If I were to be completely honest, I would admit that I cared. I cared when I saw him alone out on the front steps of the school every morning, I cared whenever he got brutally shoved into the lockers as a practical joke, I cared when I saw his oddly-colored green eyes flicker with the desperation of a lonely being longing for someone- anyone- to notice him. However, you've come to learn that while I am not a liar, I am not a person filled with candor and honesty. So, therefore, if anyone were to ask; no, I did not care about Hiccup Haddock.
It's a simple plan, really. It's easy enough to follow, and she's never had a hard time with it before. Astrid is the kind of girl nobody messes with simply because they all either respect her or fear her. She doesn't have time for silly distractions like friends, after all, why should she care about anyone else besides herself? She has plans, she wants to leave this town and become somebody out in the real world. From the time she was little, Astrid has always known that she was meant for something more than Berk and her parents have only motivated and encouraged her throughout her childhood. So she had grown up fast, so she's never been to a high school party, so she's never gotten a grade less than an A-. She isn't disliked by anyone, but she isn't exactly liked by anyone, either. (And no, that stalker Snotlout Jorgenson does not count.) That doesn't bother her in the least. At least, that's what she's convinced herself.
Astrid is a lone wolf, a fighter for the things she wants, a Viking born and raised for victory on the battlefield. She doesn't care about how pretty she might or might not be, or if she comes across a little (okay, a lot) rude to certain people who are simply trying to be friendly. She doesn't do 'friendly' or even 'remotely nice.' She's that one person in school whom everyone likes to call their close friend simply because she's who she is, and once they realize that they don't know a thing about her, no one really cares. And it's the truth, that no one really knows her. She's never exactly given anyone a chance to so she supposes that's her fault, but it's not like she'd have it any other way. Friends are a distraction, that's her one and only rule. In and of itself, it isn't really a rule but if Astrid says it's a rule then by the gods it's a rule.
The amount of faces she recognizes in her school is astonishingly low. It startles her sometimes just how many people know who she is and how she can barely match their faces to a name. Every now and then she lays in bed at night, thinking tomorrow she will make an effort to know someone, but then she remembers that tomorrow is just an excuse and she doesn't need excuses (or friends). It's a solitary road headed straight for success she walks on. Albeit, it's a rather lonely road, but she's never known anything else and feels no particular desire to.
There are people like Astrid: those who everyone wants to be, those who are placed on a pedestal so high above everyone else that the only one to challenge her is her own reflection, and then there are people like Hiccup: those who struggle just to hide every raw and painful emotion running through their head every day, those who seem to exist solely so that people can pretend they don't.
Astrid has never cared about anyone besides herself. Be that as it may, she seems to be the very definition of "selfish," and yet, that is not a word that comes to anyone's mind to describe her. Never in her life has she considered herself in the least bit narcissistic, nor has she ever been told so. She has never been taught the phrase, "you deserve to be treated by how you treat others," and therefore does not abide by those kinds of unwritten laws. Her future is the only thing that matters to her, the one thing she's worked so hard for. In her personal opinion, everyone should be just as ambitious and fixated on their future as she is. Kids these days spend too much time slacking off, thinking they have all the time in the world when really, tomorrow is the next day and the future slowly creeps up on you until it's gone. She refuses to wake up one day and realize it's the future, and that she has no clue on where to go from there. She will be prepared to meet it head-on, stare it right in the face and be smug in the fact that she knows where to go from there. It's all planned out, and those who lack the slightest bit of intention are not worthy of her time. (Needless to say, most of those she meets are not worthy.)
Hiccup has only ever cared, and perhaps that is his greatest downfall. Astrid knows that his father is the mayor and an important figure, so she doesn't understand why he is harassed brutally and endlessly. Okay, so he's a nerd on a colossal scale and he has a missing leg from an accident in freshman year, but he's got plenty of things going for him that if he only tried he could be quite likeable. In all honesty, he's one of few people who earn the honor of receiving Astrid's regard in the slightest, though he will never know and she will never tell. Most of the time, people who don't try are immediately turned away with distaste in Astrid's mind, but with Hiccup, it's different. He's incredibly smart, for one. How she knows this, she isn't entirely sure, but he's definitely among the top ten in the school and she would not be surprised if she were to learn that no one knew this save herself. Astrid isn't one to form an opinion of someone based on looks, but she has never found Hiccup to be entirely unappealing in physical aspects. His brown hair is a little untamed, unkempt, and a tad bit overgrown, but he has rather alluring (dictionary definition number two, mind you) green eyes and he is no longer the scrawny hobbledehoy the town of Berk would often frown upon. She might go as far as to characterize him as mildly attractive, though that might be taking a step too far in the direction of consideration. He's quick with his tongue as well as his wit, especially around his tormentors- or, at least, he used to be. She remembers a time where he once harnessed a bright and almost sprightly personality, whereas now he hardly speaks a word. Perhaps it isn't the fact that he doesn't try, it's that he does and no one else seems to grasp the concept. They all think he's given up, and he allows them to think that. Maybe that is what bothers her.
