made her violet eyes lighten to lavender. "They're wonderful, thank you. But. . . what are they for?"
"Oh!" he exclaimed, feeling warmth rise to his face as he'd forgotten to explain the most important part of any invention— the reason behind it. "Since you were saying the Thawfest Games were too noisy, I made something that would deaden the sound. They might not block out everything, but it should make things a lot better. And. . ." He paused to clear his throat nervously. "I could really use your encouragement tomorrow during the dragon events. I wanted to make sure you could come."
It was Dany's turn to say 'oh,' hers coming out more softly as she looked at the earmuffs in a new light. There was a pleasant warmth in her stomach at the thought of Hiccup spending hours of his time to create something for her, just so she'd be more comfortable. "O-okay. I suppose I could. . . try and enjoy it. But I can't promise that I will, and I might leave during the middle of it if it's too loud, if that's okay—"
"Of course," the boy agreed hastily. "I completely understand. I just. . . I'm glad you're even considering it. So. . . I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Yes," she replied, hugging the earmuffs to her chest. "I'll be there."
--
Although she wasn't exactly looking forward to it, Dany made good on her promise. She arrived early to try and get a good seat, only to be shepherded by Hiccup to where his dad and Gobber would watch the games. "This way there won't be too many people," he explained, remembering her other complaint about the crowds.
She eyed Stoick a little apprehensively, but for once he didn't seem to mind her presence. He gestured for her to sit down on the chair next to him, but instead Dany chose to sit on the wooden platform itself. She crossed her legs under her dress, hiding her bare feet under the silvery fabric. Her earmuffs were firmly on her head, although now the metal band was hidden under a plethora of flowers that had been woven around it. Her journal sat unopened next to her, brought in case the event was boring, or too intense and she needed a distraction.
Mulch was the main commentator for the competition and he sat next to Bucket on their own platform across the arena. He spoke into a large horn to announce: "welcome to day two of the Thawfest Games! Let the dragon events begin!"
"It's a good day for lugging sheep, Mulch," Bucket added.
His friend nodded in agreement before he continued, "first up, the Hurdles!"
Dany smiled with relief as the men's amplified voices only met her ears at normal volume. The cheering from the stands was almost indiscernible and her friends' bantering below was inaudible. While she had trusted that Hiccup's invention would work, it was reassuring to experience the results herself.
Beneath the viewer's stand, Snotlout (as usual) was boasting about his abilities. "Hurdles, Schmurdles. I could make it over those things in my sleep."
Hiccup gestured to the obstacles. "Be my guest."
"You don't go over them, Snotlout," Astrid informed him with an exasperated eye-roll. "You go under them."
Snotlout grabbed the horns of his Monstrous Nightmare and scoffed. "Duh. I knew that."
"And first up is Fishlegs!" Mulch struck the bucket on his friend's head to signal the start of the event.
Meatlug buzzed slowly towards the first one determinedly. The watching Vikings cheered them on, eager for a great show. Unfortunately, the pair didn't even make it past the first hurdle; they got stuck under it and the Gronckle's wings flapped uselessly in place. "Uh, guys? A little help over here!" At the sound of his dragon's unhappy rumble, Fishlegs gently scratched her between the ears. "It's okay, girl. This just isn't our event."
Astrid was next, and Dany expected her to do well— she always did, after all. She was at least more successful than Fishlegs and made it through the first hurdles without trouble. It was only when the spikes on Stormfly's head got caught on the horizontal logs that caused them to be knocked out of the event.
The twins, of course, could not make a decision about how they wanted to steer their dragon. One of the Zippleback's heads went over the hurdle while the other went under, sending both of the dragon's riders flying out of their saddles. Even though they landed upside down in between some audience members, they still let out amused laughs at the result.
"Where's your book, Hiccup?" Snotlout taunted. "You might want to take notes."
Overconfident as always, the dark-haired Viking shot forward on his Monstrous Nightmare. He hit his head on the first hurdle. He looked back to see what had happened, which delayed his reaction time for the second. This caused a domino effect as he hit each one with a loud grunt, but he did technically make it through all of them.
