IV.
Hiccup sleeps more than any person she's ever known. Or maybe it only seems that way because he wakes up when it's near dark and goes out until the first rays of dawn have already spilled across the mouth of his cave. She's not sure where he goes or what he does, only that he leaves hungover and comes back drunk. He hardly pays attention to her presence.
It was an event simply trying to get him to feed her. The first day she'd spent in his cave, after he'd dragged her out of the tunnels and half-shoved her back by her single fur in the corner, he'd gone straight back to bed. She'd seethed and plotted and checked the rockface at the entrance to decide whether scaling was a possibility. After hours of searching, though, she still wasn't any closer to escape. And her stomach was growling. So she walked over to the breathing pile of furs and gave the chief's son a kick to the ribs.
He woke with a grunt, rolling over and squinting up at her. "What? What now?"
"I'm hungry," she told him flatly. Folding her arms over her chest, she scowled. "Even prisoners get food."
He made a noise that was half scoff, half groan as he rubbed his face. "So eat something. I'm not stopping you."
She gave him another kick. It really would've been more effective with her boots. But he got the message– he sat up and gave her a little push away from the bed.
"Point me to the pantry, caveman." Astrid gestured at their bare surroundings. "Or better, the kitchen. I can get knives there."
"See, and you wonder why I hang out with dragons." Hiccup gestured broadly to the trio of dragons resting by the tunnel. In between the other two, the Night Fury lifted his head. "So much less maintenance. At least they can find their own meals."
Her eyes flicked to the ceiling. Of course they found their own meals. In Berk's pastures and pens.
Eventually she was able to drag an answer out of him– next to a near-toppling stack of books was a basket half filled with fresh fish. Hiccup disappeared into the tunnels, dragons following on his heels, and she was left alone in the main room once more.
Three days have passed, and that's the most civilized conversation they've had as of yet. It's dark again, and the basket is empty. She's examined the giant map on the wall, a mural of scraps of parchment somehow pasted together. She's able to find Berk, but if their current location is marked on his hand-drawn creation, she can't locate it. For the sake of entertainment, she even looked through Hiccup's tiny library, but there's little that isn't about dragons, physics, or written in another language. Lifting her brows, she wonders if he actually understands these foreign writings.
She does find a small barrel of something strong-smelling tucked near the bed– the one place she refuses to explore. A small dab with her finger in the name of curiosity makes her wrinkle her nose and gag. It's the kind of stuff opened for weddings and funerals, though there have been more of the latter and fewer of the prior in the past few years. Too strong for her tastes. It reminds her of raucous fights in the Great Hall.
Despair and hate boils in the pit of her stomach, feeling a lot like hunger. Or maybe it is hunger. She's surprised to find she doesn't miss home as much as she expected, but that doesn't make her any less determined to make it back. No matter how many demands she makes, how much she screams and insults him, the disgusting Dragon Master only drags a pillow over his head and ignores her. Every morning she thinks more and more about stealing the knife tucked into his waistband and holding it to his throat.
Astrid's learned that the sound of beating wings precedes him. At first it filled her with a terrified panic, sent her hands skittering along the ground in search of a weapon. But once the dragons fill the cave and tunnels and Hiccup flies in on the monster he affectionately refers to as "Toothless", they pay her little to no attention. The dragons curl up and begin grooming themselves, and their leader staggers to his pile of soft furs.
Tonight, he's home earlier than usual. At the sound of wind and wings, she flinches and sits up, pressing her back to the cave wall. For a moment, it's a chaotic cacophony blurred with color and scales. Folding her arms and trying not to dig her nails into her elbows, Astrid frowns and glances towards the entrance.
"Whew!" Hiccup's laughter is a strange noise, though not a completely unfamiliar one. It's muffled by the sound of his facemask, but he removes it as he comes close enough for her to see. "Thought we were never gonna get home."
Toothless bounds in next to him, clearly excited and playful. There's something clamped in his jaws, and he lifts his chin for an affectionate scratch from his rider.
Hiccup shifts his gaze to her, easy smile tightening into something like a smirk. "Evening, milady. And how is my beautiful wife?"
