#cely writes

In a wide expanse of hallway located in the west wing of an old manor in Kent, there was a blob of shadow sneaking where it shouldn't have been.

That blob was, in fact, a ten-year old boy named Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III.

A…rather long-ish name, for someone so short. He was supposed to grow into it. Eventually.

Hiccup was a Viking, even if he didn’t look like it, and he grew up in a tiny village full of Vikings who did look like it. The village stood on a speck of stubborn rock surrounded by unforgiving ocean located in the middle of freezing and nowhere. The two most important things that could be said about the village was that it has as much sheep as it did people and that it won all the awards for the world’s deadliest pest problem: dragons.

Real dragons. With wings and talons and fire. That hunted the Vikings as the Vikings hunted them.

The only thing that stopped the village from either crumbing to the tide or else going up in flames was the fact that the magic running through the land and its people was as wild and strong and dangerous as the beasts that troubled them. It was what helped them survive, and they were proud of it.

Even if Hiccup wasn’t much of a Viking, there wasn’t anywhere else he could think of that made him think ‘home’. It was where his family, and their family, and all the generations before his had lived and where he’d expected they’d live long after he passed.

It was why he was so entirely confused when his father told him to pack his things a few days before and carted them all the way across the oceans to where they were now.

No prior warning. No explanations given. Just a gruff, “Hiccup, we’re leaving,” and then they were gone at sundown.

It wasn’t even that Hiccup hated going on a surprise trip. Up until then most of his adventures had been about sneaking off to the nearby muggle town for its library (and by nearby, it was a boat-journey away) or else running away (well, not quite; he wasn’t much of a runner) from the local Viking children trying to beat him up.

The problem here was that those Viking children had come along with them. By the time Hiccup had his things packed and ready those children and their families had showed up and, group by group, they’d magically teleported to England to be greeted first thing by a raging downpour. A full hour of cussing, shouting, and general chaos had landed them in this damp, musty building, with Hiccup being dropped off in his new room and essentially forgotten about ever since.

But that was going to change today. Today was the day Hiccup would get some answers.

Just as soon as he figured out where he was.

A lump in his pocket shifted and woke. It slithered out and climbed under the folds of his bulky jumper. Tiny claws poked into the material of his tunic, until they reached his shoulder and a soft chitter tickled his ear.

Slow and silent, Hiccup turned his head. Murky, brown-green yes, same as his own, stared up at him.

“Shhh.” He hissed. He didn’t dare risk going louder than that.

The little ‘gecko’ he’d named Nessi took no such care, but she didn’t have to. She answered him with a tiny chirrup and rubbed her neck against his. Then she clambered up into his hair. That’s where she’d stay until he found the time to eat, before she’d leave to find a meal for herself. At least he could always rely on her to be predictable.

That meant he’d already spent too long wandering.

Tugging the shadows tighter around himself, Hiccup closed his eyes and breathed out. With his eyes open, he saw the same things as anyone else—a long, square corridor with dark, threadbare carpeting and unadorned walls of deeply coloured wood.

But with his eyes closed, Hiccup could find a different view. One only he could see.

Outside it was raining. It created a thick blanket of background noise that kept in the sounds that came from within the building itself.

The floors and walls breathed in the water that filtered through the air. They creaked and groaned alongside their neighbours, some quieter, some not, depending on where they were. Farther out than that, in the opposite direction of where Hiccup headed, were the distant clamours and wandering feet of the other families who’d come along and were trying to sort out their new life to fit the new land they were in. Deep within the building came the murmurs of the house staff, muffled and folded into the walls like the gentle ticks of a well-worn machine.

Hiccup did not just hear all of this, he saw it too. In his mind’s eye, the sounds bloomed into existence like the inverted colours of a developing photograph. They made a rough map in his head of where exactly everything was in the mansion and where he was compared to them.

This trick was just one of many little things he’d taught himself to do with magic. He didn’t know how he did it, simply that he could.

