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Hiccup lay without moving for a moment after he awoke, staring up at the ceiling, before the events of the previous day slammed into his consciousness. He’d walked into the house and tensed, hearing voices upstairs, in his room, where no one ever went except him—he couldn’t remember the last time Stoick had wedged himself up the stairs. Hiccup had taken a few steps toward them when he'd heard Snotlout’s laugh and frozen. He had been on the verge of sneaking back out the door when he’d hesitated, for just a moment, thinking of Snotlout’s strange behavior toward him on his first day as a Seer. What was it about his future self that had gotten his cousin so fixated on him? What had made Snotlout act like—well—like he wasn’t trying to humiliate Hiccup? Long, involved pranks were the twins’ style; Snotlout usually preferred just to hit him. Maybe aging five years had made Snotlout more devious. Great. Hiccup had reached for the door, certain that confronting Snotlout would only play into his hands.Then he’d heard a second voice. Softer, hushed; he couldn’t make out the words. But it had to be Astrid. The second Seer. The girl he’d had a crush on for years, the girl who was currently in his room where his notebooks were—His heart fell through the bottom of the floor. Blood pounded in his ears. A part of his brain was telling him, calmly yet insistently, to run for the forest, but somehow by the time that part had finished communicating Hiccup’s body was already at the top of the stairs, staring at the two worst possible people to be staring at, for completely different reasons.“What are you doing in my room?” he had said sharply. He’d learned that from Stoick, the analytical part of him noted. Go on the offense first and see where you get. No point in coming in already on the defensive, in case they hadn’t yet seen anything. Though they had. His journals were splayed open, almost painful, almost pornographic in what they revealed. Not that he’d drawn anything obscene. But the fact that he’d drawn them at all, that he’d paid secret attention to them, that he’d thought about them while alone in his room.Snotlout had looked sheepish, which was bizarre enough, but Astrid had looked him right in the eyes and apologized. And the almost tender way she’d said goodbye to him as she and Snotlout filed out—the whole experience had left him confused and shaken, unsure whether to be angry or mortified or something else entirely. And it was in that state that he’d found himself in their company again at dinner, and then on the forge roof, and—He clapped a hand over his burning face as he remembered blurting out, “Can I hang out with you again tomorrow?” Something a little kid would say. But they had both smiled, like they were pleased.Well. He’d see. He didn’t have enough information to parse why they had behaved as they had, or what role he played in their future. But today the third Seer would announce him- or herself, and even if that meant these strangely gentle versions of Snotlout and Astrid were too busy to climb rooftops with him, he would hopefully have the chance to scrounge some more information. He swallowed, remembering what Astrid had said on the forge roof: You help invoke the good change.He closed his eyes briefly, then forced himself up. Time to break the news to Stoick.His father was coming in with an armful of split logs when Hiccup made his way down the stairs. Before he could say anything, Stoick beamed at him. “How do you feel, lad?”“I’m not the final Seer.” Better to get it out fast.But Stoick only beamed harder, a discomfiting sight. He’d rarely seen his father smile like this. “Ah, well, my boy, I’m afraid you’re mistaken.” Hiccup looked blank. Stoick set down the logs and came to clasp him on both shoulders. He sighed in satisfaction. “You did us proud, Hiccup.”Hiccup blinked. “I…”“You woke up yesterday as your nineteen-year-old self,” Stoick said, with uncharacteristic patience. “It was—something else. The way Astrid and Snotlout looked to you. I don’t know exactly who you are in the future.” He paused. “But you do.”Hiccup shook off his father’s hands and pushed past him toward the fire, needing to breathe away from the heavy pelt. He felt dizzy. Then he’d lost a day—a whole day had taken place in which a stranger inhabited and used his body. It made him shiver like he wanted to shake off something that was stuck. No one had ever said being a Seer would be like this. He didn’t feel like he’d been one. And the pride in his father’s voice almost hurt. He hadn’t earned it, might never earn it: this was pride for someone else, someone he didn’t know or understand. In the next moment, he grasped that he wouldn’t have that promised second day of hanging out with Astrid and Snotlout. He’d missed it. Those people, those strangers in familiar bodies who had called themselves his friends, would have disappeared too.At least their counterparts wouldn’t remember going through the notebooks in his room.