AN: I have been wanting to do this for a long time, and I really still don't have it all planned out. But even with all my excitement about writing it, this first chapter was really hard. I think I managed to squeeze out a quality introduction to life, character, etc. I'm well aware that its sort of Hiccstrid heavy right now, but that's how it happened. I also see that it was a little bit shallow at the beginning, but now that I've got this under my belt, I can feel the creative juices flowing to continue it. I really want to finish this out, not leave it hanging like I have done with my other stories. I just haven't felt fueled to start, or for that matter, finish, a story til now. I'm sorry if you have read Turntable or In The Wandering and I haven't updated in forever. I might soon. IDK. If I feel the unction. For now, this is new and exciting for me, and I hope for you as well. Enjoy.

-O-O-O-

His back hit the wall behind him, nearly knocking the wind from his chest. He could've sworn he felt the stands, built high above them, shiver slightly. The thought was stolen when two hands clamped at his chest. He tried to wriggle out of his kidnapper's vice grip, but only half-heartedly. He knew she had the upper hand.

"You're so violent," he complained weakly.

"Not violent. Tenacious," she replied, pecking his lips with a sweetness that did not match her previous actions.

"I just wanted to say good luck," he said. "I didn't know I was going to be mauled." But in the dim light of the stable built beneath the stadium, he sought out her mouth and returned her tiny kiss with a sturdier one.

Astrid laughed afterwards, tossing her head back in a slightly maniacal giggle. It made his hands twitch.

He had to get out of here before he did anything rash.

"OK, I'm leaving now. My dad is going to ask where I am. And you need to get yourself ready." He righted her braid over her shoulder, tugging the tail.

"Just tell him the truth. You've been with his future daughter in law," she murmured, grinning. "Officially."

"Unofficially," he countered. "I haven't given you a ring yet."

"You've asked. And where is the damned thing anyways?" Her grin sunk at one corner but her eyes were teasing.

"Its for me to know, and you to not find out, milady. Now if you will excuse me, I've got go…away." He bumped a bucket of fish in his retreat, nearly falling into it, making Astrid snort. "Leaving now. Good luck and everything."

When he emerged outside again, the entire village was already clamoring up to the stands, making them creak and lean while he walked beneath them. He wiped at his mouth, heat overtaking his cheeks as he approached the chief's spot near the winner's platform. That girl was ferocious. He remembered being a teen and every time he so much as glanced her way he wanted nothing more than to be hers. He'd never given serious thought to it; it always lived somewhere in his imagination. In a vision he had created of the way things were not. At least then. And here he was now, trying to wipe a starstuck grin off his face before his father asked too many questions.

His steps up to the platform were purposeful, arms swinging, trying to swallow the last thrills of pre-game mischief. Gobber slung an arm against his back, making him choke out a weak greeting and a smile.

His father clapped him on the shoulder, and leaned low to whisper, "Hofferson just might have it with all your good wishes."

Hiccup paled. "Uh…Dad…we weren't…I just…"

Stoick's laughter rumbled across the stadium, and the crowd cheered back, shouting hoots for their favorite teams and booing the others. His hand beat heavily on his son's back, making him trip forward a half-step. Hiccup did not think his father could actually be upset about any sort of exchange between the couple, unless it ended in an unsigned marriage contract. Though he certainly got in his fair share of teasing. All just so he could watch his son squirm.

The racers were already lined up, and Hiccup caught Astrid's wink from a few yards below.

The chief called them to their marks, signaled the blowing of the horn, and they were off.

Hiccup had been disqualified from today's game after a squabble initiated by Spitelout over last week's score. Stoick had tried to reason with him, insisting that rules were rules, and the rules were that there were no rules. What Spitelout had called cheating, the chief had called ingenuity. After all, it was only chivalrous to split points with your girlfriend, but after they were discovered, the black sheep was yielded to Snot automatically and to the chagrin of the other racers, who had not been exempt from booing. Astrid still took the game, with twelve sheep to Snotlout's eleven, but it was close and further fuel to the fire of Snotlout's ego to catch Hiccup in what had been deemed foul play.

Today, Astrid's speed and unforeseen plays made the game a short one, at least at first. He cheered for her when she fearlessly leapt out of the way of Snotlout's hammer while Stormfly dropped low to catch the third sheep, catching her rider again in her upward trajectory. But she was quickly outnumbered when the twins scored two points at once, and Fishlegs one behind them.