At the moment there was one specific sound he was trying to find. One voice, something he’d been hearing since time beyond memory. Those were always the easiest sounds to pick out. The more familiar they were to him, the faster he could find them.

He found it then. The low timber of it caught along the edges of his mind and he wrapped a mental fist around it.

Hiccup opened his eyes without seeing and followed the voice, one hand stretched out and lightly brushing past the wall. The carpet muffled his feet and the shadows surrounding him did the rest. Not even the rats that scuttled behind the walls took notice, smelling neither boy or gecko.

It was when he turned the final corner that Hiccup blinked back to the rest of his senses.

His magic had picked up only his father’s voice. But his ears now picked up another. An unfamiliar voice in an unfamiliar accent.

That wasn’t right.

If something made a noise, then he should’ve sensed it. He’d tested the trick out for weeks and it’s what had always happened. Always, that is, until then.

Hiccup frowned. A problem for later. He had work to do. With tiny, careful steps, he edged closer and closer to the double doors. If anything else in the empty corridor heard the thumping of his heart, then they paid it no mind.

Definitely not the mysterious voice behind the doors. He—and it was definitely a he—was going on and on about something, Hiccup didn’t know what, either unaware or unconcerned with how loud he was.

Then his father’s voice cut through. “Enough. It is of no concern to me the history of the institution you speak of. I do not need to hear what virtues the English hold up to, for I know you have none.”

“Now now now, don’t speak so harshly, Mr. Haddock! Why, this very institution is where you will be sending your own child to.” The other voice chuckled. It had an odd, oily edge to it, that chuckle. The kind that fit under a bowler hat, a moustache, and a cigar, like in an old western film.

Hiccup suddenly pictured such a man, probably short and stocky, too, faced up against his mountain of a father.

“Coming from you, my child whom you speak of sounds more like a product than a living being. I do not need a product, Mister On—”

“Ehem.”

“…Very well. Mr. Walters, whatever else comes of this, I do not care for my son and heir being made into a puppet, or for such a fate to befall the other children of my tribe, brought here on the trust and loyalties of their families. Neither I nor my people have any use for those who have been made spineless and docile. By the end of this, Havárđr needs to be a leader.”

Hiccup startled at the use of his given name. For some reason, the floors did not creak.

It was strange enough to hear his father speak this way, all grand and formal like that. (Where had he learnt to? How long had he been able to?) Hiccup had never heard him talk like that, not with him or anyone.

Hardly anyone used his given name. Both the names—Havárđr and Hiccup—had belonged to his grandfather. They’d named him the first and called him the other, a relic from when he’d been born too early and almost too weak.

It wasn’t until his tenth birthday that he’d been gifted the Horrendous part of his name, along with a grand ceremony and his first dagger.

Inside, it had embarrassed him, since he was used to being shoved away from being the centre of attention. He didn’t know why they’d made such a fuss over just another birthday, or if anyone really expected him to do something heroic with the dagger.

Something told him he was now staring in the face of the answer.

The other voice kept going, as smooth as if his father had uttered a compliment. “And a leader he shall be. Hogwarts is one of the best the schools of magic have to offer. One of the very few spoken for by wizards, so you can be sure of its quality. Those who graduate from there have become ambassadors and leaders, have gained prominent careers and great success.”

“Now if only this school of yours could teach my son to be a strong Viking.” His father sighed. “Havárđr has the makings of it in him, I'm sure he does, but he just does not seem to care to try and use it. He does not favour battle magic, did not even lift a weapon until one was placed in his hands, and he refuses to learn how. He hardly ever talks to the people of our village, his own people, be they his age or no, unless duty forces his hand. Instead he goes running off to who-knows-where and not having a care towards helping others. How will he gain the respect of his people in the years to come? How will he gain their trust? What does he think to accomplish when he spends his days indoors or wandering the hills like one of the sheep?”