In actuality, he should be someone who comes and goes in her line of sight, nothing more and nothing less, however, for some reason, she's kept a secondary eye on him since they've been kids. Astrid cannot begin to fathom why and she would never ever in a million years admit it because there's no logical reasoning or explanation. He's everything that she finds to be an abomination, and yet, he's caught her attention in a way no one else has yet managed to.
However, because Astrid is, well, Astrid, she ceases to do anything more than ponder these odd recognitions in her mind. She doesn't acknowledge his presence any more than the next person, she doesn't say anything when he is shoved through the halls like the spherical star in a pinball machine, she doesn't cast her gaze in his direction when she sees him huddled over some leather-bound book on the steps of the school each and every morning, she doesn't care- period. He can't have it all that bad, after all. His father's the mayor for Odin's sake, it's not like his life is anything but easy. So he doesn't have very many friends, neither does Astrid and she gets along just fine.
(She also has a difficulty in understanding that not everyone- in fact, no one- is on the same page as she, and Astrid is still alone on her preeminent pedestal.)
There is no difference to her day, she wakes up at exactly five forty-five am, stumbles to the bathroom in a half-dead state and then emerges wide awake with her mouth no longer feeling like she had recently eaten a pile of sand. Her blonde hair is pulled back in a braided ponytail with her bangs framing her face and her signature headband adorning her hairline. She returns to her room to pull on a pair of dark jeans and a sweatshirt over a simple blue shirt, tugging on her winter boots as she walks down the stairs. Her car, a rather ugly blue thing about thirteen years old (give or take), emits an alarming gurgle as she turns the key, but it rumbles to life after about five minutes filled with curses, threats, pleas, and frustration, and she speeds off through the streets of her hometown.
Unfortunately, the stars in the sky and the gods of Asgard unite against her, and she nearly gets in a wreck when a stray cat darts out into the road. There's a sickening crunch as she feels her front tire running over something fairly small. There's no time to do anything, and she briefly recalls "hit an animal once- it might be okay, hit it twice and they're roadkill" (blunt and a tad bit morbid, yes, albeit, driver's ed hadn't exactly been all about happiness), but it's too late. Her back tire rolls over the same bump as she comes screeching to a halt in the middle of the street. The cat lays in a still pile of clumped and matted fur. Astrid's mouth twists in sympathy- it's not everyday she's a murderer- but it's just a cat and she's already late. Then she realizes the color of the cat's coat and she nearly shrieks in frustration, slamming her forehead into her steering wheel, because of course she just had to have gone and killed a black cat. She succinctly wonders if her day and/or luck can get any worse before sitting up and pulling herself back together. Sending a stream of apologies to the wee carcass now littering the side of the road, she puts her car in drive and motors away, only hoping that she won't be late.
She's nearing ten minutes behind schedule so Astrid's rushing to school and is consequently not in the mood to be messed with, or even vaguely talked to. She pretends not to notice the boy on the front steps as she tromps in with her storming blue eyes apathetically glued to her walking destination, her average-sized blue backpack swinging from one shoulder and her Nike gym bag hanging from the other. Berk isn't exactly what one would call "tropical" (or even "slightly warm") so her fur-lined boots unpleasantly stick to her socks as she's now ten minutes late in her routine and curses the gods for her lack in being able to afford a better car. Astrid's family isn't poor by any means but they tend to keep things modest and reasonably priced, allowing their talents to speak for themselves as opposed to their accessories, and sticking to a lenient fund. Unfortunately, a brand new car doesn't exactly fit the budget.
A few pleasant greetings flood her ears as she steps into the hall, sweet enough to effectively make her ill. She brushes them all off with a dismissive air, her inward scowl deepening with every step she takes. Astrid can't remember where she had stashed her AP statistics homework and silently rages to herself because she absolutely hates statistics and she has to stay ahead because she worries that she might not care if she doesn't. Which, who is she fooling, she'd bury herself under a mountain of extra credit if she so much as decreased slightly in any class percentage, but statistics is a boring subject. She'd take her world history or language arts any day over the torture that is the collection, organization, analysis, and interpretation of numerical data.
Astrid eats alone, just like every other day. It would be mental suicide to sit in the commons- everyone else is there and gods forbid they try to make conversation with her- so she always finds quiet solace underneath a large tree in the courtyard. It's much too cold for the outside to be a desirable eating location, so Astrid is mostly left alone and undisturbed. It's nice to relax every now and then, but towards the end of lunch she begins to grow restless, her legs aching to walk to class, her fingers twitching to be holding a pencil, and her mind struggling with the concept of "rest." That's always how she's been, it's what makes her such a good student. She constantly needs to be doing something. Buried to her neck in schoolwork is familiar, it's routine. It's like she needs the stress to remain calm, or some backwards philosophy like that. Emotions are reserved for another day, she doesn't have time to think about other things or about how there's plenty of space where she sits- she's too busy reviewing calculus notes and contemplating her annotations for the latest novel.
