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Hiccup stared out of his window at the shadowy forest, up in his room pretending to sleep though there was no one there to notice if he was keeping the dragon-caused curfew. He was pretty sure his father wouldn’t mind if he suddenly disappeared or anything - he never listened to or paid attention to Hiccup in the first place. Hiccup mused that his father might actually be glad to be rid of him, be rid of the worry and embarrassment his son caused the village and his father the chief. Why was he staying anyway? Oh right, his dad was supposed to return soon from his latest attempt to find and destroy the Nest, and Hiccup had the most absurd hope that he would finally be accepted as anything more than, well, a hiccup and a runt. Well. Hiccup was done waiting. There was only so much parental disappointment Hiccup could cause and then take, and he’d reached his limit a long time ago. He had Toothless now, and he would not let the only being that saw him as worth more than a weak, useless mouth to feed be injured by those that thought they knew everything they needed to about the world. Determinedly, Hiccup pulled out a spare sheet of parchment and started listing out supplies he and his dragon would need to strike out on their own.
Any specialty foods and spices could be traded for, if and when Hiccup found something to trade for. Since the villagers said he was useless at all types of hunting, not just dragon hunting, Hiccup had been foraging for nuts, berries, and any type of herb or green Gothi might use in her medicine or let him eat, telling him it would help him grow strong. He didn’t quite believe her, but he actually liked the flavor and texture of the things at this point. So: Hiccup would forage for the basics of his diet, hopefully including growing some type of grain eventually when he and Toothless found somewhere nice, sheltered, and out of any major sea trading routes to make their home base. To that end, Hiccup carefully pinched just one bag of seeds from Berk’s stockpile. Luckily, freshwater could be found easily on the islands Hiccup knew of, so he didn’t need to worry about water for cleaning, drinking, and cooking.
He also snuck into the net-repair shop - familiar from the chore of repairing nets in the winter - and took the least amount of rope possible to create a small net with. He didn’t need anything huge, but he couldn’t exactly demand Toothless provide him fish. That wouldn’t be fair to his dragon, and both of them would have to hunt for the food anyway - Toothless’s hunting required flying, and he could only fly with Hiccup. Hiccup didn’t want to end up soaking wet with the way that Toothless threw himself in the water for fish, so the net made its way back to the cove, placed carefully next to the sheltered bag of seeds. Toothless watched with wide, curious eyes as supplies gradually piled up in one of the more sheltered areas of the cove, and agreed happily enough to Hiccup’s request of leaving the pile alone once its purpose was explained to him.
With food taken care of, Hiccup gathered the few clothes he had, making sure to get all the spare material he had. With any luck, he’d grow taller than a toothpick over the next season. He’d need to make his own clothes, and most likely would need new fabric for them at some point. Mentally shrugging, Hiccup stuck that in the worry-later category with the tentative plan of offering a bit of blacksmithing to a cloth merchant in exchange for the material he would need. Hopefully he’d eventually find something else to trade that wouldn’t take as much time - staying near a whole bunch of traders for a long time, especially as a smith, would be a good way for someone to recognize him. Hiccup would not let that happen, not only for his own sanity but also for the continued safety and health of his dragon. He grabbed his bone sewing needles and rough thread, paused, and then grabbed his set of writing instruments as well. The half-full jar of healing ointment from Gothi was the last thing on top of the stack that Hiccup carried out to the cove.
Hiccup got up as early as possible the next morning, pulling himself from his warm bed covers with difficulty. Eventually, he thunked out of bed and managed to get down the too-steep stairs to the place where the large wicker baskets in the village, typically used for fish transport, were stored and grabbed the one covered with the most dust and in a far-back corner. Hopefully, no one would notice its absence at any point between pre-dawn and afternoon when he planned to finish packing into it and leave. By the time he’d carefully arranged everything he’d already taken down to the cove in the basket, the sun had peeked over the horizon. Hiccup swung by his empty, cold house to grab the last of the stale loaf of bread and enjoy the bit of meat he’d placed on to cook before leaving. He’d already packed all of the jerky and longer-lasting foods, the small amount hiding in cupboard corners that had been left by his father before he left on his dragon eradication mission.
