AN
As you've likely already read in the description, this story is set before the events of the first movie. At least in part. There'll be a few timeskips throughout, and the overall story will take place over the course of about seven years.
Feedback is always appreciated. Constructive criticism is especially appreciated. Praise is awesome, and I love to hear it too, don't get me wrong, but criticism is easier to learn from.
I'd like to also give a huge thanks to LaylaDeMich for beta-ing this story. She's been a tremendous help, and you should all go check out her page.
And, without further ado, on with the story:
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Chapter 1 - Under The Same Roof
Hiccup was five years old when he first developed a crush on Astrid Hofferson.
At that age, he and the rest of the children of Berk would happily play together. The fact that Hiccup was slightly smaller and weaker than the rest of them was a non-issue. They only ever saw him as the chief's son. The difference in stature between himself and the other children was so slight, none of them ever took any real notice.
And while he considered all of his peers to be his friends, there was no-one he was closer with than Astrid. They were inseparable. It was a common routine for the two of them to wander the village, holding hands. He would often, loudly and proudly, announce to anyone who'd listen that he planned to one day marry her. The people of Berk found it adorable, and would often coo at the pair, delighting at their behaviour.
Of course, like all good things in his life, it eventually came to a swift end. They grew older. And as they did, the other children grew taller and stronger. Hiccup didn't.
Astrid began dedicating more and more of her time learning the basics of combat, while Hiccup spent most of his time avoiding ever frequent bouts of bullying from his cousin and the twins. The differences between himself and rest of the children his age became more pronounced, and even the normally passive Fishlegs, cowed by the others, left his side.
When Hiccup turned seven, he was sent to Gobber to work as his apprentice as a blacksmith. By that point, he and Astrid no longer held hands. They no longer spent time together. They no longer spoke. He'd long since given up on publicly sharing his feelings on the girl, least of all to Astrid herself.
As their friendship dissolved, so to did his infatuation with the temperamental blonde. At least, he thought it had.
He was eleven when he realized it hadn't abated in the slightest. It had merely morphed into something far less innocent and childlike. He would often catch himself staring at her from across the mead hall during meal times, or across the village plaza whenever she passed by the forge as he worked. Watching her steady confident movements, her athletic grace, and the natural beauty that enraptured him.
Of course, she never noticed. She never paid attention to anything he did. It was better, he supposed, than what someone like Snotlout would do. Much better. He wasn't sure what he'd do if Astrid began to look down on him the same way everyone else did.
Indifference was far more preferable.
He was twelve when his father announced she'd be moving in to live with them. The idea of sharing a house with the subject of his many recent fantasies sent his stomach spiraling into its own impromptu acrobatics routine. His heart fluttered like the wings of a gronkle, and for a few minutes, he was certain he had forgotten how to breathe. He was shocked. He was unnerved. He was completely and utterly elated.
At least, he was, until he learned the exact reason why. The queasiness returned with a vengeance. This time, it was accompanied by none of the positive emotions that had previously been attached.
There had been a particularly devastating dragon raid on Berk the night before. One that took a particularly heavy toll on the Hofferson household. Hiccup's father, whose face was almost always sculpted into a deep scowl, looked crestfallen as he told the story.
No one knew exactly how it managed to fit inside the house, but a particularly adventurous zippleback had been able to slither its way through the front door of the Hofferson home.
Astrid, who hadn't been old enough yet to be allowed to participate in the defense of the island, had been inside at the time. Her parents, who had been nearby, immediately dropped what they were doing to engage the two-headed dragon and protect their daughter. Nobody knew exactly what transpired inside the house that night, but the end result was certain.
One moment, the young girl was leaping out one of the upper story windows, and the next, the house had detonated in a savage inferno. Astrid managed to survive the explosion with little more than a sprained ankle from the fall and a few minor burns.
Her parents hadn't.
With no immediate family to take her in, Stoick had volunteered. He had explained to the tribe how he sympathized with the young girl, having lost his wife in a dragon raid. No one could find it in them to argue. And, though it remained unsaid, the fact of the young girl's burgeoning martial prowess was an important contributing factor in the minds of many. It was hoped that she might rub off on the chief's small and awkward son.
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Hiccup stared in shock as his father hauled a small cot up the stairs and set it down on the opposite end from the young boy's bed in the upstairs loft.
Being a standard viking house, the building featured a rather open floor plan. The lack of interior walls made them much easier to rebuild in the inevitable event that they burnt down. The entire downstairs was one large room, which held the home's hearth, a table for dining, and Stoick's own bed, while the upstairs had been bestowed to his son.
Answering Hiccup's unasked question, the chief briefly explained that he felt it inappropriate to force the girl to share a space with himself. Moreso, at least, than the two children sharing the loft.