Finally, just Hiccup was left to prove himself. He leaned low on Toothless' back and encouraged him, "let's show 'em how it's done, bud."
The Night Fury let out a roar of agreement. Together, they shot forward. He added an extra spin for flare, earning an excited gasp from the crowd. They stayed upside down for the whole obstacle until they emerged on the other side of the statues. He landed next to the other teens as Mulch declared the winner.
"And Hiccup makes a perfect run!"
Hiccup's eyes widened for a moment as he took in the news before he turned to share his excitement with his friends. "Did you hear what he said? Perfect! I-I believe those are my first Thawfest points ever! I just realized something: I like beating Snotlout. I-I feel taller. Am I taller? Never mind, don't answer that."
Fishlegs frowned, leaning over to whisper to Astrid: "is he. . . gloating?"
"I don't know," the blonde answered, a similar expression on her face. "I've never actually seen Hiccup gloat before."
"Don't get too excited," Snotlout sneered at the brunet, holding up a single finger. "You know what this is? Still the number of wins I need to end this thing. And you know what this is?" He held up a second finger. "The number of chances I have."
"Oh, yeah? Well you know what this is?" Hiccup formed my hand into an 'o' shape. "The size of your brain. No, wait." He made the circle even smaller. "That's much better."
The other boy huffed in reply. "Like you've ever seen my brain. Come on, Hookfang."
--
After getting a perfect run in the next two events, the boys stood on a platform as they waved to the cheering crowd. Mulch ended the day's games by claiming: "and for the first time in Thawfest history, we have a tie! Tomorrow, these two young Vikings will go head-to-head in an event to decide the Thawfest champion."
"Huh. . . I can't believe how lucky you are," the shorter teen snapped. "You don't even belong on this stage with me."
He kept a smile plastered on his face even as he stomped down the stairs. Hiccup remained undeterred as he retorted, "that's it. Keep talking, Snotlout, as your family's winning streak goes up in flames. . . just like your Rings of Deadly Fire."
Dany had come down from the chief's platform to congratulate Hiccup on his wins, proud that her best friend had done so well after such a terrible day yesterday. She froze when she heard the end of his parting words to Snotlout and her brows furrowed at his reaction. The two boys had never gotten along so she was used to their arguing, but it was never like. . . this. This had a layer of cruelty under it that their normal banter didn't have and it made her watch them with unease.
Pleased that Snotlout couldn't come up with a reply, Hiccup couldn't help calling after him: "hey, what's the matter? Yak got your tongue?"
"Hiccup," the blonde said reproachfully.
"Oh, he's crumbling under the pressure, I can feel it!" He slowly turned to face her, only to be greeted by her disapproving look. "What?"
Shaking off his weirdness, Dany offered him an uncertain smile as they made their way out of the arena. "I. . . I'm glad I came. It was amazing to watch you guys; you did a great job."
Hiccup grinned, but not the usual smile that appeared whenever she arrived at the Academy for the day. There was a prideful air in the curve of his lips and his eyes gleamed at the prospect of tomorrow's challenge. "Well, what can I say? I've got the skills and the brains to back them up. I'll be the Thawfest champion for sure!"
The Targaryen frowned in response at his bright expression. Although she was happy that he was doing so well, she'd never seen this side of him. It reminded her strongly of Snotlout's everyday boasting, and her stomach turned at the thought of her best friend turning into such a person. His humility and selflessness were some of the reasons why she liked him so much.
They were quiet for a minute as they neared where Drogon had chosen to wait for his mother (as the stands weren't necessarily built to accommodate a dragon of his size.) Before she climbed on to her dragon's back, Dany turned to face the boy. Her journal was tucked under her arm, but her hands were occupied with the earmuffs he'd made her, her fingers running through the soft fur thoughtfully.
