AN: I apologize for the delay. I actually had this drafted weeks ago and didn't have a chance to finalize it until today. Thank you all for the follows and kind comments. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and plan on having the next one out in a few weeks.

It was like being underwater. The light was dim, as if passing through a filter. The only sensation was that of weightlessness, coupled with an unsettling resistance that made it difficult to move. All sounds were muffled, including a deep, rhythmic thump echoing in the darkness. In the distance, a high-pitched frequency, indiscernible but constant. Time felt inconsequential.

"Hiccup!"

With a sudden jolt, the comforting veil was stripped away. He felt as though he had been jerked above the water's surface. Disoriented and overwhelmed, his eyes snapped open.

As his vision came into focus, Hiccup saw that he was not pulled from the waves, but was still in his room. Slouched up against a wall, sitting limply on the floor, he looked into familiar cerulean eyes. Though they were reminiscent of the ones he saw frequently in his sleep, they were also very different. They were not filled with rage and judgement as they often were in his fitful dreams, nor were they coy and lustful as they were in more pleasant fantasies. These eyes were wide, and pained, and panicked.

As he blinked with heavy lids and began to straighten his aching back, the fear began to dissipate from Astrid's features. A sigh of relief huffed from her chapped lips as she released her tight grip on his shoulders. Her hands glided down, fingertips lightly brushing his chest until her hands landed on her own folded knees as she crouched on the floor.

"Sweet Thor…" she whispered, "please don't do that again."

Hiccup shook his head, piecing together fragments of fresh memories. His cheeks became red and hot with embarrassment. "Did…did I pass out?"

Astrid repositioned her hip on the floor, concealing a pained wince. "Nearly. You looked like you were a million miles away. Then you said something about sitting down…and your legs buckled. Well, leg." She had the decency to smile apologetically as he cast her a weak glare.

As they both sat on the floor, each waiting for the other to speak, the light in the room began to flicker. Astrid glanced at the nearby candle and its struggling flame. She carefully positioned her feet underneath her and slowly stood, trying to ignore a shooting pain up her side. Shuffling towards the dying light, she was stopped by a hand lightly gripping her forearm.

"No, don't" Hiccup grunted as he pulled himself up from the ground "you need to sit." Astrid looked at him, noting his serious expression. She decided not to challenge him, this time, and slowly made her way back to the bed.

Shifting her weight onto the mattress, legs hanging off the edge, she watched him approach the dimming candle. In the growing darkness, she could barely she him reaching into a small pouch on his belt and pulling out a metal cylinder. A sharp click filled the silent space, and a bright flame erupted from the device as he touched it to the candle's wick. Astrid's eyebrows disappeared beneath her bangs as she leaned in for a closer look.

"You did it" she murmured. "Your Ignitor works".

Hiccup nodded shallowly, then suddenly spun to look at her, eyes wide. He looked down at the cylinder in his hand, then met her gaze, head slightly cocked. "Wait, how did you…"

"You sketched it out" she replied, still eyeing the device. "The picture is still in my room…er, your room. It looked a bit different than that…larger I think. But it's the same thing, isn't it?"

The distant look in Hiccup's eyes returned at the mention of their apparently shared living space. He nodded as he placed the Ignitor back into it's pouch. "Yeah…yeah, it is."

After a moment's hesitation, Hiccup slowly sat on the bed next to Astrid, eyes glued to the ground.

"Okay, I'm just going to ask. About what you said earlier, um, about you. And me. I mean…how are we…?" he gestured with his hand, struggling to finish his sentence.

Astrid smiled weakly. He couldn't tell if she was exhausted or embarrassed. Possibly both. "It's…a long story."

He looked into Astrid's eyes expectantly, begging for more details.

