A/N – I bought a new desk, which I thought by now would be operating as my official writing sanctum, but my room is still a construction zone. By this time next week I will have it completed, hopefully. This chapter isn't as long as I originally thought it would be, but the next scene is longer, and I don't have the patience right now, or the time really, to work on it. Regardless, enjoy!

Also, thanks a ton for all the positive feedback. It's really awesome to know that you're enjoying this story! Thanks for the support and all the reviews! You guys rock!

X

Chapter 10: Hot Chocolate

Exhausted. There was no other word for what Hiccup felt. This entire…adventure was exhausting. Every night when he returned to his room, he would collapse onto his bed. It felt like returning home, comfort, relaxation, a peace within himself, in his space. Today had been no different. He wasn't sure how long he'd been lying face down, but his rest was interrupted by a soft knock at the bedroom door, followed by a swift opening and closing.

It could only have been Astrid, the only person who'd just come in without a vocal invitation, but that was alright. She knew he'd let her in, so there was no need to ask permission. Her soft footsteps approached the bed, and then stopped.

"Your hot chocolate, sir, as requested."

Hiccup rolled onto his back. Astrid stood by the bed, mug held in both delicate hands, blue eyes on him. He sat up and held his hand out for the steaming mug. She walked over to him, close enough he could see the fibers of her dress. The cheap fabric didn't melt together like his clothes. The rough material looked uncomfortable. He couldn't imagine wearing it all day.

The mug warmed his hands. How they had gotten cold, he didn't know. While he sipped the hot chocolate, Astrid closed the windows.

"Just one date left," Astrid reminded him. As if he'd forgotten.

"Yeah." Hiccup took a gulp from the mug. It burned a little, but he forced it down. One girl left, and it just happened to that dark haired girl with the pale green eyes. He didn't even know her name, and probably wouldn't remember this time tomorrow.

"Sir?" Astrid asked. He looked up. She stood with her hands at her sides. "Is something bothering you?"

"No," Hiccup lied. He stared down into the chocolate. He'd seen his mother talking to the girl with green eyes several times, too many to be casual coincidence. If he knew his mother, she was plotting. She'd chosen her favorite.

"Is the chocolate not hot enough?" Astrid asked, still standing in the same spot.

"No, it's perfect." Hiccup took another sip. It was a little cold, but he didn't mind. "Besides, hot chocolate once cooled becomes chocolate milk. There's no wrong turn to make."

Astrid gave him a quick, simple smile. It looked good on her. Hiccup slumped over onto his knees, something he'd be reprimanded for in an instant if his mother saw. Only Astrid would witness his lapse in perfect posture, and she didn't seem to mind a bit.

"My father used to make me go out in the evening to practice things, like archery and fencing," Hiccup said. He liked talking to Astrid. It put him at an ease that he wanted to never let go of. "He thought it would 'build character.'"

"Is that so, sir?" Astrid responded mechanically, in the same tone he'd heard a million times from the servants. Were they born with it or was it learned? Taught to them along with the alphabet?

"Yeah," Hiccup sighed. He glanced toward the window where the grounds were visible during the day. "But after it was decided that I wasn't any good at those types of things, my father stopped making me go." Hiccup added with a bit more spite that he had intended, "Snotlout, however, was great at all of it."

"Being good or bad at fencing doesn't mean anything," Astrid said calmly. He turned toward her, and her eyes widened in a slight surprise.

"How so?" Hiccup asked when she didn't continue.

"Knowing how to fence doesn't affect your ability to make good decisions." Astrid shifted her gaze to the floor. "It's like being clumsy, all it means about your character is that you are more liking to drop things, or run into things." She paused, and then as an afterthought directed at him she added, "A good king isn't made by knowing how to fence."

Hiccup sipped his hot chocolate. A good king isn't made by knowing how to fence.

"I am sorry if I offended you." Astrid had spoken so softly, he almost didn't hear her.

Hiccup looked over at her. Of course. She had given advice aimed at being king, and he had said nothing, only stared into the mug. "No, I'm not offended at all. I enjoy your advice. It makes sense."

She blinked at him, confused, as if she'd expected him to lash out at her. That assumption bothered him. He was not his mother.