She pushed Stormfly to her limits, and even from this distance Hiccup noticed the grimace of determination. The game was hard fought, but not quite won when Lout took the black sheep. Again. This time for the win.

In the mead hall later, Astrid's grimace still wasn't gone, now laced with agitation while Snot gloated loudly of his spoils.

"That's two games in a row I take dark wool. Beat that, suckers." He poked a whole drumstick between his teeth and Astrid jeered.

"Because Daddy gave it to you, you big baby," she snided.

"Look, Astrid. Don't be a sore loser."

"Technically speaking, she can't be a sore loser if it wasn't fair play," Fishlegs spouted and Snotlout waved his drumstuck at the boy's face to silence him.

"Look on the bright side," Tuff said, shoveling a plateful of chicken his way. "You're the first place loser, at least."

"So what does that make us?" Ruffnut questioned, looking far too inquisitive for their combined brain power to handle.

"I'm over it, I'm not even upset," Astrid huffed. "One game, or two, doesn't show all skills one dragon and rider have. Its an incomplete representation."

"Once Hiccup's chief, maybe he can make it a more completer representation," Tuffnut suggested.

"First, that wasn't correct. And second, who says I'm going to be chief anyways?" Hiccup asked over his fish.

"Uh, your dad." Ruff tossed one long pig-tail over her shoulder.

Hiccup glanced away, finding his father's behemoth figure among the crowd in the hall, guffawing next to Gobber, holding a half emptied tankard. When he turned back to his friends, Astrid didn't miss the far-away expression in his eyes. "Who says I want to be?" he murmured only loud enough for Astrid to hear, though she was sure he had intended for no one to.

When he walked her home, she held his hand stiffly and when he nudged her shoulder with his, she huffed.

"I'm not upset about losing, I'm not that big of a jerk. Snotlout's the jerk." The toe of her boot scuffed up several pebbles.

"My good luck charm didn't work, sorry."

"What charm?" she said, and he scoffed at the teasing smile she managed to squeeze out.

Her steps were still heavy and Hiccup glanced down at her curious expression. Before he could ask, she spoke.

"Hiccup…why don't you want to be chief?" Her voice was small when she said it. Sometimes she could be as gentle as a house fly. Sometimes she had the ferocity of a Scauldron. Sometimes both at one time.

He sighed, his free hand rising to the scruff of his neck. "I…egh…"

Without giving thought, their path moved to the slim alleyway between her house and the neighbors. The spot where, on most nights, he would kiss her goodnight.

He watched the slant ray of moonlight play on her skin, make her eyes seem iridescent. "I don't know," he said, exasperated, trying to keep his voice low. "Its not my thing. I'm just not…that type of…"

"Viking?" she finished. Her expression changed, and even in the dim light he could see the confidence she always seemed to hold for him. "You are a great Viking, Hiccup. A great man."

In the shadows, he couldn't see her move, but felt the warmth of her hand on his chest.

He drew a breath, too long and loud in the confines of their hiding spot. "Thank you," he said passively. Her words meant a lot to him, but as much as she liked to try, they couldn't silence the noise of his mind and the endless scenarios he played out.

It wasn't that he expected himself to be a poor chief. It was just that it had never been in his plan. From the moment he could discern the importance and stature of his father's position, and the great distance between who his father was and who everyone told him he was, he had always been on a separate path. It had always been assumed that Snotlout would be the heir, and Hiccup the Useless would one day cause enough chaos that he might be exiled or leave on his own accord and the village would be better off. He knew he could lead. He understood well the changes that had been made to Berk since Toothless had come along, but it didn't undo fifteen years of what was always understood to be.

Now in an instant everyone had changed their minds, and expected him to as well. Once the grey had grown into Stoick's beard and people began to realize that their beloved chief would not be around forever, a new and sturdy was looked to. Hiccup wasn't sure he wanted to be looked to.

All he desired, really, was an expanse of blue sky, the familiar warmth of a dragon's scales, and Astrid. It was all anything amounted to for him. It was everything.

He huffed again, and leaned closer to her.

"Goodnight," he said softly, folding their hands sweetly between them.

"Goodnight? I thought you were pulling me into this dark alley so you could kiss me?"

He grinned widely. She always had the ability to flip the switch inside of him, to draw him out of himself.

