AN:
Wow. You guys absolutely rock! I was not expecting the kind of response that the first chapter received.
On that note, I'd like to address a couple of the reviews from last chapter. That's normally not something I do in author's notes, and instead usually just PM the people directly if it's pressing enough. But, I figure these questions are somewhat important to everyone reading:
This story has an M rating. I intend for there to be more adult… content brought up later on, in moderately explicit detail. That being said, right now, Hiccup and Astrid are 12. Nothing of the sort will happen between them until they are older.
And also, I don't have a release schedule. I likely never will. As much as I'd like to guarantee regular postings, I simply can't. I'm in university, and school work will always take priority when I have it. Most of the time I spend writing this story is on the train to and from school, on my phone. Apologies on that front BTW, if ever there are any weird formatting issues. That'll likely be the reason.
Not review related, but I saw Hidden World on the 22nd! I won't spoil anything here, but I will say that I thought it was really good. It was a bit tightly packed; it had enough content for a two hour movie, condensed into an hour and a half. That meant there was a lot of awesome stuff happening, but at the same time, some scenes weren't allowed to breathe the way they should have. Still really good, but the first movie remains my favourite of the series.
And with that out of the way, let's hop to it!
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Chapter 2 - Just Talk
A yawn ripped through Hiccup, marking the end to his slumber. Smacking his lips together in an attempt to moisten his parched mouth, he languidly stretched his left hand up to wipe the thin trail of drool he could feel at the edge of his chin.
Or, he tried to, at least.
There was a warm weight pinning that entire arm to the bed. A weight that moved.
"Morning," a feminine voice murmured in his ear, and his eyes shot open.
Astrid was laying beside him, her face unnervingly close to his own. Hiccup felt frozen in place, as if the icy blue irises gazing into his own were made of actual ice, turning his entire being cold.
Even after a week, he was still hardly used to falling asleep beside her. Waking up beside her was an entirely new experience, and he couldn't help but feel suddenly overwhelmed. What exactly was the protocol in such a situation? Did he ask her how she slept? Was that weird? Should he offer to make her breakfast? Discuss the weather? Debate the benefits of a coal burning furnace over a wood burning one?
That last one couldn't possibly be it. Could it? It was one of the first lectures Gobber had ever given him as his apprentice. But she wasn't Gobber.
Languidly, the blonde rose from the bed. Her hair, unrestrained by the braid she normally sported, flowed down her back like a golden waterfall. The orange hues of light streaming through a nearby window splashed against the back of her head, creating an angelic halo, and Hiccup felt his heart skip a beat. Or two. Possibly three.
Definitely not Gobber, he reaffirmed, suppressing the urge to reach up and touch those locks.
With practiced ease, Astrid practically leapt out of bed, and in one graceful movement, scooped her discarded armour up in one hand, and her axe in the other before hurrying down the stairs.
Well, Hiccup decided sardonically, that saved him from having to figure out what to say.
Quickly coming to miss her body heat beside him as the chilly morning air crept its way under the now overturned furs, Hiccup rose to prepare for yet another day at the forge. Sluggish in his movements, as he was never much of a morning person, he shrugged off his sleepwear before pulling on his usual tunic and leggings. Deciding to throw on a fur-lined vest to help combat the cold, he let out another yawn. Blearily, he shuffled down the stairs, massaging his tired eyelids with the back of his sleeve.
Emerging below, he blinked in surprise at finding Astrid, now fully dressed, before him. She was perched on one of the great wooden chairs built to support the massive frame of Stoick the Vast that circled the fire pit at the centre of the room. Her hands, pulled behind her head, rapidly twirled her untied hair into her trademark braid.
Enraptured by the sight before him, he watched carefully, tracking her nimble fingers as they wove strand after strand. With a casual flick of her wrist, the end of the braid was doubled over, before a slim leather tie was threaded together, binding the braid in place.
With a satisfied smile, and a quick pat-down of her head ensuring everything was in place, Astrid turned to face him.
Is she waiting for something? Hiccup pondered to himself. Maybe she's hungry. Ask if she wants breakfast.
"Are you breakfast?" He stammered out loud.
A beat passed, as he clued into what he'd said. A groan of dismay escaped him as he silently willed the ground to open up and swallow him whole.
It figures, he bitterly berated himself. He couldn't swing a hammer, he couldn't lift an axe… why did he ever think he could speak to a pretty girl without messing that up as well?