"Gives the lass more space too," the towering redhead grunted with a shrug.
Hiccup watched Astrid as she seated herself atop the cot, her movements slow and laboured, far beyond the simple limitations of her injured leg. She stared ahead, unblinking at the wall across from her as Stoick spoke, promising that a larger, more permanent bed would be brought up as soon as it could be assembled by the village carpenter. She ignored him, electing to remain quiet has he revealed that new clothes would be brought over as well, and that she needn't worry on that front.
Stoick succinctly finished his spiel, before retreating back down the stairs, his footfalls as heavy as the silence that permeated the loft. Hiccup watched sadly, as the girl whose fiery attitude he'd fallen for in the first place, sat unmoving and subdued.
He'd had dreams of one day sharing a house with the blonde. Even after their childhood friendship had deteriorated, and his proclamations to the village about his future plans were now a thing of the past, he still often fantasized about one day asking her to marry him. In his dreams, she would say yes. It would never happen, he knew it, but it was delusion he happily held close to his heart.
Seeing her as she was now, he knew that none of what she'd gone through had been worth the result of sharing a roof with her. He would happily give all of that up just to have her old self back.
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A month passed. Astrid remained as closed off as before, hardly speaking to anyone; least of all, Hiccup. As promised, a new bed and wardrobe had been brought in for her. The village carpenter had even gone out of his way to carve out the distinct shape of a deadly nadder sigil into the wood of the bed's headrest; the iconic symbol of the Hofferson family. But Astrid didn't seem to care.
There was another dragon raid, and as with most of the kids her age, barring Hiccup who was tasked with aiding Gobber in the forge, she'd been put on fire-watch duty for the very first time. The village was low on extra hands, especially after the previous raid, leading to the necessity of their promotion. In the chaos of battle, they were charged with hauling around buckets full of water and extinguishing any fires that cropped up.
At first, things had gone well. The warriors of the village were holding out against the attacking dragons, while the youths were quick to respond to any burning houses.
That, however, was quick to change.
A fire had sprung up amidst the buildings across from the forge, and Hiccup was able to watch as Snotlout arrived first, swiftly tossing his bucket over the flames, followed closely by the twins and Fishlegs. Snotlout took the opportunity to boast about how fast he'd been. With an exaggerated flex of his biceps, he loudly preened to the rest of the group, as Astrid, who had been keeping to the rear of their formation the the entire night, stepped forward.
She gripped her bucket and took careful aim at the center of the blaze. Just as she tensed to throw, a pair of snake-like necks slithered their way out of the smoke, their heads hissing menacingly.
Astrid froze.
One of the zippleback's heads moved in closer, sniffing at the girl, and Hiccup barely registered shouting her name in fear. The head rose at the commotion, just in time to spot Gobber, vaulting himself through the front window of the smithy and charging forward with his hammer-hand raised high over his head.
The two-headed dragon let out a squawk before taking flight, leaving the vikings behind.
"What the Helheim was that?!" Hiccup heard Snotlout's voice shout, as the stout preteen turned to face Astrid.
Hiccup was not someone who angered easily, preferring to deal with his problems through deflection and avoidance. However, in that moment, he felt his temper flare.
Thankfully, Gobber stepped in, "Leave 'er," he growled, pushing the dark haired boy back, not ungently, with his prosthetic.
Astrid stayed silent, her jaw clenched, her fists balled up tightly. For a moment, it looked as if she was ready to sock Snotlout right in the face. Silently, Hiccup cheered at the thought, still feeling indignant at his cousin's behaviour towards her.
Instead, she merely spun on her heels and stalked off, her bucket clattering forgotten in the dirt. As she passed by the forge, Hiccup meekly reached out a hand, wanting desperately to say something, anything to soothe her. But as he opened his mouth to do so, his words got caught in his throat. What could he possibly say that would help? And would she really want to hear it from him?
It was another couple of hours later, when Gobber finally dismissed him. The raid ended not long after the incident with the zippleback, and the remainder of the time under the thumb of the blacksmith had been spent helping him to craft nails heeded to repair the, thankfully minimal this time, damage caused by their reptilian invaders.
As chief, Stoick would likely be out far past midnight, ensuring that everything was in order before even thinking about sleep, if he came home that night at all. As such, Hiccup wasn't surprised to find the place laying in darkened silence.
Fumbling blindly for the steps that led to his loft, he climbed them, only to pause at the sight that met him at the top.
Astrid was sitting on the floor beside her bed, with her back pressed against the wall. Her arms wrapped around her knees, which had been pulled up to her chest. On the floor, her distinctive shoulder guards and spiked skirt had been discarded, leaving her in her striped tunic and leggings. Without them, her frame appeared much smaller to Hiccup than he expected.