"Hiccup, I am happy that you won today, but competitions are always more than being just about winning; it's about how you handle victory and defeat. It's just that, well, humility is a virtue too. I've seen the way Snotlout brags about his victories, and. . ." She trailed off to gather enough courage to admit: "I-I've always. . . admired you for being different, for being modest and considerate. I'm not trying to tell you what to do or anything, but I. . . just wanted to give you something to think about. Good luck tomorrow."
With that, she slipped the earmuffs around her neck to free up her hands to climb onto Drogon's back. The large dragon pinned Hiccup with his flame-orange stare, as if he could sense the cause of his mother's discomfort. Then, the brunet was buffeted with a great gust of wind and they were gone.
--
Hiccup had to admit that he was mildly surprised when Dany showed up to watch the final event the next day. Her parting words had stung a bit— she'd compared him to Snotlout, after all— and it seemed like she was upset with him for how he was acting about his winning streak. The fool's gold burned a hole in his pocket at the reminder, the fool part hitting home more than he'd like to admit. He wondered if he'd already gotten his gold medal: the soft expression on Dany's face when he'd given her the earmuffs and the fact that she was attending the games for him was more than enough.
He looked over at Snotlout, whose brows were furrowed with uncharacteristic worry. He watched as the other boy glance up at the stands where his father watched on, the older man's expression already sour with a disappointed frown. However, when Snotlout noticed that Hiccup's attention was on him, he shot the brunet a sneering look, full of false bravado.
Before the chief's son could say anything, Mulch's voice rang out over the crowd: "welcome to the final deciding event of this year's Thawfest Games: The Obstacle Course Race! Take it away, Gobber!"
"The race will start here in the stadium," the blacksmith began, raising his voice over the cheering audience. He gestured with his hook to the stone, where a map had been painted. A red line was drawn in a wobbly circle, indicating the course. "Where, after the Log Dodge and the Cliff Climb, Hiccup and Snotlout will get on their dragons, loop around the flagship anchored around the coast, slam through the sea stack maze, and head back here. The first one to cross that finish line will be the winner!"
Finally getting a chance to speak, Hiccup went over to the dark-haired boy, who was still stretching out his limbs. "Hey, uh, can I talk to you for a second?"
"No," he snapped, unsurprisingly.
"Okay. Uh. . . I just wanted to say have a good race, and may the best Viking win." The boy stuck out his hand in front of the other teen.
Snotlout turned around, smirking. (Again, predictably) he didn't take Hiccup's hand. "Oh, he will. Don't your worry your scrawny little self about that. See you at the finish line, Hiccup, or maybe I won't."
"All right, I tried. If that's how you want it. . ."
The dark-haired Viking had started to stalk past his competitor, but at those words he whirled around to point a finger in Hiccup's face. "That's exactly how I want it."
Mulch's voice sounded once more from above them: "Vikings and dragons, take your positions! On your mark. . ." Both boys crouched down to get into a starting position. "Get set. . . And. . . Go!"
Snotlout wasted no time in shoving Hiccup out of the way as he sprinted forward. He agilely avoided the oncoming logs by leaping over them, ducking under them and rolling to the side. His efficiency cost Hiccup a good amount of time as he got back on his feet. The other boy was already at the cliff face by the time he'd dodged his first log and was a good ways up by the time he ducked around his second and third.
The Vikings on top of the cliff started to throw rocks down to make the climbing more difficult. Snotlout escaped the first two but as he gloated about them, the next one hit him in the face. He merely shook his head to clear it before continuing up the rocky surface. By the time Hiccup had made it to the same place, the other teen was able to wave down at him mockingly before he climbed onto Hookfang's back.
The glance upwards nearly cost him; the Vikings throwing the rocks resumed their job and the distraction allowed one of them to land right where his next hand-hold was. The scare made his fingers slip and he began to fall towards the sea. Hiccup's heart stuttered in his chest at the sight of the approaching water. He struggled to find a new place to grip the stone, but the surface fell away under his fingers. Thankfully, his metal leg caught on the rock and slowed him enough to find a place to hold on to so he could resume his climb.