A loud snort rang out through the room, as Astrid began to laugh. Hiccup tilted his face downwards to the floor in an effort to hide it from view. He was used to laughter at his expense. This was hardly a new experience.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Astrid, her shoulders shaking from the fit of giggles that consumed her. Her eyelids clenched tight, crinkling at the corners as a mirthful smile played on her lips.
Huh. He was used to sneers. Come to think of it, her laughter held none of the cruel, taunting tone he was intimately familiar with. It was joyful, he realised with a jolt. She wasn't expressly laughing at him, nor at his discomfort. Merely at the oddity of the sentence he'd uttered. That was new.
A choking noise wrenched itself from her throat when she inhaled too sharply, gasping for breath between peels of laughter. Raucous coughs hacked their way through her, triggering even more boisterous laughter, this time at her own predicament.
Hiccup watched on, the shame receding from from his reddened cheeks as he watched the girl double over in sheer glee. It was quite the polar opposite from her behavior for the past month. Another peel of hearty guffaws ripped forth, sending a flush through Hiccup.
They were raw. They were unrestrained. They were unapologetic. They were intrinsically, quintessentially Astrid.
He decided very quickly that he'd like to hear more of those laughs.
Wiping a stray tear as she eventually calmed down, she flashed a wicked grin his direction. Hiccup felt his own lips pull back into an awkward and goofy, but equally genuine smile.
"Pretty sure I'm not," she quipped, tossing a playful glance at a drying rack laden with strips of jerked mutton hanging over the hearth, "Unless there's something you want to tell me about whatever that is."
"Sorry," he muttered bashfully, "do you want breakfast, is what I meant."
Astrid shrugged. "I don't normally eat breakfast," she replied simply.
"Really?" He questioned. He knew Astrid was almost always training. Surely skipping a meal was an ill-advised course of action for someone with such an active lifestyle.
She nodded. "I can't really cook, so..."
"No one ever taught you?" He prodded, kneeling to relight the fire that had died down overnight.
"My mom tried," Astrid admitted with a shrug. "It didn't go so well."
Hiccup mentally facepalmed. He hadn't meant to bring up the topic of her parents, and he really should have known better. Who else would have taught her?
"My mom used to say that I could burn water," she continued, flashing her teeth. That took Hiccup by surprise. "You?"
Hiccup blinked, still grappling with the fact that the topic of her parents hadn't upset her. "Well, Gobber taught me," He explained hesitantly. "He said it would be 'a crime against viking-kind' to let my dad teach me how to cook, so..."
Astrid gave a snort in response. "So, are you any good?" she asked.
"Exceptionally mediocre," Hiccup replied, his mouth quirking into a smile. Gobber was quite fond of jokingly using the term to describe his metalworking. It seemed apt, somehow, using it now.
Then, acting on impulse, he puffed out his chest, much the same way he'd seen Snotlout do whenever he boasted.
Before he was able to fully feel embarrassed by his almost reflexive, off-the-cuff action, Astrid laughed, and Hiccup thrilled at the sound. He could feel his frazzled nerves slowly begin relax from the banter. It was easy, he realized, speaking with her like this.
For years, he'd been terrified of conversing with anyone his own age. He'd learned the hard way that trying to talk with Snotlout would result in being ignored, if he was lucky; in pain, if he wasn't. The twins were much the same, albeit less vindictive. And Fishlegs tended to murmur a nervous excuse before scampering off.
Before she'd moved in, Hiccup had only spoken to Astrid once in the past three years. In that attempt, he had managed to trip over his words so spectacularly, not even he could decipher the mangled mass of syllables he'd spouted. He'd immediately fled and hid indoors for the next week, refusing to vacate his refuge, lest he accidentally cross paths with her.
Now, he was holding a proper conversation with her. He wasn't a stuttering mess. He wasn't being beaten into a pulp, and she didn't seem keen on leaving.
Was this what having a friend was like? Because he quite liked the feeling of it, and hoped it would continue.
A memory surfaced. He was five years old again, Astrid's hand clasped in his own as they toddled through town. The had been friends once. He'd really like to be her friend once more.
The kiss from last night fluttered to the forefront of his mind. Or perhaps more. Was it possible?
So, with gusto, he set forth to prepare their food.
Breakfast ended up being a simple affair; pottaged peas and pan-fried cod. Perhaps more of an evening meal than a breakfast, but Hiccup felt like making something more than just bread and cheese. Astrid didn't complain about the selection, so he was happy.
"Not bad," she commented, handing off her empty wooden plate as he cleaned up. "That was… thanks."
Hiccup cast a glance her way as he stowed the freshly wiped down dishes. She seemed nervous. Unsure of herself. For what reason, he wasn't certain.
