Lady-von-Bielefeld:I know, I know I'm not done with To Be With You's Epilogue yet, but this story just crept back into my mind. *Sighs dreamily* This story is loosely based and dedicated to the first ever fanfiction I have read (9 years ago), One Glance by nekokatechan! I thank her so much for inspiring me to write my own.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Dreamwork's How To Train Your Dragon (not yet, at least). Credits to the owner of the wonderful photo I used!
WARNING: Forgive a little (or maybe a lot) OOCness on Hiccup's part, that was simply because I wanted to reverse the roles a little. He is, after all the Dragon King. :D
Blossoming Daggers
By: Lady-von-Bielefeld
Chapter 1: An Unexpected Turn of Events
Princess Astrid Hofferson stared in disgust at the rows and rows of dragon paintings and memorabilia that hung in the great hall of the palace of Berk. She shook her head lightly touching the miniature statues of every dragon known to man.
Dragons! She scoffed. This is against everything she knows. It was against everything she believes in, yet here she was at Berk, at the Dragon Capital of the world; the only empire that has managed to accept and live with these beasts.
She stopped and held one that resembled a bird; its scales had feathers painted blue and yellow. She blinked in astonishment. This one was actually pretty.
"Ahh. That's the deadly nadder, one of the most beautiful dragons known to man." She glanced up at Lord Fishlegs Ingerman, her guide for today, a proud smile lingering on his lips.
"Oh." She set down the miniature statue, suddenly uninterested. She didn't want people to think that she had suddenly developed a liking to these creatures. That was unacceptable! She's only been here for a week and she shouldn't be that easily influenced.
"Would you like to see one?" He asked, emerald green eyes glowing with warmth.
"No, thank you, Lord Fishlegs." She said politely, walking towards the door with Fishlegs following her as he continued on with his lecture.
She sighed. She shouldn't even be here in Berk. She didn't want to be. But she had to be. Despite her protests, she had to be here. It was a custom for each member of the royal family in the kingdom of Almira to spend at least a year in a foreign country to learn the ways of the world, to be molded into independence and to prove oneself to one's people, to be able to test one's flexibility in adjusting to a life in a new place, new norms while still carrying out the customs and traditions of their beloved land.
Astrid had actually looked forward to this tradition, it was something she had been waiting for since she was fifteen, and now that she was twenty, she can choose a kingdom for herself.
She was excited! She had hoped to spend a year in the kingdom of France with their food that was divine, their fashion breathtaking, their traditions and their summer nights filled with festivals that will whisk her of her feet.
She'd probably go dancing all night, enjoying every detail of her favorite kingdom, and yet she was stuck here. All because of the sleazy king Dagur the Deranged.
She rolled her eyes at the memory. Gods! Just thinking about him makes her blood boil. He was one of her avid suitors, constantly nagging for her hand in marriage.
The idea of marriage never appealed to her. She even opted as far as vowing to never marry. Her mother, Queen Athena, approved, having ruled their proud kingdom without a man by her side for as long as she could remember She didn't see the benefit of it. She will never inherit the throne; she had two older brothers who could succeed before her.
Dagur, in all his glory was absolutely revolting! And the thought of being betrothed and married to him left a bad taste in the princess's mouth. Not only was he deranged, he was rude, vain, and obnoxious; everything that Astrid could not stand in a man.
So when Dagur had held her hand without her consent, she snapped.
Her temper towards the people she disliked was already a problem, combine that with her smart mouth and not to mention her renowned skills in battle, she had pummeled Dagur to the ground and beat him senseless until his almost death.
King Dagur, being the proud king that he is, didn't take it too lightly. What would the people say if they heard how a woman managed to manhandle him without breaking much of a sweat? How would they react if they knew that a mighty king was literally brought down by a princess? There will be no good to come out of this, no good at all! He was insulted and Astrid had to pay! In fact, he had ordered her head on a silver platter at the least. If she doesn't want to be with him, then die! No one insults a king, especially not a deranged one.
Astrid remembered that day; she remembered it all too clearly. How she fought her emotions, how she fought her fear that no matter what will happen she will not cry. She will not give him that satisfaction! She will face her death with honor, just like a real Hofferson, just like a real princess of the kingdom Almira.
"Your majesty, wait!" Her brother Athrun had argued her case. She was the sole princess of Almira, the kingdom adored her for her beauty and strength. It would be irrational to kill her, even if she insulted a king. What will they tell the people?
If she was killed, people are bound to ask for the reason behind her death, and telling the truth will only result to the discovery of Dagur's embarrassment! Athrun had continued arguing his case, Death is not the verdict, instead, a promise of secrecy and if that's not enough maybe a year of exile will was already set out to France anyway.
