I know I just started a new story like a few weeks ago, but I had this idea for a short 3-chap story, and I felt really inspired to write it, so here it is! This is a historical/Victorian style AU and while I did do some research for it, I did take some liberties in favour of the plot. I really hope you guys enjoy this and let me know what you think in the reviews!

Chapter 1: Eligible

There was a bang, and his soot-covered hands quickly went to the window and pulled it open. A great deal of grey billowing smoke flooded out from the small third-story window adding to the stink in the air. The street below bustled, nobody seemed to pay any mind to the ruckus above them. The sound of the man coughing was drowned out by all the chattering and the loud clopping of hooves on cobblestone.

Astrid used her hand to delicately push open the small curtains of her carriage as it sat waiting by the dressmakers' shop across the street. She watched carefully as the man pulled out his handkerchief, waving it around in an attempt to clear the smoke from his upstairs room to little success. A small smile graced her lips as she watched, trying to keep from laughing. Heather, who sat next to her, nudged into her slightly to see what her friend was peering at.

"He's at it again is he?" Heather asked, shaking her head with an amused smile. "I'm telling you, one of these days he's going to start a fire up there. Mrs. Ack won't be happy when that happens." She turned to her brother who sat across from them. "Dagur have you had a chat with him at the gun shop as of late? What's he trying to invent now?"

He straightened, eyes blinking quickly as he turned to look towards them. "What?"

Heather sighed. "Hiccup, Dagur. Have you spoken to Hiccup."

"I've barely spoken to anyone since we started planning this wedding," he grumbled, resting his chin in his hand. "We've been so busy preparing everything I haven't been able to go for a good hunt in months! What if my senses start to dull?"

"Don't be dramatic, it hasn't been that long. Besides, you'll have your hunt soon enough, you haven't forgotten the family tradition have you?"

He frowned. "Of course not, that's why I'm worried about my senses going dull." Dagur yanked out his pocket watch and glanced down at it. "How long is Mala going to take in there? She said she would only be picking her dress up, it's been nearly an hour now."

Heather looked out the opposite window, the one facing the small dressmakers' shop. "It has been awhile, do you think something's wrong with her dress?" she asked, turning to Astrid.

"Hm?" Astrid said, ripping her eyes from the carriage window. "What did you say?"

"What's wrong with you two?" she asked, clearly exasperated. "You go a few days without firing a gun and you're completely useless." She looked at her brother. "You should check on Mala, make sure nothing is amiss."

He frowned again. "What am I going to do in there? I don't know anything about dresses. Why don't you and Astrid go in?"

"She's your fiance," Astrid pointed out.

Dagur said nothing more, instead mumbling under his breath as he climbed out of the carriage. "Sometimes I do wonder about him," Heather said with a sigh and a shake of her head. "It took him some time to find a proper wife, I only hope it goes well."

"I wouldn't worry, they're so fond of each other," Astrid said. "Sometimes a little too much if you ask me, but their marriage will certainly be a happy one."

"It ought to. For his sake, and my father's."

"Your father has nothing to concern himself with. He can rest easy knowing his son is getting married in two weeks, and his daughter has a proposal from a good man on the way."

Heather held back a smile. "We don't know that."

"Heather, if Fishlegs doesn't propose to you by the end of the month, I'll eat my hat."

She snorted. "I'd like to see that."

"Yes, but I'm sure you'd rather have the proposal from Fishlegs," Astrid said with a smirk. "How long has it been since you and your family came to town? He's had eyes only for you ever since."

"And how about you?" she asked. "Are you expecting any proposals?"

"I wouldn't use the word expecting really."

Heather crossed her arms. "You're Astrid Hofferson, you could announce that your dowry was three shillings and there still wouldn't be an eligible bachelor in all of Berk that wouldn't marry you in a heartbeat. " Astrid was pretty, very pretty. Her face was fair and clear, and her eyes were the bluest you'd ever seen. Gold hair that sparkled brilliantly when the sun hit her. Astrid had no illusions of her beauty, it was quite difficult for her to forget when every unmarried man within thirty years of her age made a point to constantly mention it. Worse even than that was the way they told her, as if she weren't already aware, as if she hadn't heard the exact same thing hundreds of times.