"Far be it from me to shame a lady's virtue." He tossed his bangs out of his eyes dramatically.

Astrid snorted. Her hands hooked around his neck. "Oh? Is that so?"

"It might be so…if you weren't so tempting."

She laughed, too loud, and he shushed her, their voices echoing around them, cocooning them. "You're a terrible flirt. Skip the formalities. Just kiss me."

"The lady doth insist."

She scooted closer, and he suddenly thought that for all the times he had wanted her and gazed after her all those years, he never could have known that she would be this perfect for him. This right.

She kissed him quick, like she had in the stables, and his laughter was sounding now when she dashed out of his reach with the clanking of spikes and armor.

"Hey! You…C'mere." He reached out for her, but the shaft of light from behind her front door already spilled across the stony road and she was gone with her triumphant giggle left in her wake.

He grinned after her, and heard the timbre of her mother's voice through the rugged walls of the Hofferson hut, asking where she'd been all evening. No Viking parents cared what their child had been up to enough to inflict punishment; how much trouble could they get into on this island anyways? And certainly not at their age.

He turned for his own house, the moon sending pale grey light across the path and making all the shadows seem larger.

Silent nights on Berk were normal now. In the past, sleep had always been threatened by the interruption of dragon raids. Now, nights were peaceful and calm. The snores of tiny Terrible Terrors buzzed above houses, a pair of mated Hobblegrunts curled together in their nest near a barn. It was strange to remember sometimes the way things were and how quickly they had changed. How quickly the peace had come. How safe everything was.

He could almost waive the notion of danger altogether with evenings like this. He could almost waive the weight of the entire village that sat on his too-skinny shoulders. Almost.

He was still grinning when he reached his own house, and sighed happily in the fog of love and the familiar warmth of his house.

"Finally!" Stoick's voice boomed, making him jump backwards, slamming the top of his head on a cauldron hanging near the wall.

The chief's round figure was haloed by the fire glow, blocking most of the immediate light it gave off, and though Hiccup could barely see his face, he couldn't mistake the wide, excited eyes. It was the look he gave everytime he wanted to talk 'chief.'

That was the worst of it all. The thought of how honored Stoick was to promote his own son to such a position, and how disappointed he would become when Hiccup turned him down.

"Ack! Don't do that! You'll send me to my death one of these days!" Hiccup protested, rubbing the sore spot.

"I've been waiting since dinner. I didn't want to bring it up earlier, not around your friends, but I've been thinking…"

"Dad, I'm exhausted," he tried, sounding confident enough in his attempt to elude him, beelining for the steps.

"…that you'd want to attend a meeting of the tribes with me. It'd be good experience, you know, for…"

"It's a little close to winter for that, don't you think? I mean, we're going to need to start storing…"

The man's chair squeaked fiercely against the floor when he stood, but not because of any extra force he used in standing. "That's my boy. Already thinking ahead."

Hiccup coughed when he slapped a meaty hand against his back.

"That's a good chief, there." He tapped his own temple. "But winter is far off yet, and if you are to be my successor, you'll be wantin' to be off on the right foot with the other tribes. Especially where dragons are concerned. You'll be able to help stir new ideas for…"

"That's great, Dad, but I…"

"…and with winter comes trade, and in the spring we'll be selling livestock and things of that…What was that, Hiccup? You said great? So you'll accompany me, then?"

"Um…" Hiccup backed out of his Father's shadow.

"Wonderful, son. We leave two days from now." His father gripped him in a bruising hug which Hiccup tried not to underappreciate.

"Great…that's…well…I'm…goodnight." His feet could not clatter up the steps to his bedroom fast enough.

He flopped with a groan onto his mattress, bringing his pillow close so he could groan louder into it and not be heard by the proud parent downstairs.

Ever since he could remember, his greatest desire had been for his father to look at him with pride. To be pleased with who he was, despite how different that person might be from the norm. He never expected it to be this frustratingly hard when it was a reality.

He released the pillow, a feather poking his cheek when he wrestled it into a comfortable position.

"That's my boy."

He repeated it aloud, to his empty ceiling, and heard Toothless prancing circles above him, on the roof, readying himself to settle down for sleep.

How many times had he silently asked that those words would come from his father's mouth?

"A good chief."

He closed his eyes, but knew that rest would be difficult to catch tonight. Especially with plans of escape already churning through his mind.