But Dagur was clever, he knows of their tradition and he retaliated against it. He, however conceded with the out casting giving the conditions that 1, The princess shall only be allowed to bring one baggage throughout her entire stay and 2 He gets to choose where she is banished to.
And of all the rotten, uncivilized, barbaric places, he had chosen Berk.
"-thats why we love our dragons." Chimed Lord Fishlegs breaking her chain of thoughts.
"Right." She said absentmindedly, not really understanding or caring for the discussion.
The young noble shifted awkwardly, glancing at her for too long and turning bright red when she noticed. She glared him down.
"Sorry, er your highness. I don't mean to pry but are you alright?"
"Why wouldn't I be?!" She snapped causing the tall young man to stiffen.
"It just seems that you-you're not well. Tha-that's all." He stuttered despite himself. He was not used to such accusatory eyes.
"Do not add to the burden! It is none of your business." She glared, sending daggers with her eyes.
The young man stiffened, ushering her to another room, this time filled with paintings; generations of kings and warriors of Berk.
Lord Fishlegs continued telling her stories of the accomplishments of Berk.
She eyed him carefully, noting that his blonde hair was a lighter shade than hers and it seemed to be shinier and better in placed than hers. She wondered how a man can manage to take that better care of his hair, than hers. She noticed his eyes, deeply shaded in emerald hue that reminded her of the forests of her home. She noticed his lips, twitched in a lopsided smile of pride, despite the long, un-groomed looking blonde beard that was braided beneath it. What is there to be proud of?
She frowned, focusing her vision on the painting of a big bulky man with a rusty red beard.
"That's Stoick The Vast!"
Fishlegs started, gazing at the said painting. "The late king of Berk. They say when he was a baby he popped off a dragon's head clear off its shoulder. O I believe it? Why, yes I do. We used to fight dragons, if you believe. It had only been when a dragon rescued his wife, Queen Valka, from a dragon raid that he realized that she had been right all along."
"What do you mean?" She asked, suddenly curious.
"Queen Valka has always believed that dragons were never monsters. They were intelligent, gentle creatures, with souls reflecting a person's own."
She snorted. "Of course they are."
Her perception about the dragons and about this kingdom and more over, about its people has been so concrete that a few words from a native won't easily change her mind.
The people of Berk must have a level of intelligence of that of animals! How else will they be able to understand and communicate with dragons? How do they expect her to believe they are civilized when they worship beasts like men, and honor men who love these beasts as heroes?
"Ever since then, the people of Berk and dragons have co-existed for years." Fishlegs stated with a broad grin. "Give it time, after a year here in Berk, I'm sure you'll change your mind. You'll see."
"That's highly unlikely." She said in a matter of fact, still looking at Stoick's portrait.
"How did he die?" She asked out of the blue, noting how her guide shifted lightly, a look of discomfort on his face.
"Well, he...he got killed... by a dragon."
"I'm not surprised." She answered in nonchalance. "What I'm surprise is how you still want to live with them, after they killed your king."
He sighed. "It wasn't the dragon's fault. It was Drago's"
"And pray, do tell me, who this Drago fellow is."
He nodded. "Drago Bludvist was the king's most trusted adviser and friend." He motioned, moving his shoulders. "As Berk was beginning to be known as The Dragon Kingdom ; Stoick, was bestowed the title the Dragon King, and Drago went mad."
"And why is that?"
"Let's just say, he felt that the title rightfully belonged to him, and that he alone can control the dragons. That he was the dragon master. So he caused a civil war within the kingdom. He attacked with a thousand fleet of wild dragons. It was... A cruel, cruel time."
She nodded in understanding. Fishlegs pointed at a painting of a young boy. "When king Stoick died, his son, the prince fought back. He was after all, the sole heir of Berk."
"You mean this scrawny little twerp challenged the dragon master?" She asked shocked. "Well, did he win?"
"What do you think?" Fishleds smiled at Astrid's bewilderment. "For what it's worth, he was only 15 at that painting. He had just defeated The Red Death, an enormous, treacherous dragon. He was 18 when he fought Drago and won."
"It's not as if 3 years would make any difference in that...that appearance."
"Believe me, it did." He chuckled.
"So what happened to Drago?" She asked as they walked out of the room filled with paintings. "Did he die? Or is he locked away in a stone wall somewhere in Berk?"
"Well, not exactly." He shifted to his right. "The prince... King... let him go."
"He what?" She scowled when Fishlegs nodded. "That's just entirely idiotic!"