He opened his mouth to ask if she was alright, only to catch sight of the sun through the window, fully risen over the horizon. He cursed internally. He was expected at the forge already.
"I've got to go," He stated, cringing at the abruptness of his departure. "Gobber hates it when I'm late."
Hastily bolting to the door, he threw it open, tossing one more last-minute glance at the girl behind him. Only to start when he noticed her trailing in his wake. He shrugged internally, before simply continuing unimpeded.
She must be bound for the kill ring to practice with the painted targets and wooden dummies there, he assumed. That's where and how she had spent most of her days before she'd moved in. Plus, she had her newly restored axe proudly strapped to her back, undoubtedly eager to test it out. There was no reason she had to stick around in an empty house all day, he supposed.
As such, they'd be separating soon, seeing as how the arena and smithy were on opposite sides of Berk. An odd layout choice in hindsight, Hiccup realised, considering Gobber worked at both. Though, it was more likely that they'd both been built before the burly double-amputee had even been born. The village was seven generations old, his father constantly and proudly repeated.
Still, it would make sense to have the two buildings close by. The arena was home to the town armoury, which required constant upkeep. Why not cut down on transport time? Not to mention the chain nets and iron bars used to keep the dragons contained; those needed frequent repair and replacement.
Perhaps he'd bring up the notion of relocating the smithy today at work?
A shout to his left caught his attention. Pulling himself out of his ponderings, he spun on the spot to see Ruffnut and Tuffnut wrestling on the ground a ways down a nearby side path. Snotlout and Fishlegs watched from nearby, the former appearing to goad the twins on, while the latter nervously chewed the ends of his fingers.
A scuffling of feet on gravel drew his attention to Astrid as she pulled up beside him. A disgusted sound escaped her as she peered in the direction he'd been looking. He quickly turned back to see that Snotlout had noticed them, and was sneering at them.
At him, he corrected himself. Snotlout was sneering at him.
Astrid let out an annoyed huff. Hiccup felt himself sag at the noise. Of course she was annoyed; no doubt because she'd been caught with him. She was probably embarrassed to have been seen spending time with the village screw-up.
Dejectly, he lurched forwards and continued to trudge towards his destination. Vaguely, he registered Astrid following him.
"Erm… Smithy's this way," he stated weakly, pointing at an upcoming fork in the path. "So… uh, yeah…"
"I know," Astrid replied, quirking a brow at him.
"Right," he nodded, feeling like a complete idiot. Of course she knew. She'd have to turn the other way at the same fork in order to reach the kill ring.
Astrid continued to stare at him, her expression told him plainly that she thought he was acting strangely.
"Good," Hiccup proclaimed stiffly, offering an uneasy smile. It was most definitely not good.
Gods! What should he say? Why was this so awkward? It had been so easy, figuring out what to say earlier! What changed?
"So, shall we?" Astrid suggested.
"Shall we what?" he asked.
"Go to the forge," she answered, rolling her eyes, as if the answer should have been obvious.
"Oh," Hiccup balked. Should it have been obvious? What happened to the kill ring? "You're going there too?"
"Of course," she replied simply, offering an easy smile. With a nudge, she gestured for him to keep moving.
"You uh... need something sharpened?" He asked, uncertain of her motives. She was following him. Why?
Astrid unslung the axe from her back and traced a finger along its edge. "Nope," she shrugged, twirling the axe, "looks like you already covered that."
Hiccup eyed the blade warily. "You need to talk to Gobber about something?"
"Not that I know of," she answered, tossing the axe into the air before deftly catching it.
"Grabbing equipment for the kill ring?" He continued nervously.
"The kill ring?" She questioned.
"You're heading there," Hiccup explained. "Right?"
"Wasn't planning on it," Astrid frowned, starting to sound annoyed. "Why? Do you not want me to come with you?"
"Come with me?" Hiccup balked. "What do you mean?"
Astrid halted in her tracks, unleashing a low huff.
Glancing around, Hiccup took note of their surroundings. To his surprise, they were in front of the forge already. In his distracted state, he hadn't realized they'd arrived at their destination. Gobber was there, peering curiously at the duo from the large window that occupied the front wall of the smithy.
"All the questions," Astrid snapped with an indignant huff, planting the butt of her axe on the ground so she could prop her weight on the weapon. "If you don't want to hang out, just say so."
"Hang out?" Hiccup stammered. Is that what she was wanting? Even after being spotted by the others? "I didn't... I don't..."
"Fine, Whatever." Astrid growled, hefting her axe to rest on her shoulder. "I'm going to train."