"Don't be ridiculous."

She waved a hand around. "Alright, perhaps that's an exaggeration, but you get the point I'm trying to make. You have plenty to choose from, any good man would marry you if you would only accept one."

"With the exception of Fishlegs of course," she reminded her.

Heather smiled in agreement. "With the exception of Fishlegs."

"You do have a point though, perhaps I should consider having my parents change my dowry to be two shillings, that ought to fend them off," she said folding her hands neatly into her lap.

Her friend huffed in frustration. "With that perspective, you'll be an old maid before you know it. Tell me the truth, are you waiting for every man in Berk to ask for your hand? By now, most have only relented because they know with complete certainty what the answer will be."

"Not every man."

"How about Gustav?"

"Too short."

"Eret?"

"Too tall."

"Snotlout?"

Astrid frowned. "That's not funny."

Heather pressed her lips into a smile to hold in a laugh. "It was only a jest." The carriage door clacked open as Dagur and Mala returned to their seats inside. "So?" she asked, looking between them anxiously.

"The dress was ill-fitting," Mala said. Her face stayed calm as it always did, but everyone could tell she was quite displeased. The wedding was scheduled to happen in only two weeks time, the whole thing had been decided rather quickly compared to most engagements, but they were determined to make it work.

Dagur took his fiance's' hand into his. "Nothing to fret over, the seamstress will be working around the clock to get it finished on time, won't she darling?"

"Yes, they said they would finish it before Tuesday. Plenty of time."

"Excellent." Astrid lifted a fist and banged the wall of the carriage behind her to notify the coachman. With a flick of the reigns, he sent the carriage rolling back down the busy street. "Pigeon shooting anyone?"

Heather gave her friend a tried look. "Really?"

"If we don't have time for a hunt the least we can do is go pigeon shooting." Her eyes flickered to Dagur, silently asking him for support in the matter. Shooting relaxed him, much like it did for her, and it had been far too long since either of them had a good round with their rifles.

Dagur's eyebrows popped up and he cleared his throat, trying to act nonchalant. "Yes, I would fancy a little pigeon shooting myself." He turned to Mala. "Nothing else on the schedule is there?"

"Well, there is the matter with the cake," she said, and Dagur visibly deflated at her words. "...Though I suppose I could send Throck to check it over if you wanted."

He held back from looking too. "If you wouldn't mind, it has been so long since we've gotten any shooting in. You know how I love it so."

Mala smiled, putting a gentle hand to his face. "Of course dear, you have your rifles in the imperial I assume?"

"Never leave home without them," he said with a wide grin.

"Splendid, then it's settled," Astrid said, smiling at Heather who had her arms crossed and her lips pressed into a thin line. She turned back to the window next to her, sliding the glass open a crack. "My uncle's estate, sir!" she called out to the coachman, who gave her a small tip of his hat in response.

"We can go to my father's estate," Dagur said. "We have plenty of good pigeons up there, and Vorg is always available to release them for us."

Heather smirked at her friend. "Astrid doesn't shoot real pigeons anymore, she shoots these glass balls now. Flung from some strange catapult contraption that Hiccup built, you remember the one?"

"Oh, that trap-shooter thing?" Mala asked.

"He called it trapshooting, the device is a trap-launcher," Astrid corrected. "It's supposed to be more humane. No pigeons are killed when played."

Dagur scoffed. "What's the fun in that? I enjoy the killing."

"It's also meant to be less expensive, no need for a pigeon keeper."

"Less expensive?" Mala asked, skeptical. "Perhaps after several years, I imagine that device must cost a small fortune. How much did your uncle pay for it?"

Heather smiled mischievously. "Oh he didn't pay anything for it, Hiccup gave it to him."

"Gave?" Dagur sputtered. "What on earth for? In his financial situation, he must be completely mad to be giving things away like that."

"I wonder," Heather mused with a sly grin. "Seems Hiccup is trying to gain your uncle's favour, perhaps he hopes to have your hand in marriage. Though it's a futile effort, Astrid has absolutely no interest in marriage."