"Well, Drago had been prince... King Hiccup's master. He was the one who taught him everything he knew about dragons and training them. He... He couldn't find it in himself. He was, his second father."
"Even after Drago killed his real father?"
"Even after so."
She shook her head in disgust.
"A lot of people agree with you, you know. They said he should have ended things there and then, but the prince just...couldn't. He's king now, sooo" he scratched the back of his neck.
"A rather cowardly king, if you ask me."
Fishlegs laughed. "Perhaps. Perhaps not." He walked behind her.
"I don't suppose you want to change our topic, your highness? The dark past of Berk isn't actually my favorite." It was more of a suggestion than an order.
The princess has opted to continue talking about it, just to divulge any other weaknesses Berk has, but there was something in those emerald eyes, something strong, something kind, something determine that made her oblige. For now.
She shrugged. "All right, I suppose." They walked in silence as they reached the gardens of the rustic looking palace.
"There are,,,uh, many activities you can do around the palace. I'm sure his majesty the king, won't mind if you enjoy. In fact, it would please him, for you to do so." He suggested enthusiastically.
"Oh? Like what?" She asked uninterested. What on earth can Berk offer that they don't have at home? Or at least stir her interest.
"You can try painting! The palace provides the vastest inks from squids of foreign seas."
"I don't really paint."
"Oh, books! The library is right over the west wing. You can find any book from all over the world."
"Perhaps, some other day." She said, already sounding bored.
"I would suggest the dungeon, but, most foreign women don't have an acquired taste for it." He shrugged, thinking of another activity.
"What dungeon?" She asked, hiding her excitement. She absolutely loves anything creepy or scary or dangerous. She thrives for it.
"The Royal Dungeon of Doom?" He asked surprised. "It's just a stuffy old dungeon where we used to keep prisoners. Now, well, they transformed it into a play arena where people fight it off to the death."
"They fight it off to the death?" She asked a glint of excitement in her eyes.
"Well, before, Yes. It's how people here settle their arguments. But not anymore. Nowadays, they fight it off, beat each other up, until someone losses consciousness or someone concedes or something less... brutal."
"That sounds exciting!"
"Do you mean, you want to see the fights?"
"Not just see them, participate in them!"
"Sure, if you find blood and scars appealing." He trailed off, not knowing how else to convince her that that wasn't a good idea.
"But of course! It's only fun if you get a scar out of it." She said, gracing him with her most dazzling smile.
He froze a little, his face heating up. "Pain... Right. Love it." He said, sounding between sarcastic and pride. Astrid had been too enthusiastic about the whole ordeal in mind.
"So, can we go?"
"Huh?" He feigned innocence.
"To the dungeon!" She snapped. "Can we go?"
"As you wish, Milady."
The dungeon had been more gruesome than Astrid had imagined. She could smell the scent of fresh blood, lingering around the arena. She could almost hear the sound of people screaming to their death. She was so certain that if she looked hard enough, ghosts of those who died here loitered about, waiting for the stage's next victim.
"How long has it been since someone has died here?" She asked.
"No one has died in that ring since king Hiccup took over."
She frowned. "Lord Ingerman, did you know that in Almira, under such circumstances, one would rather chose death than to surrender and live."
"Why is that?"
"Well, what point is there to live if you live in the shadow of shame?" She scowled as if it was that obvious. For her, it was.
"It's better than no life at all." He frowned. "Here in Berk, we value lives...if you believe. We are not the savage, barbaric people the world thinks we are."
"And are you suggesting we are?!"
"No, no, not at all! It's just... To waste a life is such a dishonor."
Her frowned deepened. "Many civilized kingdoms follow in this belief! To choose death over shame! We are one in the same, we value life, we do, it is sacred. However, time and time again when choosing between being captured as a prisoner or dying? Choose the latter. For no son or daughter of The Kingdom of Almira was born to be a slave!"
That's most probably where Astrid gets her strength from, pride in the kingdom she has.
"I understand." He nodded.
She turned on her heel, and stomped towards the other side of the room. The tall blonde man, thought it best not to follow her. She reached the table containing the dozens of weapons, neatly placed together in an orderly form.
"So..." She asked, loud enough for him to hear. "The players can only get one weapon for the entire match?"
"Yes. You choose a weapon, and you stick with it."
"Fantastic!" She said, choosing and then holding out a double faced ax. "Let's play."
The man stood in silence as he scratched his beard covered chin.
"Well, what are you waiting for? Pick up a weapon and let's duel." She challenged playfully but her eyes gave out a look of determination that he has never seen before.
"Your... Your highness, I don't think that this is-"
"Oh, come on, Lord Ingerman, you did say the king won't mind if we partake in the palace activities. Or... Were you lying?"
