A/N: Okay ... I know it isn't the story that people really wanted uploaded, but I've been sitting on this for some time wondering if I wanted to add more to it. I figured that I'd just finish it where it is and upload so I can move on further.

Maybe a little disappointed with the amount of views that I did receive for the first chapter, but quite happy with the reception from those that did. So thank you to those that did see it when it came out.

I'll try to move my stories along a bit more when I can, which will probably be in a week or so ... hopefully. I've learnt that it's a bad idea for me to set a time when it comes to writing, as I unfortunately can hardly meet them. But, c'est la vie ...

Anyway, enjoy the new installment.

Chapter 2: Confusing Celebrations.

3rd Person POV

As the sunset warmly illuminated the skies behind Berk, the former prince slowly disappears into the thick dark forest, vanishing from sight until Odin knows when. A silent breeze blows through the kingdom, the few leaves picked up in its feeble wind nature's lament to the loss of such youth. It winds its way through the fortress, gently touching each person in a different way. For some, just a slight inconvenience sending slight shivers along their skin. The wise and elderly, they hear the cries and voices of those lost the same way.

As the wind winds its way to the keep, it lightly pushes against the people standing there. Stoick's large cape flaps ever so slowly, caught in the feeble breeze. Gobber's long moustache waving slightly as he looks towards the forest with a deep sadness permeating his heart. Out of the youthful knights, only one looks truly upset to see the prince gone. Large, kind, intelligent Fishlegs looks fairly crushed at his friend's departure. The destructive twins, Ruffnut and Tuffnut, seem to have no interest in the matter, while the narcissistic and egotistical Snotlout watches with a certain smugness. The last of that youthful group, heavenly Astrid, just watches on, her face unyielding to her feelings towards this, except for the slight ghost of concern that very few could notice.

After a few moments in which everyone stands silent, eyes towards the forest or ground, the king, Great Stoick the Vast, finally moves from his position. With neither speaking a word or any expressing anything at all, he turns around and walks slowly into the keep, followed by half of the nobles. A loud horn bellows out from the hornburg, exhaled by the mighty lungs of Sven the Silent, signalling the end to the ceremonious procedure and for one of the advisors to start speaking. As everyone turned to face the keep, Spitelout Jorgenson stepped into the view of all. Tall and solid with an untidy black hair and boxed beard, he is one of the most powerful people in Berk. Holding one of the positions of head advisor, plus being one of the hardiest and strongest fighters, he is well respected and feared among many.

"Now that the banished has left us forever, the festivities shall begin," he announced loudly so all could hear. "Begin the preparations. By nightfall, the celebrations can begin."

With that, everyone began moving all at once. Most began to help with the celebrations, setting up the tables and hanging decorations from the roofs. The kitchens fired up, immense heat pouring from inside as vast stores of food where roasted and cooked over the roaring flames. Barrels of mead are rolled down the streets, barrelling towards the great courtyard on the second level. Ruffnut and Tuffnut were having the time of their lives, running on top of the barrels as they sped towards the courtyard with some shaky balancing. Passers looked at them like they were crazy, which can't really be disputed.

"What do you think you are doing?!" called out mighty Phlegma the Fierce as they hurtled past her.

"Having a barrel of fun!" the twins cried back, snickering afterwards at their little joke.

When they finally made it to the centre of the courtyard, they crashed into the pile of neatly stacked barrels already there. The collision knocked down the stack to the dismay of a few, while the twins were thrown from their rides and sent flying into the conveniently placed hay bales lying on one wall. As they deliriously high-fived each whilst straw covered their fur vests and woollen clothes , everyone nearby just shook their heads in slight annoyance except for the young children giggling madly at the twins of destruction.

Some large stalls and areas were being set up for festivities, such as the comic entertainment provided by the jesters or the twins if they can stand for a surprise entrance, and the competitive games. Games that allow the participants to show off and test their strength, power, speed and accuracy. Snotlout had gone over to help set those up, but half his time was spent flexing his muscles and trying to impress the ladies that were around. Though some would giggle at his flirtatious attempts, others would just push him away in irritation.

"So, Astrid," he said flirtatiously, walking up to the blonde haired girl who was organising and setting up a fighting ring. "You interested in going out with this example of perfection later tonight?"