Astrid frowned. "That's not true, I'll marry when the time is right. And I'll have you know, Hiccup gave that machine as a gift in good-faith for all my uncle has done for him. Allowing him access to our family's acreage and such." Her eyes trailed back to the window and she sighed. "Besides, that was quite some time ago. I imagine if it was meant to gain my uncle's favour, Hiccup would have proposed already."

Heather let out a soft laugh. "I'd wager he wanted to, but you intimidated him too much. After how many auspicious young men you've rebuffed, anyone would feel uncertain of their prospects."

Astrid peeked out the window as her uncle's estate came into view. "Perhaps they need to reevaluate what they think makes them 'auspicious' in the first place." As they approached the gate, she noticed a man standing there, horse reins in one hand, his hat pressed to his chest with the other. "Oh blast it," she grumbled.

They all leaned closer to her side of the coach to see what it was. "Who's that?" Dagur asked.

"If I remember correctly that's Harald Forkbeard, he arrived in Berk not much longer than a month ago," Mala explained. "I believe he's a businessman...I think I heard someone call him that once."

By the way he stood there smiling at their carriage Astrid could already tell what he had come for. "Gods help me," she mumbled, shrinking into her seat. It was too late, he had already seen her, and he was already waving their coachman down, beckoning him to stop.

"One moment, Sir." She heard him say.

Heather, a hand over her mouth, stifled a giggle. Suppressing a scowl, Astrid put on a fake smile like a proper lady and shifted the window open so he could speak to her. "Are you lost, sir?"

"No, my lady," he replied, smiling up at her. "My name is Harald Forkbeard, you must've heard of me, I am a businessman and a traveller, and I-"

"I haven't," Astrid said.

He laughed. "I suppose that is understandable, this is my first time to Berk, and what a wonderful city this is. Would you mind coming out for a moment? I have an important matter of which to speak to you." Harald was handsome to say the least, tall with broad shoulders, blue eyes, and shiny blond hair slicked back neatly. She wasn't certain, but she guessed he was reasonably wealthy by his fine tailored clothes and the jewelled rings that adorned his fingers.

"I would, actually," she said. "I have plans to go pigeon shooting with my friends, so I would appreciate it if you could make this quick."

Harald seemed taken aback, but he didn't let that faze him. "Of course, whatever you wish," he said flashing a charming smile. "I come here as a man to you today, fair Astrid. Since the first day I laid eyes upon you I thought you were the most lovely maiden I had ever seen in my entire life. Not in all my travels had I come across a magnificent beauty such as you." Astrid had to fight the urge to roll her eyes.

"Poor sap doesn't know what he's up against," Heather whispered in a low voice.

From the side of his horse, Harald produced a large extravagant bouquet. "I knew right away that you were the only woman for me, and I'll-"

Astrid sighed. "Do you think you could skip to the end?"

He stopped and stared at her, confused. "I beg your pardon?"

"You're going to ask for my hand, yes?"

"Oh…uh…" he looked around to the others in the carriage, the weight of their eyes suddenly very apparent. "Yes, I was going to-"

"Thank you for the offer sir, but I will have to humbly decline," she said in a flat tone like she had said so many times before. Astrid looked to the coachman. "On our way, sir."

"Yes, my lady," he replied with a tip of his hat. Harald stood dumb-struck as the carriage pulled away from him, galloping through the gates and up the hill towards Finn Hofferson's estate. Once they reached the house, they all climbed out and walked around to the back where the open fields were. The catapult contraption that Hiccup had built sat in the grass below the last stone steps leading down.

They gathered, the three ladies holding their skirts and Dagur carrying the rifle cases. "So how does this odd thing work, Astrid?" he asked looking over it suspiciously. It wasn't very large, a long plank of wood nailed into the ground with a small round catapult attached to it. There was a barrier built between the device and where the shooter was to stand. With a series of cords going beneath it, each attaching to a different part of the launcher.