Most surprisingly of all, were the tears marring her rosen cheeks. He'd never seen her cry before. No one had. He'd overheard a rumour once from one of the villagers that she hadn't shed a single tear, even as an infant. To see her in such a state wrenched his heart painfully.
The unexpected sight was enough of a distraction to throw off what little coordination he possessed. His foot caught on the last step and the floor rushed up to meet him. Harshly. Despite his best efforts, as groan of pain escaped him when his face made contact with hardwood.
Keenly aware that he was hardly alone, he immediately leapt to his feet, a hand reaching up to hold his now throbbing jaw, which had taken the brunt of the blow. Kneading the lower half of his face in attempt to alleviate the soreness, he cast his gaze hastily back towards Astrid.
Catching the tail end of her rubbing her eyes with her sleeves, she leveled a scowl at him, as if daring him to mention her tears. Hiccup gulped, finding himself subject to a glare that could melt any metal in Gobber's forge.
He had always thought her sapphire eyes were beautiful. But now, ablaze with potent emotion after a month of being devoid of any, he felt he was witnessing Valhalla itself, regardless of how much danger he may be in.
"Uh… h-hi…" He stammered out, struggling to wrangle down the blush scalding his face.
"What do you want?" Astrid muttered icily through clenched teeth.
"Er..." He replied dumbly, trying to judge whether or not it was worth attempting to run away before she decided his tumble hadn't been enough bodily harm for him that night. "...I was going to head to bed."
Astrid's intense gaze held his own for a few moments, all the while, Hiccup forgot how to breathe. Until, like the fires of the forge being doused at the end of the day, the emotion on her face dissipated. Tearing her eyes away from the Berkian heir, they dropped to the ground. Her shoulders, which had been squared confrontationally, wilted as she folded in on herself, both literally and figuratively.
Letting out a sad sigh, Hiccup accepted the dismissal for what it was and strode over to his half of the room. From the heavy wooden chest at the foot of his bed he extracted his sleepwear; a loose fitting tunic and set of leggings, before ducking down the stairs to change.
Returning to find her in the exact same position he'd left her, he ran a hand through his auburn hair, nearly tearing bits of it out by the roots as he wrestled with the idea that popped into his head. He couldn't leave her like this. It seemed so utterly wrong. This wasn't the Astrid Hofferson he knew, and he wanted her back. Even, he decided, if it resulted in being subjected to a severe beating.
"Astrid?" he asked, timidly tiptoeing towards the blonde, allowing his hands to fall to his sides, "Are you okay?"
Internally, he cringed. Why would you ask that, you moron? You can clearly see she isn't, he internally berated himself for the clumsy attempt at a conversation starter. In his defense, he hadn't exactly had a whole lot of experience talking to people.
Astrid barely reacted, growling out something that sounded vaguely along the lines of, "Just peachy," without bothering to look up.
Ever cautious, Hiccup took a seat at the end of her bed; far enough away to give her some space, but close enough to not feel the need to shout across the room.
"You know…" he began, sinking into the corner of the mattress, "I lost my mother in a dragon raid."
He observed carefully as Astrid's head as it slowly rose, her face an unreadable slate. He offered a tepid smile, hoping to coax a reaction he could gauge. She offered nothing.
"It happened when I was a baby, so I don't really remember it," he pressed onward, trying not to allow her apparent apathy to get to him, "Dad doesn't like to talk about it either. But sometimes, I get these nightmares, where I watch it happen. I don't remember what she looks like, so it's always just a silhouette, surrounded by fire. But I can always hear her voice, yelling my name."
A pregnant lull hung in the air after he finished, filling the room with an uneasy tension. Hiccup began to idly tracing a finger over the furs beneath him in agitation. Silently, he sent a prayer to the gods in Asgard for Astrid to say something in response. For her to say anything at all.
The seconds stretched out into minutes. Tapping a heel against the floor, Hiccup realized he'd get nothing from her that night, and prepared to stand.
"My uncle Finn," Astrid's voice croaked, barely a whisper.
Yet the words may as well have been shouted, the way it shattered the silence. Hiccup felt himself reflexively jump at the seemingly thunderous sound. He pulled his hands into his lap, as if the bed itself had burned him.
"He would take me to the training arena every weekend," She continued. If she'd seen him startle, she made no mention of it. "He showed me the proper form for holding an axe. He taught me how to swing and how to throw, he made sure I knew how to block an attack, and what to do if I was ever disarmed..."
A rustling of clothes was heard. And then, to Hiccup's shock, the mattress shifted, accommodating the weight of a second person. Peering up from his lap, he saw Astrid perched directly beside him, her left shoulder a mere hand-span from his right.