With a quiet sigh, Astrid pulled the furs over her lap. "Okay. It started a year after you left…"

FLASHBACK

The frigid wind whipped against her exposed arms as she trudged through the village. Night had begun to fall, and only a few people were still walking about. Candles illuminated nearby windows, displaying the evening rituals of her tribe. Most were completing their chores before bed; a few were finishing their supper. Mrs. Svenson was sweeping the kitchen, shouting at her children and their Terrible Terror for tracking mud inside. Across the street, Mr. Larson drank a pint of mead, laughing as his eldest son bragged about his riding prowess. Astrid scowled bitterly as she quickened her steps, choosing to focus on the sound of her boots scrapping against the rocky terrain. She did not want to be reminded again of what she had lost.

As she reached the crest of the hill, Astrid lifted her gaze to her destination: the Haddock's lodge. A familiar apprehension formed as a tightness in her chest as she forced her legs to continue. Over the past year she had purposely avoided coming near this building, as impossible as that was.

When she approached the ornately carved doorframe, she was surprised to see the door swing wide open. The broad, rounded form of Mr. Ingermann stepped outside, barely seeing Astrid over an armful of scrolls and books.

"Oh, Astrid!" he exclaimed, a jolly grin visible beneath his greying beard. "A pleasure to see you, my dear."

Astrid forced a thin smile as she nodded in response. "Thank you, Mr. Ingermann." His warm smile wavered slightly as he sympathetically looked the girl up and down. She felt self-conscious under this familiar gaze…one she received often when she left her home. The well-intentioned pity of others made her ill, as well as acutely aware of how far she had fallen. Perhaps he could see that her clothes were ill-fitting and poorly mended. Did he notice the dark circles under her exhausted eyes? How dull her hair had become?

"You…uh…you should come by our house on your way home, Astrid." The elder Ingermann's signature smile slowly returning as he adjusted his grip of the mound of papers. "The missus prepared more cod tonight than even Fishleggs could eat! You would be doing us a big favor by taking it off our hands."

Astrid tried to hide the shame in her eyes as she glanced down at her own form. Her lithe muscles had begun to atrophy, displaying her thin frame. Well-defined shoulders were now angular and sharp. Hands that were once strong and callused were only bones and ligaments. For the first time in her life, she felt frail. Sickly.

She shifted uncomfortably as her eyes darted between the large man and the doorway he was blocking. Although she didn't want to go inside, staying where she was suddenly seemed worse. "Um…yeah. Sure. I'll come by later, Mr. Ingermann."

He smiled sadly but nodded, acting as though he didn't hear the hollowness in her commitment. With a parting glance, he carefully stepped off the balcony, leaving Astrid alone in the doorway. She glanced into the brightly lit room, slowly edging her way inside. She was delighted to feel the warmth of the space envelope her.

"Chief?" she called out.

The towering form of Stoick the Vast lumbered into view. "Astrid…you made it. Good. Please, sit down." He motioned her towards a dining table, where two chairs stood. He slowly sat in one, as large and imposing as the man it supported. The other was small and simple, like a modest tree stump. Astrid approached the smaller chair and sat awkwardly on the edge of the seat. After a moment of staring at the table top, she worked up the courage to glance at her chief. She expected him to being eyeing her with the same sympathy others did, but was surprised to see him staring into the table top as well. His expression was the same as it had been all year: blank and joyless. Heavy-lidded eyes were vacant and weary. His fiery red beard was rapidly greying. His posture, once proud and commanding, was slumped and purposeless.

He turned towards her, but did not seem to be looking directly at her. It was almost as if he were looking through, at something unseen.

"How are you managing, Astrid?"

Astrid was taken aback a bit. She was used to being asked how she was, which she always wanted to answer with a scream and a swing of her axe. But no one had ever asked her what she was doing to make it through each day.

"I'm…surviving, sir."

Stoick nodded, his gaze into the void unwavering.

"Of course you are. You're a Hofferson, after all."

Astrid felt a swell of pride, a feeling she desperately missed.

"And what do you intend to do now?"