"What I mean is that it's not some stupid made-up bullshit to make me feel better. It's the truth." Hiccup pointed at her with his free hand. "That's something I like about you."

A pink flush came into Astrid's cheeks. She averted her eyes, but Hiccup watched her, grinning. She was adorable when honestly embarrassed. He took a long drink from his quickly cooling hot chocolate.

"So tomorrow is the last of the first dates," Hiccup said with a sigh. "After that, I'll have a short reprieve before the second dates start, in which I'll be trimming down the competition. Of course, if I trimmed out all the weird ones I'd be left with myself."

"Surely you've found a few that you can stand?" Astrid asked.

Hiccup shrugged. "There were some that I could stand for ten minutes at a time, maybe. Like that flower-crown girl. She was alright."

"Do you remember any of their real names, sir?" Astrid asked, failing to hide the humor in her voice.

"No," Hiccup laughed.

"Okay, let's start with the ones that you know that you'll eliminate," Astrid said.

"Don't use that word, I'm not sending them to the execution block." Hiccup shook his head. That's a word Spitelout would have used, and if he had his way, he would send them to their deaths. Freak.

"Okay, who can you not stand the most?"

Hiccup had to think on that one. "Well, I suppose that 'what's your favorite flower' girl can go. She asked me that about seven times that day. I think she's been sniffing too many flowers."

Astrid smiled. She remembered her, too. That had been the first date.

They went through the list of girls, according to their nick-names Hiccup had so graciously given. He listed the cons, which included being loud, obnoxious, dumb-sounding, too tall, boring, weird, and for one poor girl, smelling like peanuts. He had a wide array of complaints, most of which revolved around their ridiculous clinginess to him. They latched themselves onto his arm and refused to let go.

"That's because they want you to notice them," Astrid said. "They are vying for being queen and they all want it. And, unfortunately for you, you are the only way they'll get it."

"It is unfortunate for me." Hiccup half-laughed. He was the one who'd have to marry whatever girl he chose. This conversation had taken a depressive turn, and he'd like to turn back onto the good humored road that wasn't about his bleak royal future. "What about you? Did you think any of them were semi-decent?"

"I'm not shopping for a wife," Astrid said. She quickly added, "Sir."

Hiccup smiled. "Okay, could you stand any of them? As if you were friend-forever shopping?"

Astrid bit her lip, like she did when she thought, and looked absently to the ground. She swung her arms slightly, and titled her weight between her feet. "I suppose, Fake Red wasn't that bad."

Fake Red was a girl Hiccup had taken to a play. Her hair had been bright red, the color of fire. Hiccup refused to believe that her hair color was real. Her tanned skin tone didn't match, and her brows were dark brown. Astrid had confirmed his suspicions when Fake Red had taken her to the restroom with her, and complained about her hair growing too fast. Aside from her hair, her company had been enjoyable.

"She was intelligent, well spoken, and open doors for herself," said Astrid.

"That would save me a lifetime of open doors for her." Hiccup nodded. "That reminds me of Hoops. I didn't get to the door when she did and she stood there and stared at me. Remember?"

"I do, sir." Astrid nodded.

Hoops had been named for her giant earrings that she's worn on their date. Hiccup had forgotten where they'd gone and what they'd done, but she was all legs and arrived at the door before he did, and shot him a death glare when she had to stand and wait for him to open it. Her demanding manners had checked her off the list.

They talked for what felt like a very short amount of time, one that Hiccup wished would last, but his exhaustion mounted on his ability to stay awake. He fought down yawns, but finally he lost.

"It is late, sir, and you need you rest for tomorrow." Astrid's tone was dismissive, but pleasantly so.

"So do you. Tomorrow evening we'll have to go back through the list, but for real." Hiccup didn't look forward to that.

"Of course," Astrid nodded.

Hiccup handed her the mug while he washed and readied for bed. When he returned to the bedroom the curtains had been drawn on all but one side of the bed, and the sheets had been smoothed and primed. Astrid had fluffed the pillow and gently replaced it. Hiccup, now in his pajamas, scooted into the familiar blankets, his familiar sleeping square.

"Goodnight, sir." Astrid pulled the blankets up to him.