"He was the best fighter in the village," She murmured, the faintest of smiles gracing her lips. Hiccup could feel his heart rate suddenly quicken, "Fearless Finn Hofferson, they used to call him."
Her smile slid away, morphing into a frown.
"Used to?" Hiccup asked, the words slipping out before he could stop them.
"There was a flightmare that attacked the village a few years ago," she explained haltingly, her frown deepening.
Hiccup nodded. He vaguely remembered the event. Back when he had been five years old, the sky had been ablaze with colour, as if the gods of Asgard had spilled paint down onto the ceiling of Midgard itself. He'd wanted desperately to go and see the lights from as close as possible, so he'd ran to Raven Point before his father could stop him.
From the island's highest peak, he'd watched the lights, which he now knew were named Arvin Dale's Fire. At least, until he'd spotted something glowing a brilliant shade of iridescent blue streaking through the village below. He'd learned later that it had been a dragon attacking Berk. Soon after that, Astrid began to withdraw, spending more and more of her time training. He'd simply never connected the two.
"My Uncle Finn, h-he charged in to kill it," Astrid sputtered through a hiccough. "But when that beast turned his way, he froze."
A gasp involuntarily escaped Hiccup's lips as he watched tears once more trail down her cheeks.
"He died," She huffed, her face scrunching up, as if the very words she spoke caused her pain. In a manner of speaking, Hiccup supposed they did. "The flightmare killed him. I was there; I watched it happen."
"I'm sorry," he murmured. His hand twitched, as if attempting to reach towards her, but he quickly clamped down on the impulse.
A guttural sound ripped its way from Astrid's throat. A howl of pain. A scream in anger. It sounded almost inhuman in the sheerness of its magnitude, in the rawness of the emotion it conveyed. When she wheeled around to face him, Hiccup found himself fearing for his life.
"Frozen Finn Hofferson!" Astrid snapped, a finger jabbed harshly into the auburn haired viking's chest. "That's what they call him now! I promised myself then and there that I would become the best fighter this village has ever seen. I'd become better than even he was. And then, I'd kill the flightmare myself."
The finger pulled away, and Hiccup seized the opportunity to rub the now painfully tender spot between his ribs. There would be a bruise there tomorrow for sure.
"But that's not gonna happen now, is it?" Astrid laughed mirthlessly. "Frozen Astrid Hofferson. That's what I'll be remembered as."
With a sudden WHUMPH, something hard impacted Hiccup's chest, driving the air from his lungs. As he gasped for breath, desperately attempting to refill his freshly depleted lungs, he failed to notice the weight that had settled against him.
Feeling something wet pressed against his chest, he brought a hand up to identify what could be causing the sensation. His confusion was only compounded when his palm, instead of feeling his own tunic as he expected, landed on something else; something soft and warm. Peering downwards, he was stunned to find his hand resting atop a head of champagne coloured hair that seemed to be… shivering?
"Astrid?" He gasped.
"I couldn't save them," the girl pressed against him whispered, her voice hitching, as if the words she spoke were resisting her, "They were right there, and I couldn't do anything."
Hiccup was at a loss for words. He racked his brain, rummaging its contents for something; anything to say. Nothing came forth. Until, like a torch being lit in the night, he knew that there was nothing he could say. But there was something he could do. And it terrified him to the core.
Gingerly, he wrapped his arms around her, hoping his actions would be able to speak for him. As his hand came to rest on her shoulder, she stiffened. Hiccup dared not breath. A small, irrational corner of his conscience telling him that if he did, she'd shrug him off. That she'd push him away and tell him to leave her alone. It wouldn't be the end of the world; he was used to being shoved aside, used to being ignored.
But somehow, he knew that if that happened, he'd take it as a failure on his part. He knew he had a chance, here and now, to pull her out of her shell; to make a crack in the walls she erected over the past month. He had a chance to bring back the Astrid he knew. And if he couldn't do so now, he may never get the chance again.
As she held still against him, the fear that she would pull away mounted. Swallowing fiercely at lump forming in his throat, the certainty that she would grow stronger.
Perhaps she'd hit him for touching her? She wasn't afraid to dole out vicious punishment to Snotlout whenever he tried to put his hands anywhere near her. Surely he was no exception to the rule. At least if she did, a bit of the fire he'd always seen inside her would have a chance to come out. It would be worth it.
His internal deliberations were brought to a swift end when, much to Hiccup's surprise, she slowly relaxed and leaned into the embrace.
"Do you know what the worst part of it is?" Astrid murmured, her voice slightly muffled into his tunic. "That morning, my mom gave me the Hofferson family axe. She said I was ready; that when I carried it, I carried all of us."
