Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, who are the property of Cressida Cowell, DreamWorks, and Disney-Pixar, and am not making any profit from this story. Except that it makes me smile.

The title is once again taken from "Lady Percy" by King Charles. I thought it fitting in more ways than one.

Note: If I were a better person, this would be a better fic. As it is, it's been sitting in my fanfic folder for months—I think since soon after I finished "Eurotrip"—and I finally decided that even if it's not completely done, it's complete enough to share. It's possible that at some point in the future I'll come back to it and flesh it out more, but for now, I hope you enjoy this conclusion.

"I can do this. I can do this." He paced the living room, muttering quietly to himself. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so keyed up over something; he should've been asleep hours ago, because tomorrow would be a long day. Well, he thought with a glance at the clock on the DVD player, today would be a long day. He had to get some sleep if he wanted to make it through the day and especially the night, but with the way he felt now, his skin buzzing and mind racing, it seemed impossible. The odds that he'd trip and fall headfirst into the bonfire were growing by the second.

"I can't do this," he said, sinking to the couch. Toothless shuffled over and rested his head on Hiccup's knee, crooning comfortingly. Hiccup scratched his head for a moment and then stretched out on the couch, rubbing his hands over his face. He grunted when Toothless leapt onto his stomach and settled down, his sigh ruffling Hiccup's hair. He locked gazes with Hiccup and then very deliberately closed his eyes, as if demonstrating to the boy what he should do.

Proposing was kind of a pain in the ass. He was really hoping he only had to do it this one time.

First he'd had to check with her parents. He definitely hadn't asked their permission—he was pretty sure that if he had and she found out, she'd say no on principle. But just kind of running the idea by them seemed like the polite thing to do, especially since they were a noble family and there were probably some weird rules or at least customs going on there. He didn't think that Fergus and Elinor were going to object, but he wanted to check. Just in case. And the only time he could do that in person was during the games, which meant that he'd needed to keep Merida occupied while he and her parents talked. Eventually he'd come up with the perfect coconspirators.

"Uh, hey, Jamie?"

"Aye. Who's this?" The voice was tinged with suspicion.

"Hiccup Haddock. Merida's boyfriend."

"Ah. The famous lad from up north.

"I guess? Um, I have a favor to ask you."

"I don't know if there's something traditional I'm supposed to say or do, but I wanted you to know that I'm going to ask Merida to marry me. And I hope that's okay with you."

"Of course it is, lad."

Elinor's eyes were full of tears. "I'm so happy for you both. We couldn't have picked a better man for Merida than you." He blushed.

Merida trudged down the stairs yawning so widely that Hiccup felt his jaw twinge sympathetically. She muttered something that could possibly have been "Good morning"; the vowels sounded okay, but the consonants were a total loss. Her hair was mussed; he was relieved to see her wearing her own pajamas, a The Who t-shirt and a pair of shorts, instead of any of his clothes. He was pretty sure his dad and therefore Gobber knew that the two of them slept together, though they stayed in separate rooms on their visits to DunBroch and Berk (Merida thought it was dumb, but Hiccup was just afraid enough of her dad to insist on a guest room, although that didn't stop her from sneaking in to visit him); he didn't need to give them any more blackmail material by having her show up in his old Berk High shirt.

"You didn't have to get up," he said as she flopped into a chair at the kitchen table. "Nothing really interesting's gonna happen 'til later." She knew that; this wasn't her first bonfire day.

"I'm an honorary Hooligan," she said. Stoick slipped a mug of coffee in front of her and she hummed appreciatively, leaning over to breathe in the steam. "I'm in for the long haul."

Okay, she meant the whole day, but the statement bolstered his confidence.

She ate more pancakes than he did, though with his stomach in such a roil it was a wonder he could keep anything down. "Best eat up," Gobber urged, with a wink so broad it was a miracle she missed it, "big day today." Hiccup resolved to kill him at the first available opportunity.

While Merida was upstairs changing he rounded on his dad and Gobber. "Knock it off, you two," he hissed.

"Knock what off, son?"

"No hints. No winks. No…insinuations, no supposedly hypothetical conversations about traditions or weddings, no more 'big day' talk."

