It had been a few weeks since I stepped aboard the ship bound for home—but the smile I wore that day had never quite left my face.
Heh…
I caught myself grinning like an idiot again, eyes unfocused as they drifted toward the sea, lost in memory. I could still feel it—Merida's lips brushing mine, sudden and electric. It had caught me off guard, sure… but I hadn't wanted it to stop. Not for anything.
The crew had noticed, of course. They always did. There were a few raised brows, a couple of exchanged glances, and one dramatic sweatdrop from the helmsman—but no one said a word. By now, they were used to my quiet daydreams, my goofy expressions. They let me have them.
Then came a soft, deliberate cough.
I blinked and turned, already knowing who it would be.
There stood my father—rigid posture, eyes sharp as ever. The kind of man who didn't waste words unless they mattered.
"Son," he said, his voice steady, "have you truly decided to wed Princess Merida?"
I met his gaze, heart calm, smile gentle. "Yes, Father."
There was a pause—long enough to make me wonder what he'd say next. Then his expression shifted, just slightly. The stern lines of his face softened, the steel in his eyes dimmed.
"I'm proud of you, son," he said, voice lower now. "Make sure you protect her well."
I nodded, my voice quiet. "I will, Father."
He returned the nod and turned, walking away without another word.
I watched him go, watched the stiffness in his shoulders that had never quite left. And in that moment, I saw it clearly—he still carried the weight. The ache. He had never truly healed from losing Mother.
Sigh…
A few months later
It had been a few weeks since I returned to Berk. I was in the middle of training when I realized something unsettling—I'd hit a wall. Not just in skill or stamina, but something deeper. Like I'd reached the ceiling of what Berk could offer me.
Every fight felt routine. Every opponent, predictable. Even Father—when he had time—no longer pushed me the way he used to.
My magic, Fire Dragon Slayer Magic, hadn't evolved either. I didn't know what it needed, only that it wouldn't grow in the stillness of this island.
I needed more. Something real. Something dangerous.
So, I decided—I would leave Berk. Go out into the world and seek the kind of challenge that scared me.
But first, I had to talk to Hiccup.
The sky was streaked with gold as I walked past the forge. The clang of metal echoed softly, and there he was—hunched over a worktable, goggles slipping down his nose, completely focused.
I stepped closer and called out, "Hey, Hiccup."
He looked up, blinking behind the lenses. "Yeah?"
Then his face lit up. "Oh! Erik—I'm making a new tailfin for Toothless."
I laughed. "Another one? What's this, number one hundred?"
"That's an exaggeration," he said, puffing up a little.
"Oh yeah? So what number is it?"
He hesitated. "…Forty-seven."
I blinked.
He gave a sheepish smile. "Okay, okay—I know I obsess a little."
"You're not wrong. Toothless deserves the best."
He smiled at that, then tilted his head. "So… what's up? You don't usually come by unless something's bothering you."
I hesitated. "Can't a brother check in without having an agenda?"
He raised an eyebrow. "You? No."
I sighed. "Alright, you got me. I need to talk."
He set his tools down and turned toward me, serious now. "What's going on?"
"I'm… planning to leave Berk. For a while."
His brow furrowed. "Leave? Why?"
"I've hit a wall. Training here—it's not enough anymore. I'm not getting stronger. I need new challenges. Real ones. Ones I won't find on this island."
He frowned. "You've always pushed yourself harder than anyone else. But—what does that even mean? Not getting stronger? You're already stronger than most grown Vikings. What else do you think you need?"
I looked away. "It's hard to explain. It's like there's this… pressure inside me, like I'm meant for more. Like I'm standing still while the world moves."
Hiccup was quiet for a moment. "You sound like a storm that doesn't know where to break."
I smiled faintly. "Maybe I am."
"You know Dad will never agree to this."
"I know. That's why… I'm not telling him."
He straightened. "Wait—what?"
"I wanted to. I did. But he'd never let me go. You know that. He'd lock me in the house, assign guards, shout until the windows shook. So I'm leaving without asking."