The hands Hiccup quickly realized were grasping his shirt tightened their grip. He could almost hear the fabric groaning in protest from the near inhuman force the tiny blonde could exude. A sarcastic quip about the need to start wearing battle armour flew to the tip of the tongue before he reigned it in. His discomfort could be put on hold. Hers was more important.
He doubled his efforts with his own grasp, silently reassuring her, he hoped, that he was there. A wracking cough shook her frame as she choked on the tears now freely pouring forth.
"I failed," she rasped out between desperate gulps of air, "I didn't save them! They told me to run! The axe was right there, in front of me; I should have stayed and fight, but I didn't!"
The tears came in force, and blonde began to dry-heave. Her entire body bucked violently from the exertion as months worth of repressed emotions were unleashed. Like a caged and starved animal finally set free, they were merciless.
A powerful spasm shook Astrid, knocking her forward. Hiccup, clinging on fiercely, fearful of the consequences of letting go, was shoved backwards. Finding himself sprawled on his back, with Astrid huddled on top of him, he did the only thing he could do; hold on and listen.
She screamed, the sound unintelligible. When she finished, she screamed again; a guttural howl that tore at her throat. She screamed until her voice was hoarse and raw. And Hiccup listened, praying to the gods that it would be over. That the pain she was feeling would abate.
One last bellow issued forth, a primal shout that nearly shook the room. As her voice cracked and faltered, she collapsed on top of him, and the room was still. The only signs that she even lived were the soft oscillations of her sides as she inhaled and exhaled.
"Everything's gone," She whispered, her words tickling Hiccup's ear as they gently fell from her lips. "Mom. Dad. Uncle Finn. My house. My axe. I have nothing."
"You have me," Hiccup whispered back, meaning every word.
Hands slithered underneath his back, holding him securely in place. Even as sleep overtook the pair, her hold refused to abate. Inwardly, Hiccup hoped she'd never let go.
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When he awoke the next morning, Hiccup was disappointed to find himself alone. For a moment, he toyed with the idea that the previous night had been a dream. Of course, the fact that he was in Astrid's bed, rather than his own, brought a swift end to that hypothesis.
Shrugging off the peculiarities of his solitude, Hiccup quickly prepared for the day. He had work in the forge, and Gobber would have his hide if he was late. At least, that's what the moody viking constantly threatened; that he'd make a leather apron from the boy's flayed skin and gift it to his next apprentice.
Charming.
As he scampered towards the forge, he quickly picked up the sound of the burly blacksmith conversing with someone.
"That's not enough for what yeh want. At best, I could sell yah a small dagger for tha' much," Gobber stated. Hiccup was quick to pick up on his apologetic tone. At least, as apologetic as Gobber ever got.
"It's all I have," a second voice murmured; a voice Hiccup was very familiar with. One still rough and as ragged from the night before. Astrid's.
Deciding to make his presence known, hoping to avoid appearing as if eavesdropping, Hiccup strode through the doorway with more confidence than he felt. Eyeing the girl he'd spent the night curled up against as she came into view, he spotted the pair of dull copper coins held loosely in her outstretched hand.
"Sorry, lass," Gobber told her pointedly, "I don' set tha prices. If yeh really need an axe, yer welcome ta use one o' tha communal ones from tha arena armoury."
Astrid clenched her fist, letting out a sad exhale as her grip on the coins turned her knuckles white. Turning rigidly on her heels, the girl stomped her way towards the exit, not really seeing anything along the way. At least, not until she smacked head-first into him.
"Astrid?" Hiccup gasped, unconsciously taking hold of her shoulders as the impact pushed him back a step.
"Sorry," she mumbled, leaning in to the touch.
Only for her eyes to suddenly snap wide and meet his, as she leapt backwards, out of his reach. Nearly as fast as he could keep track, she bolted from the smithy, pausing halfway across the plaza to cast a furtive glance back over her shoulder. Seeing him still watching, she sped away, quickly disappearing into the village.
"If yer done ogling, we've got work to do," Gobber reminded the boy, waving his prosthetic in front of his face.
"Is she alright?" Hiccup asked, rooted to the spot.
"I doubt anyone'd be 'alright' after what happened to her," The blacksmith replied, pulling a leather apron from a nearby peg on the wall and tossing it over his apprentice's head. "Give 'er time. Space too. She'll work things out on her own."
Absentmindedly slipping the apron on over his head, Hiccup pondered the blacksmith's words. He had been giving her time and space. At least until last night. And yet, last night was the only time he'd seen any change in her demeanor.
"So, what do we have in the queue today?" Hiccup asked, forcing any thoughts of his crush out of his mind for the time being. It wouldn't do to let his mind wander while surrounded by molten metal and sharp weapons. He'd learned that the hard way earlier in his apprenticeship.