She hisses, "I'm not your wife, you dragon-loving asshole."
"Oh, my day was great," he replies with a flippant wave of his hand. "Worked up quite an appetite."
She nods towards the corner, where she kicked the empty basket earlier that day. "Sorry, sweetheart, I didn't have time to fix anything."
"Eugh," he shivers. "You're right, that does feel unsettling."
She glares at him as he warms his hands by the fire and kicks off his boots. Her line of sight is suddenly interrupted by a wall of black– and she blinks up with alarm into a pair of bright green eyes.
Toothless slowly bows his head and opens his jaw. Astrid watches with a faintly curled lip as he gently places a rabbit carcass at her feet. Licking his lips, he stares at her. Gives her a little nod as if to say go ahead.
Then there's a clatter, and the knife she's eyed for days is within her reach. Hiccup's tugging his belt open. "I'm going to wash up. I have faith in your butchering skills."
"I could kill you with this," she reminds him as she snatches the knife off the cave floor and points it towards him. He stares indifferently and shrugs out of his shirt, so she adds, "It would be easy for me. It would be enjoyable."
Hiccup cracks another crooked grin. "You can't. For the same reason you haven't already." He tosses his shirt onto his bed and looks her up and down. "Without me, you're never getting off this island."
Astrid tightens her grip on the handle of her knife, but she swallows her rage and watches him step around resting dragons. He's right, damn him. He's right.
"I like my meat rare!" he calls over his shoulder, and she swears that one day she'll shove that very knife in his back.
"You'd better not look."
"Oh gods, Astrid." She's not sure how she knows the sound of him rolling his eyes, but she does. He's doing it. "As enticing as your skinny, hate-filled body surely must be, you don't have to worry about me spying on your maidenly goods."
"I'm skinny? Are you serious right now?" The room he's brought her to is humid, the tiny underground spring steaming with hot, refreshing water. She would dive in and spend all night there, if it weren't for her infuriating captor lurking in the entry way. "I think you've fallen off your dragon one too many times."
"Haha, funny, Hiccup's scrawny and little. Original. Just take your damn bath."
She can't help but scowl in the dim light. It's only by the torch leaning against the wall that she can see, but she can see well enough to know that once she pulls her dress over her head, he'll only have to turn his head to catch a glimpse of her naked. And she trusts him about as much as she'd trust a Berserker.
Still, a small part of her wonders what good it does her trying to be modest when it only makes her seem shy and petty. He certainly doesn't seem to care. Hiccup rarely wears more than his trousers when he's around– she figured out early that it was because of the volcanic heat at the center of the mountain. Whenever he returns from the dark tunnels she'd gotten herself lost in, he's flushed and dripping with sweat.
But he seems like he could care less that his body's on display for her to see. He doesn't even seem to worry about whether or not she stares at his scars, his tattoos, the muscles in his back and shoulders… With a grudging clench of her jaw, she tells herself that she'll have to adopt that same apathy if she wants to survive.
Astrid steels her nerves, reaching behind her to tug loose the laces of her gown. What was once a pure white has been stained with dust. Swallowing the ball of irritation in her throat, she jerks her arms free from the sleeves and tugs off her dress. It flutters to the floor, and she resists the urge to wrap her arms around herself. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, and she stares at Hiccup's profile as she slowly unwinds her bindings.
He doesn't turn or glance over, but she thinks he might have gone still. In a last minute decision, she keeps her underwear on and steps into the warm water.
It feels good. Like a balm to her aching, sore muscles. Her bed at home isn't much, but it's much better than sleeping on the floor. She tries to stifle the gasp of relief that threatens to slip free. With the water at her waist, she can kneel and sink into the soothing heat. Her head dips beneath the surface, and for the first time in three days, she allows her expression to match her desperate, screaming heart. She presses her fists against her eyes. She opens her mouth in a silent wail. Only after her chest burns and her head spins does she let her despair dissolve and sit up, gasping for air.
After that, she can breathe easier. She can think clearer. Keeping one eye on Hiccup, she reaches up to unknot the intricate braid her mother did. It's harder now that it's wet, but it gives her hands something to do while she contemplates.
