Hiccup's point of view:
I woke up feeling warm and cozy.
It was strange. I went to sleep in the grass, and grass is supposed to be cold and wet in the morning. But this was... different. It was soft and warm all around me, like I was tucked inside a sunbeam. I felt really... safe. My body was all loose and sleepy, and none of the big hurts were shouting at me. There was just a quiet, sleepy ache, like after a long day.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
I heard a heartbeat. It was slow and strong, right next to my ear. It was a nice sound.
Then I felt the arms.
They were around me, holding me firmly. Not tight-like when Snotlout held me so the twins could kick me. This was... different. It was like the grass was holding me, but with arms.
My whole body went stiff. Stiff as a board, like Gobber says about frozen planks. My brain screamed at my legs: RUN! Being held means you get hit! It means they've got you!
But... my legs didn't listen. They were too sleepy. And the warm was too nice. And the heartbeat was so steady.
Without me telling it to, my head moved. It nuzzled a little deeper into the softness it was pressed against. It was so soft. Softer than the cove grass. It smelled nice, too. Like cold stone after rain, and a little bit like the pretty, dangerous flowers Gothi warns everyone not to touch... not that I listen to her on that part they smell great and they don't hurt me so she must be lying.
Thump-thump.
The heartbeat was right in my ear now. I felt the soft things around my head, cushioning it.
My head, which had been all foggy with sleep, suddenly went SPLASH! like a bucket of lake water.
I wasn't in the grass.
I was... I was being held.
By a person.
My eyes flew open. I saw black cloth. My face was smooshed against... against a lady's chest. And I didn't have my shirt on!
A hot, prickly wave of embarrassment whooshed from my toes to the tips of my ears. I made a squeaky noise and tried to push away, to wiggle out, but the arms just held me gently. They didn't let go, but they didn't squeeze hurtful, either.
Above me, a voice laughed. It wasn't a mean laugh. It was a low, warm sound, like the purr of a really, really big cat.
"It seems you are finally awake, little hatchling~"
The voice was pretty, but it also made the air feel... quiet. Like when a storm is coming and all the birds stop singing. She pressed my head back gently against her, and my whole face felt like it was on fire.
"So adorable," she murmured, and I felt the rumble of her words in her chest.
I stopped struggling. My body was all confused. One part was screaming STRANGER DANGER! The other part was melting into the first real, warm hug it could ever remember having.
"Wh-who...?" My voice came out as a tiny whisper, muffled by her clothes.
"Shhh," she said, and one of her hands started moving, stroking my hair. Her fingers were cool, but her touch was soft. It felt... nice. Really nice. No one ever touched my hair unless it was to yank it. "You are safe here. You found my garden. And I found you little one."
Her words didn't make sense. Her garden? This place was... hers? But... I found it. I need this place. It was the only place in this rock that didn't hurt me. A sharp, panicky disappointment stabbed through the warm haze in my head. If it was hers, then that meant that I was trespassing. I had to leave.
A small, pathetic whine escaped my throat before I could choke it back.
The sound seemed to hang in the utterly silent air of this place. My cheeks burned. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying she hadn't heard it, but the perfect, watchful quiet of this place told me she had.
"Now, now," her voice vibrated against my ear, a low, amused hum. "Why is my cute little hatchling whining? I don't bite." Her fingers continued their gentle stroking in my hair, which only made my confusion worse.
I had to say it. I had to get it over with. "I... since this place is yours," I whispered, the words tasting like ash, "I have to go away now. And I... I like this place. It feels safe. And you want me gone, right? So I won't come back. So please... just let me go." My voice got smaller and sadder with each word. I still couldn't bring myself to look up. I didn't want to see the disdain, the dismissal on her face. I just wanted to curl up and disappear.
But a treacherous part of me was screaming Nooo! I didn't want to leave. The warmth of her, the steady heartbeat, the way she held me like I was something... not broken... it was a magnet, and my cold, little body was made of iron. I was terrified, but I was also more relaxed than I'd ever been in my life, and that scared me most of all. Why wasn't I fighting? Why did part of me want to just... stay like this? My muscles were tense, waiting for the shove, the shout, the pain that always came. But it didn't come. And the longer it didn't come, the more my body betrayed me, I was sinking a little deeper into her hold.
Unknown's Point of view:
Oh, by the roots of Yggdrasil, he is way too adorable!!!
He really thinks he has to go away. Away from me. I am his mother! The sheer, tragic comedy of it twists something inside me, a blend of immense fondness and a rising, icy wrath toward the world that taught him this.
Oh, my darling~ Those mortals really did a number on you. They made you believe you were disposable. Something unwanted.
But unlike those pathetic, blind pests, I see you, my little hatchling and I want you to stay with me forever. You are my hatchling. My beloved child, given to me by the Fates themselves. A gift I did not know I needed and I am not letting you go. Not now. Not ever.
I won't say that yet however. Let him adjust. Let him feel the truth of it first before I tell him that he is mine and only mine.