"We're not quite done with making nails," the blacksmith chirped, sounding almost giddy at the prospect. Hiccup couldn't fathom what anyone could possibly find so fascinating about making nails; it was tedious, repetitive, boring work. "Go ahead and grab some scrap metal while I get the forge heated."
Hiccup shrugged, shuffling dutifully over to the shelving unit in the corner that Gobber had indicated. With little preamble, he picked out a relatively shiny piece near eye-level that would be enough for more than a few handfuls of nails.
"Nope, try again," Gobber cut in before his apprentice had even turned around.
"What, why?" Hiccup asked, wheeling around to face his mentor, who was busy manning the billows.
"Take a good look at the piece in your hands," Gobber responded, waving his prosthetic in Hiccup's vague direction. "What's so special about it?"
"Er..." Hiccup began, peering down at the twisted hunk of metal. It was smooth and flat, if corkscrewed about its length. Clearly, it had begun its life as a blade of some sort. He told Gobber as much.
"Aye," Gobber agreed, gesturing for his apprentice to continue, "it's a sword. Which means what about the metal's quality?"
"It's... high in carbon?" He replied hesitantly, unsure about where Gobber was going with this line of thinking.
"Exactly," the blacksmith responded with a grin, punctuated with a jab of his flesh and blood hand. "It's weapon-grade steel; something we have a limited supply of. And certainly not something we waste on nails. We still have scrap metal from the last five raids to get through before we start gettin' that desperate. So, try again!"
Hiccup sighed, conceding to Gobber's point before replacing the blade on the shelf. Returning with an armful of cracked and charred barrel hoops, the duo set to work in relative silence for the majority of their workload, exchanging words only when necessary for the job at hand.
As the last of the barrel ties was used up, Hiccup stepped away from their workstation, already anticipating Gobber's impending demand for more scrap metal. Wiping away the sweat on his brow with his sleeve, Hiccup approached the shelves once more, his other hand outstretched as he reached for a set of horribly disfigured metal buckets. Only to pause midway when something caught his eye.
There, a few shelves down from the buckets sat a hefty wad of steel, just as big as his entire torso, glinting in the light from the forge.
Extracting it from its position amongst the rest of the scrap proved difficult, owing to its sizable mass. Finally liberating it from the shelf, Hiccup yelped in shock as he nearly fell over backwards under its staggering weight.
"Hiccup!" Gobber snapped, leveling a glare at the boy as he struggled to drag the piece along the wooden floor. "What did I say about weapon-grade steel?"
Huffing and puffing the entire way across the forge, Hiccup wrapped his spindly arms around the metal slab and hauled it through the doorway to the back room he'd claimed as his own. Groaning at the immense effort required, he hauled the piece up and onto his personal workbench, worrying the entire time that his shoulders would simply pop right out of their sockets.
"Hiccup?" Gobber called out, limping through the open doorway, "what in Thor's name d'yeh think yer doin'?"
Running a hand over the cool surface of the metal, Hiccup felt out the once intricate ornamentation that had once adorned it, now partially melted from the intense heat of dragon fire.
"Hiccup!" Gobber shouted, swatting the young boy over the head.
Snapping out of his reverie, the boy whirled to face his mentor.
"Can I have this?" He asked pleadingly, still trailing his fingers over the metal.
"Jus' what do yeh need all this steel for?" Gobber frowned, stroking his whiskered chin in contemplation.
Hiccup shrugged, casting a glance at the metal. "It's for a personal project," he replied, turning back to the taller viking. "Please? It's important, I promise."
Gobber raised an eyebrow, silently urging the boy to say more. When he didn't, he let out a tired sigh.
"Aye," he finally agreed, kneading his forehead as he did so, "but it'll cost yeh, ya know? Yeh'll pay for it, jus' like anyone else in the village would."
"Is this enough?" Hiccup eagerly asked, extracting a handful of silver coins from his pocket.
Gobber shook his head. "Tha' won't even cover a tenth o' it," he replied honestly, barely casting a glance at the money.
"Oh," Hiccup responded, slumping dejectedly. "Can I take it out of my pay?"
One of the upsides of apprenticing under Gobber was that he was paid for his work. It wasn't much, but he didn't need much. As the chief's son, he was never left wanting for food or clothing. The only things he ever spent his coins on were materials for his inventions.
"If yeh really want," Gobber answered with a shrug. "That's a decent heap o' steel though. It'll be at least a year's worth of pay."
"I don't mind," Hiccup grinned, his mood rapidly brightening. "It's an important project."
"Aye, it'd have to be," Gobber stated dryly. "But yeh'll have ya work on it in yer free time. Right now, you've got nails to help me make. Hop to it!"