The words hung in the air. The words stopped his heart.

He shouldn’t be here.

He shouldn’t be hearing this.

But hadn’t he already heard this? Hadn’t Hiccup spent his entire life hearing some version of all this from everyone else?

They hadn’t said it in so many words. But he knew what the other adults muttered about when they didn’t think he could hear it. He knew what their children laughed at him about where they knew he could. Everyone had been worried for the son of the chief when he was born, and the worry had grown into disappointment as the years passed.

But for his father to just say that, to present it all like that. And to a stranger. Not to him, never to him.

There was a ringing in his ears. His feet wanted to run. But he couldn’t move. He couldn’t do anything.

The stranger on the other side went on, as calmly as if there wasn’t a boy in the corridor whose world was crumbling to pieces. “Hm. Well, I’m sure how your boy turns out will ultimately be up to him. The school will teach him well enough, since you’d put so much weight on ‘giving to the community’ and ‘the good of your people’. Can’t honestly say the path of a wizard would hold up the same. Although as far as other qualities are concerned, it truly is the best, in my humble opinion—which reminds me. Again, I should ask: are you sure? Are you quite sure you wouldn’t rather want…?”

“No,” said his father, with the finality of a death blow.

“…Well, I can’t say I didn’t try. If you’re sure, then. Although those ties have much to offer, should you ever wish to change your mind. Things like greatness and power is what wizardry is all about. But it’s fine. At least with this, you will have the benefit of an internationally acclaimed school teaching your young. That, surely, we can agree is for the best?”

A long silence followed this. Or at least, it felt that way. A part of Hiccup, the part that didn’t care either way about unimportant things like emotional distress, idly wondered if, had he kept his trick going, perhaps he could’ve ‘looked’ into the room. He could’ve seen where the two adults were, if they were sitting in armchairs next to the fireplace, or at a big, heavy desk that rested before an expansive window, curtains drawn to keep out the chill.

Or perhaps, they were instead facing each other, neither daring to turn away, like an old-fashioned duel. Was that why the silence felt so heavy? Or was that just him?

A sound like a tea cup clinking against a table broke the still air. A floor board creaked as someone inside shifted.

“…Mister Walters, we are neither of us fools. I know as well as you do that this serves a purpose for you as well. It is why—…it is the only reason, I am sure, why you and your kind have lent your aid.”

His father’s deep voice had gone even deeper, almost a rumble by then. It was a sharp contrast to the other, who laughed, quick and light.

“But of course it does. And the details of it shouldn’t concern you in the slightest, trust me. You see, you, my chief, are a leader, while I am a businessman. And a smart businessman always ensures that any given situation is to the best interest of both parties involved.”

“Indeed. And you will do well to remember that it is not in good practice to hide vital information from your business partners.”

A rustle of papers, followed by the dull tap of many small somethings lightly hitting a wooden surface. “Everything I intend is everything you see on this paper here, Mr. Haddock. See this signature? It means that any and all involvement we have in your child’s personal affairs starts and ends with our getting him and his friends into Hogwarts. While the rest of these plans are what we, partner to partner, equal to equal, have already formulated amongst ourselves, and those are what you will see in four years’ time.”

“…Very well, then. In four years’ time, we will discuss this again.”

“Excellent. Now shall we go over the other matters at hand? Because I’d been thinking…”

The talk turned to business related topics, with words like ‘subsidies’ and ‘land use’ and ‘monetary transactions’ and other such useless noise that had nothing to do with Hiccup’s life.

His feet uprooted. Without another glance, he left the corridor as quietly as he’d come.

One corridor turned into another. The wing that held the others were left well alone. Up a flight of stairs, down a dim corridor lined with windows on one side, to the room at the very end…

The door shut behind him. The shadows he’d brought fled back to the corners of the room, settling in alongside the eternal damp. Opposite a canopy bed too thick and musty to be comfortable stood a pair of windows that gazed out into a drenched, overgrown garden. They cast the room in a cold and muted light.