But while I was stuck in my own thoughts I noticed the tremors in his small frame, the heartbreaking sadness in his whispered words. A cold displeasure settles in my veins. My baby is sad. He is literally shaking. This is unacceptable! He should be happy. He should be preening under my attention, not flinching from it like I may hit him any moment.
I am pleased, however, to note the effect of my aura. My magic and aura of death have been spilling out of me unchecked since I made him mine, a radiant haze of contentment and lethal power. On any other mortal, it would induce paralysis, a soul-deep terror followed by a blissful, catatonic surrender. On him? It's simply... calming him. Easing the tremors. His frantic little heart is slowing to match the rhythm of my own. He is breathing in my essence, and it is soothing him like a lullaby. Good. He is mine. My magic knows its own.
Now, to correct his tragic little misconception.
Hiccup's First Person Point of view:
The arms around me squeezed, just a little, but it didn't hurt. It felt... safe. Like when you wrap a blanket really tight. Then, her chest rumbled with a soft chuckle.
"Leave?" she hummed, her voice tickling my ear. "Oh, little hatchling. You don't have to leave just because this is my garden. I will be honest with you, little one. I hate others being in my garden. There is a reason why the people of Berk fear this part of the forest, little one."
Her voice got quieter, like she was telling me a secret. "I kill every person who dares to defile my home."
I listened. Kill. It was a big word. A grown-up word that Gobber's uses in his stories about raids. But it didn't make me scared. It just... was. She was telling me a rule of her place, like how Gothi's rule was 'don't touch the green mushrooms'. If people came here and made her mad, she killed them. That was the her rule. It made sense. It meant they couldn't come in and wreck things. It meant this place was really safe. A quiet, happy feeling settled in my tummy. No one could ever find me here and I could hide here if she let me!!
Her voice melted back into the warm, purry sound. "However, you, my little hatchling, won't have to worry about that little one~"
She said it so easily. Her fingers started petting my hair again.
"You are just so adorable and cute and so perfect," she said, and her voice was full of a happy sound I didn't have a name for. "So what made you think that you would have to leave~?"
The question was so nice, but confusing at the same time, that the sad answer just fell out of my mouth before I could stop it. "Because I'm never welcomed anywhere. Everyone hates me."
For a second, she was very still. Then her voice came, sharp and sure like Gobber's hammer on metal. "How," she said, each word clear and bright, "could anyone hate a cutie like you?"
My face got SO HOT. It felt like I'd stuck it in the forge. It was the most embarrassing thing ever! To hide, I shoved my face deeper into her top, pressing my burning cheeks against the softness around my head. This is better, I thought, my brain all fizzy. This is less embarrassing than being called a cutie!!!
Above me, she made a soft, squeaky sound. "Awwww..." It was the sound grown-ups make at baby animals and at baby's!! She thought I was being cute on purpose. Then the embarrassment got even worse, a prickly, hot feeling all over, but my legs felt like wet seaweed. I couldn't move to run away from this feeling.
Then her voice cut through my fuzzy head, sounding curious. "Little one? Are you not afraid of me? I did just admit to killing people."
I lifted my head from its hiding spot. I wasn't fuzzy anymore. Her question was silly. Why would I be afraid? She was warm and cozy, she also held me and she didn't hit me unlike everyone else.
"No," I said, and my voice didn't whisper this time. "Why would I be? I don't care about that." I felt a little smile on my face. "It means this place is safe. I'm not afraid of you becouse you kill people, people kill all the time on raids."
I snuggled back against her, the thought making me feel strong and sure. "I don't care if they died. The people of Berk, the others... they're mean. They always hurt me." The words came out easy, like I was talking about the weather. "So if they die, they deserve it."
I said it. And I meant it. It wasn't a hot, angry thought from before. It was just... true. A simple fact, like rocks being hard. A little spark of something warm and bright flickered in my chest at the idea of them just... being gone. Not hurting anyone ever again. Especially not me.
And then, without even thinking, because I was so warm and safe and she felt so right, my mouth kept talking. The words came from a deep, sleepy, happy place. "You feel like what home is supposed to be."
I said it.
Home.
The word sat in the quiet air.
I froze.
My brain caught up. Home? I didn't have a home. Home was for people who were loved. I'd just said something stupid and mushy and wrong and now she was going to push me away and—
Unknown point of view:
He thought I felt like home. The sheer, incandescent joy of it threatened to unravel the careful order of my being. He was happy. He felt right. And he attributed that feeling to me.
The need to have him choose this, to want to stay with a clarity that matched my own certainty, was a sudden, sharp hunger. I wanted his free will to bow to the inevitable truth, not to my command. It would happen regardless, but I wanted the sweetness of his willing surrender.
Lost in the euphoria of it, my control slipped. More of my essence, that ambient aura of death and dominion, seeped into the air around us, thick and sweet as the lily's perfume. It would have struck any other mortal dumb with terror. For him, it would simply feel like safety, like belonging. It would make the thought of leaving even more unthinkable.