“Dad, what did I say?”Stoick sat down near him and put one of the new logs on the fire. It didn’t particularly need to be built up. “Precious little,” he said, with a touch of reluctance. “All three of you were close-lipped. To an unprecedented degree. You told me,” he closed his eyes, “that Berk would be okay. You said we’d all be okay. And—” he hesitated, another strange sight— “that I was happier in your time. Or something like that.” He poked the fire. “Then you informed me that you intended to hold a private meeting with the other Seers, and you would return to address the Great Hall at midday. Which you did. You went up to the podium and gave a speech about how good things were going to get, and how the dragon raids would end and we’d all prosper and be loaded with fish. How things would change, but to trust the changes and the new generation. Presumably meaning you,” Stoick added drily. “I was half worried for my chieftainship by the end.”His tone was not angry, but Hiccup was too stunned to respond even to a joke. Or sort-of joke.“So the dragon raids end,” he said eventually, hoping to prompt more.“So they do,” his father confirmed. “But don’t ask me how. You managed to give a very rousing speech without ever offering a single detail. Seems like you'll take to politics better than fighting.” The short walk from his house down toward the center of the village told Hiccup that going into the Great Hall for breakfast would be a bad idea. Everyone knew that the Seers’ time was over, but that didn’t stop the muttonheads he passed from peering at him like he was about to start prophesying in the street. Or maybe it was just that his behavior yesterday had been so odd they were looking for a show. The idea that he’d made a speech—a well-received one, even—was so alien to him that he felt oddly ashamed, as though he needed to apologize for his future self’s ridiculous behavior.He slipped into the forge, ignoring his rumbling belly, but before he had finished tying his apron Gobber was on his heels. “So! You found time to work today,” he said cheerfully. “You know, you ought to have some breakfast all the same. Just because in the future you have a fancy island to yourself doesn’t make you too good for the Great Hall, eh?”As he spoke, however, he plunked a bowl of porridge and a spoon onto the worktable. “I thought you might be feeling a wee bit coy.”Hiccup dragged a chair over gratefully. “I have my own island?”“Well, you and the others. Snotlout and Astrid and the twins and hopefully somebody else, because that’s a combination that’ll drive a man to Valhalla ahead of schedule.”Hiccup poked at his porridge. It was lukewarm. The surface jiggled. “Tell me everything I said, Gobber. Please.”“That’s about the sum of it, really.”Hiccup put his spoon down harder than he’d meant to. Bits of porridge flew up and he wiped his face on his sleeve. “I mean it. Dad only said things were good and I was different. And I gave an entire speech.” He stopped himself from continuing: why hadn’t anyone thought to transcribe the speech? Why wasn’t that done as a matter of course? Why wasn’t someone trailing after the Seers every time, recording everything they said for reference as the decade went by, so that things that were unclear or seemed unimportant could become useful in changing situations? It seemed like such an obvious policy to implement. Not much point in saying so now.Gobber’s face softened for a moment. He picked at his false tooth with his hook. “I know it must be strange to have missed it, from your point of view,” he said finally. “But. Remember how quiet Snotlout was on the first day? If that boy managed to keep secrets, imagine what you were like,” he said drily. “On this undisclosed island, you said you build huts and fight off enemies, and you used to live there more, but now it’s a way station for longer journeys. Gods know where to. I never pegged you for much of a sailor, but you must pick it up at some point. That’s the entirety of what you said about it. Oh, and Snotlout called you a nag but Astrid said without you the twins would have burned down the island.”