LOST BETWEEN TIMELINES: HTTYD (HICCUP x READER)

Chapter 23

The sun was setting, painting the sky in streaks of orange and purple as Y/n walked back to her house. The streets of Berk felt quieter than usual, the kind of quiet that presses against the skin like a weight. She'd always found it ironic—how even after all the noise, the crowd, and the adrenaline, the silence could feel so loud.

Her boots crunched against the dirt path as she replayed the events of the arena in her head. The way the villagers looked at them, the way Stoick's words hung heavy in the air—it was all a whirlwind, and yet, here she was, walking alone through it.

She exhaled sharply, a sound that was half a laugh and half a sigh. "One chance," she murmured to herself, the words bouncing off the empty walls of her mind. Was it enough? Could it ever be enough? She had meddled in events that weren't hers to change. It was like trying to redirect a river with nothing but on her own.

Inside her chest, the faintest flicker of doubt took root—not fear, but uncertainty. Y/n wasn't afraid of what lay ahead. No, she had faced too much for that. But the weight of being the only one who truly understood the consequences, the ripple effect of her choices, pressed heavily on her.

Ahead, hushed voices reached her ears, carried by the wind. She slowed her steps, her sharp hearing picking up fragments of a conversation unfolding nearby. Hidden by the corner of a wooden fence, she stopped, straining to hear.

"Hiccup's gotten himself into another mess," came a gruff voice, unmistakably that of Mildew, the village's perennial complainer and staunch dragon-hater. "Always was a scrawny oddball, but now he's lost his mind completely. Claiming dragons are our friends—bah!"

"He's still just a boy, Mildew," another voice responded, quieter but no less judgmental. "He's got big shoes to fill, bein' Stoick's son. But this? This isn't how a chief should act."

"And that girl, Y/n," added a third, a woman's voice, softer with an edge of pity. "Poor thing's caught up in all this. Her father's a respected man, a general no less! Must be hard for him, knowing his daughter's in the middle of such nonsense."

"It's a shame," Mildew grumbled. "Her family's always been sensible folk. But that boy...he's dragging her down with him. Mark my words, he'll bring ruin to this village if Stoick doesn't rein him in."

Y/n's blood boiled as she gripped the edge of the fence, her knuckles turning white. The sheer audacity of it. The way they dismissed Hiccup as if he were nothing more than a misguided child. And now, they dared to bring her into their whispers, as though she were some helpless victim.

Her first instinct was to march over and set them straight, to defend Hiccup with every ounce of fury building in her chest. But she stopped herself, taking a deep breath. Confronting them wouldn't change anything—not here, not now.

Instead, she stepped back into the shadows, forcing herself to let the anger simmer beneath the surface. She knew it was no use wasting energy on people like Mildew. The old man had made it his life's mission to sow discord and fan the flames of doubt, especially when it came to dragons.

As the group moved on, their voices fading into the distance, Y/n finally unclenched her fists. Her pulse still raced, but she willed herself to focus. Hiccup didn't need her anger; he needed her calm, her support.

She turned and walked away, her strides purposeful. Whatever the village thought, whatever they said in hushed tones, she wouldn't let it sway her.

As she approached her home, her fingers brushed against the pouch tied to her belt, feeling the cool, smooth surface of the paint she had prepared. Night Fury scales. A backup plan she hoped she'd never need to use.