"But it is a big day. It's the island's biggest day. Not everything is about you, y'know." Gobber raised an eyebrow as he sipped his coffee.

"Gobber, if you give this away, so help me—"

"There'll be consequences?" he asked nonchalantly, a smirk beneath his drooping mustache. Hiccup deflated. Stoick patted his shoulder.

"It'll be fine, Hiccup. We won't give it away, right, Gobber?" The other man rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath; Stoick repeated himself. "Right, Gobber?"

He threw his hands up. "It's bonfire day. Who'll have time to ruin the surprise?"

Merida rejoined them, in a Hooligans shirt and capris, hair in a ponytail, a bag slung over her shoulder.

All the time they worked his mind was on the box in his pocket.

Before dinner started she disappeared briefly and then came back changed. Now she wore a green sleeveless dress, and her hair was released from its ponytail, with a garland of flowers topping it. She twirled toward him. "You look nice." He felt grubby—he'd brought a clean shirt, but next to her he still looked like a slob.

"Thank you."

She jumped over the fire, just the once this time. At her first bonfire night she'd gotten a little overzealous about proving that she could jump as many times as any of the guys from Berk; by the time she'd satisfied her pride the soles of her shoes had started to melt, and Tuffnut Thorston had had the hair singed off his lower legs, to his sister's great delight. As the flames burned higher she danced around the bonfire with the others until Hiccup caught her and tugged her away. She wrapped her arms around his neck, swaying to the music, and he shuffled along with her. Her hair seemed like a living thing in the flickering light and her eyes were wide with excitement. She scraped her nails lightly against the back of his neck and smirked at his goosebumps.

Two could play at that game. Hiccup tightened his arms around her waist and kissed the juncture of her neck and shoulder, grinning when her head lolled away to give him access to more bare skin. Then he kissed the spot below her ear.

Merida huffed and wrenched herself loose of his grip, only to hook a finger through one of his belt loops and drag him away from the fire and the people watching. It was much cooler on the edge of the woods, or at least it was until she dragged his mouth down to hers, hot and sweet. Merida knew it was more or less acceptable for couples to disappear into the woods for a bit, and there were few times when she didn't want to disappear into the woods with Hiccup, but she knew he'd rather not, not when there was a chance of someone he knew happening upon them. So she stuck to snogging him and they kissed languorously, her hand fisting in the hem of his shirt, his spread along her jaw, thumb stroking her cheek.

At first he'd been planning to ask at midnight. Then his dad would announce it and they'd all drink and celebrate together. But midnight came and he let it pass. There was a better time to come.

Before he knew it dawn was gathering at the horizon. The revelers still awake started to make their way toward the cliff, but Hiccup hung back. "Come here," he said, leading Merida by the hand to a point away from the crowd. He stood behind her with his arms wrapped around her waist, and as he sang he could feel the faint vibration of her humming along, even though she didn't know the words. At the end of the verse the sun broke over the sea, and he took a deep breath and moved beside her.

"You are the love of my life."

"And I adore you," she said. "I reckon that means we should stay together."

"How about forever?"

"What?" she asked slowly. Her eyes widened as he dropped onto one knee.

She was going to say yes. She couldn't not say yes. That didn't stop his heart from racing.

"I can't imagine being without you for the rest of my life. And I know you've got a country to run and I have buildings to design and we're probably going to fight, a lot, now that I think about it—"

"Hiccup," she said in a strange choked voice, somewhere between urging and scolding.

"But there's no one else I want to fight with, and no one else I want to make up with, and there'll never be anyone else I want to marry. Will you please marry me?"

She was beaming, her face aglow in the soft light of the new morning. The crown sat askew on her head, and she looked young and strong and happy. No, not just happy: blissful. He let out a breath of relief, sure that the worst had passed and she'd say yes and they'd kiss and everything would be hunky-dory.

Then she shook her head and said, though with a fond tone, "Do you have to ask? I thought we'd decided this years ago."

Was she talking about the plane? "That doesn't count."

"Why not? I asked. Remember, on the plane?"

"You brought it up. That's not the same as asking."