This is still war, Astrid reminds herself. Just because the battlefield has changed, the enemy is still the same. Even if it's taken a new form. Only the goal is different. She has to outsmart her captor and make it home alive. But for now she can't fight with axes and knives. Until she knows more about this island– and until she figures out how to get off of it– she can't kill Hiccup. Especially with his army of dragons hovering so protectively.
So what weapons does she have now?
Since she was a child, she's learned how to turn her body into a weapon. How to use her hands and elbows and feet and knees to cause the most damage or break the most bones. She still has that– at least enough to protect herself.
What good have those done her? They were useless when he pressed her between the wall and his too-hot chest. She can still feel the searing heat of his mouth on hers, the scrape of his hand climbing her thigh. Astrid drops her fingers from her hair to brush across the spot burning on the inside of her knee. Perhaps it's the steam, but her face feels warm. Irritation makes her clench her jaw.
"Why you?" Hiccup suddenly asks.
Her head snaps up to see if he's watching her, but his face is still pointed straight ahead. "What do you mean?"
He folds one leg under the other and seems to look up at the ceiling. It's hard to tell in the dim light. "Why did they give you to the evil Dragon Master? Did they go by age? Was there a vote? Were you the prettiest– or the most annoying?"
She resists a disgusted scoff. "I was the only maiden of age left."
His boot scrapes against the ground as he shifts. "The only–? What about Ruffnut?"
"She married Snot so they wouldn't take her."
"They–" Hiccup pauses, his shoulders tilting towards her. "Did you volunteer, then?" There's so much contempt in his voice, it sounds as if the words taste like acid.
"Did you miss the ropes on my wrists, you idiot?" She smacks the water to send a splatter his way. He leans away from it, even if it comes up several feet short. "You think I would volunteer for something like this?"
"It wouldn't surprise me," he retorts. An angry beat of silence hangs between them, and then he says, "So why not do what Ruffnut did? Marry somebody. Sleep with somebody. What would they have done then?"
"No matter what I chose, it would be against my will." Cupping water in her hands, she rinses her hair once more. "At least I can escape from this."
She watches his tongue probe the inside of his cheek. "Huh. Funny."
Her eyes narrow into a sharp glare. "What's funny?"
Hiccup shrugs. "It's kind of gross to think about, but– I'm inadvertently responsible for my cousin getting laid." Shaking his head, he laughs mirthlessly. "And in a way, I guess he's responsible for me getting laid."
Fury ignites in her chest. She surges to her feet. "I'll throw myself off the side of this mountain before I let you touch me again."
"Thor, would you relax?" At the sound of dripping water, he tosses a towel towards the shore. It lands with a corner falling into the spring. "Like I said, I'm not interested. I know plenty of women a lot sweeter than you who'd be more than willing to satisfy my manly urges."
For a second, as she wades forward and snatches the towel off the ground, she's offended. Not interested? She might have been apathetic as a teenager, but she wasn't blind. She'd noticed the way he watched her when they were younger. And she isn't vain or anything, but she is aware of her own physical attractiveness. Sure, her body's a little thinner than it used to be– a side effect of the constant food shortage on Berk– but her workouts ensure that she keeps curves in significant places.
She's already opening her mouth to give him some biting insult when it hits her– he's trying to get under her skin.
That night when she was first brought here, when he kissed her and threatened her with everything he could have been– he'd pulled away with eyes blazing and chest heaving. His body had been taut with anger, but it couldn't have been just that. Because he'd said, "If I were half as selfish as you think I am, I wouldn't have stopped."
So why lie about wanting her?
Astrid wipes her face dry before wrapping the towel around herself. If Hiccup doesn't plan on touching her again, that's absolutely fine by her. She won't worry about his blazing hands anytime he invades her personal space. But he's made a mistake by trying to lie. Because if he has something to hide, that means it's a weakness worth uncovering.
She laces her hair into a braid and watches his smug expression. Her frustration eases a little. It might be a while before she can escape, but that doesn't have to mean she can't win.
The Dragon Master's not unflappable.