A/N: Inspired by a quote from an interview with Dean Deblois & Richard Hamilton; "What would it be like for Eret to meet Heather?"

"Did it hurt? The scar on your chest?"

The guard didn't react, yet again ignoring her inquiry for the third time in a row.

Heather eventually focused her attention back to staring at the ceiling while musing over a plan to escape from her current circumstances.

As dusk approached, she could feel herself starving. All the guards left for supper, all save for one. The guard that had stood out to her with his slightly smaller frame and mark on his upper chest. Heather braced herself when she heard him step closer.

"You must be hungry," he commented rather than asked in a strange accent, his hands hanging awkwardly from his sides as if he was unsure of how to converse with her. "Be right back," he said, quickly leaving before Heather had an opportunity to respond.

Moments later, he reappeared again with a tray of food. He passed it to her through the bars, before stepping back into his corner again.

"Thank you," Heather whispered, relishing her first sip of water in what felt like days. She watched him as she ate. His rigid posture and the scars running down his impressive arms.

"Shouldn't you eat?" she pondered out loud. The guard didn't respond right away.

"Later," he said. Heather took notice of his accent again, it sounded foreign to her ears. It had also stood out against the rest of his company.

She took a bit of her bread before daring to probe further.

"Where are you from?"

The guard seemed startled by her voice. He merely shook his head, eyes frowning from what she could make out through the helmet he wore.

"Your family must miss you," she continued, starting on the apple he had provided for her.

"I have no family," his voice was barely audible, but it made Heather pause nevertheless.

She offered him a sympathetic smile. She knew exactly what that felt like.

"Why do you do this?" she inquired in a bold tone. "Why do you work for these heartless brutes?"

The guard turned his back to her and she momentarily felt she had stepped too far. That was until he regarded her again with a sardonic laugh.

"I don't do it for fun if that's what you're asking," he whispered. "My hands are tied. I have no choice but to follow orders," he said, gesturing at the large scar on his upper chest.

"We all have a choice," Heather disagreed, shaking her head.

"If we are brave enough to make it."

He didn't respond then, turning his gaze toward the wall. The room slowly began to fill with darkness as the sun descended beneath sea level.

-;-

"Wake up," she felt someone shake her carefully. Heather snapped her eyes open and grabbed the nearest item as a weapon.

The man before her rolled his eyes. "Put the spoon away and get up," he ordered, giving her some distance to stand up. Heather eyed him wearily but complied.

"Follow me," he spoke in a hushed tone. "And be quiet." He led her through the dark cave toward what looked like a storage room. She took leisure steps behind him until he suddenly halted in front of the door, making her collide against him.

"Sorry," he whispered, leaning his head back slightly to regard her with a smirk. "How good are you with a sword?"

"I get by," Heather shrugged. "I more of an axe kinda girl."

The guard opened the door to reveal a massive stack of weapons. He threw what looked like a double edged axe in her direction, which she took a hold of immediately, swinging it open.

"You are a natural," the guard complimented with a chuckle, merely grabbing a simple sword for himself.

He directed her through the tidy tunnels. "This way," he pointed. Heather kept up with him, almost tiptoeing every time they passed a sleeping guard.

Unfortunately, their luck soon ran out when they saw four men blocking their pathway. She shared a knowing look with her guard buddy before jumping into action. It didn't take them long to strike out all their opponents as they fought side by side. Heather found herself impressed with his swordplay and footwork.

"You are not so bad yourself," she grinned at him.

He offered her his hand which she took after a short moment of hesitation, and guided her from corridor to corridor until they finally arrived at a cave-mouth opening. Heather caught a glimpse of Windshear sitting in a cage far below.

-;-

Voices suddenly began to echo through the base, indicating that her absence had been noticed and alerted to the leader.

Heather turned to her newly acquainted acquaintance who appeared just as nervous as her about the dramatic turn of events.

"Go," he told her. "I'll keep them distracted."

Heather hesitated. "What about you?" she asked softly, concern pitching on her face as she eyed his scar.

"I'll be fine," he tried to assure. "You need to leave now if you want any chance of making a successful escape."

Heather nodded in understanding.

"Can I ask you something first?" Her question took him by surprise but he nodded.

"Why did you help me?"

The guard sighed but she could see the earnesty in his chocolate brown eyes.

"When I heard what they were planning to do with you, I couldn't just stand by and... I just.." He shook his head. "It was the right thing to do."

Heather smiled stepping closer to him. Without hesitation she lifted his helmet halfway up his face, revealing a tattooed chin and soft lips. She captured his mouth for a hurried kiss before letting the armor fall back on place.

"Maybe we'll meet again," she smirked. The guard gave her a curt nod.

"I think I will keep this," Heather opened the axe to use as leverage as she climbed down the sharp hill.

The guard stared after her. "Maybe," he muttered before turning on his heel to confront the chaos he had caused.

-;-

Years later when Heather attended Hiccup and Astrid's wedding, the man with the dark brown eyes at the groom's side caught her eye.

There was something familiar about him she couldn't quite place. The feeling appeared to be mutual since his own eyes widened when he noticed her stare, as if a realization dawned upon him.

When the happy bride and groom took to the dance floor, Heather suddenly found herself face to face with the handsome stranger.

"Would it be too bold of me to ask you for a dance Miss..?" Heather inhaled sharply at his voice.

"Heather," she informed him with a smile. "It's Chieftess Heather, actually," she added as an afterthought. "But you can just call me Heather."

"Pleased to meet you Heather," he greeted. "I'm Eret son of Eret," he grinned crookedly. "But you can just call me Eret."

Heather let out a hearty laugh as she accepted his hand, a warmth spreading through her at the contact.

-;-

A/N: I would like to believe that Heather and Eret have met before. It's not out of the realms possibility.