You know, some of the reviewers have decided they're in on the bets and are betting sheep and someone PM'd me with internet yaks. I am highly, highly amused. The bets are on for how long Hiccup manages to keep it in his pants.


Berkian Eddur - 3

Meeting at Iðavöllr


3. Violentine's day.

Some people called it Valisblott1 in the other tribes. Berk had other ideas.

There was once a Viking called Violentine. He had a daughter called Lots. She was to marry the village stalwart, Mukus the Mighty, but she couldn't stand the bloke. Unfortunately, her father said otherwise, so she had to bow her head.

Then one day, Mukus' father Phlegm beat Violentine at arm-wrestling during Thawfest, and a family feud was issued. The contract was rescinded, and Lots was betrothed to another guy named Aham, who she happened to fancy.

That, according to Vikings, was extremely romantic. Don't argue, unless you want your nose reshaped.

So it was that a tradition was born to celebrate the lucky chance of Lots marrying Aham, who she sort of fancied, with Violentine being celebrated as the patron of all things romantic. It was the stupidest thing, ever.

Fourteen-year-old Hiccup had thought it a stupid thing, at any rate. And he knew it was sour grapes, too.

The thing was, his gifts had always been ... a mixed bag. For starters, the person receiving them had never known who they were from. And the usual 'preferred' method of showing interest didn't work much for him. He couldn't lug three logs while hopping and singing a love song. He couldn't climb a mountain and paint the tip blue, because it was her favourite colour (which he knew for sure), because he'd tried and didn't like pneumonia. The cherry tarts he'd left at her door had been mistaken for Violentine's gifts from her father to her mother, and the cheater hadn't refuted it, because he'd forgotten the holiday. He couldn't even get into a fight with her, bonk her on the head and carry her to her house to declare his love to her father, because Astrid was taller than him, and if he tried to head-butt her, odds where he would be the one passing out … one way or another.

When was twelve, the axe had gone down well. She was never without it, and just loved whacking people with it. It had been true satisfaction to watch Snotlout get a good beating with the handle he'd so meticulously crafted. But he'd felt like a sad sod when he was thirteen, to make her another weapon the next year, so he kept the dagger himself. And then she frowned when she saw it, and got testy. He'd kicked himself for a week after, and dropped a dagger off into her room. She'd used it to clean her nails for a fortnight every chance she got, so she could show it off, but it was a week after Violentine's day. So it didn't count.

When he was fourteen, he'd tried to do something out of the ordinary. He'd dropped flowers and a poem in her room, because serenading felt too old fashioned, and Mr Hofferson looked like he could break Hiccup like a twig. Admittedly the gifts weren't the best. They were just wildflowers and two lines of verse that were more sappy than romantic. She'd been fuming and extra furious all of the following month, vindictively pulling out flowers and trampling them, making him really happy that he'd left it anonymous.

Because that was his junk she was imagining, he was sure of it.

Between ages fifteen and nineteen, Hiccup thought of her every Violentine's day, but his gifts, bought and wrapped, were never sent to Berk. He could have managed, somehow, either accosting Trader Johann or somehow getting one of the heirs to do it, but it never even crossed his mind. He was Hiccup the Unwanted, and buying gifts for the woman he still stupidly loved for Violentine's day was a self-indulgency, more than an honest intention to give it to her - he could have a sweetheart too, even if she'd rather bash his head in with a frying pan than kiss him. So he bought her gifts, and stashed them away to look at and think of her.

When he was twenty, Hiccup was in utter agony. Violentine's day was soon - very soon. And he had no idea what to get Astrid. He legitimately could get her things now. Should get her things. But he was courting her, so he was constantly getting her things. His old fallback of a weapon wasn't even valid anymore, because he'd forgotten all about Violentine's day and given her shiney new wrist-guards just last week. And it would make him feel like a sad sod to give her something he'd made randomly for Violentine's day, anyway.

So he was stuck sitting outside, watching the village while trying to glean an idea - any idea - on what to do. He'd asked his dad, who had become lost in remembering the times with Hiccup's mother. He'd regretted that one, because the deep sighing broke his heart. He'd asked Gobber; no help there. He'd proposed to give her a sheep. What Astrid would do with a sheep he had no idea, when the Haddocks owned three flocks. She'd probably kill it then and there, just to have one less head to worry about, and dinner for a week.