It was a long, tiring day for Hiccup. His regular duties were always exhausting, but the extra hours he put afterwards in for his personal project left him feeling dead on his feet.
Absentmindedly rubbing the charcoal smudged on his fingers, left there from the numerous sketches he'd made of the partially ruined designs on his newly acquired possession, he climbed the stairs to his and Astrid's shared loft. He was somewhat disappointed to find the girl absent. Though, it did allow him to change into his sleep clothes much quicker. Wasting no time at all, he flopped bonelessly onto his bed and fell into a deep slumber nearly as soon as his head hit his pillow, not even bothering to pull back his furs.
It was later when Hiccup found himself stirring awake. He wasn't certain how much later, but judging by the fact that the sun was fully below the horizon, it had to have been at least an hour.
Without having to roll over to look up, he could acutely hear the sound of footsteps ascending the stairs. They were much too light to be his father's, which meant that Astrid had clearly returned. He listened as her feet gently padded across the room to her side.
The sound of a latch being flipped open was heard, followed by the rustling of clothing. A twin clunk, clunk, was heard, and Hiccup realized with a start what he was listening to.
Astrid had removed her shoulder pads. She was changing, directly behind him!
Hiccup screwed his eyes together as tightly as he could. The last thing he wanted was to be caught watching, even by accident. That would sure take a lot of explaining. If, of course, he was even given the chance to do so, before Astrid brutally murdered him on the spot.
A jolt of intense dread shot through him when the sound of Astrid's footsteps drew nearer. Had she discovered that he was awake? Was this it? Would she make his death quick and painless, or would she draw it out?
He could physically feel the gears in his head grind to a halt when her hand landed against his side. Only, instead of the excruciating pain he was expecting, the touch was warm and gentle. Slowly, He felt her crawl onto the bed behind him, and wrap her arms snugly around his middle.
The tingle of her steady breaths against the back of his neck was the last thing he registered before sleep once more claimed him.
-0-0-0-0-
The following week passed much in the same manner. He'd wake up in the morning, alone in an empty bed and empty house, before heading out to help Gobber in the forge. Thankfully, by Thor's Day, they'd moved on from crafting nails to repairing plows and fishing equipment. Not the most exciting work, but it inarguably beat nail-making.
In the evening, he'd labour over his secret project, and then at night, he'd come home and head to bed. Astrid would always return not long after, and lay down beside him, her limbs wrapping tightly around him, only for the cycle to repeat itself.
It was the following Tyr's Day night when, with a satisfied smile, Hiccup carefully wrapped his newly finished project in an old, worn wolf hide he'd found a the bottom of his clothes chest that morning. Judging by the small metal clasps fastened to two of its corners, it was likely meant to be worn as a cape. Perhaps as a part of a formal outfit he had worn once when he was younger and had forgotten about it.
Securely fastening a length of hemp rope around the bundle, he used it as a carrying strap as he staggered his way out of the darkened forge.
The trip home proved difficult. The rope made the bundle much easier to carry, but it was still insanely heavy. He had to stop and stretch out his tortured joints several times along the way. Between the frequent breaks and the awkward gate that the load forced his tired legs to adopt, the journey took Hiccup at least triple the usual amount of time to complete.
Thankfully, aside from Phlegma the Fierce, who merely gave him a curious squint as he trudged past her home, nobody accosted him along the way.
By the time he lugged the bundle through the front door of the chief's house, Hiccup felt about ready to collapse then and there on the wooden floor. Fortunately, there was only one more obstacle to overcome, one he was determined to conquer before the night was over. The stairs.
With an audible groan of effort, Hiccup hefted the package up to hold at waist height, before waddling forward, silently begging his frail body to not give out on him. Not yet, at least. By the time he reached the top of the stairs, Hiccup was adamant he'd torn a few ligaments in both his knees. Having reached his destination, he let out a tired whoop before allowing himself to crumple onto his stomach, sighing in relief as the weight on his swollen soles was instantly alleviated.
"Hiccup?" Astrid's sleepy voice slurred.
Hiccup rolled quickly onto his back and propped himself up on his elbows to face her as she blearily sat up from her bed.
"Astrid," Hiccup balked. Her presence wasn't something he'd anticipated. "Er... sorry about making so much noise. I didn't think you'd be back so early."
"S'not early," she mumbled, stretching her arms up into the air, pushing her chest forwards in the process.
Hiccup fought down a blush and quickly averted his eyes.
"You're back late," she explained.
Spotting the blackened sky outside one of the nearby windows, Hiccup realized that, indeed, it was much later than he normally retired for the day. Silently, he cursed his own slight stature. Surely no one else on Berk would have struggled with the journey over nearly as much as he had.
"What's that?" Astrid asked thrusting her chin in the direction of the still wrapped bundle that lay discarded on the floor, pulling Hiccup from his self deprecation.