The only other hint of colour came from a tray on the nightstand, a huddle of half-eaten fruits. Red, orange, and pale green—a rarity in the north.

Something about that flooded the feeling to his body, pushed the numb out. His hands were shaking. He…needed a nap. He really needed to eat. He shouldn’t have been this tired. It wasn’t good for him.

He shouldn’t have gone. He shouldn’t have listened. This was all his fault, this was his fault—

His legs buckled. Hiccup slid down like a puppet with its strings cut. Nessi dug her claws into his hair, then scampered down with an alarmed chitter. Chirping and squeaking, licking his chin and face, there were tears, she was scared—

His father’s words rang in his head. He couldn’t block them out, couldn’t make them stop, not even with his hands against his ears.

…does not to care to try and use it…he refuses to learn…not a care towards helping others…How will he gain the respect of his people…? How will he gain their trust? What does he think to accomplish…?

He wasn’t a Viking.

He was a failure.

That’s why they’d left the village. Because his father thought this place might fix him. Because at home he always messed up. He got in the way and messed up everything and no one wanted him and not even his father wanted him—

His father had taken him out of the village because of how completely useless he was.

The worst of it was that he’d tried. He’d been trying so hard, for years. Trying to help, trying to do better, to be good enough for once. He’d gone to the library to learn more ways to help. He’d drawn pages and pages of diagrams, weapons and tools to make in the forge, to help fight against the dragons. He’d wanted to make them and show them to everyone. He’d wanted his father to be impressed.

He could’ve done it, if he’d had more time. If he’d tried harder. Surely he’d have done it.

What can you do? No one cares. No one wants you. You’re so useless, what can you do?

Hiccup pressed his head to his knees, mouth clamped shut against the rising sob. He dug his fingers into his sleeves, gripped them tight, trying, trying to keep the pieces in him together.

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“Here’s somecookies and some very bad news!”

Yuki lookeddown at the cookies then back up at him. In all the other times Wesley’s seenher, whether in the hallways or in the classes, she’s always had a pleasantsmile etched onto her face. She was always sopunctual and so organised and she wasso sensible and kind about it all too, because of course everyone could rely onher and no it’s no trouble at all.

Well,currently Wesley was being treated to the very unique experience of acompletely different Yuki, the one where her face was colored every differentshade of ‘Are You Kidding Me Right Now’. Which, really. It’s not like he wassome kind of debt collector come to take her money.

Yuki pointedone dainty finger at him, “First of all, thank you. Second of all, how dareyou.”

Wesleysighed and balanced the plate higher. “Okay, so I know this is cheap but this isreally important or else I wouldn’t have come to you about it. Also, they’re Snickerdoodles.”

For one longminute she looked like she was going throw a bucket of dirty water in his face,but then the sweet tooth he knew she had won out. Reluctantly she took theplate from him and muttered, “Get inside,” before she proceeded to stride intothe apartment herself and leave him at the door.

The placeitself surprised Wesley. It wasn’t neat and tidy like he’d pictured it to bebut instead a whole mismatch of worn in furniture and borrowed, lived inthings, looking for all the world like any other student’s apartment. And itwas also obvious that she was living with someone else because it was all amess. Or rather, some places were messy while others were neat, and in someothers the messes were in the process of being made neat. Then there wereplaces where the neat had a little bit of messiness to them, like a miniaturecyclone and a cleaning crew had finally decided that they liked each other toomuch to argue and had tried to make both of their styles work. He might’ve beenfooled into thinking that the other flatmate was an art student or some such ifhe didn’t know very well that her name was Julia and that she was doingrobotics. But then, everyone knew that.

Yuki wavedhim towards a chair at a low table while she went into the kitchen proper toset the plate down. “What would you like? We got tea, coffee, and hot chocolate– your pick.”