“That sounds like I’m in charge,” Hiccup said before he could stop himself. His heart was pounding. He did hate sailing, but—a whole island—far-off destinations—“Aye. Well, you’re the son of the Chief,” Gobber said amicably, as though that settled it. As though Hiccup could take for granted that his peers would follow him. Hiccup stayed in the forge all morning and through most of the midday meal. By the time he emerged, he saw that the villagers were mostly back to their afternoon work, and those he passed gawked at him less. Hopefully that meant they’d seen Snotlout and Astrid were back to normal and as clueless as anyone, and they would ignore Hiccup as they usually did. He managed to grab a last bowl of the communal turnip and mutton stew before it was put away, and sat down at his regular table. It was good, he told himself. He didn’t want interruptions, so the fact that no one spoke to him was what he wanted. Then he glanced up at the sound of footsteps and saw Snotlout.It was a stupid moment of weakness. He knew better. He’d known better since he was a little kid. But before he could help it, he smiled.“What’re you grinning at, fishbone?” Snotlout jeered. “You like that stew?” He reached over Hiccup’s shoulder in one swift motion and tipped the bowl up at Hiccup’s face, splattering it over his shirt. “There, now you can take it with you,” he snickered.Hiccup bristled. “Did you lose ten years last night instead of five?”Before Snotlout could respond, Tuffnut and Ruffnut popped out of nowhere as though they’d been summoned. This was not the kind of company that Hiccup had been pining for.“Are you starting another food fight?” Ruffnut said eagerly.“Why didn’t you invite us?!” wailed Tuffnut. “We’re the best at food fights!”“What? No,” said Hiccup, as the twins dove to either side of his table and began pelting each other with turnips grabbed from the remains of his lunch. He ducked to the side and tried to mop off his front with his sleeves. The only silver lining was that Snotlout looked just as confused as he was. “Ugh,” he said as a wet turnip smacked his chin. “You people are idiots. I’m getting out of here.” He stormed off.“Did the Seers really start a food fight?” Hiccup pressed, making a note to tell Gobber he’d definitely forgotten something. But the supply of turnips had dwindled, and with only each other for interested targets, the twins were halfway across the room before he’d finished speaking.“You did,” said Fishlegs, behind him.Hiccup jumped. “Don’t do that.”“Sorry.” Fishlegs looked genuinely abashed. “I didn’t want to get too close while they were throwing stuff.” He fell into step with Hiccup as he bussed his dish. “Really what happened was Tuffnut spilled on you by accident, but then it turned into a fight. You weren’t really into it, but Astrid and Snotlout were. You were more just…kind of amused.” He glanced at the empty head table. “I don’t know if you all get to play that much in the future.”“Okay,” said Hiccup. He watched Fishlegs out of the corner of his eye. Fishlegs was sharper than most of the others. He would have noticed things that they’d missed. He should have sought him out to begin with. “Fishlegs, nobody can explain much about what I said or did yesterday. What am I like in the future? What do I do?” He saw the other boy’s face fall. He added, “If it was you I’d tell you.”The look that crossed Fishlegs’s face was difficult to read. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” he said. “I just don’t know how, exactly. Because mostly it wasn’t about what you said. It was the way you sort of moved and talked.” He paused. “You definitely get taller, though. You said during the food fight that you were too short. Plus Snotlout thought it was hilarious that you’re so small.”“Of course he did.” Hiccup remembered that much from the first day. That he’d eventually grow was something he’d gleaned himself, though he didn’t quite believe it. Fishlegs followed him out of the Great Hall, looking as if there was something he wanted to add. Hiccup paused, waiting for it, but conscious too of the cold damp stew down his front. “Well, see you later,” Fishlegs said awkwardly. Hiccup sighed and started the trek up to his house to change. The house was empty and dark, the fireplace cold. He made his way up to his room and found an old tunic buried in a drawer, and set his normal one to soak in a basin. From the window he could hear the sounds of Gobber hammering at the forge, but he lay down on his bed, not eager to rejoin him. He let his eyes wander around the room, trying to look at it as a stranger would, or a near-stranger, anyway. The weaponry that was on the walls, ludicrously big for him. The old drawings pinned above his desk, with their wild proportions and failed perspectives. A wash of embarrassment flooded him again as he remembered Snotlout and Astrid standing there, looking through his things. Then his eyes landed on the top journal on his desk pile. Something was sticking out of it. It could have been a piece of paper they’d stuck back in the wrong place, but he knew it wasn’t. It looked deliberate, like it was designed to be noticed.His heart thudding, he got up and flipped the notebook open. A folded slip of paper fluttered out.
