Request: Happy Birthday

Hiccup was outside.

Most other beings were indoors on the near-evening of a frigid February day. The sun was getting lower, behind the icy waters surrounding the Isle of Berk.

He had found himself alone, which was nice—rare after everything that had happened. People had wanted to be near him, talk to him, hear his words on matters and thoughts and he still wasn't used to it—not when for so long it had been the complete opposite. He liked the interest people took in him and his opinions and his own knowledge now that he was considered a hero but yet there was something he had missed about solitude. Getting out there with just his thoughts—to really reflect on things without worrying what to say or do.

Astrid had spent more time with Hiccup and that was probably the best consolation from losing his leg. He liked her—well he had always liked her. She was pretty and a good fighter and he'd never have in a million years thought she would ever pay him more notice than a dragon to a fly. But solitude required only one person.

Toothless was not with him for Hiccup had discovered around the first frost nearly four months ago that dragons did not like the cold whatsoever. They left—presumably migrated like the birds or maybe hunkered back at the island of the volcano for warmth. Hiccup did not know for sure but aimed to one day find out.

Toothless did not have the means to leave so he had spent most of the winter snuggled up at Stoick and Hiccup's lodge. The dragon had become severely lethargic and even if Hiccup tried to get him to play or even offer to fly, the Night Fury simply refused to step foot outside. He should have realized sooner that dragons shared the same body temperature qualities of snakes and turtles even when having the ability to create fire. They couldn't warm themselves.

He was outside because he couldn't stand to be inside with his father on this particular day—the day his mother had died.

It seemed that a Viking kid couldn't get by with both parents before reaching adulthood in the village. He, Snotlout, and the Thorston twins had all suffered such a loss but in different ways. His mother had been an unfortunate victim of the winter sickness when Hiccup was just eight years old.  She had been sick for nearly two weeks and on this day—this one day in late February eight years prior, Hel had thought it fit to take her.

Why this day?

He had always wondered why Hel couldn't hold off at least a day. Maybe if not even, just a few hours if she was so bent on collecting Valhallarama Haddock, to take his mother.  It was futile to wonder why, and what if, but if Hel would have been a Goddess of mercy—which Hiccup knew she far from being—he could have had one last slightly happy birthday and just a little more longer with his mother before she succumbed to the dreaded fever and cough of the winter. He turned nine years old that night and in the same stroke of time, became motherless.

Evermore his birthday could never be a happy day for him. Not when it was the same day she left Midgard forever. Instead of being given a gift, something he loved was taken away.

Mom.

There seemed a slight piece of him missing ever since that night. Being forced to go to bed with tears knowing mommy would not wake up again, and how she laid there like that until the next morning because they could do nothing with the body in the negative temperature of the dark outside. He missed her every morning he woke after.

She had made him breakfast every morning she could—sometimes it was hot porridge with berries or honey cakes, or his favorite—Birka Bread with Cream. She made sure he minded his manners, and brought him back all sorts of goodies from the quests she went on. Back when she was alive, his family was happier and her death had torn a seam in it, separating he and his father for the worse. Hiccup had started acting up, his way to cope with her death and Stoick had become more stern and protective. Hiccup knew and understood now, looking back, why Stoick never let him do anything fun—because he was afraid of Hiccup getting hurt and losing him—the one last piece left in the world he had of Valhallarama.

Hiccup picked himself up, knowing he had to get away from this pity party—maybe solitude was a better idea on some other day, but not his birthday. Though he hadn't really celebrated it over the years, his father always forgot—was too busy or too sad with memories of his mother. It was just embedded into both of them—they always remembered this day and how it had made them feel.

It was dark now, the sun finally had sunk. It started to snow again, the white powder was up to his knees and soaked into the material of his trouser leg. His fingers were numb despite their wool mittens and the same with his neck and chin underneath a long scarf he had owned since before he could remember. It was worn and old and held the comfort of his mother. She had knitted it years ago and though it really didn't do it's job at keeping him warm anymore—he refused to get rid of it.

He made it back to his lodge and took a sharp breath as he pulled open the door. The sight he saw was one he would have never expected.

"Happy birthday!" rang a unanimous shout from the small gathered crowd of humans.  Gobber, Toothless and all the kids fro m his training class stood with smiles directed at him. They knew it was his birthday? For once his father had gotten over the day's misery and decided to celebrate the life, not the death? But Stoick wasn't there...