"Oh!" He gasped, leaping to his feet. "It's uh... well, it's a present."
The girl across from him blinked. "A present?" she repeated.
"Yeah," Hiccup shrugged, awkwardly waving a hand over the wrapped pelt. "For you. Specifically. If you want it, that is."
Tilting her head in curiosity, Astrid swung her feet to the floor and in one fluid movement, rose to a stand. Spanning the room in a few short strides, she knelt at the package. As she reached out to untie it, she cast an uncertain peek up at the chief's heir.
"If you don't like it, well..." he trailed off hesitantly, leaving the statement unfinished. He, quite frankly, had no clue what would happen if she didn't like it. Placing one hand on the back of his neck, he stiffly waved the other in an uneasy gesture.
Sucking in a breath as Astrid began to pull apart the knot in the rope, Hiccup winced in anticipation. A steady hand tossed aside the rope before reaching to pull back the first fold of the wrapping. Then the next. Bile filled his throat as polished steel, newly exposed to the dim moonlight was revealed.
A sharp gasp escaped Astrid's lips as she gawked at the finely crafted battle axe before her.
"This is..." Astrid murmured, her hands hovering over its metal surface, not daring to touch it, as if fearful it would break. There was an audible hitch in her throat as her digits ghosted over the intricately carved form of a deadly nadder at the centre of the axehead.
"Yeah," Hiccup replied, screwing his eyes shut, shying away from the hit he was certain was coming.
It never did. Only a warm embrace, one he'd grown intimately familiar with over the past week. Cracking his eyes slowly open, he was met with a familiar mop of pale hair occupying his entire field of vision.
"Thank you," Astrid whispered breathlessly into his ear.
Something wet pressed briefly against his lips, and with a start, Hiccup realized that she had kissed him. Astrid Hofferson had kissed him. Hiccup Haddock.
A goofy grin molded it's way onto his face as the girl pulled gently away.
"A-any time," he stammered, feeling unnatural warmth bloom across his cheeks.
Faltering distractedly as Astrid bent over to pick up her present, Hiccup grabbed his sleep clothes before heading downstairs to change. When he returned, he was pleased to see Astrid holding the present tightly, carefully swinging it about with practiced ease.
He stopped to admire what he saw; a smile. A genuine, happy smile on Astrid's face. In that moment, Hiccup knew he'd never witnessed anything so beautiful.
Releasing a wistful sigh at the sight of his longtime crush reunited with a restored family heirloom, Hiccup cautiously navigated around the girl's impromptu training regimen. Successfully making it to his bed without disturbing her or getting accidentally hit, he began to turn down his covers in preparation for a well deserved sleep.
"Where do you think you're going?" Astrid's voice halted him in his tracks.
"Bed?" Hiccup answered, watching her curiously as she set the axe carefully, almost reverently, onto a pair of pegs against the wall.
A mischievous smirk flashed across her face as she turned to regard him. In that moment, Hiccup felt like a yak being sized up by a hungry dragon coiled to pounce. His throat went dry as he fruitlessly attempted to swallow his nerves.
"Come here," she instructed forcefully, taking firm hold of his hand and dragging him to her own bed.
Hiccup complied easily. It wasn't as if he had the ability to escape her grasp, and it wasn't as if he'd want to, even if he did. As she had every night, Astrid tightly wound her arms around him. Feeling the familiar warmth encircle him, Hiccup let out an involuntary contented sigh. The stress and the worries of the day fled him. For the first time since their shared sleeping arrangements began, his own arms reached around her and returned the gesture.
As he slipped into a restful sleep, Hiccup found himself eagerly looking forward to what tomorrow would bring.
-0-0-0-0-
So, I did some research when writing this fic on what people during the medieval ages would wear while sleeping. As it turns out, the answer is nothing. They tended to sleep butt naked, save for head coverings to supposedly prevent all of a person's heat from escaping through their scalp at night, as was the common belief back then.
Furthermore, people would often share beds, especially in colder climates. So, were this fic more historically accurate, Hiccup and Astrid wouldn't have had separate beds, and also would have been sleeping together in the nude.
I figured that was pushing things a little too far, considering they're 12 at the beginning of the story, and decided to make some alterations to their sleep habits in order to make things a little more… palatable... by our modern standards. It's not as if HTTYD is intended to be interpreted as historically accurate anyways; the presence of dragons, being the biggest giveaway on that front, among many.
Besides, the notion of Astrid and Hiccup naked and sharing a bed at 12 isn't the most disconcerting part about historical sleeping arrangements in this context. Had period accuracy been my goal, Stoick would have been in the same bed with them, also naked. So there's an image. Have fun with it. No, please don't.