He wasted no time in running towards Toothless to take to his saddle. "Okay, bud. We've got a lot of ground to make up."
The familiar woosh of the Night Fury's pressure-change takeoff followed them as they shot into the sky. They raced to catch up with Snotlout, who was almost to the flagship. Toothless' wings beat powerfully against the air as they closed the distance between them, becoming neck-and-neck just as they rounded the marker.
Snotlout and Hookfang zipped above them just as they made their own U-turn, the boy laughing as his dragon's wind buffeted Hiccup. "Hey! How's that feel?"
His taunting only made the brunet more determined to win. He hunkered down on his dragon's back with a murmur of, "okay. Let's see what this new tail can really do."
The sea-stacks were where things got tricky; some of the passages were only big enough for one dragon-and-rider pair, and with both boys being so close to each other, it was hard to maneuver. Snotlout was still in the lead, making it impossible for the other boy to get past him. "Move over!"
"Yeah, sure!" was his scathing reply. The Monstrous Nightmare roared his agreement.
That was their mistake: the loss of focus caused them to lose their steady speed. Hookfang's flight became uncontrolled, right up until a pillar reared up before them. Snotlout yelled in fear as Toothless cleared it, but not without their own consequences— now they had to go the long way.
The Monstrous Nightmare's speed was nothing compared to a Night Fury's, and the new tail was only an advantage. Just as they were closing in to take the win for themselves, Hiccup heard the teen's panicked mumbles, barely loud enough over the rushing wind: "no, I can't lose. . . I can't lose. . . Aah, I can't lose!"
That snapped him back to reality. Sure, a win would've been nice— great, even, but his dad was already used to him losing. While he didn't know much about Snotlout's relationship with his father, he knew that the boy's loss would have a much worse impact than his own. The fool's gold burned brighter, but it was gold, his own gold, better than any medal that his father could hand out. Decision made, he adjusted the stirrup of the saddle so that the tail collapsed inward. Toothless' wings flew out and they were buffeted backwards, flying unsteadily until they reached a forested clearing.
They only needed a few seconds to recover before they took off again, but it was too late: Snotlout and Hookfang had crossed the finish line.
But, Hiccup didn't care so much anymore. He could hear the boy's father cheer ecstatically from the stands, shouting their traditional 'Snotlout, Snotlout, oi, oi, oi!' in celebration. Snotlout basked in the attention and praise as the chief placed the medal around his neck— another win for the Jorgenson clan— but Hiccup didn't see any of that.
Instead, his attention was focused on the whirl of silvery-blonde that rushed down from the stands until the girl it belonged to stood in front of him. She was beaming at him, so brilliantly it almost hurt to look directly at her face. Her lips were pulled back in a real smile so that pearly-white teeth could be seen between them. Her violet eyes were lighter, brighter than he'd ever seen them, so purple it rivaled the flowers in the circlet on her head.
"I know what you did," she said without preamble, but with so much obvious joy in her tone.
He pretended to be unaffected by her praise and shook his head in defeat. "Yeah, I lost. As usual."
"No," Dany corrected him firmly. "You threw the race."
"I-I have no idea what you're talking about, Dany," he tried to play it off. "Snotlout was just the better Viking today."
He hadn't noticed before, but she'd kept her hands behind her back as she'd approached him. Now, they came into full view and he saw that she was holding a second crown, one that was made up of all green, leafy fronds— a crown of laurels. She stood on her toes, reaching up to place it gently on his head. "No, Hiccup. No one was a better Viking than you today."
He reached up to touch the crown gently, his heart beating unnaturally fast. There had only been one other time that Dany had given him a flower crown, but it paled in comparison to today. He grinned down at her in response, watching in awe as her cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink— just like they had at Snoggletog.
However, before he could do anything as wildly courageous as he had that night, the blonde stuck her hand out between them. Although he felt a pang of disappointment that nothing more happened, he accepted the gesture warmly and gently shook her hand in return.