"Hi," Hiccup gave a wondrous frown.

Astrid stepped forward and took his hands to lead him forward. He wasn't reacting as they expected—though they didn't understand the day held two significances that were pitted together in the most opposite of feelings.

There was a baked pastry set on the table, candles surrounding it.

"We've been waiting forever for you to return!" Astrid exclaimed. She was rosy cheeked-from the heat of the fire. She was beautiful but he couldn't focus on that, he still didn't know if they had a thing or what. Lately he was finding girls to be more complicated creatures than dragons. No, he still was wondering how and why after all this time anyone gave mind to remember his birthday.

He felt a hard slap on his back and looked to see Gobber, "We thought'd you become a snowman."

"And no one bothered to step outside and look for me?" Hiccup retorted dryly but they were used to him in such a state and didn't take to the very serious bitterness behind his tone.

Toothless bumped up into Hiccup's elbow with a sniff, smelling the scents and news of the outside world—still cold. The Night Fury rounded the crowd and found himself a spot back in front of the fire.

"We made  you a pastry," Fishlegs pointed to the sweet treat on the table, looking eager to have a taste once Hiccup took the first bite, "Well my dad did, but me and Astrid helped!"

Mister Ingerman was known to be an excellent baker. Though Hiccup's stomach wasn't at all hungry despite the scrumptious looking desert with a honey glaze. They parted for him as he made his way toward the table. He looked at it and then blew the candles out that sat around it. There were sixteen, and probably Fishleg's's mother had provided them as well as she was the village candle-maker.

He dipped his pinky finger into the glaze and tasted it. It was delicious, sweet but did nothing to lift his thoughts from his mother—reminded of the honey cakes she had served for breakfast.

"Where's dad?" he asked, looking around again, not knowing how he could have missed the vast man in the first place if he was, in fact, present.

"He's getting your birthday present," Gobber answered.

"Speaking of which, ours is awesome!" Tuffnut nudged Ruff. She gave a flirty smile and presented him with a wrapped package. He untied the twine that kept the wrapping together. In it lied something fuzzy and warm. It was a scarf.

"We got our mother to make it, now you can get rid of that nasty old one and have one that is actually warm, " Ruffnut said and grabbed the end of the one he was wearing, most likely trying to tug it off so he could try on the new one.

"No!" Hiccup shouted and shoved the present back into her. She gave a bewildered, almost hurt look. They all stared at him.

"No! Just...thanks—I appreciate it the effort but—no." He pulled his current scarf tighter and ran up to his room. He shut the door and fell to his bed.

Apparently, being a hero also made people remember birthdays. How convenient, but how could he find joy in it after so many years of being miserable?

His door swung open and he turned to see Astrid. She had kicked it in and she didn't look pleased.

"What—?"

"You are such an ungrateful whelp," she steamed and slammed the door behind her, "Your friends waited nearly an hour, brought you gifts to celebrate your birthday and you scream at them and hide in your room. What the Hel is wrong with you, Hiccup?"

He couldn't answer. He didn't want to and it didn't matter who asked, not even Astrid.

"I just am not in the mood, alright?" He nearly growled.

"What's the matter?" she lessened the anger in her voice, taking a step closer, knowing he was upset about something.

"I really don't feel like explaining how messed up this day is to me."

"You're birthday? Birthdays are supposed to be happy! You're sixteen, what is not happy about that?"

He bit his tongue with a frown.

A weight befell the edge of his bed, and as much as he really liked her he wished she'd leave him in solitude. She was concerned and it was his own dumb fault for making a scene. He just went crazy though when Ruffnut tried taking his scarf away—he didn't even have control over it.

"You can tell me, Hiccup."

He rolled over and turned his head, "If I do, it's something you'd never be able to understand."

"Try me," he saw her grin assuredly.

He sighed, "My mom died on my birthday."

"I'm sorry—I—I didn't know—" her grin vanished and her eyes lowered, knowing she really couldn't understand. She had both her parents. She was lucky.

"Yeah, no one really does. If you want to help me, can you get me my father? I need to talk to him." It felt weird saying that. He didn't need to talk to his father that often. But he really needed to now.
She got up and he buried his head int his pillow.