He'd even been desperate enough to ask Snotlout. His cousin had only leered at him. Tuffnut he'd asked too with … predictable results. The male twin was just back from a boat trip to Bog - or one of the outlier islands of Bog, as men were never allowed on the tribe-island proper. Hiccup could only imagine that a repeat of Snoggletog had taken place from his grin, and his mother's face. Hiccup sighed; he was glad that the preparations for the wedding were going smoothly, at least. Hiccup had flown to the outlier Bog islands a few times himself with his father, and the first Freya's day after the spring equinox had been selected. The wedding would take place on the Bog island further from Bog proper, and construction had already begun for the feast tables and the wedding site.

Hiccup scratched his budding stubble. Neither one of the boys had been helpful, but luckily Fishlegs had offered some rather good advice; a foot massage and a day of pampering sounded like the only viable option. In the end, he settled for a picnic on one of Gobber's islands, supplies for a nice foot-massage to be stashed with the food and blankets.

First he'd have to find somewhere to leave Ætta. Then he'd have to devise a way to kidnap Astrid without her suspecting that it was a kidnapping. And then he'd have to find decide what to do with the kidnapped party. He couldn't just … take her on a dragon and show her the sights, and do a few of those daring maneouvers that would force her to cling onto him if she was riding pillion …

… well, that idea had some merit.

He stewed on it for another day before he set things into motion. He risked asking Fishlegs to look after Ætta because he knew his own Violentine's day plans were all about staying inside to care for his newly pregnant wife and treat her like 'the queen of all queens'. He hoped that didn't involve Ruffnut screaming orgasmic obscenities that would lead to Astrid culling Hiccup's balls when Ætta repeated them. His father would probably be breaking up brawls all day, and Brunhilda was out of the question - the woman would probably spill the beans.

It went surprisingly quickly after he'd settled on what to do. A few days before, the only thing left pending was how to get Astrid away. And Hiccup decided that she wouldn't be too annoyed at him if he lied at her for a good cause. He bribed Stormfly with his entire month's ration of chicken at the Hall and then got Fishlegs' last seal of agreement to watch Ætta, packed a large basket with balms and creams and oils, a picnic enough for five people (and one dragon) for the both of them alone, and he tried to hide his beaming smile when he told her he'd heard a rumour of a dragon in one of Gobber's northern-most small islands, and that they had to be stealthy - so the dragon just had to be Toothless - but he didn't dare go without backup, so would she please come?

The smile she got on her face was already a gift enough for him. Hearing her titter and hum as she walked away after bruising his arm was extra bonus.

On a whim, that afternoon he crafted a pretty little leather choker to tie around her neck, hammering studs into it so that it would match her kransen and some of her armour, and wrapped the leather around a bright blue cotton ribbon that would tie it in the back. It wasn't really something Astrid normally wore, but he was feeling jovial and imaginative. When he arrived home, he didn't even mind it that she was already fast asleep, curled on his side of the bed instead of her own and snuggling his pillow. It was nice to be able to spoon her discretely (being careful not to wake her up, because he didn't fancy a broken rib).

He was up bright an early the next day, top of the morning and all that. His dad gave him a wink and a wave as he tottered around the kitchen smiling like an idiot, making preparations - he hadn't told his dad, but both of them knew what day it was, and both of them knew Hiccup had plans with Astrid. His dad could probably imagine.

He bundled a whiny Ætta up, carrying the little girl in his arms still wrapped in her bed clothes all the way to the second Ingermann lodge were Fishlegs was already up and waiting, Woodnut in arm and Ruffnut knocked out on the couch.

'Long night?' he asked, passing his little girl on. Fishlegs just grinned. All the village knew Ruffnut was pregnant again, though she hadn't yet started showing, and from what he could see of Fishlegs's face, they'd been trying to defy nature and see if he could put more babies in her belly. All night.

'Something like that,' the man shrugged, holding one child in each arm.