With a furrowed brow, she looked back at the table. "What do you mean, sir?"

"I mean, what will you do now?", he clarified. "Have you considered a trade to support yourself?"

She nodded slowly. "I have been doing odd jobs around the village…repairs. Some of my father's tools are still usable, so I have that."

A low hum vibrated in Stoick's throat, as he gazed away from at towards a nearby shelf. "Was anything left after the raids? Anything for you to live on?"

Astrid shook her head. "No, sir. The Outcasts took everything that wasn't nailed down. But I still have a home. I…know others were not as lucky." She remembered the thick black smoke that filled the village as other homes burned to the ground.

After a moment of silence, Stoick muttered darkly, "Life has not been the same since those bastards came to our shores."

Standing from his chair, Stoick approached the shelf he had been staring at. He grabbed a small wooden box and placed it on the table across from Astrid.

"Did your father ever tell you about Hiccup's mother?"

Thrown by the random question, Astrid regained her composure. She searched her memories, vaguely remembering passing comments and brief stories. "Just that she was very kind…and that she and Mama were good friends."

Stoick nodded "Aye, they were. I've known Val and Sibba all my life, and up until Val…left…a day didn't pass without those two seeing each other." A small, nearly undetectable smile lifted the edge of his lips. "They shared every birthday together…planned each other's weddings. And when Hiccup was born, your mother was here everyday to help us care for him. The next season, Val returned the favor by lending a hand when you came into this world." Astrid swallowed a lump that had formed in her throat, carefully taking in every word. She tried to imagine her mother, and the life she lived.

"Growing up" Stoick continued, "they had always joked that their children would one day marry one another. They always felt like family to each other, and it seemed fitting that they could one day be kin. You have to remember, this was when arranged marriages were the norm, so that was not at all unheard of." Astrid looked at her chief warily, but did not dare interrupt. Stock inhaled deeply, a grim expression weighing his heavy brow. "When you were born, Hiccup was of course older but still very ill. He had stopped eating and growing, and Val was distraught. She could no longer see a future for our precious son."

An uncomfortable silence filled the air as Stoick stared into space, replaying those difficult days. Astrid bit her lip, unsure of what to say.

Bracing his arms on the table the faint smile returned to Stoick's face. "But Sibba always knew how to cheer her up. She and your father came over one day, you wrapped in a tight bundle, with a parchment in hand. It was a marriage contract, binding you and our son in matrimony. She told Val what I had said all along…that he would survive this and would have a future. He would grow, and he would learn, and he would love." Leaning towards the wooden box, Stoick lifted the lid to reveal a scroll. "This contract, while never meant to be upheld, was a symbol of their faith in our son. This simple act did wonders for Val's spirits. I thank the Gods every day that before she was taken, Val was able to see her son begin the thrive." For the first time that evening, Stoick met Astrid's gaze, looking intently into her eyes. "And I thank your mother every day for that."

Astrid's jaw slacked, her lower lip falling slightly as she tried to form her next words. Her hands shook, and she tried to hide the quiver in her voice. "Why are you telling me this? Sir?"

"I am telling you this, Astrid, because it could offer you a better future." He kept his eyes fixed to her, though she looked away and down at her hands. "You know as well as I do that without your family's support, your best chance of survival is through marriage. But without a dowry, your options will be very limited. If I sign this document, it becomes a binding contract and would make you a member of our family."

Gripping her hands to still them, she huffed in surprise. "So, what, I would be married? To Hiccup? How is that even…can that even happen?"

Nodding, Stoick gently wrapped his hand around the scroll and pulled it from the box. "There is precedent. Ragnar Ingermann looked through our archives, and it has been done a few times. It is legal so long as the contract was written before the individual…departed…and the families do not object."

Astrid stared in disbelief as Stoick gingerly rolled the contract onto the table. She stood from her chair, feeling dizzy and weak. "I just….I can't…it's…it's not right. He could come back. If Hiccup comes back, then…"

Taking a step towards her, Stoick gently but firmly placed his hands on Astrid's shoulders. She looked into his eyes, startled to see them brimming with tears.

