Hello, all! It's been quite a while since I posted anything here...and I hardly have any business starting something new, considering the state of my other fics. But I couldn't resist-I love genderbends, and when I noticed the trend of the Hiccup/Astrid swaparoo, I just had to play. So here's my experiment: female Hiccup, male Astrid, entirely Alternate Universe and a whole lot of additional world building as a result. The trajectory of the plot is pretty much the same, with a couple things added in by AU necessity. But this one's a doozy...can't wait to find out what people think. Anyway, have fun with it if you can.
Eko: A city rooted ten days north of hopeless and a few measly degrees south of freezing to death. It teetered between the towering, Dobrin mountains of doom and the certain death of Pembroke forest. The city was ancient—towering, majestic stone walls, sturdy shops, and the ever-hopeful silhouettes of turrets with the city's colorful flags waving in the wind. Yet upon closer inspection, the stones were blackened with char, the cobbled streets pockmarked with darkened blasts and nearly every home or shop either brand new or in the process of rebuilding. After all, the city was charming—full of the latest fashions, brilliant weaponry and armor, fine cuisine and the finest minds and warriors to be found in the land. But it was suffering from a severe pest problem. Located as it was between two of the world's magical hotspots, it didn't suffer from the usual fare or mice, or cockroaches, or mosquitos. Instead, this particular city was constantly plagued by…
"Dragons!" The shrill shout split the night, dampened by a heavy mist, as a young girl leaned out her second-story bedroom window, pointing into the sky. Unfortunately, her warning came too late, as the darkened forms that dotted the skyline were already upon them, and she was forced to quickly duck back into her room as one let loose a blast of fire directly at the window. The flames hit the brimstone walls of her apartment—all the buildings were of brimstone these days—and her window cracked under the heat. With a squeak she slammed the shutters closed and pressed her back against them, listening to it's pealing crackles as the stream of fire caused it to reach heat capacity, shattering against the heavy wood. Wide green eyes peered cautiously through a crack in the shutters once the attack subsided, and the girl noticed the dragon was gone, having grown bored with its attack on windows.
She hurriedly pushed away from the window, yanking her nightgown over her head to don a pair of thick, carpenter's breeches and a heavy leather tunic—fighting gear from her brother years ago—followed by thick-soled boots and her belt, packed with knives and hammers. Heart thudding in her ears, she slammed the door behind her, not bothering to lock it. Who was going to commit a robbery during a dragon attack?
She burst through the heavy, oaken door of the building into the sharp, dampness of the night. Her chin-length, ruddy hair whipped in the wind, winding itself into even more disarray than usual. The sky was lit with the glow from dragon fire, the heavy mist refracting the light as a hellish, red glow that settled upon the entire city and illuminated the winding streets.
All around, the people of the city ran with purpose, shouting to one another and pointing to each area in need of attention. Or rather, the men o the city ran about, teams running to put out fires, and various warrior guilds running to dispatch the dragons that landed in the city. Setting her teeth, Hina set off into the night, heading for the Forge—a weapons shop and emergency combat station she was familiar with.
It took twenty minutes of intermittent sprinting, ducking and dodging to reach the street corner where the Forge squatted, taking up nearly an entire city block. The huge, double-door entrance was thrown open, flurried with activity beneath the massive and intricate arches that supported the upper stories of the building. The Forge's gargantuan owner, Greg, stood in the entryway, firmly directing traffic while simultaneously working the bellows that occupied most of the ground floor. After all, the only way to effectively fight dragons was with fire. Ironic.
"Greg," she panted when she reached the entrance. The large man spared her a glance, eyes, already squinted from years of weapons work, narrowing even further.
"What are you doing outside?!" he demanded. "Get back inside!" Hina opened her mouth to protest.
"Go inside, lass!" behind her, another burly man by the name of Quint yanked on the back of her tunic, spinning her toward home. She glowered, about to protest, when a large group suddenly burst around the corner.