Hiccup looked stunned. "Erik, he's your father. You're his heir. If you disappear, it'll break something in him."
"I'm not disappearing. Just… leaving. For a while. To figure out who I am when I'm not under his shadow."
His voice dropped. "And what about me?"
That one cut deep.
"I'm not leaving you behind. You're part of who I am, Hiccup. But this… this is something I have to do alone."
He didn't argue. He just looked at me with that quiet sadness he wore better than anyone else.
"At least leave a letter," he said after a long silence. "Please. Don't make me the one who has to explain this."
I nodded. "I will. I promise."
Then he reached out and pulled me into a sudden hug. "Don't do anything stupid."
I smiled, hugging him back. "You know me. I always do something stupid."
"Yeah," he muttered. "That's what I'm afraid of."
When I got home, the house was silent. No sign of Father.
I moved quickly to my room and sat at the small desk near the window. The sea wind tugged at the curtains as I pulled out a piece of parchment.
For a moment, my hand hovered over the page.
Then I began.
Father,
If you're reading this, I'm already gone. I've trained hard here—harder than anyone—but I've hit my limit. I've stopped growing. I don't expect you to understand, but staying here would mean stagnating. Shrinking.
I wanted to ask you for permission, but I already know what you'd say. So I made the decision myself.
Please don't be angry with Hiccup. He didn't stop me, but he didn't help either. This was my choice—and mine alone.
I don't know how long I'll be gone. A year, maybe two. But I will come back.
Stronger.
From your favorite miracle,
Erik Horrendous Haddock
I placed the letter under a small dragon carving I'd made from driftwood.
Then, with the quiet resolve of someone who had already said goodbye in his heart, I left.
The docks were nearly empty. A few fishermen were tying down nets, their faces lit by lanterns swaying in the wind.
They waved to me, unaware of the weight I carried.
I found the small boat tucked beneath the pier. Untied it. Stepped in.
And for a long time, I sat there—watching the lights of Berk flicker in the distance.
My home.
My family.
My little brother probably staring out the forge window, pretending not to worry.
Then, with a breath I didn't know I'd been holding, I pushed off.
The boat drifted out, swallowed by the dark water.
I didn't look back
Stoics POV
Creak.
As I opened the door, the usual scent of freshly cooked food didn't greet me.
"Sigh… one of those days."
It had been a long day—since morning, I hadn't left the village hall. Complaint after complaint, issue after issue. I could barely think straight.
"I can't wait to pass the torch to Erik…" I muttered under my breath.
Stepping inside, I closed the door quietly behind me, unfastened my cloak, and made my way to the kitchen. The silence was heavier than usual.
I washed my hands, gathered ingredients, and set the stove alight.
One hour later
"And one," I said to no one in particular, setting the last dish on the table.
Creak.
I looked toward the door and saw Hiccup step in. His shoulders were stiff, his eyes unsure.
I smiled faintly, brushing off his unease as nothing more than a reflection of my own exhaustion.
We sat down in silence, eating slowly, waiting for Erik.
Ten minutes later
I frowned. "Where is Erik?" I muttered. He was usually never this late.
Another ten minutes passed.
A knot of worry tightened in my chest. Something was wrong.
I glanced at Hiccup again—his face was pale, lips pressed thin, eyes full of guilt. I knew that look.
I straightened. "Hiccup," I said, firmly.
He flinched.
He knows something.
"Where is your brother?" My voice was steady, but cold.
He swallowed, avoiding my gaze. "Uhm… maybe he's in his room," he offered, voice shaky.
I stood, the chair scraping back.
Without another word, I walked down the hallway, Hiccup following closely behind. I reached Erik's door, grasped the knob, and turned it.
The room was empty.
I stepped in, scanning every corner—bed, walls, shelves—until my eyes landed on the work table. A piece of paper, held down by a small carved figure.
I moved forward slowly, removed the carving, and picked up the paper. My hands trembled slightly as I unfolded it.
As I read, a cold fury rose in my chest.
By the end, I couldn't hold it in.
"ERIK!" I roared, the name echoing through the house.