Astrid approached it, an armful of glass balls she had retrieved from a nearby chest. "I'll show you, it's simpler than it looks," she said, dropping the balls onto the soft grass. Her fingers moved deftly like she had done this a thousand times before. "You put the glass ball in here, then to pull this rope and hook the catapult-like this," she explained as she worked. "Now when you pull this cord like so, the glass ball will go flying upwards."

"You've gotten quite a bit of use out of this haven't you?" Heather said as she prepared her rifle, loading in her bullet and gun powder.

"I suppose."

"I think it's splendid," Mala said with a smile. "He should really consider patenting it, he could make a small business of this invention."

Heather nodded. "Odin knows it would do him some good. After his father cast him out I wasn't sure he'd be able to feed himself, let alone a wife if he ever managed to find one. Working at that old weapon shop is beneath his social standing, and it doesn't seem to pay him much of a wage at all."

"Shall we get to shooting then?" Astrid suggested. "I'll pull for whoever would like to shoot first."

"I'll take the first go at it," Dagur said enthusiastically as he grabbed his rifle and headed behind the launcher.

The conversation finally moved on to things of more substance and importance, Dagur and Mala's wedding, the new businesses coming to the city. Astrid was never the type to engage in gossip, and she found listening to it even less agreeable, especially when it was of things those participating did not understand.

Hiccup was a frequent topic of whispers amongst the well-to-do in Berk. As the son of the favoured and well-respected mayor, Stoick Haddock, his name was known to any and every resident. Unfortunately, he had managed to build himself quite the scandalous reputation. Someone like him, born in a wealthy and prestigious family like he was, should've become a scholar, or a businessman, or perhaps even succeeded his father as mayor. Instead of any of that, he had resolved to become an inventor, something that disturbed and enraged his lord father. Hiccup's relentless tinkering and long carefree horse rides through the valley gave him a reputation for being irresponsible and outlandish.

"What a shame," Mr. Larson whispered to his son, scornful eyes watching behind the counter as Hiccup used a grease-stained rag to clean off a blunderbuss rifle. "You take a look, Gustav, you could be born with status and money, but it's meaningless if you lack discipline. If you don't want to end up like that, always keep your sights forward."

Astrid glowered at the back of his head, wishing she should burn a hole right through it with her eyes. "Are you finished?" she asked sharply, arm crossed. "I don't have all day."

They both turned to look at her, Gustav's eyes lit up and a lascivious smile spread across his face. "Astrid! Good to see you, I was wond-"

"No," she said flatly. From the back of the room, she watched Hiccup's head pop up to see her standing there. Their eyes met for a brief moment before he quickly focused them back towards the blunderbuss in his hands. She returned her gaze to the men in front of her. "Well? Are you finished?"

They nodded, dipping out of her way bashfully. "Eyes forward remember?" Mr. Larson whispered, yanking his son by the arm. "A woman like her would only distract you from what's important."

Astrid inhaled sharply, that man needed to get better at whispering. "Good afternoon, sir. I have a rifle that needs repair," she said to Gobber, placing her gun on the counter with a thunk.

Gobber picked it up and looked over it quickly. "You're certain there's a problem miss? Last week you said the same thing but we couldn't find anything to repair."

"I would have it checked if you can," she said, eyes drifting towards the back of the shop. "You never can be too careful with guns these days."

He gave her a long stare. "Uh-huh, what's the problem exactly?"

"The problem?" she paused. "...it jams when I load it."

Gobber cocked his eyebrow at her. "So same as last time?"

"Do you want my money or not?"

He lifted his arms in defeat. "One rifle repair, you'll pay when you pick it up I imagine?" Astrid nodded. "Very well, I'll see you in a few days time."

"Thank you, sir." Her eyes lingered to the back for a moment before she turned and exited the small gunsmith shop. The streets were as disgusting as they always were, and it wasn't only the stench and the horse droppings. Anytime Astrid decided to travel to the town centre on her own she got ogled and leered at from every angle. Sometimes being an unmarried woman made her feel like a piece of meat in a tiger cage.

Astrid held her head straight and walked briskly towards her carriage, climbing in and shutting the door without meeting eyes with anyone walking by. She gave on knock on the front of the carriage and they started off towards home.