With that, she spun on her heels and marched off, leaving a baffled Hiccup behind.
She wanted to hang out? With him? Why? He was Hiccup!
Sure, he made her an axe, and he cooked her breakfast, but he hadn't done so with the expectation of getting anything back as a reward. Did she think otherwise? Or had she genuinely wanted to spend time with him?
Talking to her earlier had been enjoyable. For him. Of course it would be. He wasn't used to conversing with anyone, aside from maybe Gobber, as a peer. That's why it had been so pleasant to him. Right? It was a change of pace.
She was Astrid. She wasn't shunned by the rest of the village. She could speak with whoever she pleased. Talking to him shouldn't have been anything special for her, should it?
Not to mention the fact that he had feelings for her. That made time spent with her so enjoyable. But the feelings were unrequited. She had no such attachments.
Finding himself no closer to answering any of his questions, he let out a tired sigh, before ambling into the smithy, where his unreasonably spry mentor was awaiting him.
"So," Gobber began, playfully elbowing his young apprentice as he passed, "You and Astrid, eh?"
Hiccup scowled back at the burly Viking, electing to help light the forge instead of replying.
"Ah figured you'd be a wee bit happier on that front," Gobber prodded, not missing Hiccup's standoffish demeanour. "Seems she's taken notice of yeh. Guess yer little project worked. Don' think ah don' recognize tha' lump o' metal."
A smile worked its way through the younger viking's dower expression at the memory of Astrid practicing with her new axe the night before. Only for it to slip away when the walk to the smithy overtook it with relentless clarity.
"I'm... pretty sure I screwed it all up," he sighed sadly, turning to inspect the hot coals before him. He knew they were warm enough, but it gave him an excuse to avoid eye contact.
"Aye, sounds like something yeh'd do." Gobber stated with a shrug, extracting a mangled sword to work on.
Hiccup felt his shoulders droop. "Thank you, Gobber, for the vote of confidence," he mumbled sarcastically, rolling his eyes.
"Not a problem lad." The blacksmith replied chipperly, dipping the blade in the coals to heat.
Whistling merrily, the rotund man ambled to a nearby cabinet where he stored his assorted prosthetic attachments. Perusing the pieces the drawer had to offer for a moment, he seemed to hold a debate with himself over which attachment to select.
Humming, he finally plucked out his tong hand. "So," he said, twisting the tongs into place, "Yeh messed up, as yeh tend tah do."
"So we've established," Hiccup grumbled, doing his level best to intimidate the much larger man with a glare.
It didn't work.
"But yeh know what that means?" Gobber asked, briefly testing out the new attachment to make sure it was still in working condition.
"I'm still the village's laughingstock?" Hiccup snarked.
"No! Well, yeah, probably." Gobber replied with a shrug, gesturing for Hiccup to man the billows. "But yeh also have a chance tah learn from yer mistake. Y'er a bright lad. Shouldn' be too hard fer yah. Let's start with where you went wrong."
Hiccup huffed, partly in exasperation, partly from the exertion required to pump the handles of the smithy' massive billows. "Well, this morning," he began, pausing to suck in a breath, "we were -huff- talking, and -huff- everything was -huff- great. It was... easy."
"Aye?" Gobber asked, waving at the boy to let go.
"Yeah... it was," Hiccup affirmed, taking a step back. "And then when we were walking here it all fell apart. Snotlout saw us, and I didn't know what to say, and it was... uncomfortable, I guess."
"Y'er talkin jus' fine with me now, aren't yeh?" The blacksmith pointed out, peering at the blade to make sure it was heating evenly.
"Well you're not Astrid," Hiccup mumbled dejectedly.
Gobber let out a sharp bark of laughter. "Aye, well spotted," he chimed. "So, why is tha'?" He questioned, "Or better yet; how is tha'?"
Hiccup frowned. "How is what?" He asked, confused.
"How are yeh talkin' to me, right now?" Gobbler prodded jovially, extracting the blade from the flames, placing it on the nearby anvil.
Hiccup, ready with Gobber's hammer, dutifully handed it off the the man before offering a shrug. "I don't know. I'm just… just talking," he said simply.
"Exactly! Y'er jus' talkin'!" The blacksmith cheered, raising his hammer to strike.
"I don't… understand," the young boy sighed, shuffling the quenching basin into position nearby.
"Jus' talk with Astrid," The rotund man declared, heaving his hammer down.
"Yeah, like it's that simple," Hiccup snided, turning the blade over so that Gobber could taper the other side.