'Thank you again for doing this for me, Fish,' he sighed. 'Are you sure you don't have plans for the day?'

'Eh, Ruff hates it,' he shrugged. 'So we celebrate around it. She says she will let no idiot ancestor of someone she doesn't even know tell her when she'll celebrate a holiday.' Both men chuckled together. 'All the better for me; she gets a special day the day before, and I get a special one the day after.'

'Smart,' Hiccup grinned, waving as he turned to go, rushing back towards his own hall and arriving just on time to find an irate Toothless waiting for his breakfast. 'Got you covered, bud! Eat it all up, we have a long day today!'

His enthusiasm didn't fade when the day dawned properly and it proved grey and dreary. It was spring, the weather was unpredictable, the terrors were singing on the rooftops, it was Violentine's day and he actually had a plan and a sweetheart this year. Nothing could go wrong.

He'd been tempting fate, of course. Astrid came down not a few moments later, packed and ready to go. Hiccup had attached the picnic saddle bag to Toothless, careful to slip the choker into a plate he would hand her, and then they were off. He'd chosen the northern-most island of the Berkian Territory on purpose, somewhere remote where there were very large glades covered in the grass and wild flowers. It would have been lovely to see the dappled sunlight through the trees, but one could not have everything.

The trip was also a long one, longer than he had anticipated with the heavy saddle bag and extra person, and Astrid spent the majority of it trying to coax details out of him regarding this mysterious new threat dragon that they were supposedly heading to look for.

By the time they began approaching it was afternoon, and as the days were still short, the long dusk had begun. He smiled when, just as he'd planned - if perhaps an hour later - the beautiful lights of the northern skies began to appear in wispy, smoky waves.

He switched Toothless into a glide, relaxing their pace as he felt a smile spread on his face. This was the romantic first date they never got to have, where he took her somewhere awesome on dragon-back and she was relaxed about it, rather than tense and rallying people to get off Dragon Island. He sighed happily, the rest of the day panning out in front of him. He'd get punched, hopefully not too badly, about the fake threat. Then they'd find a glade in full view of the West, sit down and enjoy their food as they watched the sunset. He'd give her that foot massage until she was relaxed as a sleepy dragon, break out the flute2, which he knew would be a surprise as they'd already drifted apart when Gobber had begun teaching him, and she'd make fun of him for it for as long as she liked - hopefully while wearing his gift - and then before it got too cold, they'd bundle everything up and head back, another romantic flight, to come home late at night and snuggle under the furs, freezing, together in their bed and warming each other up.

He barely got to finish this particular bout of wishful thinking.

'Arvindayle's fire!' Astrid gasped, and then she growled something that sounded savagely angry, frighteningly similar to 'revenge', 'honour' and 'dragon meat mince'.

'What?' he asked, feeling like someone hit him upside the head.

'Toothless!' Astrid hissed, suddenly hauling Brisinga off her back and letting her left fingers dig into his side. 'The enemy dragon is close, and it's a monstrously tricky one. Keep an eye out!'

'What?' Hiccup asked again, even as he suddenly yelped because Toothless took her seriously and dropped out of his glide, making him scramble to adjust the pedal and avoid an unplanned daredevil maneouver.

'The flightmare will be mine this time!' she laughed, raising Brisinga high. 'They tied me up in Stoick's hut when I was fifteen, but not this year! It comes early, and I'm not going to miss this time!'

What... What?

'Toothless! We have to protect Hiccup! This one is nasty!' Instantly, Toothless kicked his rigging in the emergency gear, and suddenly he was in control of his flight. Hiccup squeaked as they began racing at incredibly high speeds, Astrid almost standing behind him as she waved her axe around like a mad woman. During a particularly harsh turn, they almost toppled off balance due to the heavy saddle bag, and Astrid leaned down and unlatched it.

'What are you doing!' he yelled in dismay as he tried to grab their falling food and blanket and everything else. It sank down towards the sea like a rock. There went the pretty choker and the picnic and … his flute too. He'd bought that one from a road trader in a place tucked between two mountains. It was engraved and beautiful, and now it was … yup, wet and gone.