“Do you haveany of that fruity kind of tea?”

“Nope, we’refresh out.”

“Hotchocolate, then.”

“Hotchocolate it is.” And with that Yuki started getting the mugs and other ingredientsout and went through the motions of making them both drinks. Wesley didn’tbother to interrupt her with idle chit chat because that’s just not how sheliked to go about it. There was a system to these kinds of things, and she didthem as if by putting her things into order she was putting the rest of herlife in order. She’d told him that once, back when she might’ve trusted him.Well, no, not exactly in those words perse but he gotten the general idea. Besides, it was his job to be able toread between the lines, to hear the things that went unsaid. He’d gotten goodat that after a while.

So he satand let his mind quietly wander the way it does when he’s trying hard not tothink about things – as in, he goes about thinking about The Thing excessively.See, this is why he can’t have nice things, because his brain keeps ruining thenice moments for him. And really, it’s not like the situation itself isunsolvable, it’s more that it’s …. bothersome, and tedious. Yes, that’s theword, tedious. There wasn’t anything he could’ve done to prevent it and now itjust needs to be taken care of, is all.

Nothing toit. Easy as pie.

A mug wasset down in front of him with a thump that jolted Wesley out of his thoughts.He looked up to see that Yuki was staring down at him and that every inch ofher was scrubbed clean of anything resembling hospitality and was instead replacedwith the most withering kind of exasperated impatience that anyone had everbestowed upon him. Arms crossed, foot tapping, eyebrow raised – the whole nineyards. And no, Wesley did not cower inhis seat, thank you very much.

“Speak.” Shesaid, her voice flat. If she’d been playing the Red Queen from Alice in WonderlandWesley wouldn’t have noticed any difference.

Wesley,although well aware that he was no peasant facing an angry monarch, knew thattrying to avoid the inevitable would do him no favors. So he ignored the mugand said the words before he could stop himself, “I – I lost the adapter. Theone me and Julie’d been working on.”

Wesleywaited for the lecture that would come, the ‘I told you so’s and ‘What were youthinking’. But after a beat of silence he dared to glance up from his hands and hesaw that Yuki looked about as surprised as he felt. Then her expression slid intoone of contemplation as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other tolook around the rest of the room.

Withoutwarning she headed off into the living room and started rummaging around in acorner. “Well then, if that’s all it is then I think I can help you. If Iremember correctly I might have seen a spare one she’d had lying around heresomewhere.” She said, and Wesley no longer knew what he could expect becausehis brain had fallen out of his head and landed somewhere near his feet.

But sadly, hecouldn’t afford to stay that way because that wasn’t the only shoe he’d neededto drop. There was another one that he was at that moment dangling by itsmetaphorical shoelaces.

Taking themug of steaming hot chocolate in his hands, Wesley blew over it and gave it acareful sip for fortitude. “Yeah … that sounds like her.”

“Speaking ofwhich, where is she? She should’ve been home ages ago.” And there it was.

“Well, uh,about that.” Wesley gulped, “That’s … that’s another thing, I guess.”

Yuki pokedher head up from where she was searching behind a dilapidated couch to give hima questioning look.

“I, uh, Imight’ve … accidentally lost her in an alternate dimension.”

There was abeat of silence. Then the air was nearly ripped open with an ear splittingshriek.

She hadn’t asked him anything more. She trusted him, and was content to follow her friend wherever he led her. Which turned out to not be too far, because he stopped a few minutes later.

Caleb let go of her hand and turned around to face her. He put one finger to his lips, then he mimed covering his eyes. She watched him do it a second time and understood; he wanted her to close her eyes. But Blue still stared at him doubtfully and bit her chapped lips.

When she hesitated, he peered at her curiously. But she didn’t know what to do with that look, so she glanced down at her scuffed boots and shook her head.