He turned his back to her and flexed his arms over his head, looking backwards over his grey wolf pelt cloak to see her reaction.

"How many times do I have to spell it out to you, Snotlout?" Astrid said, pushing up one of the outer poles with a couple of Berkians. "I'm not interested in you. Period."

As the other two Vikings held and hammered the pole in place, Astrid dusted her hands off onto her worn looking, faded sage top and leather skirt and turned to face Snotlout, jumping back when she saw him leaning towards her with an attempt of a charming face. She rolled her eyes and stepped past him, walking off towards the higher reaches of the fortress.

"Really? Are you sure?" he pressured, following her as she walked. "You can't keep denying your feelings for me. Sooner or later, you'll realise that we're meant to be. It's destiny."

"Well then it's a good thing I don't believe in destiny," she snapped back, spinning to face him. "How about you try helping everyone else set up instead of trying to flirt with everyone and be so self-centred?"

"What else would you have me do?" he asked as she walked off.

"Find Fishlegs for me," she shouted back. "He needs to pull his weight like everyone else."

"Fishlegs? He's in the library," Phlegma the Fierce answered as she walked past Astrid on her way down the fortress.

"What's he doing there?" she asked, slightly annoyed.

"The council asked him to look at the writings that they confiscated from Hiccup upon his banishment," she replied before walking off, lugging three large barrels of mead on her back.

'I guess that makes some sense,' Astrid thought, sighing as she walked away, back on her intended path. 'If anyone can understand what Hiccup writes down, it's either Fishlegs or Gobber … or the Queen before she was taken.'

"Aaand what about me?" Snotlout asked somewhat smoothly, grabbing a hold of Astrid's hand in his.

Reacting to this, Astrid whipped around and yanked her hand out of his grasp before punching his jaw hard.

"Go help someone else who needs it," she huffed as she walked away. "Just don't annoy me."

'Honestly … you'd think he'd get the message by now,' Astrid scrutinised as she walked up towards the keep, observing the progress so far.

Things were nearly finished, with the final touches being applied to the fortress. Children were running around with laughter playing Knights and Dragons, a few kids acting as dragons while the others chased after them with flimsy wooden swords. Berkians were chatting and laughing cheerfully with one another, as if nothing had really happened that day and it was just another celebration.

'What's the matter with these people?' Astrid thought concerned. 'It's like Hiccup meant nothing to anyone.'

While passing into the upper reaches of the fortress, she notices that a small group of people moving around in a small section, glancing frequently at the forge. The occasional clang of a hammer upon iron rang out from within, along with a loud, almost indiscernible sound in Gobber's voice. Astrid started moving towards the forge, but stopped mid-way when she heard one of the people's murmurs.

"Poor fella …" the woman said, picking up a barrel of apples. "He's taking this hard …"

'Maybe I was wrong …' Astrid wondered as she walked up to the stone and wood building. She slowly walked through the oaken doorway, knocking on it as she passed through.

"Gobber?" she called out, looking at the tremendous mess of weapons and materials lying on the ground, some smashed and splintered.

A mallet flings through the air at Astrid, the girl ducking out of the way. She looks up in time to see a wooden shield fly through the air at her, which shatters against the door frame just past.

"Gobber?" Astrid says cautiously, looking in the direction that the items were hurled from. In the shadows of the room, she can see the burly outline of the blacksmith hunched over by a table.

"Geeet out!" he slurred, sniffling afterwards.

"Gobber? Are you okay?" she asked, creeping slowly towards him.

"I said GET OUT!" he shouted, reaching for a blade hilt lying on the table next to him.

He grasps the hilt and raises it threateningly over his head. Astrid turned tail and ran out of the forge as the hilt clangs on the stone next to her, followed by metal handle bouncing off the ground behind her. She stands tall and looks at the muttering and dissolving crowd as they part and leave, before looking back at the darkened forge with concern.

'What-'

"Just let him be, lass" a rich voice says from behind her.

She turns around and sees his highness, King Stoick, looking down at her, dressed in red silk and furs with a long black bear skin cloak. A golden band adorned his head with carvings of warriors and two large silver circles engraved with god-like faces resting on his shoulders.