"Fine." She crossed her arms loosely over her stomach. There was a pause when they stared at each other, Merida looking less blissful now and Hiccup becoming conscious of a twig poking into his knee.

He broke the silence by saying, a little shortly, "Are you going to say yes or not?"

"I shouldn't have to say it. It's been implied all these years."

"If you don't mind, I'd like to move this from an implied engagement to an official one."

"Ask me again, then."

He just managed not to roll his eyes. "Merida, my beloved Scottish thistle, would you do me the immense honor of being my wife?" Just having "Merida" and "wife" together in the same sentence made his stomach tingle, even when she was staring down at him with narrowed eyes.

"That was a bit sarcastic."

"Just say yes already." This was not going as planned. In hindsight, he should have expected that. Maybe asking when they'd been awake for 24 hours straight hadn't been the best idea after all.

"How do you know I'm going to say yes?"

"It's implied."

"Alright! O Hiccup, Viking berserker of my heart and my loins, I would like nothing better than to have you as my husband." At her final word the annoyance on her face was transformed into a brilliant smile. He was right: there was definitely a difference between it being implied and knowing for sure that they were going to be married.

A tiny smile curved his lips. "Really?"

"Of course really. I love you."

He stood then, took her hand and slid the ring onto her finger. She didn't even look at it, though he knew she'd like it because she'd pointed it out in the store window, saying how gorgeous it was; when he released her hand she jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist and kissing him for all she was worth.

"Who's going to be your best man?"

His dad would do it, and so would Gobber. Maybe he could pick one of the triplets, though that might cause more problems than it solved. Besides, the best man organized the bachelor party, and none of those choices deserved that much power. "Toothless," he said, and the dog's ears pricked up.

"Heh. Mum'd love that."

"I'll give him a good bath. It'll be fine."

"Won't your dad do it?"

"I'm sure he'd love to, but I'm serious about Toothless."

She put down the magazine and looked at him then. "Really, Hiccup?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Why not? He's—"

"My best friend. He won't lose the rings and he's least likely to take me to a strip club for my bachelor party."

"You could ask Gobber. Or Jamie, if you're that hard up. I'm sure he'd love it. Of course, there's a chance that his mum would push you aside at the last minute…"

He snorted. "Jamie's fine and I know he's your best friend—"

"He is not." How dare he think that? Probably because it's true, she told herself.

"—but he's not gonna be my best man. He can be your best man or something."

"The bride doesn't have a best man, she has a maid of honor."

"He can be that, then."

"He's not a woman, you idiot."

"Wow, Merida, this is the 21st century. Don't be so sexist. He can be your man of honor."

"Do you know what the original function of a best man was? He was supposed to help the groom in case anybody tried to stop the wedding and kidnap the bride."

"You think Jamie would be better at that than Toothless?" He called the dog over and patted his lap; Toothless put his forelegs up and panted expectantly in Hiccup's face. He scratched under his chin briefly and then said, "Show Merida your scary face."

Instantly the amiable, intelligent dog she knew became a dangerous animal, ears flattened and lips pulled back over teeth that suddenly seemed sharper and greater in number than she remembered. She even heard a low growl. Hiccup had said Toothless had found him and he'd never found out where the dog had come from. Perhaps his past wasn't as rosy as his present life.

"Good boy," Hiccup praised, and then Toothless was back, grinning.

"White symbolizes the bride's innocence."

"What about the groom? He doesn't have to be innocent?" She sniffed, ignoring the image of Hiccup in a white tuxedo that popped into her head; even in her imagination he looked incredulous. "I don't think I want to help perpetuate that double standard." She flicked a page over and sneered at the ridiculous puff of tulle there before going on, "Besides, it's not like either of us are innocent. Haven't been for years."

"Merida!"

"If it makes any difference, we've only been not-innocent with each other. But then again, the number of times we've done it probably makes up for the low number of partners."

"Merida, stop that," her mum snapped, looking slightly green.

"Come on, Mum, you can't expect me to believe that you and Dad didn't have a go at least once before you tied the knot. We all know Dad's not exactly the most patient of men."

Elinor's tight-lipped expression said clearly that she would deny all such accusations of impropriety, no matter what her daughter suspected. "Merida, really. Your father is an honorable man."