Dragon training went horribly. Hiccup spurred himself on with the thought that this would be the last day he had to endure this special brand of torment. He knew the dragons were different than his tribe said they were, or he’d be long dead. While everyone was running for cover or watching those panicking and desperately trying to save themselves with amusement, Hiccup managed to finish breaking the locking systems on the last of the cages just enough that it would look accidental to anyone but maybe Gobber when they discovered the dragons missing. Though he couldn’t free the trapped dragons personally, Hiccup could and did make sure they could escape and get themselves to safety. He told all of the dragons one last time that they should free themselves as soon as night fell, and reminded them to hide as much as possible on their way out of the village. Though the dragons didn’t really want to agree, all of them did. Freedom was too sweet to jeopardize on something as petty as revenge on humans who wouldn’t even recognize it as such.
Unfortunately, Hiccup also managed to get Gothi to choose him to kill the Monstrous Nightmare somehow, even though Astrid was practically begging for it. Hiccup gritted his teeth as those around him cheered and celebrated his future murder of a dragon, or possibly by said dragon, knowing how much the village had hated him up until the last few days. Just a few more hours before he could be free from the people that belittled and tormented him. Hiccup managed to rig the door leading to the Kill Ring/Training Arena to collapse when pressure was applied to it, the type of pressure only a large dragon could manage, even when starved and dehydrated like these. He’d spent hours in the past few nights not when not gathering supplies filing down the metal supports while hiding the damage and shavings before collapsing himself into bed each night. With all the work he’d been doing, Hiccup was lucky he’d managed to wake before the sun at all.
He didn’t bother to head back to the empty house, Stoick’s empty house. Maybe Snotlout would move into it, be the proper Viking heir to the chief the village and his father had always hoped for instead of the weak, abnormal, useless runt they got. Hiccup, realizing he’d been staring at the outside of what was his house for nearly a whole minute, shook himself out of the daze and walked over to the forge. He’d already gathered everything from his room that was his, leaving behind furniture and a few things he didn’t need badly enough to pack, like the helmet his father had been trying unsuccessfully to hide from him for weeks before he finally left on the hunt for the Nest. Hiccup shook himself out of his melancholy thoughts again, determined to enjoy his last afternoon of forging with Gobber. He didn’t think he’d ever return to Berk once he left, and Hiccup was pretty sure the only people he’d miss and would be missed by were Gobber and Gothi. They’d move on eventually though, and Toothless would be safe from them and everyone else.
Hiccup had thought about staying. He really had. It was just… in all the years he’d lived on Berk, not one person had actually listened to him or thought his ideas were good, especially not his father the chief. Gobber occasionally realized the value of one of his ideas in the forge, but he was usually too wary of something Hiccup made accidentally taking another limb to consider any of his ideas that hadn’t been thoroughly tested. He did give Hiccup his own space to work in though, which Hiccup really appreciated. The point was that there was literally no way any of his kinsmen would hear him out about the dragons. If they wouldn’t listen about a machine that hadn’t harmed any of them, the villagers would, at the very least, cast him out of the village for daring to suggest that the dragons might not be pure evil, and that’s if they actually listened to what he said. Hiccup might have been willing to trust his own safety to such poor odds, but he would never do that to his beloved dragon. No, he would protect Toothless from everyone, even his own foolish and impossible hope for acceptance from his people.
When the dinner bell rang to summon all Vikings to the Hall, Hiccup excused himself with a few words on finishing up one last thing before coming up to eat. Gobber eyed him but let it pass, figuring the lad would come up after a few minutes like he often had before. As the sound of Gobber’s tap-thump walk faded, Hiccup frantically gathered up the few last pieces he’d forged for Toothless, mostly replacements for tailfin parts he thought could break, and all of his smithing tools. With that, his life at Berk was fully packed up, leaving no more than an oddly empty area of forge and a sterile bedroom behind. Hiccup went down to the cove, taking a few minutes longer than normal to say goodbye to the forest he’d spent so much time in and met his best and only friend in, and grabbed his pack.
“Ready bud?” Hiccup asked, voice coming out in the odd burble of Dragonese as he climbed onto his friend’s shoulders.
“Ready!” Toothless chirred back.
“Then let’s find a nice island far from here with lots of fish.”
Stoick, commanding the fleet of his people’s ships, suddenly remembered what his son had said to him: “ ‘I’ll be here. Maybe.’” He shook off the shiver running down his spine and continued trying to find his way through the thick fog. Hiccup, with Gobber keeping an eye on him, would be fine. He always was.