"Your majesty," she said, automatically bowing down on one knee and bringing a hand over her chest. A large hand is brought before her, which she looks at strangely and takes.

"You may rise, Astrid," he said, pulling her to her feet.

"Sire," she says respectfully dusting herself off.

"It's probably best not to worry about Gobber for now," he said, waving her off and walking up to the keep, the young knight following him. "He can get quite emotional when things like this happen. Especially when he also drinks."

"I can see that," she muttered, looking solemnly at the handle on the ground. The king, hearing her statement, chuckles warmly.

"He doesn't mean any harm, lass," he reassures her. "If he did, he would've hit his mark. No doubt."

"He does have a good aim for being drunk," she admits.

"Well, he needs it. The amount of times that we've been raided out of the blue by those devils of the sky, you never know if you're going to be sober or drunk. He could take a Nightmare out of the air with one hand whilst staggering around aimlessly."

"Well, that's good. It's the only hand he's got."

"Very true," Stoick laughed heartily. "How are the preparations going?"

"We're nearly ready, your majesty," she reports. "It should be ready within the hour."

"Good. Dusk is nearing, and I'm sure we'd all rather be having fun and celebrating by night time."

"Yeah …" she replies, her voice wavering slightly from her own unsure.

"Is something wrong?" he asks, looking at her with concern.

"N-no. Nothing, sire," she stammers out.

"Hmm … Well, if it's of any concern, you can tell me," the king says as he walks off, leaving Astrid standing near the keep lost in thought.

(Line Break)

Night has fallen across the lands, and Berk is alight with music, laughter and cheer. Berkians within the fortress laugh with one another as they drink mead and beer together, feasting upon food as if there is no tomorrow. The stalls are busy, children laughing as they play games and chase each other around the fortress. Explosions rock the sky as fireworks of various colours and shapes are launched towards the stars to the delight of all. Young couples head to the festival-like games, hoping to win their partner a prize or just to show off their skills. The general 'hoop toss' and 'target' stalls hold a lot of attention, along with the 'dunking' game.

The fighting ring, however, always brings in the largest crowds. Many come to watch and partake in the brawling, the audience cheering as the fights get wilder and fiercer. Singles and the occasional group matches, usually doubles, step up to fight, with both genders fighting with no weapons except their bodies. Punches, kicks, grappling and even headbuts are showcased as their strength and agility are put to the test. As a bloody, but friendly, brawl between the teams of Phlegma the Fierce and Sven the Silent against Bork Ironfist and Spitelout 'Battleheart' Jorgenson ends, the next duo to brawl enter the ring.

"The next fight is between the proclaimed Twins of Destruction!" the announcer, a man by the name of Hoark 'Thunderdrum', bellowed into a cone, amplifying his voice.

The hundreds that piled into the area surrounding the ring roared with approval as Ruffnut and Tuffnut step up into the corners.

"This fight is set for one round with no time limit," Hoark announced. "The brawl ends when either person submits, is counted out, or is unable to continue."

"They'd have to be unconscious to not be able to fight!" Snotlout yelled at Astrid over the noise of the crowd, the young female knight nodding in response. They, along with the twins and usually Fishlegs, would sit near the front row together, where they could see all the action and easily reach the ring if they wanted a fight. However, Fishlegs still was nowhere to be found, still probably in the library.

"Wonder how this one will end?!" Spitelout shouted at them as he sat down next to his son, crossing his arms and looking at the ring. "A no contest like usual?!"

"You were awesome, dad!" Snotlout yelled. "You could've taken them both on your own!"

"Of course I could!" he admitted. "Us Jorgenson's are virtually unbeatable!"

"Is that why Stoick has been able to make you tap out and submit before?!" Astrid shot at the two of them with a smug grin.

Spitelout didn't hear her as he was still hyped up from his brawl and raring for the twins to start. Snotlout however did hear and was about to retort back, but the battle roar of the twins as they charged at each other cut him off. Their first collision of heads brought a cheer from the crowd as they grabbed ahold of each other and tussled on the ring floor, rolling over each other as fists flew. Insults were hurled at one another as they did whatever they could to hit each other. They were practically famous for being an almost unbeatable tag team, and also for having the most amounts of no-contests.