"I never said he wasn't. And I hope you're not implying that Hiccup isn't. Because Stoick knows someone who owns a fishing boat, and in Berk captains are allowed to perform weddings." Merida glanced up at her mother, only slightly narrowing her eyes to emphasize the threat.

Mum narrowed her eyes right back. "Don't be silly."

"Any dress I pay for will be white."

"That's fine. There are plenty of charity shops in Edinburgh. It'll be easy enough to find a formal gown that I can pay for out of tips." She turned another page over derisively and then glanced up; her mother's eyes were steely, the way they looked when someone had breached and Merida's confidence wavered.

"How does it feel?" Fergus asked.

"…Good," he said mulishly. It was actually really comfortable. He would never let Merida know that, though; she was going to be bad enough already when she saw that she'd gotten her way. He rocked his hips almost subconsciously, feeling the hem of the wool brush just above his knees.

"Goin' to do a little twirl now?" Gobber asked, and as his dad and hers chuckled he flushed scarlet.

"Is it too late to get a normal tux?"

Fergus clapped him on the shoulder. "Trust me, lad, it'll be worth it to see the expression on her face." Despite himself Hiccup smiled, imagining Merida with wide eyes and pink cheeks when she saw him in the kilt for the first time. Above his head the older men exchanged fond looks.

"Cold feet?"

"Not about you. I will happily spend the rest of my life with you. But do we really have to get married? Hasn't society as a whole moved on to a post-marriage state?"

He'd only ever had things go into slow motion in front of his eyes once before; that time there'd been a car crash and a really cinematic fireball and he'd lost his leg. This time was infinitely better, even with the bagpipes in the background.

Fergus' face was already streaming with tears, though he couldn't have looked prouder if he'd tried. And Merida… If her dad hadn't had her hand tucked in his arm, Hiccup was sure she'd be sprinting up the aisle. As it was they made it there well before the end of the processional.

He couldn't stop staring at the way she glowed, her hair like copper silk topped with a tiara of tiny diamond-petaled flowers, her dress sparkling like sunlight on snow.

He looked stunned, and she giggled a little. Knowing him, he was probably thinking that this was all some dream and couldn't possibly be real; so she reached up and caressed his cheek. "It's really happening," she said, just loud enough for him to hear, and he nodded, turning his head to kiss her palm before she lowered her hand.

"Have I ever told you how dashing you look in a kilt?" She grabbed hold of the lapels of his jacket and pulled him close; his hands splayed over her hips, pressing through the layers of fabric.

"Don't get used to it. This is a one-time-only deal." Of course it wasn't, especially not now that he actually owned a kilt. She'd find a way to bully or finagle him into the getup again, no matter how much he tried to resist. But it was hard to even feel like resisting when she had that look in her eyes. "Not that I'm complaining right now, but what is it with women and guys in kilts?"

"It's not all guys. It's just you. My first and my last and my only one. And it's dead sexy because I know what's under that kilt, and it's all mine now." She grinned wickedly and his knees wobbled a little.

He groaned, fingers tightening possessively as he did his best not to give in to his base instincts. "Our parents are right there."

The room felt cozily small and quiet after the constant noise and bustle of the day. Hiccup set Merida down and turned to shut the door behind them, locking it securely against any pranks. When he turned back he saw her looking at him with the expression he remembered from that first weekend they'd met. It was the same expression she'd worn as she leaned on the wall and surveyed DunBroch, one of belonging and pride and contentment. She reached out her hands to him and he stepped forward to take them, tracing the metal that banded her finger. She was so indescribably magnificent, he thought; then she smiled, her eyes dropping shyly from his for a moment, and he realized he'd said it out loud.

"Is this what happily ever after feels like?" she asked. She laced their fingers together firmly, reveling in the familiar warmth of his palm against hers, the faint scent of his cologne, the black dog hair half-hidden by his tie. Her heart soared at the thought that he was hers and she was his, by law and by promise, and that they would be joined for the rest of their lives.

"I don't know," he admitted. He wrapped his free hand around her and shuffled closer until she rested her head against his chest. They would get to bed eventually; for now he was happy just to hold her. "But it's a good start."