He couldn't cry—no those tears for his mother had been cried out long ago but he still felt that pit of depression he always developed on his birthday. He felt a punch to his arm. His head jerked to the side in a scowl but she didn't even explain the reason for it but instead quickly remedied it with a kiss to his forehead, "Yes, of course I'll do that for you—it's your birthday after all."

She sure was a confusing girl—did she like him? Did she think he was a nice punching bag for practice? Even if so, he still couldn't help but to really like her and wished he was in a better mood to appreciate her company. She probably thought he was an emotional idiot who felt too sorry for himself. It had been eight years but the sting wasn't nearly as softened as one would assume.

Awhile later Stoick entered the room. Hiccup knew it was he from the man's heavy footsteps before he was halfway up the stairs.

"Son. Is it true you ran out on your own birthday party?"

"Oh you heard about that?"

"There's not a life but for your dragon downstairs."

Hiccup sighed and turned over to his back, "Why now? Why after all these years of ignoring my birthday you decide to remember it?"

"Because for once in a long time I'm learning to appreciate this," Stoick waved a hand over Hiccup's general area.

"You just gestured to all of me."

"Yes. I was always too stricken with grief on this day to appreciate you—the son my wife gave me. She is gone but she lives in you and that is reason enough to celebrate." Stoick sat down next to Hiccup, as the lad crawled upright to sit as well. He still wore that old scarf and all his outer coverings though it wasn't as cold indoors.

"Ah she was a spirited woman, stubborn and clever and an eye for adventure. You know who that reminds me of?" Stoick bent over and raised a brow.

"Me?"

"Of course."

There was a few moments of the usual father-son silence. Neither one knowing what exactly to say to keep conversation. They always had  Valhallarama to bridge the gap and afterward it had always felt awkward.

"I miss her," Hiccup finally sighed and tugged on the fraying piece of material that was around his neck.

"As do I. But just think, she would never have wished you to feel bad on your birthday no matter what. She'd have told you to be happy for yourself, your yearly accomplishments, and most of all your life. I made the mistake of mourning death over the life right before me. Your mother gave you the greatest gift of life—and I will make sure from now on to make this day about you and not her."

"But how else are we going to remember her? I don't want to forget," Hiccup mumbled the last part, knowing sadly that pieces of her he did forget as the years went by. Memory was a practice of recalling those moments he was never to relive again and it was a difficult thing—time.

"Here, I brought you something that might help," He was handed another wrapped gift.

Hiccup took it, eyeballing his father who was smiling, still even maybe with a glisten in his eyes. He tore the paper and saw a small leather-bound book, just like his own. He opened it and it was already filled on every page—of exceptional rune writing, some notes, some maps and drawings.

October 3rd, Year of Frigg

This day was quite exciting! My Hiccup took his first steps if only for a few moments. But I did not even need to help him. He is a determined little rascal, my boy. He reminds me of those plants that grow on the Bog Isle. They manage to break through snow the fastest in spring and continue to grow—and Hiccup  grows everyday. I love him as much as adventure, he is my adventure and I want to see him grow like those plants and maybe someday he will be able to accompany me on an adventure—

That was where Hiccup had stop reading, knowing he would cry if he were to continue.

"Mom kept a journal?"

"I told you, you have so much of her in you."

"Thanks Dad." Hiccup found himself putting his arms around the man, "This was the best present anyone could have given me."

Stoick gave an awkward cough, "Well you're welcome of course. Come down and have another piece of your birthday pastry."

Hiccup's stomach gave a rumble of hunger.

"You're still hungry? Most of it was half-eaten when I stepped in."

Hiccup raised a brow and then realized how it was possible.

Fishlegs.

"Yeah I want another piece," he found himself smiling for the first time that day.

He and his father sat together at the table and ate the rest of the pastry between each other. He even tried on the scarf the twins had given him, wrapping his original one around Toothless before donning it. Toothless sniffed at it and then shut his eyes with a pleasant 'grurr.'

He read passages of his mother's journal out loud to his father and he learned that she had an amusing and impressive view of the world. They laughed at her humorous detailing of different clans she had met and Hiccup studied the maps and vowed to himself he would someday walk those coasts she once had.

When he went to bed, he slipped his mother's journal under his pillow. He was glad he now would always have something to remember the life of  Valhallarama, not her death. Most of all he was glad because finally, for the first time in years, Hiccup felt he had a happy birthday.