Pausing to adjust his grip on his hammer, Gobber gave the boy a pointed look. "It is tha' simple. Yer jus' gettin' thrown off because she's a pretty lass. Now, unless she speaks with her lady bits, tha' don' change the fact tha' she talks like everyone else."
The young apprentice flushed deeply at the mental image. "I think that-," he began, only to be cut off.
"Aye, and that's the problem, innit? Yer a thinker, Hiccup." Gobber stated, still skillfully pounding the blade into shape. "Tha' can be a good thing at times; helps yeh in the forge. I wouldn' let anyone who couldn' think into my workshop. They'd burn themselves alive before the day was done. No one wants tha'! It'd smell right terrible!"
"I can imagine." Hiccup deadpanned.
Gobber lifted the blade from the anvil to inspect it for any imperfections. Giving a nod of acceptance, he plunged it into the basin, stepping back as he did so to avoid the hissing droplets of water that were spat back.
"But sometimes, yeh overthink. If yeh wanna talk to the lass, then jus' talk. Don' trip yourself up with your own thoughts and insecurities." He explained, offering what he intended to be an encouraging smile. Though, between his rough visage and false stone tooth, it turned out to be less than effective. "I know you have more than enough of both to go around."
"Thank you… for the pep-talk." Hiccup sighed, albeit with less sarcasm than usual.
"Aye, no problem, lad!" Gobber said with a chuckle. "Now, take tha' sword to the grindstone and put a nice edge on it while I get started on the next one."
-0-0-0-0-
When he was finally dismissed from the forge later that day, he felt a sense of anxiety rising up within him, despite the fact that Gobber had promised him tomorrow off. He didn't want to have to face Astrid, but he knew he'd have to at some point. It wasn't as if he could avoid her for the rest of his life; they shared a bedroom for Frigga's sake.
At least without her axe to work on, he was out earlier than normal. If she stuck to her usual routine, she wouldn't be back for another few hours. He'd have some reprieve, to plan out just what he'd say to her; how he'd beg for her forgiveness.
Loose stones crunched underfoot as he slowly meandered through Berk, vaguely heading in the direction of home. His chosen path wasn't the most efficient way of getting there; he'd made a few wrong turns by accident, not really paying attention to his surroundings. His mind was decidedly elsewhere.
It wasn't until he heard voices echoing from nearby that he realized just where he was. It seemed his feet had carried him over to the arena, far away from where he'd intended.
"Yeah, I mean I guess it's kinda weird," a familiar raspy voice rang out, causing Hiccup to instinctively duck behind a nearby stack of barrels. "I just don't get what the big deal is."
Braving a peak through a gap in his cover, Hiccup spied Snotlout and the twins exiting the kill ring, Snotlout with a scowl firmly affixed to his face.
"That's what I'm trying to say!" Snotlout snapped, absentmindedly kicking a discarded piece of wood. "It should be painfully obvious, but nobody seems to notice it!"
Painfully obvious? Notice what? Where was Astrid? Hiccup held his breath as the other teens came to a halt next to his hiding spot.
"What does that even mean?" Tuffnut questioned, twisting a finger idly into his ear.
"It means," Ruffnut scoffed, "That Snot-man's jealous."
"I'm not jealous!" Snotlout squawked indignantly, throwing his hands in the air, "I just don't get why people are still making a big fuss about her. She's friends with Useless, for Tyr's sake."
Hiccup suppressed a sigh. So, they were talking about him. He was well aware of the other teens' nickname for him, it wasn't as if they ever censored themselves in his presence. But it never made hearing the name any easier.
"You saw what happened," Snotlout continued, entirely unaware of his cousin's presence nearby, "When that Zippleback showed up, she froze. She hasn't been to practice with us in months, and now she's spending time with that toothpick. I think it's clear what's going on!"
Hiccup frowned. So Astrid wasn't with them. And they were upset with her, apparently. Or, at least Snotlout was.
The twins glanced at each other, clearly confused.
"Clear to you maybe," Tuffnut muttered slowly, "I have no idea what you're saying."
"Thor, do I have to spell it out!?" Snotlout growled with a pointed huff. "He's rubbing off on her, but no-one else seems to see it. We're vikings; we aren't supposed to freeze up in battle!"
Hiccup scowled. Being the subject of his cousin's insults hurt, sure, but he was used to the treatment. Slights against himself, he could take. Snubbing Astrid? That was new. And surprisingly, harder to accept.
"It's always 'Astrid's so brave this', and 'Astrid's so strong that'! But she's not! When will people figure it out? She's practically Astrid the Useless at this point!"