They flew around in aimless circles for the next hour, the sunset come and gone together with his patience as he tried to get a word in edge-wise the whole time, being either ignored or interrupted. Finally, he declared the day over as the first stars appeared overhead, and with no chance of ever living a single romantic moment with Astrid this year. Again.

'We're going home,' he growled, reaching down halfway off the saddle to crank the gear back to his control, and then he jammed it. Sensing his anger, Toothless gave a questioning warble, but Hiccup merely turned him towards Berk and urged him on. Toothless wisely did not argue.

Astrid was less wise.

'But-'

'We're. Going. Home!' he barked, and something in his tone seemed to register that he was annoyed with her, so she fell quiet for the rest of the trip. He threw himself off Toothless as soon as they landed behind his house, but Astrid was not far behind.

'What was that about!' she yelled, obviously having worked up quite a temper from having been yelled at.

It was the last straw. Hiccup whirled on her, ignoring her waving axe, and snapped.

'What was that about? That was about the bag you decided to drop into the ocean without asking a single word on whether or not I was OK with it!' he growled.

'It was throwing us off balance!' he snapped right back. 'What did you have in there, stones? I can sew you more clothes and blankets, Hiccup, but we lost that dragon because-'

'There was never any dragon!' he roared, throwing his hands up.

'What? But you said-'

'Yes! I lied! It was supposed to be a surprise; a picnic, a sunset and some time just for you and me!' he flailed his arms out angrily. 'But of course, that was a stupid plan! Happy Violentine's Day, Astrid!'

He whirled around again, storming into his house and ignoring the door banging off the wall as he walked in.

'Not go well, I take it?' Stoick asked sympathetically.

'Goodnight,' he barked back, stamping his feet all the way up and feeling childish for it, but also feeling better, so he just went with it. He took great satisfaction in throwing everything he was wearing across the room - even if he knew he'd be cursing himself tomorrow - and then wore his night clothes and got under the furs, his back decidedly towards the other side.

He heard her tentative steps come into the room and he ignored them sulkily. Cloth and fur rustled in the silence of the hall, then the bed moved as she got in beside him, but he kept the grumpy up, making sure to stay stiff as a plank in bed, even when one of her fingers came to caress his shoulders tentatively.

'...It was Violentine's day?' she asked, a little meekly. She'd never usually sounded meek, especially not like that, so- no. No, he was going to be angry. He was going to be angry and damnit he wasn't going to give up the angry. 'I … sort of trained myself not to notice, you know.'

'Why?' his mouth asked. Damnit!

'Well, the first one after you left was the worst,' she said in a low-voiced mutter. 'I wasn't yet … you know, spoken for.' There was a small pause. Obviously she was hoping he'd turn round. He had to go stiffer than a plank to keep his body from doing just that. She sighed and went on. 'I got lots of gifts. Flowers, songs … mostly from Snotlout. It was a nightmare.'

'Oh great, so now being courted is a nightmare,' he ground out mulishly. 'Good to know. I'll stop right away.'

'Come on..' she said, sadly. Oh, heck, she was bringing out the big guns. 'Don't be like that, you know I really like your gifts. And at least your poetry isn't about the taste of sour yak milk and grass on my knees.'

His body literally did a tilt as it tried to turn to look at her incredulously but he refused to let it. He growled at the far wall. 'Remind me to break Snotlout's nose tomorrow.'

'Ok,' she replied sheepishly. Shit, she was using the sheepish. Her finger came up to caress his stiff shoulder again, but … he just was too angry. 'Please Hiccup, I'm sorry. I really am. I don't want to go to sleep at odds.'

He winced and began fiddling with the sheet in front of him.

'I'm so sorry,' she said again. 'You must have taken time to organize, and found someone to care of Ætta and I didn't even notice. And then you must have gotten me a gift, and … oh! Oh no! You must have been in the forge for hours, working on my gift, and I just threw it into the ocean!'

Now she sounded upset; really, really upset. He knew she loved his metal work, and appreciated his craftsmanship in a way he'd come to adore. He couldn't let her think that. With a final sigh, he turned around to lie flat on his back and stare at the ceiling. Her hand sneaked to wiggle her fingers into his tentatively, and he just let her.