"I feel like home, little one?" I murmured aloud, my voice a velvet caress. "Aren't you just the cutest thing?"
The words, spoken into the quiet, seemed to break the spell of his panic. He snapped out of his frozen state, his small body giving a little jolt against mine.
"Y-yes," he whispered, the sound filled with wonder. "I... I never felt anything like this before. It just... feels right."
The admission was a gift greater than any soul I'd ever harvested. Right. It was the only word that mattered. I smiled, a real, unguarded expression of pure triumph, and let my fingers begin to card through his hair in earnest, scratching gently at his scalp. My touch traced the lines of his skull, the shape of him, committing it to an eternal memory.
As I did, I noted the state of him. Grime was ground into the fine hairs at his nape, a film of dirt and old sweat on his skin. There was a nick behind one ear that had healed poorly and was starting to get infected, I quickly healed it without him noticing making sure it did not even leave a scar. A wave of cold displeasure washed through me. Of course. He was left to fend for himself, bathing in a cold lake. He hated being unclean, and they had given him no means to be otherwise. He deserved to be polished. He deserved to shine.
But for now, he was calm. He was, for the first time, genuinely happy. A small, true smile played on his lips as he relaxed into my ministrations.
"You may stay here," I said, the words a decree wrapped in a gentle offer. "As long as you wish."
The burst of happiness that radiated from him was a tangible warmth against my skin. He didn't speak, but his entire being seemed to sigh, to settle, as if a fundamental tension he'd carried since birth had finally released. Good. Let him bask in it. Let the silence of the cove, now thrumming with my approving magic, sew this new reality into his heart.
We sat like this for a while. There was no need to hurry. I would enjoy the quiet miracle of his presence before the formalities began.
Hiccup's Point of view:
I don't know how long we sat there. The sun moved across the sky bowl above us, painting the stone walls gold, then orange. I was warm, and safe, and the lady—she kept scratching my head in just the right spot, and I never wanted her to stop. The thought of going back to the village felt like thinking about jumping into the icy sea.
A quiet thought wiggled into my blissful haze. We hadn't... said names.
My voice felt rusty from disuse and sleep. "We... we haven't introduced ourselves yet."
The scratching paused for a second, then resumed, even gentler. "Oh," her voice purred above me, amused. "Where are my manners? My name is Hella. Hella Odinsdottir."
Hella. It was a strong name. Sharp, like her. Odinsdottir. I didn't know what that meant, but it sounded important. It was a name that meant something.
"And you are, my little hatchling?" she asked, her voice soft and curious.
My mouth opened on habit. Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, my brain supplied, the full, stupid, weighty title. The words clogged in my throat. Haddock. That name... it wasn't mine. It was his. And it had never brought me anything but pointing fingers, disappointed sighs, and punches. It was a name that meant 'failure'. It meant a target on my back.
The warmth in my chest cooled a little. I didn't want to give that to her. I didn't want to bring that here, to this soft, safe place.
I swallowed. "Hiccup," I whispered. "Just... Hiccup."
She hummed, the sound vibrating through me. "Hiccup, hmm?" There was no mockery in it. Just consideration. "And do you like that name?"
The truth was out before I could guard it. "Not... not really. It just shows everyone how much of a mistake I am. It's what I do when I'm nervous or scared or... just wrong."
A sharp, gentle pressure under my chin. Her hand came up and gave my head a soft, correcting tap—not a hit, but a firm nudge, like Gothi tapping her staff for attention. It made me look up, meeting her emerald eyes. They were serious, but soft.
"Do not say such things about yourself," she said, and her voice held a note that brooked no argument. It wasn't loud, but it was absolute. "You are perfect, just as you are. Anyone who says otherwise is not worthy of speaking. They are... pests. Unimportant."
I stared at her. Perfect? Me? It was the most ridiculous thing I'd ever heard. And yet... the way she said it, looking right at me, holding me... a tiny, fragile part of me wanted to believe her. Desperately. I gave a small, hesitant nod.
Satisfied, her expression melted back into that warm fondness. Her hand moved from my chin, her fingers finding the spot just behind my ear. She began to scratch there, slow and firm.
My entire world narrowed to that point of contact.
A wave of pure, electric pleasure shot through me. My eyes fluttered shut. All my muscles went completely limp at once, like a puppet with its strings cut. A low, rumbling vibration started deep in my chest and spilled out of my throat unbidden—a continuous, happy purr.
I froze mid-purr, my eyes snapping open in horror. What was THAT?! People don't purr! I—
But her scratching didn't stop. If anything, it became more deliberate, finding the exact perfect rhythm. The shock was swallowed by a second, overwhelming wave of bliss. My thoughts dissolved into a warm, fuzzy syrup. The embarrassment couldn't compete. My body betrayed me utterly, melting into a boneless puddle against her. The purr started up again, louder this time, a steady, contented rumble I had no hope of stopping. I was lost in it, floating in a sea of safe, warm, scratchy goodness, and I never, ever wanted to be found.