Hiccup growled, finding himself rapidly infuriated at the epithet. Before he knew what he was doing, His legs had launched him into a standing position, exposing him to the other teens.
"Don't call her that!" He bitterly grit through clenching teeth.
The trio of teens blinked at the smaller boy's sudden appearance.
"When did he get here?" Ruffnut stage-whispered to her brother, who merely shrugged.
Hiccup blocked them out. He wasn't interested in them; his focus was exclusively on his cousin, who was jutting his square chin towards the auburn haired boy in defiance.
"I'll say whatever I want," Snotlout responded haughtily, leaning into Hiccup's face, "Especially if it needs to be said."
"Don't insult Astrid," Hiccup bit out; blind, dumb anger acting as a substitute for bravery as he glared right back.
"I'll stop whenever everyone else stops singing her praises she doesn't deserve," was Snotlout's barbed reply, "Your girlfriend's a loser."
Something in Hiccup snapped. Despite all the teasing he'd been subject to, all the sneers and jeers, all the punches and kicks, he'd never fought back. He knew he couldn't stand up to them. He knew he'd never be able to win in a fight. So he'd always resigned himself to simply accepting the abuse quietly.
But hearing his cousin insulting Astrid, he momentarily forgot about all of that. All he knew in that moment was anger. So he struck out with his fist, sending flying it into the broader viking's face.
Snotlout reeled back. More out of shock than pain; it wasn't as if Hiccup's punch carried much weight.
A second later, Hiccup found himself sprawling backwards, his vision blurring from the pain in his jaw. With a crash, he stumbled into the barrels that had been his refuge, knocking them over as he fell. A hiss escaped him as he felt his forehead bounce harshly off one's hard edge.
His head swam from the pain, and for a moment, the thought he might pass out. Somewhere in the background, he could hear Snotlout say something, followed by the twins' laughter. It sounded distant and muddied, drowned out by the intense throbbing in his skull.
He lay curled in on himself, clutching his head, willing away a wave of nausea that threatened to overtake him. How long he stayed there, he wasn't sure. But by the time he shakily rose to his feet, he was alone.
Good. He didn't particularly want them to be there. He was all kinds of upset. Upset at Snotlout for insulting Astrid, upset at Astrid for giving him mixed signals that morning, and most of all, upset at himself for pushing her away. Hearing snide remarks about how he couldn't take a little punch wasn't going to help things.
Wincing, he pressed a palm to the spot on his forehead that had made contact with the barrel. When he pulled it away, it was red and sticky. Blood.
Returning his hand to the wound, he staggered home, adamantly ducking into side alleys whenever someone else approached from the opposite direction. He really didn't want to have to explain how his injury had happened. All he wanted was to get to his house, wash up, and go to sleep, so he could forget the whole ordeal had ever happened. And as he pushed open the front door before stumbling in, that's exactly what he planned to do.
"What the Hel happened to you?"
Hiccup froze like a terrible terror in torchlight at the voice. Astrid, already changed into her sleep clothes for the night, sat rigidly in one of the chairs around the hearth, peering up at him over the crackling flames.
"Nothing," He muttered, making to climb the stairs.
In an instant, she was beside him, grabbing his arm and forcefully guiding him into a seat, "You're bleeding. Here, sit," she instructed, before shuffling towards the back of the house. "I'll clean you up."
"I told you, it's nothing," he mumbled meekly as she returned with arms laden with items; A bundle of cloth, thread, a metal hook, a jar of some sort, and an old wooden pail that sloshed with water as she set the items on the floor nearby. "I'm used to it."
Ignoring him, she poured half of the pail into a nearby metal pot, which she placed over the fire. Bringing what remained in the pail to his side, she extracted a clean, sopping rag from within and began to mop away the crimson liquid staining his face, dropping into the chair beside him to do so.
"You're lucky," She told him, pushing back his weak protests as he tried to pull away. "They may not have been able to teach me to cook, but my parents made certain I knew how to treat a wound."
That was the second time she'd mentioned her parents that day without showing any outwardly visible signs of bother. That was good, right?
"Ow," he gasped as she pressed the cloth to the gash above his left eye.
"Well, hold still then," she snapped back, placing her free hand firmly on his chest to keep him immobilized in the chair. "Seriously Hiccup, your lip's all split, and your forehead is going to need stitches."
"I was clumsy," he grunted with a shrug, hoping she would drop it. Hoping he wouldn't have to admit he got into a fight and lost. Hoping he wouldn't have to tell her why he had gotten into a fight in the first place.