"Greg!" Hina recognized her uncle, Daryl, at the head of the group, an unconscious man draped across his burly shoulders. The big man certainly looked the worse for wear as he handed his burden off to one of the nurses that scurried about the entrance and whisked him up the back staircase. Daryl's face was blackened by soot, the left sleeve singed and scorch marks across the hardy leather guarding his chest. Greg clapped him on the shoulder.
"They'll take him to the infirmary upstairs," he gestured to where the injured man had already disappeared to the second floor of the Forge. Daryl nodded, eyes reddened by the heavy sulfur and heat of fighting dragons. Greg studied him carefully. "How is it?" he asked somberly. Daryl finally transferred his gaze to Greg's face, shook his head.
"Not good," he said. "There are more this time—we've got them coming from both directions." He was referring to the hotspots that flanked the city: the Dobrin mountains and the Pembroke forest. Exactly which creatures lived in either place was unknown—no one had ventured far in either direction to return alive—but very different kinds of dragons seemed to approach from each direction. Why we decided to build a city here, I will never understand, Hina thought, bouncing on her toes as she listened to the two adults. She wanted to be out there…to slay a dragon was the peak of honor and glory in this city, worth a dozen griffins, basilisks or goblins. If she could take one down…she began edging past Greg into the Forge. She had to get her hands on her invention. She could picture where she'd left it, in the corner of the Forge behind the bellows.
Ever since she was little, Hina had spent her days working in the Forge, helping out with simple tasks and the chores. It was her father's way of keeping her out from under foot…and away from sight. He didn't want to deal with her, and her mother was long gone and unable to help. So he'd stuck her with his long time best friend, Greg. At first, Hina had hated it—everything was heavy, and too big for her, and the bellows were always sweltering and smelled of sulfur. But eventually, Greg trusted her with some of the metal work, and as soon as Hina crafted her first dull, uneven sword, she was hooked. The only catch: she had to stay out of sight. After all, what would people say if they knew a girl was crafting their weapons? What would her father say if he found out she was doing more than the simple legwork he'd signed her up for? Worse: the spent her free time developing her inventions, and with their embarrassingly low success rate, she didn't want to picture her father's face if he found out. As it was, Greg tried to discourage her inventions: they always backfired, often ending with a narrow dodge from the blacksmith. But Hina was determined, and her latest project, she was sure, would be her key to taking down a dragon. This one will be different, she told herself firmly, eyes fixed on its hulking mass as she squeezed past Greg. This one will work…
"Stoick is still out there," Daryl was saying. "He's got a bunch of them backed up against the city wall…but he's outnumbered." Hina froze, distracted by the mention of her father. She wasn't overly concerned. Stoick the Vast was the pride of the city—its leader, and its greatest warrior. So he was outnumbered; Hina had no doubt he would overcome the dragons, even if he was alone with only a single torch and his famous battle axe. She moved to continue into the Forge…but her hesitation cost her.
"Hina!" Greg shouted, planting a hand firmly on her shoulder. He towered nearly two feet above her, and when he spun her to face him Hina found herself craning to look into his face. "Go home!" he commanded.
"Please, for once let me outside! This time I'll prove myself—I will! I'll kill a dragon for sure this time…and my whole life will change. They," she gestured to the mob of youth that was running up toward the Forge, weapons in hand and soot all over their Apprentice Warrior uniforms, "might even talk to me."
"They do talk to you," Greg snarked, knowing full well the extent of their comments. Hina rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, no. They mock me, to one another. That's different. Just let me out, Greg!"
"Not a chance," Greg answered without pause, without even looking at her. He pulled an axe from the rack on the wall and shoved it into the hands of one of the young men in the youth group. Hina rolled her eye as she recognized her horrible cousin, Sen, Daryl's son. He sneered at her, hoisted the axe, and jogged arrogantly back out into the fray. With him Hina recognized a slew of other juniors—all boys she had watched and envied for years, though the only other name she knew belonged to the tall, silent boy that easily hefted a sword twice her size, ignored her completely, and jogged after Sen. Hina watched Astren go, his blond braid catching the firelight, and gritted her teeth with threw a pointed look at Greg, who shook his head. "You've gotten out there before," he reminded her. "It's never ended well. You can't throw any weapons—you can't even lift some of them!"