'It was only a choker, with a blue ribbon at the back. It wasn't armour or a weapon, so don't worry, I didn't spend hours on it … It was meant to go with your blue dress, but really the gift was the picnic. And a foot-rub. And the sunset and … well, all that nice time.' She wiggled closer and put her head against his shoulder. 'I'm still upset,' he said still a little grumpily. But then he went on, 'more that it didn't work out, than at you. I was just looking forward to it, I guess. Lots of- … lots of dreaming, you know.'

She didn't apologise again, but she curled up around his side and kissed his shoulder. The last bit of upset was leaking out, because really it was disappointment, and attention from her helped a little.

'I hate the flightmare,' Astrid murmured. 'It ruined my family name, and it took Uncle Fin away from us. He was too ashamed … I thought the lights meant ...'

'No, those are different lights. Up farther North, they're there all the time. I'd forgotten about the flightmare and … that. Sorry,' he muttered with a wince.

'I'm the one who over-reacted,' she replied sadly, and there was a note of melancholy that both soothed him and made him feel guilty. He wanted and at once didn't want her to be sad for their missed date today.

'So,' he went on after a while, wiggling closer to her to let her know he'd at least grown less upset. 'One bad Violentine's day can't have made you hate it so much that you tried to forget it existed. What else is there to this story?'

'Well … by the next year, I was engaged to you, so … it was still mostly Snotlout,' she sighed. He felt his body make an odd twitch at how strange it sounded to hear her speaking of being engaged to him at fifteen, when he was a world away, dreaming about her while he thought the stars were closer to his reach. 'This one time he roped Tuffnut into playing the fiddle and sat under my window singing horridly badly … Your dad got so mad at him he went out there personally to box his ear in. He was complaining about it ringing for a week. Tuffnut got the fiddle bashed over his head.' She chuckled. 'At least it was entertaining to watch your dad give them the smack-down, but the next year he tried to capture a dragon to impress me, and ended up bringing it into the village. It almost wrecked our hall. I could go on...'

'It does sound tedious,' Hiccup conceded. The he prodded her, because she was biting her bottom lip as she always did when she was concentrating on something. 'What else?'

'Nosy,' she replied, slightly annoyed.

'Tell me, and you're forgiven,' he offered. She gave him a pout.

'Fine … I hated it because I was envious,' she admitted, looking away almost shyly. 'I hadn't thought long-term when I offered up my idea of the shield and … as time passed, I started missing you. And wondering.' She blushed. 'And … maybe hoping and wishing. There, I said it.'

She boxed his shoulder lightly then hid her face against it. So he turned around to face her and hugged her, letting her hide her face under his chin instead.

'Bit like me, then. Some of your jeweller may be late Violentine presents, if we're honest. Very, very late.'

'...which ones?'

'The blue one with green stones … and the red one, with the matching earrings.' He scratched his cheek, which was blushing. 'And the rings with moonstones…'

She sniggered a little, poking his chest. Her promise ring glimmered in the dim light. 'Got bold there, Haddock.'

'Dreams are always bold.' They went quiet for a moment, and Astrid lay motionless in his arms, until she wiggled out of them.

'Turn.'

'What?'

'Turn over,' she insisted. 'And take your night clothes off.'

'Astrid, I'm in my nightclothes. I'm only wearing those3!' He tried not to yelp, he really did. It didn't go so well for him. Astrid blushed for a moment, but then set her jaw stubbornly, and he knew he'd either take the shirt off, or his ship mast would be standing straight from her wrestling it off him. He gave in, blushing to the roots of his hair. All his hair.

'Lay on your belly,' she ordered, encouraging him to role with her fingertips, and he did so, disconcerted. He felt the bed wobble as she threw herself out, but she was back in a moment, and something cold dropped on his back, making him hiss. 'It will warm in a minute, I promise...'

Her fingers began digging into his back, going up and down and rotating on his neck muscles. Some spots were painful, but whatever she had put on him had warmed considerably, leaving a pleasant, toasty warmth wherever she touched. He was boneless within moments as she put more vigour into it, using her entire forearm and straddling his legs to leave tingles and lip-biting sensations on his lower back.