Well, Hiccup, this is the weirdest letter I’ve ever written, and I’ve written some pretty strange ones. Stranger than you would believe. I guess it’s almost like a journal entry, though. Astrid and I went through your journals this afternoon. It was strange, trying to remember what it was like to be you—it feels a lot more distant than five years. Keep drawing, you’ll get better. Try to draw from life more. Take a notebook with you wherever you go. Keep making things.
You’re pretty lonely right now, and you feel like the odds are stacked against you. But things won’t always be like this. They change. And—you don’t have to. I don’t mean stay exactly as you are: you’re a kid, and you have a lot of growing up to do. But there’s a way to do that by growing into the person you are meant to be. Instead of trying to be something or someone else, or to shape yourself to fit into the existing slots in the world around you. I don’t know if that makes sense. Probably Astrid or Fishlegs could have said it better. And speaking of them: remember, they’re all just kids too. Some of them (cough, Snotlout) are kids who are under pressures just as weird and warping as the ones you’re under. Absolutely not saying that excuses them. Snotlout is a dick. I’m just saying—leave them room to grow and change too. You all will. Stoick will. Berk will. Trust me.
Good luck.
Hiccup re-read the letter twice, then folded it back up and stashed it back inside the journal. He’d have to figure out a secret place to store things, he figured, already thinking of secret compartment designs. Even if these versions of Snotlout and Astrid didn’t remember snooping, he couldn’t count on getting lucky twice.Astrid. He wondered how her day was going. She wouldn’t have any memory of having spent time with him on the second day, and he suddenly felt the loss as sharply as when she’d moved her warm body away from his side. Two days earlier he had sat on the roof of the forge with her arm around him, and now she had no idea. It made the memory strange and dislocated, like a dream that still felt vividly real but that was isolated from reality, painfully impossible to retrieve. Sadness flooded him, and anger. How dare Future Hiccup write a letter telling him things would get better, making casual reference to going through his journals with Astrid like that was a sane or acceptable thing to do, like he had the right? How dare he be so bold as to write Hiccup a secret letter, and still not communicate anything less vague than what he’d apparently said in his speech? He had to have known how maddening that would be.Hiccup was stewing so hardthat he didn’t notice the first pebble, or the second. It was only the third time that something flew through the open shutters and struck the bedpost that he jolted out of his reverie. His window faced away from the village, and he peered out in bewilderment. He could clearly see Astrid outside, half crouched behind a bush. As soon as she saw his face at the window she gestured for him to come out.“Come with me,” she said, and turned, not toward the village, but to the path that led into the forest above the house. She started off on the cliff path without waiting to see if he’d follow. When they were comfortably away from the village, she sat down on a fallen tree trunk and looked straight ahead, out toward the sea.“What happened on the second day?”Hiccup swallowed, racking his brain for an answer. Before he could respond, she pushed, “I know that Snotlout and I got up and sat with you at dinner, and then we all left together. Then apparently we were all hanging out on top of the forge, of all places.” She glanced at his face. “Don’t look so surprised. We would have been under a lot of scrutiny, and apparently Snotlout and I were just as tightlipped as Snotlout alone on the first day. Obviously people noticed that you were the only person we were willing to talk to. And then you were the final Seer. Seems like a big coincidence. What did we talk about on the second day, Hiccup?” She stared hard at him. He must have looked panicked, because her gaze softened unexpectedly. Not much, but some. She added, “Snotlout doesn’t remember a thing, plus he’s an idiot. So. Answers, Haddock.”He laughed weakly. “You forgot to mention how I came home at midday and found you two snooping through my room.”She looked incredulous. “What? I would never—”“Well, future-you would. Though to be fair you did apologize when I called you out.” He tried to make it sound joking, but she looked ruffled.