"Astrid…he isn't coming home, lass. My son is dead. I am coming to accept that. You need to as well."

Feeling her body begin to shake, she shook her head as she backed away from his grip. "No…I'm…sorry, sir. I can't do this. Thank you, but no thank you, sir. I….I need to go."

Astrid quickly moved towards the door, fighting back tears of her own. As she walked through the doorway, Stoick's voice bellowed, "Worry less about Hiccup, Astrid. Please think about yourself."

Astrid ran into the woods, low branches and bushes scrapping against her limbs. She stumbled over rocks in the darkness, catching herself with her hands. Her palms were cut and raw, but she gripped her hands into fists and continued running. Her lungs stung from the cold air. She ran until the shrubs revealed a secluded but familiar clearing. This cove was her sanctuary. The same where she confronted Hiccup. Where she first saw the Night Fury. As she approached the water's edge she finally ran out of steam and fell to her knees. She sank slightly into the muddy shore, and she raked her nails through the soil. As hot tears fell from her eyes, she allowed herself to scream and pound the ground with her fist. Her echoing roar projected her explosive rage. With every strike, she thought of the Outcasts who took her father from her. She imagined irresponsible, careless Hiccup and his stupid dragon. A piece of paper that could take away her freedom, her independence, and worst, her family's name. As her punches softened she remembered her parent's faces. The faded hope in Stoick's eyes. The look on Hiccup's face when she kissed him. They were standing right there. Her hands were now buried in the dirt where he once stood.

The tears that streamed down her face felt different now; cooler and less acidic. She remembered the gawky boy as he stood confidently before her. How he looked so sure, and determined. How he had been brazen enough to force her onto the back of the most deadly dragon known to man and showed her a world above their own. His limp body as it fell into the fiery inferno. The tattered, bloody remains of his leg as he lay dying on the beach.

As her breathing slowed, Astrid fell to her side with exhaustion. Looking into the still waters of the cove, she thought about the people who were no longer in her life. Her mother, who she had only vague memories of, taken too young by illness. Her beloved uncle, who left the island in disgrace, drowned at sea. Her father, who died defending his daughter and his village. All of these losses, while tragic, were possible to comprehend. Hiccup, on the other hand, was more difficult to process. He was…sort of a friend? Almost? She was not sure what he was to her anymore, other than a constant. He was always in the background, and despite his diminutive size, was impossible to miss. Whenever disaster struck, which was fairly often, Astrid knew he was nearby. Back then, she would not have been surprised if he was killed by a dragon. No one would have been. His recklessness and asinine inventions made him the most likely victim when dragons attacked. But she never, ever, would have imagined he would perish in battle, after defeating a dragon the size of a mountain. On the back of a Night Fury. It all seemed so impossible. How could a boy like that do something no other Viking had the guts to try? How could a boy like that die? In Astrid's weary and desperate mind, she just didn't see how he could.

.

As Astrid returned to the village, damp and covered in mud, she was relieved to be the only one outside. Walking away from the main path behind the houses, she was still able to see the warming glow of candles at each home. Looking further ahead, she could barely make out the dark shadow of her own lodge; cold and vacant. No one to greet her as she entered. No one to talk to, or shout at, or laugh with. No one to hide her tears from. No one to be strong for.

When she reached the house, she paused in front of the door. Too exhausted to think it over, she turned away from the entry and instead walked towards the side of the building. She could hear soft snoring in time with the gentle rise of Stormfly's sleeping form. Dropping to her hands and knees, Astrid crawled under her dragon's wing. The slumbering Nadder opened an eye and upon seeing her rider, gently squawked and pulled the girl closer. With a final nuzzle to Astrid's head, Stormfly tucked her head in and both fell fast asleep.