“It’s alright. You don’t have to do this.” She whispered. He couldn’t hear her, she knew he couldn’t, but still she hung back. Her shoulders went up like they did when she wanted to hide herself away and her body curled itself inwards. The message was clear. I don’t want to go.

Blue shut her eyes and willed herself not to cry, even as a breeze blew past and made her shudder. But she stilled when she felt Caleb come closer.

Warm, calloused hands held her face and tilted it up. Blue felt one of them lift up and reach out to gently press fingers along her eyebrows, smoothing them over. She opened her eyes to see that Caleb was still smiling at her kindly. He wasn’t disappointed in her. He wasn’t upset.

Then that hand pulled away and he slowly signed it out so that she would understand. Trust me.

The hand that still held her cheek hadn’t moved. More than anything else that had happened to her that day, it calmed her in a way that she wouldn’t have thought it would. She lifted one of her own hands to cover his and gave it a squeeze. Then she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

Caleb turned his hand in hers and gently pulled her forward. Blue put one foot in front of the other as she tried not to fall. Another breeze went past, only this time it came from the direction she was headed. It blew the hair out of her face and Blue breathed it in. It carried a new smell with it that she could not name. She took another breath as the ground smoothed out beneath her feet and she heard the faint sound of rushing water in the distance.

A hand pushed on Blue’s shoulder and made her stop. Caleb did not let go of her hand, but she heard him move around. Then she felt a finger lightly tap against her cheek and she opened her eyes.

Magic

That was her first thought. All around her floated tiny lights that glimmered in the dark. They surrounded her and flew through the air in a silent dance that made her feel like she hung suspended, caught in an empty pocket of space that existed just for her. Yet when Blue looked down she saw grass beneath her, illuminated by the lights as they darted in and out of them. One of them drifted so close by her that she had to pull back and she got an eyeful of fluttering wings. They were fireflies.

Blue looked around and saw that they were in a clearing in the forest. The scent she’d caught earlier was the smell of the river that she could still faintly hear. She could already tell that the place would make for a beautiful sight come morning.

A low, quick whistle came from Blue’s right, and she turned to see that it was Caleb, who’d gone a little away from her. He had his hands cupped together and when she went near he gestured for her to hold hers out. She eagerly did, and had to hold back a giggle when she felt his hands open up over her own and something tickled her palm.

Slowly he unfolded his hands and Blue felt her first smile that day light across her face when she saw that he’d caught her a firefly. The little thing crawled up to her knuckle and blinked its light at her, then it beat its wings and fluttered off into the night.

Blue watched it go, still smiling with joy. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Caleb hovering close. As she turned to him to say something she paused at what she saw. Words that she’d been about to say vanished from her mind when she saw the look that was reflected in his brown eyes, a look that was so warm and fond and just for her.

He leaned forward and, lifting his hands up to his shoulders, he balled them into loose fists then flailed his fingers outwards like he was throwing out a puff of smoke. Magic. One of his hands came up again and he held it palm down, opening his fingers in and out. Light.

Magic light.

Blue made to copy him. He did the same things again and after watching how he did it she did the same thing. She really did giggle right then when she realized what he’d done. He was trying to say firefly. He’d made them a word for firefly, a sign that the two of them could use. Blue realized that it was something that was meant just for them and it filled her heart with warmth. She saw her smile mirrored on his face when she glanced back up at him.

Are you happy? He asked her. Was she happy?

Blue looked around at the meadow before her, at the sights and sounds that surrounded her. She thought back to how she’d been a few hours before, when she’d been missing the sea and all the things that reminded her of home. Out here in the mountains her home was far, far away. She was reminded of that every day that she woke up not hearing the sounds of the waves. Yet there she stood in a meadow with a boy who had stolen into her heart and somehow become her friend. For the first time in weeks she felt a warmth that filled up her bones and banished the chill that had clung to her for so long, and it was all because of him.

She looked back at Caleb with her biggest smile yet and reached forward to pull him into a hug.

Yes. Yes she was.

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