There are times where Astrid really wishes she had been born with a photographic memory, but, sadly, this is not the case. The day is just any old regular day, nothing special or out of the ordinary, and she's well accommodated with the monotonous inkling that she's forgotten something, so she really can't be blamed when four-thirty rolls around and she bursts into the locker room at full speed and panic, just now remembering that she was supposed to have skipped practice to be home in time for an important event her parents had arranged that evening. She quickly peels off her sweaty under armour, slides on her jeans and t-shirt, and shoves her tennis shoes back on her feet, resolving to retrieve her warm winter boots the following Monday for a quicker trip home.
Other athletes courteously avert their glances as she goes racing out of the locker room like all the creatures of hell have been set on her heels with her backpack and gym bag flying behind her. She throws her things in the passenger seat of the car but is immediately horrified when the Civic stutters for approximately seven seconds before it promptly dies. Astrid curses her luck as she tries two more times, but to no avail. Angrily, she grabs her backpack, deciding to leave her second one behind, and is thankful for her tennis shoes as she bounds off down the sidewalk towards her house. Once she's got a good start, she slows to a brisk walk, her cheeks stinging from the cold and her face surely an embarrassing shade of red. She reaches to the side pocket of her backpack for her phone, but her hand grasps nothing. Astrid freezes, because her mother will absolutely kill her if she's lost her phone. Coming to a complete halt, she frantically digs through her bag in search of the silver metallic device but it's nowhere to be found. Positively brilliant. Now she'll have to bear the full force of her mother's wrath seeing as there's no way to soften the blow with an explanatory text. She can't recall it ever having fallen out but it must have sometime during the day. She doesn't use her phone during school because, duh, it's against the rules, so it couldn't have been then… Astrid would have given herself the false hope of having forgotten it on the charger at home but she knows she always brings her phone and keeps it in the same place and if it's routine then there's no way Astrid would ever stray against it, even if she had been a few minutes late that morning.
Oh well. It's not like Astrid was really looking forward to the event anyways. Her parents' dinner parties are always torturously boring and she generally attempts to scramble up an excuse, but she had promised and she knows how much her parents had been looking forward to this one. Her parents expect the best from her, so Astrid has no reason for a strained relationship with them. She despises disappointing them, though of course her short temper flares whenever they decide to lecture her. She is still a teenager, and a fiery one at that.
Astrid scours the area around her for a brief moment, but the only mildly suspicious thing she finds is a footprint in the mud that clearly isn't hers, though it appears relatively fresh. She takes a few steps along the path that appears as though someone had wandered through once or twice, but stops when she comes across the dead cat, its black fur tangled with blood. Astrid is suddenly struck with guilt because she had only just hit the little critter that morning. The strange thing is, she hadn't been the one to pull its mangled corpse from the road. She disregards the cat after her momentary remorse; she's not much of an animal person, and her phone obviously isn't here, so she turns back to the sidewalk. Sighing in defeat, Astrid returns to her previous pace, cringing at the image of what her mom's face will look like when she arrives at the Hofferson household.
She is grounded for a week, but really, it's not anything she can't live with. Her mother is under the deception that she has any sort of social life so it really doesn't make a difference to her. Luckily, she isn't too upset. It's not like she's going to hold her back from sports since her parents are just as dedicated to her future as she is, her mother had just hoped that she would skip this one day for something important. However, she misses the majority of the event and she doesn't go off on any paroxysms of rage that the Hofferson clan can sometimes be known to do, so, Astrid deems it a win in her book.
(And her phone is sitting on her bedside table, still charging in the way she must have broken from routine that morning. Figures.)
Most people wonder how she keeps straight A's, elite athlete condition, and remain so popular all at one time. Really, Astrid doesn't find herself to be all that popular. She doesn't quite understand what makes her so likeable. The opposite sex is a very boring and fruitless species, in her mind, and she cannot care less how many times she has to bend Snotlout Jorgenson's wrist back for carelessly and shamelessly flirting with her. (Now whether that is his real name or not, she can never quite unveil.) It's miles from her intention to come off as enticing and appealing to other people- in fact, she can be downright threatening to some- although, the majority of the population fails to come to the conclusion that she simply doesn't want to talk. She isn't really one for words, anyway. As a result, Astrid does not fully apprehend the anatomy of another human being her age. Or really, any sort of social gestures or hints in the slightest. So, honestly, how is she to be expected to put pieces together she hadn't even been aware existed in the first place?
There is always going to be uncertainty; faults in the most intricate of systems; things one cannot plan for no matter the circumstances previously set. She likes to think she is prepared for anything and everything that is thrown her way, that she can conquer every challenge passively with no damage to her chain link armor and not a scratch on her polished and deadly weapon, but even the best of the best are shaken every now and then by the unexpected.
Astrid's unexpected comes the next evening in the form of her mother's lips as she announces that Hiccup Haddock is dead.
Most likely, I won't be able to update very often since schoolwork and life are just crazy at this point, but I'm super excited for this plotline and it isn't very long, should be less than ten chapters so hopefully it won't be too long of a wait for the end. Hope you liked the beginning enough to want more, wish me luck in the world of writing!
-PersnicKety2018