She hummed, leveling a look he couldn't quite decipher at him. Slowly, she pulled away, dropping the now red rag back into its pail, before reaching out for the previously discarded jar. Popping the lid open to reveal some sort of slick yellow substance, she scooped some of its contents onto the ends of her fingers. As she began to gently massage the substance into his busted lip, a sweet scent hit his nose.
"It's honey," she explained, noticing his expression. "So it won't get infected."
Nodding, he relaxed, allowing her to work, seeing as there was no detering her. Gradually, he felt his eyes fluttering closed as her fingers traced upwards and began to work the wound above his brow.
"My mom used to tell me stories," She spoke softly, almost a whisper, though in the quiet of the empty house, it filled the room, "about the boy who lived next door when she was a girl. He'd always have bruises and cuts all over his body, and would tell people he got them because he was just clumsy."
The light pressure on his forehead subsided, and he pried his eyes open. Astrid sat before him, gazing down at her lap, where she twisted her fingers together.
"Everyone else accepted his explanation," she murmured, her eyebrows furrowing tightly. "Not my mom though. One day, she decided to sneak into his house and hide, so she could find out what really was going on, once and for all. You know what she saw?"
Hiccup shrugged noncommittally. He wasn't sure he liked where this conversation was going.
"It was the boy's dad," Astrid told him, tilting her head up, locking her eyes with his. Her scrutinizing gaze was so intense, it nearly hurt. "He was the one giving him all those bruises."
"My dad doesn't hit me," Hiccup grumbled, clamping his eyelids shut. He felt bare and vulnerable under her watch.
"No, he couldn't have," Astrid agreed. There was a scrape of wood against wood, announcing she'd stood from her seat. "Mulch said he was on the other side of the island all day. But someone hit you."
Hiccup sighed, listening carefully as her soft footfalls padded over to the pot of now boiling water over the hearth. A quiet ting of something metal dropping into the pot was heard, followed by the rustling of cloth.
Over all those sounds, however, all he could hear was Gobber's voice, urging him to 'just talk'. She wanted answers. She'd proven already that her intents weren't malicious. She was helping to heal him that very moment. She cared. Right?
'Don' trip yourself up with your own thoughts and insecurities'
"Snotlout."
The name spilled from his lips, like some sort of spoiled drink.
"Snotlout did this?" Astrid gasped, moving back to his side. "Why?"
"He was…" Hiccup paused.
He didn't want to say it. Not to her. But as he opened his mouth to lie; to tell her he didn't know, the words caught in his throat.
'just talk'
"He was bad-mouthing you," he breathed, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
He could hear her feet shuffle against the floorboards, his eyes still firmly clenched in fear. Fear that the words had hurt her; that he would see that hurt if he opened them.
A soft "oh," was her only response.
"Yeah," he murmured, unsure of what else to say.
More shuffling was heard, the soft scrape of something metal brushing against metal, and then:
"I need to stitch this up," Astrid said, placing a gentle hand beside his wound. Her voice was coming from just above him. He could feel her standing close. "This is probably gonna hurt."
He nodded, acknowledging that he understood, before bracing himself. In that moment, with her body heat radiating through the air between him, tickling his bare face and arms, he didn't trust his voice.
A sudden spike of pain overpowered his senses, and he fought to reign in the trembles that shook him. There was a sharp tug on his skin, and he let out a gasp. It was too much; too much pain. His fists gripped the wood of the chair's arms so tightly, he feared his tendons might pop. With a gasp, he felt himself lift from the seat.
"No, don't move," Astrid tenderly crooned, nudging him back down. A weight settled into his lap, one he was familiar with. Her. She was sitting atop him. "It's okay. It's almost done, I promise."
The pain didn't subside any, but her presence helped to draw his focus away from it. The whispered words of encouragement in his ear made it all the more torturous, yet at the same time, so much more bearable.
"There. All cleaned up," she cooed, slipping off of his lap. He sighed in relief. Or was it disappointment? "The cut's still there, but it's not getting infected any time soon."
"Thanks," he mumbled, allowing himself to peek up at her as she carefully tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "And... sorry."
"Sorry for what?" she questioned, as she began to collect the scattered materials the'd pulled out to dress the wound.
"For this morning," he pressed on. It was difficult forming the words, but he knew they needed to be said. "I didn't think you'd actually want to spend time with me."
"Why would you think that?" she asked, offering him an incredulous look.
A hand absentmindedly traced the cut on his lip. "Like I said. I'm used to it."
Her back stiffened at his admission.
"Hiccup…" she sighed sadly, setting the gathered materials aside on a nearby table. Then, with a determined expression, she marched towards him, firmly planting her fists on her hips as she came to a stop in front of him. "That does it. I'm not leaving your side again. Are you free tomorrow?"