"He won't mind. I'm certain of it. It's just that-"
"And if he does mind, I'll just explain that you're only being a hospitable host." She assured him, still holding out her axe.
"It's not the king I'm worried about." He sighed. "It's you."
She was dumbfounded. "You don't have to worry about me. I might not look much of a fighter, but I am."
"Somehow, I don't doubt that."
"Then, what's wrong?"
"I... I don't want to hurt you."
She laughed. "You worry too much. I can take a hit. And I'd much rather be hit than to be tiptoed upon." She said coming to the center of the ring. "Besides, no one has beaten me in a battle in years. I doubt you will, even if you are a soldier or a knight of Berk... No offense."
"None taken." He shrugged, as if used to being undermined. Then from across the room, his eyes twinkled. "Alright, I accept your challenge if, I can use my own weapon." He said, producing a small metal contraption from his armor.
"What is it, exactly?"
He pushed a button and soon a blade appeared to answer her inquiry. A sword. A retractable sword. Strange
"Use whatever you want. I'm winning this thing." She said throwing her axe in the air and catching it without even looking. You'll see.
"If you're so confident about it, how about a little wager?" The young man suggested, stepping towards the middle of the court.
"I'm listening."
"If you win…" He started with a glimmer in his eyes. "I will be your personal companion, ready to answer your beck and call throughout your entire stay in Berk. You need not worry about a thing, so as long as I am here."
"And if you win?" She hated to ask but she felt like she needed so, although she had a pretty much vivid idea of what he wanted.
"You will be mine."
Astrid felt her blood boiling. The nerve of this lord! She could feel him goofily smiling to himself, with a slight doze of arrogance. No matter how small, it was there; a sureness to himself that she detested.
She drew a fake laugh. "You're serious?" She asked, somehow hoping that this was all a joke. She didn't want to fulfill some nobleman's implausible fantasy of having a princess to his beck and call.
"I'm sure you've heard of this but, the last man who proposed to me ended up with broken limbs." She warned. "I didn't want to be with a king, why would you think I'll be with a lord!"
"I could be pretty persuasive." His smiled lingered. "Either way, I'll win because I'll get to spend time with you, which is all I'm really asking." Who said anything about a proposal? The young man wondered all though did not dare speak. There was no denying that he likes her. He has never met someone so beautiful, so strong, so outspoken and fierce. In fact he'll go as far as saying he likes her so much that he'll do whatever she wanted. If that's what you want. You will be mine.
"Alright then, deal." Astrid swore to herself that she will wipe that calm, sure smile on his face. She positioned her axe in place. He did so too, making a X form, from his sword to her ax.
"I'm looking forward to this, milady."
"I'm not your anything!"
"Ahhhhhh!" Astrid screamed as she ran towards him, axe in hand. Her first swing clashed with his sword, strong and hard causing the blonde man to look shock. Astrid smirked as he tried to push her axe with his sword, only to come back a millisecond for her second strike.
She was going to win this. She was sure of it, no one, not even her brothers have ever beaten her in swordplay. She was strong like that because she was a sore loser, that's why she practiced and practiced and practiced until she has perfected her craft. She didn't want to lose, ever. She continued charging at him, only realizing that her opponent concentrated on defense, and not once did he strike back.
During the first blows he allowed his muscles settle in the rhythm of the swordplay. He hadn't been completely honest with Astrid, about everything. He'd practiced with a sword for the last two years under his personal guard's supervision. He'd gotten much better as time passed; some might even say great… the greatest with his Inferno sword. And then there's that other thing… about his identity. He promised himself, when he won, he'll tell her.
After several minutes of attempting to get past his defenses, Astrid lost her temper and began to batter at him as if to pound him into the ground. The princess had expected a quick defeat (seeing that the man was too tall and lanky to carry a sword), not an equal opponent. The prospect of being tied down to this man, this kingdom made her blood boil. And with one swift blow, Astrid jumped forward managing to hit him from his right cheek to his chin. Astrid was taken aback as blood splattered on the ground.
Fishlegs smiled and began to fight for his life. With swift movements, he hit Astrid's axe, blow after blow after blow. He pushed a button from his sword and soon, the arena was filled with green gas that Astrid did not recognize. And although, the gas did nothing to harm her, it did not help her either as she soon found it hard to grasp, where in the world was her opponent!
She moved backwards, squinting her eyes and absentmindedly swinging her axe everywhere, just to make sure to hit him, wherever he was. She felt herself falling backwards before she realized she had tripped on a foot, his foot, and fell down, sitting. In one final attempt to win this, she swung her axe, with all her might only to be met with a now burning sword of flame that easily clashed with her axe as it loosened in her grasp, landing a few feet away.
