It was late at night at Hiccup’s hut on the edge. He’d spent days perfecting a new tail design for Toothless. You’d been reading one of his random books while he worked at his desk, but eventually grew restless and wandered over.

He was hunched over the blueprint, brow furrowed in focus, when you hopped onto the desk. Your knee bumped a glass, sending water spilling across the page, smudging the charcoal lines.

“It’s fine,” he said softly, the reassurance clear despite the flicker of annoyance in his eyes.