"Yeah, I do" he responded with a smile, immensely glad Gobber had given him the day off. Glad that he had her in his life.
"Good," she cheered, grabbing his arms and pulling him into a stand, "Ever been to the beach?"
"Er…" he floundered as she began to drag him upstairs. "Not since my dad tried to teach me how to fish a few years ago."
"It's settled then," she declared, tossing a grin over her shoulder as they cleared the top step. Hiccup couldn't help but find it infectious. "We're going there tomorrow."
"I'd like that," he smiled back.
"Good. Because you don't have a choice," she told him with mock seriousness, before flipping back the furs on her bed.
"Whoa, hang on," he stammered as she began to lie down, pulling him with her. "I still need to change!"
"Oh," she recoiled in surprise, eying the soot and dried blood on his tunic. She seemed to deflate for a moment, before, "Right, well, hurry up," she commanded, her previously giddy mood making a swift comeback.
Hastily following her urgings, he grabbed his sleepwear and sprinted down the stairs, taking two at a time. For the first time that day since their ill-fated walk that morning, his heart felt alight with joy.
When he returned, he quickly settled into the mattress beside her, their arms seeking each other instantly.
"Hey, Astrid?" he whispered, as she snuggled closer.
"Yeah?" she replied, her voice muffled by the fabric of his tunic.
"What ever happened to that boy?" he asked, a sudden bout of curiosity burning within him. Perhaps he needed reassurance that the boy was okay. That one day, he'd be okay as well. "The one with the bruises?"
"My mom ran and told the chief, your grandfather at the time," she hummed, taking hold of one of his hands under the blankets. "The boy had an older brother he moved in with, and his father was exiled. Apparently the chief didn't take kindly to that sort of thing."
"And what ended up becoming of the boy?" he urged, gripping her hand tightly back.
He felt her thumb trace soothingly over his knuckles, drawing tender circled as it went.
"He married my mother a few years later," she whispered sleepily, a warm smile fixed in place. "That boy was my dad."
-0-0-0-0-
AN:
So, this chapter went through a couple of rewrites, which is why it took as long as it did. Sorry about that.
The first draft of this chapter had Hiccup just being super charismatic and able to banter with Astrid right off the bat. Then the conversation on the way to the forge turned awkward out of nowhere. Both of those things were just bad. It was clunky, and it happened for no reason. So the revision ended up toning down the banter, having a stage where Hiccup had to relax first, and then giving Hiccup a motivation to become self-conscious.
The fight with Snotlout was initially just him being jealous that Hiccup was spending time with Astrid. That had to change. Not only has that been done to death already, but it doesn't let us explore Snotlout's character the way the new motivation for the fight does. Snotlout's one of the most interesting characters in the franchise, IMO, and I didn't want to make him just a one-dimensional bully. A bully, sure, but there's more to him than just that.
So, long story short; the moral of the story is that revisions can be a good thing, kids. Also, when you write a story, everything that happens in it, should happen for a reason; it should either progress the story, or it should reveal something about one or more of the characters.
As always, let me know how you think I did. Reviews are welcome. If you hated this chapter, let me know. More importantly, let me know why. If you loved it; same thing. (The why is the most important part of criticism, IMO).
Side note, I've started writing a couple of one-shots in between writing this fic. Which, admittedly, is another reason this chapter took longer than expected. I've already got an M-rated Hiccstrid one-shot anthology posted, which has one story posted so far in it. Go check that out, if raunchier stuff is your thing. I also have a few more PG one-shots on the go that I'll either post individually, or I might post together in another anthology. Dunno yet. But keep your eyes peeled for that.
As always, thanks for reading and...
Peace!
Oh, PS:
I gave some historical info in the last chapter's ending AN, so might as well keep that trend going. I did in fact research a few things on medieval lifestyle before writing this chapter afterall.
First; people did wash their dishes back then. Peasants would either lick or wipe their plates clean, while nobles would generally have servants wash the dishes in a river. They may not have known what germs were, but they knew leaving bits of rotting food around was a generally bad thing.
Pottage was a fairly typical dish, made of either grains or vegetables, as was fish and pork. If you want to know more on medieval cuisine, the YouTube channel Modern History TV has some good info on that, as well as on feudal warfare.
Honey was used as a disinfectant for wounds as early as ancient Sumeria, and medical stitches have been discovered dating back to 1100BC in ancient Egypt.
Nothing weird about a naked Stoick turned up in my research, unfortunately. I'll try harder for the next one.