“What were we doing?” Her tone was almost accusatory, like he was somehow responsible for her bizarre behavior.“I don’t really know,” he admitted. “I couldn’t get much out of you guys, either. I mean…you said you wanted to get to know that version of me…” he trailed off. The things he remembered best, the things he held close, were the things he absolutely could not say. How she had referred, reflexively and constantly, to his future self as my Hiccup. Snotlout had said to her, your Hiccup listens. Not our Hiccup. How she had touched him constantly. How she had looked at him with an expression in her eyes that he had never seen before, but that he kept catching himself searching for, now—he looked away quickly, his cheeks burning.He could feel her sharp eyes on his face and began babbling. “You made me eat more? I mean, at dinner. You put extra food on my plate and then Snotlout did the same and you kept telling me that your Hiccup” —inwardly he flinched, but she seemed not to note anything unusual in the wording— “was better about eating more. Then, up on the roof. You know, I think some of the changes that come to Berk will be physical. Like instead of being weird that we were on the roof, you guys thought it was weird that the roofs weren’t crowded.” He stopped himself. There was nothing else he could say that wouldn’t sound made-up or self-serving or too intimate, or all three. You told me that I invoke a good change. You held my hand. You told me you would always be by my side.He risked a glance at her. She was studying him, and seemed unabashed about being caught at it, but turned to face the sea again. “I found a letter,” she said, finally.Hiccup drew a sharp inward breath. She continued, “It didn’t say much. It’s kind of infuriating—you’d think the Seers would get some kind of special insight, but I feel like I learned less than everyone else, because I didn’t even get to observe our behavior for clues. And apparently Future-Me didn’t care to share any details.”“She’s a cagey one,” Hiccup agreed, and Astrid let out a startled laugh. She grinned at Hiccup, lightening his heart by several ounces.“Yeah. Well,” she said. “I guess you can tell her off for me, in five years.” She stood up, and Hiccup took his cue and followed her. Part of him had the urge to keep talking, to find an excuse to stay here with her. But mostly he was riding high having made her laugh, and wanted to get back to his room and savor it before he did something clumsy or stupid.He followed her through the woods, the silence between them companionable. Only when he saw the roof of his house did it occur to him that there was something he wanted to know. “What did your letter say?”She drew up short and cocked her head. “Nothing earth-shattering. Instructions for how to grow up. Promises about the passage of time. And telling me to…notice things.” She narrowed her eyes and a hint of a smirk emerged. “What about yours?”He smiled wryly. She’d caught his inflection—your letter—and for some reason that pleased him, even though he hadn’t meant to share. “More or less the same. Grow up, be ready for changes. Also you and I apparently went through my stuff again yesterday, Odin knows why.”“Really? I should come take a look to see what we were after.” She laughed at the horrified expression on his face, and began walking again. “Do you think Snotlout wrote himself a letter?” she called back.He shook himself and caught up. “Sure. It’s shorter than ours, though. It just says ‘Snotlout, Snotlout, oi oi oi.’”She laughed again, and in his heart he cheered. Twice in one evening. A lifetime record. “Well, he did predict that he’ll win the Thawfest games this year. I mean, thank Thor we traveled five years back in time to make sure everyone knew that.”Hiccup laughed. They had reached his house. He stopped, and the two shared a smile that lasted just a heartbeat before Astrid turned and continued down the path into the village.It wasn't much, but for now, it would have to be enough.