Frosted Scales - When Worlds Collide: A HTTYD X Frozen Tale

Arendelle or Berk

Hiccup inhaled deeply, steadying himself before stepping back into the dimly lit tree fort. The evening sun cast long shadows through the small windows, painting the walls with the deep hues of twilight. The presence of the strange woman within those wooden walls stirred an unsettling mix of emotions within him. Every glance at her sparked an unexpected warmth, yet there was something undeniably complex about her—something that went beyond her being labeled as a Witch.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of aged wood and the faint tang of iron from the tools scattered around. Elsa sat at his workbench, her delicate fingers trailing over the worn pages of the Book of Dragons. The soft blue light of dusk framed her figure, making her seem almost ethereal, as if she were part of the twilight itself. Hiccup watched her for a moment, her striking blue eyes following his every movement as he pulled out the chair opposite her.

Breaking the silence that clung to the room, he arched an eyebrow and folded his arms, his voice carrying a blend of curiosity and caution. "So, how does a Witch end up floating in an ice cube out in the middle of the ocean?"

Elsa’s response was immediate and firm, her posture straightening as she met his gaze with unwavering intensity. "I am not a Witch!" Her words, sharp and defensive, echoed off the wooden beams above them, filling the small space with a palpable tension.

Hiccup leaned back; his hands raised in a gesture of surrender. The corners of his mouth twitched into a half-smile, an attempt to diffuse the charged atmosphere. "Alright then... what are you, besides a pretty mainlander? Let’s start there."

A blush crept into Elsa’s cheeks, the color contrasting against the soft glow of her pale skin. She drew in a breath, her expression shifting to one of contemplation. The stillness of the room mirrored the inner turmoil she seemed to be navigating. Finally, her eyes met his once more, and she shrugged slightly. "I don’t know. I’ve always had these powers."

The room fell silent again, the only sound the gentle rustling of leaves outside as a breeze whispered through the trees. Hiccup, his curiosity piqued, was about to ask more, but Elsa’s gaze dropped, and she shook her head.

"I don’t really want to talk about it," she murmured, her voice now carrying a fragility that made Hiccup pause.

He nodded, his expression softening as he shifted in his seat. "I understand. I won’t push if you don’t want to share. But you must see my point, Elsa. I don’t know anything about you, and you’re capable of... well, things I can’t even begin to comprehend. It’s hard to just let someone like that stay here without knowing more."

Her silence stretched on, the weight of his words sinking in. When she finally looked up, her eyes glistened with unshed tears. Hiccup’s heart clenched at the sight, a pang of guilt mingling with his unease.

"Okay," Elsa whispered, forcing a smile that did not quite reach her eyes. "I’ll tell you. But only if you tell me everything about how you are 'still' a Viking. Deal?"

"Ladies first," Hiccup replied, offering a grin that was meant to reassure, though he knew it could not fully ease the tension between them.

Hours passed as their stories unfolded, the evening light giving way to the cool darkness of night. The small room became a cocoon of shared histories, illuminated by the soft glow of a single lantern. As Elsa recounted her tale, Hiccup listened with rapt attention, his focus unwavering. She spoke with the confidence of someone accustomed to commanding a room, her voice smooth and melodic, weaving her past into the present.

When it was Hiccup’s turn, the dynamic shifted. Elsa’s attentiveness wavered, her curiosity leading her to interrupt with questions or veer off into tangents about her own experiences. Hiccup, never the most natural storyteller, found himself struggling to keep the narrative on track, often distracted by the allure of her voice, the way it filled the space between them with a warmth that belied the content of her words.