"That never posed a problem before…" Hina muttered.
"You were very lucky, before," Greg snapped. "If you keep pushing it, you're going to get yourself fried." Hina winced, and hid her embarrassment with a roll of her eyes. He was absolutely right—she had a bad track record, and she was even weaker than the average woman in the city. Shorter, and lacking the strong elegance of her peers. But she was determined.
"I know I can't throw anything," she tried doggedly. "But that's why I have…this!" She yanked the tarp off her invention, revealing a squatting bulk of tangled gears and wooden pistons. It was certainly clunky…but it would work, she was sure. "This will throw for me—it's perfect!" She patted it fondly. To her horror, it responded by flinging its ammunition forward: three metal balls strung together with thick hemp ropes. The weapon hurtled toward Greg, who calmly dodged, and Hina cringed. That particular misfire had probably cost her any chance she had with him…
Sure enough, Greg slapped a hand against his forehead, exasperated.
"This is exactly why you are not allowed out," he growled. "If you ever want to make people here accept you, you need to stop…this." He waved his hand at her. Hina scoffed, indignant.
"You just gestured to all of me."
"Yes!" Greg exclaimed. "Exactly—stop being all of you." He turned back to yank a large sword—probably Hina's height—off a passing wagon of damaged weapons.
"But—"
"No, Hina. Stay in here—end of discussion. Your father needs me out there, and I don't want to hear that you've scrambled out there while I'm gone."
"One day," Hina yelled at him. "One day I'll kill a dragon—you'll see! And then—"
"Whatever—now get inside the Forge. Don't make me tell you again," he growled. "And don't cause trouble—everyone already has their hands full as it is. Start sharpening these." He thrust the giant sword into her hands, and she nearly folded beneath the weight, adding insult to injury. His comment smarted, but Greg's glare left no room for arguments. Scowling, Hina scurried inside, dragging the sword behind her as she dodged nurses with injured warriors and men running by with large buckets of water to put out fires.
She hefted the sword onto the bellows, watching out the corner of her eye as Greg loosed a battle cry and leapt out into the streets. She counted to fifty in her head, calmly sharpening the blade. Then she set it in the trough to cool…and raced outside with her invention, hurriedly reloading it and ignoring the scolding of the nurses as she ran past.
Hina didn't bother running to where the bulk of the fighting was, down the main street of the city. She could see the glow of dragon fire rising over the city line, casting long, dancing shadows of the warriors across the city's towering walls. Hina knew that's where everyone was fighting, it was where Greg had run off to…and it was certainly where her father was. So instead she ran up a side alley that wound up a steep hill behind the Forge. It was lined by older townhouses—a little more protected than the main body of the city, the Forge marked the start of the older part of town, and the tilting houses that climbed the hill had been around through many dragon battles.
At the end of the street, the alley opened up onto a magnificent bluff. The houses thinned out, replaced with stretches of packed earth and wild grasses. A ways beyond, the first scattered, gnarled trees cropped up—a premonition of the wild forest beyond the city walls. Hina expertly navigated the more rugged terrain away from the heart of the city, the wheels of her machine rattling behind her, until she was standing right at the edge of the bluff, staring out across the blazing sky. In the distance, the white peaks of the Dobrin mountains caught the hazy moonlight, and she aimed her device out toward them, over the red glow of the city. She checked the calibration of her careful mechanisms, and carefully settled the ammunition in the machine's pocket, before hunkering down to wait, eyes trained on the sky.
Well then...that's that, I suppose. One chapter in. I might make this whole thing a trend: steal plot lines, completely twist everything around and pop it into some other world. Whaddaya think? Hate it? Love it? Curious? Lemme know ;)