Astrid shook her head in amusement and sneaked away, unseen by the Jorgenson duo who were so absorbed in the scuffle of the twins. She walked away from the arena and through the festivities, looking at all the cheerful adults and youth. Grabbing a small mug of mead and a chicken leg as she passed one of the food tables, she walked up higher and higher into the castle, to the battlements on the highest level. She climbed the stairs of the wall and up to a lookout tower, where she then looked down at the lights, the cheerful music, and the blissful people hustling and bustling. Drinking from her mug, she hears the humming of a man above her. Climbing to the roof of the tower, she comes across Gobber, mug attachment in place of his missing hand, humming and swaying to the music.

"Gobber?" she says as she pulls herself on top, standing precariously on the slanted roof.

"Oh, hello lass," he replies, more cheerful than their previous encounter that day.

"How are you feeling?"

"Much better than before," he replied, placing a hand next to him and inviting her over. The young knight walks over and sits down next to the blacksmith.

"I'm sorry about before, Astrid," he apologised, looking at her. "I'm a lot more sober now then I was then."

"It's alright, Gobber," she replied. "I guess I would've reacted something like how you did if I was in the same position."

"I just couldn't believe what happened. Hiccup? Of all people?"

"I'm a bit surprised too. Not just because he got banished, but more so how comfortable most people are taking it."

Astrid looks around tentatively, brushing her golden bangs out of her eyes.

"I mean, okay, he wasn't exactly the envisioned masterpiece that you all imagined a child of Stoick's to be. But still, he was the prince, and suddenly he is banished? Shouldn't there be more shock?" she asked, Gobber looking as if he has no answer. She looks back down at the scenes below them, the booming voice of Hoark coming from the ring.

"Due to both participants being unable to continue as a result of colliding head charge, this match has been called a no-contest!" he announced, his voice reaching the two on the lookout tower easily.

"Surprise, surprise," she chuckled, rolling her eyes.

"How many draws does that make now?" Gobber asked, amused.

"Two hundred and thirty eight apiece."

"Nearly four times as much as the next person," he mused, looking up at the starry sky and drinking from his mug.

"He shouldn'ta been banished," Gobber said after a pause, Astrid looking up at him mid-bite.

"Hiccup? What do you mean, Gobber?"

"Hiccup didn't do anything," Gobber explained, looking at Astrid. "If there was something, they've got the wrong person. I know it."

"What do you mean, 'if there was'?"

"Some people have been looking for an excuse to get Hiccup out of here for ages," Gobber explained to a surprised Astrid. "They think that there's a better person for his position, and they must have taken their chance."

"What was it that he did?"

"What he was accused for," Gobber emphasised, "I'm not too sure if I should tell you. Or, rather, if I'm the right person to do so. All I know is that he didn't do it. He wouldn't."

"Well … I guess you'd be the person to know what he would and wouldn't do. We never really knew him well, except for maybe Fishlegs. You knew him well, though."

Gobber nodded before getting up and stretching.

"Well, I best be off," he stated. "I volunteered to stay on watch for tonight."

"You did?" Astrid asked, taken aback.

"Of course I did. I'm not going to celebrate someone's banishment if I know they don't deserve it," Gobber said as he climbed back down the tower, grabbing an axe he left outside on the wall and walked away across the walls. Astrid watched the blacksmith leave before looking back down at the colourful lights, the celebrating Berkians, the music and laughter.

"What's going on? I used to enjoy these days," Astrid spoke to herself. "Maybe things just change a bit when it's someone you know."

'But did you really know him?' her conscious asks her, causing her to look back through her memories of Hiccup. Nothing in particular came to mind, mostly some clumsy mistakes that he made in the field or him presenting a strategic plan to counter an enemy in meetings. But, nothing truly that showed anything personal about him.

"… I guess not," she answered herself aloud, sighing and walking back down to the celebrations.

A/N: Hopefully you enjoyed that. It may very well be a bit out of touch, but I do have a much better idea of where I'm going with this.

Please fav or follow if you enjoyed it and want more, let me know your thoughts through review or PM. Constructive criticism is welcome, especially at the early stages. If you would like to make a suggestion or a request, please PM, or put in reviews if you can't. I'll try to reply to everyone that responds.

I'll get the next chapter up when I can, but until then I bid you all adieu.