He was completely relaxed and drifting off by the time she stopped, flopping onto the bed beside him. He made an effort and opened his eyes to find her smiling and panting slightly.

'That was really good,' he sighed. She smiled wider, leaning in to kiss his nose.

'No one's ever massaged you stupid, I take it,' she whispered triumphantly. 'Good. I'll do this again.'

'If this is how you win arguments,' he muttered into the pillow, aware that his voice was slurring as his eyes dropped. 'I may start arguments more often ...'

'Cheeky,' he distantly heard her snigger, a finger poking his shoulder barely registering in his thoughts. Her hand moved up to rest on the centre of his back, and then he heard her voice hum in his ears. He wasn't quite sure what she said, but the sounds was sweet and comforting.

'`Ppy Violentine's day to you too, Asta,' he muttered before he dropped off to sleep.

=0=

Astrid watched him drift off, pleasingly flushed, and shining from the whale oil she'd used to make the massage more pleasant. She wasn't exactly sure who the massage had been a treat for, but the smile on his face meant that it had worked, either way.

'That was really good,' he said breathily, and his eyelids looked made of lead for all the effort he was making to keep them up. Being upset with her was energy draining for him. Who knew?

'No one's ever massaged you stupid, I take it,' she whispered triumphantly, so very, utterly pleased that she was the first one. Take that, all the women of Midgard; five years away, and she still got to do this first. 'Good. I'll do this again.'

There was a pause, and for a moment, she thought he'd fallen asleep. His response was barely intelligible, when it came. 'If this is how you win arguments, I may start arguments more often ...'

She could see him do it, too. Pretend-fighting with that hopeful gleam in his eyes. He already did it for kisses sometimes. 'Cheeky,' she teased, creeping closer to him and drawing the covers around them. The linens would stain, but what did she care? That dopey smile was worth anything. She let her hand drift up and down his back as she half-rose to kiss his cheek, and then his earlobe. Resting her cheekbone against his, she murmured. 'I really think I may love you.'

His heartbeat didn't jump under her hand, and she was almost glad of it. He looked content and warm … and she was so afraid of saying it. She was so scared of being wrong, and disappointing him.

'`Ppy Violentine's day to you too, Asta,' he replied, and her own heart jolted. She smiled against him, curling up further to his warm chest.

'Yes,' she sighed, 'happy Violentine's day.'

=0=

1 From what I've found, there is actually no consistent historical evidence that a holiday called Valisblott as an association with Valentine's day prior to the existence of the latter. However, I thought some readers may be familiar with it and my research is obviously not conclusive, so I gave it a small mention - mostly to pull its leg. Violentine's day, on the other hand, is entirely my invention, and it sounds just too Berk not to be used. Because some people have chocolates and Valentine's cards. Berk has Violence.

2 Hiccup also would be required to know how to play an instrument as a noble man (relatively speaking), and I gave him the flute because his long smart fingers are well built for it. Amongst other things.

3 Hiccup isn't being sexy here. I looked around, and there isn't much evidence that Vikings wore underwear before the 10th Century. As I'm placing this waaay before in my head (based on the clothing in the first film; a clue is the battle close to Constantinople Hiccup describes in Holt, which really happened) Hiccup wouldn't have had underwear to wear at all. Hurtwick dot org even says that poor people mostly slept naked, while higher ranked members of society would have better means - and thus sleeping clothes.

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This idea hit me upside the head, and I couldn't shirk it. It was silly, and funny, and I enjoyed writing it, not to mention, the image of a pouting Hiccup stomping up to his room couldn't be passed up.

Also, it always struck me as funny that Astrid's face went all 'ooooh, pretty!' when she saw the northern lights during their romantic flight, because that should have, according to the series, made her mad as a hungry gronkle because it reminded her for family honour and why she hated dragons and yadda yadda. So yes, I am pulling the leg of the romantic flight with this fic. Sorry, my humour is pawky.

I am also very, very close to submitting a thesis I have been working on for 3 years. And then will begin working on PhD proposals. Maybe. Gods I'm wired. But I will also be absent for a while; just a headsup. Wish me luck!

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