She felt her face sweating as the burning sword slowly was pointed at her. The green gas cleared and she was mystified at the sight of the strapping young man she had thought was weak a few moments ago.
"I won. You're mine now." He whispered as his emerald green eyes were glistening with the sun, apologetic, strong and kind. He shot off his sword and reached out his hand for her to take. She felt her face warm, as if, somehow being drawn to him and those eyes.
A thundering applause woke her up from her trance. She whipped her head to the direction, only to glare at the sight of Gobber applauding.
"Gid show! Gid show! Det es one ov the gretes duels I've evar seen!"
"Thanks!" Fishlegs said, grabbing Astrid by the elbow and raising her up. She scowled at him, slapping away his hand. He couldn't be bothered with though, as his smile reached both ears.
"I'm su glad yer enjoying yerself , yer majesty. Its veen awhile sense I last saw ye smiling."
"I am!"
"I'm not!" He and Astrid said at the same time. Astrid stopped and raised an eyebrow. He looked away. Why did he answer? Surely Gobber was talking to her; she was the only royal here.
The young man scratched the back of his head. He moved towards Gobber.
"Gobber…Astrid…Princess Astrid is amazing, isn't she?" He asked, smiling as he peeked at her from behind. Astrid rolled her eyes at the compliment.
The older man looked from Astrid to him and Astrid again.
"Aye, she is… but-"
"She's mine." He said with audacity that caused the man's jaw to drop.
"But, see hir, boy, ye don't have… well not until-"
"She's mine." He declared with finality, wiping his face with a piece clean of cloth.
Gobber nodded, tapping the boy on the shoulder and making his way towards the princess who was still glaring daggers at the young man. Where the hell was her axe when she needed it?!
"Princess Astrid, please sen out e litter ti yer mother, emmediatly en tell her ye ar ti be married es soon es pesseble."
She snorted. "Oh, please! You don't really think a princess like me, will marry that….that no good, sludge eating, troll of a person!" She screamed offended. "My mother will not stand for this kind of insult! My family will dishonor me if I marry someone out of noble blood!"
She heard Gobber sighed. "Den yir family will rejoice fir yi well find no one of nobler blood in da world. Da king of Berk himself hes esked yer hend in marriage. En ye do not hav de option to deny tis."
"What are you talking about?!" She screamed in agitation.
Sensing her distress, the young man stepped forward. "I'll handle this." He said to Gobber who nodded in return.
"Who the hell are you too handle anything?!" She asked grabbing him by the collar.
"Aye watch yir action if I wer ye, princess. Unless ye went yer pretty little head off yer shoulders."
"What?" She said letting go of him. She heard him sigh.
"Forgive me for the deception, milady." He started as he slowly started removing his too glossy and too perfect blonde wig. He tossed it on the floor and Astrid marveled at the auburn colored looks that took its place. "I'm Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III." He bowed gently. "Fishlegs is a good friend of mine and he lets me borrow his name every now and then, to help me out of my duties." He said apologetically, removing his fake beard, a sharp jaw took its place.
"It was during one of those times when I first saw you, Princess Astrid. And I really wanted to meet you without all the… formalities."
"King Hiccup? You thought lying to me, making a fool out of myself would be better? Are you stupid?!" Astrid clenched her fist.
"Well, now that I think about it, no. But I'm glad I met you the way I did." Hiccup continued smiling. "You are an extraordinary beauty." He bowed, kissing her hand chastely.
"You are stupid!" She slapped his hand off. The nerve! He chuckled at the insult.
"You are just what Berk needs for a queen! Someone to point out the obvious without a trace of fear. Someone who commands attention. This is great! I knew you were the one. When I first saw you arrive at Berk, I just knew it." He started walking out of the dungeon and gestured to Gobber to take over.
"Where the hell are you-"
"I'll see that the arrangement for our engagement is organized. I…we… you're going to love it here at Berk." He left so suddenly that she did not have time to argue or protest her predicament. Not that she could, just like what Gobber has said, she did not have the option to deny this.
"Well, I hope yir ridy fir a lifetime commitment." He smiled at her. That was the last thing she was ready for.
And just like that, she was suddenly a queen (in the making)….
Author's Note:
I mostly have until chapter 3 drafted out, but first, I have to know what you guys think before I continue. It's been a while since I've written anything so, I'm a little rusty. Feedback is highly appreciated! Let me know if you'd want me to continue. ;D
Lots of Love,
Lady von Bielefeld