"Do I get a goodnight kiss?" Hiccup asked. With her leaning over him like this, it would be easy to reach up and kiss her, to pulled her down onto the bed with him, to climb on top of her and take it. He wanted to do all of those things, but more than that, he wanted her to want it, too. He could order her to do it, he could order her to enjoy it, but he knew that feeble attempt wouldn't work.

A part of him tensed when Astrid hesitated in her leaned-over position. Would she?

She didn't.

"Not tonight, sir." Astrid stood up.

"Goodnight." Hiccup watched as she drew the curtains, leaving him to his own little dark space. What would it be like to share a sleeping space with someone every night? When he tried to imagine life in the future with any of these girls, the image was blank, like it didn't exist. He couldn't imagine a life with any one of them. He didn't want to share a bed with them. Of course, he could do like this parents and sleep in separate rooms. It would solve the problem entirely.

X

The castle was deathly quiet this time of night. The servants' quarters, however, weren't. In order to keep this castle up and running, the help couldn't sleep, not all at the same time, of course. Alistair Hofferson should have been sleeping, but his mind refused to let him rest. Beside him, his wife, Ingrid, pretend to sleep as well. Her eyes were wide open, staring at the wall on the other side of the tiny space, over their daughter's empty bed.

Astrid should have been home an hour ago. Their baby girl should have been sleeping by now, in that bed, where they could see her. But she wasn't. She was still awake, held up by that…delinquent cretin of a prince. A father's worst fear boiled up inside of him, that the prince took advantage of her, forced her into his bed, like some common street whore; Astrid, his only child, his baby girl, and his inability to protect her tore at his heart. It tore at his wife's too, he knew, but talking about it only seemed to make it worse.

The door to their tiny living space eased open and gently closed. Alistair's eyes were wide open as a slim shadow moved across the partition. Shoes were being removed with a soft sigh.

Astrid.

Ingrid started to move, but Alistair stopped her. She looked over her shoulder at him, almost pleading, but he shook his head. "Let me talk to her."

Ingrid didn't fight him. He climbed around her and met Astrid at the partition. At the sight of him she jumped, clutching the front of her dress. Alistair's heart sank at the sight.

"Astrid, sit down," he pointed to the small table.

"Right now?" Astrid said, yawning. "It's late."

"I know. Right now." He pointed again, and pushed her a little with his other.

Reluctantly, she sat down at the table.

"Astrid, where have you been?"

This question seemed to ring irritation. "I was with Hiccup."

His chest tightened. "Doing what?"

Astrid blinked. "Why do you need to know? He wanted hot chocolate so I had to hunt someone down in the kitchens to make some. Then we talked. Can I go to bed now?"

Alistair took a moment to study her daughter. She'd never been good at hiding her emotions, kind of like her mother. Her feelings were always right there on her sleeve, exposed and raw. Astrid didn't seem upset or angry. No concrete evidence proved that she had been forced into sex, but the rumors worried him.

"Dad?" Astrid asked. "Can I please go to bed?"

"Astrid, are you sleeping with him?"

Astrid blinked several times, a light blush coming onto her cheeks, a bright pink, just like her mother. Shaking her head, she said, "No. I haven't done anything like that."

"Is he treating you poorly?"

"No, Dad, he's fine."

Alistair stared at her, waiting for her confession, waiting for her to tell him everything that everyone thought they already knew. But it never came.

"What is it?" Astrid asked at last. "I'm not having sex with anyone. Hiccup isn't…he's not like that, okay? I'm going to bed. Goodnight."

Alistair remained in the kitchen while Astrid got up, walked passed him, and crawled into her bed. He sat there for a while, debating over her words. Could she be lying? That was always a possibility. It had taken almost a year before poor Olive came forward. She had been ashamed, broken. Astrid had always been a strong girl, which Alistair proudly compared with his own. She would never cave in. She would fight. However, that stubbornness was exactly what got her into his mess.

Alistair sank his head into his hands. What would he do if it were true? He knew he'd want to go straight to that monster's room and strangle his scrawny neck. He'd take whatever punishment, most likely death, as a proper trade for murdering the man that ruined his daughter's purity. But he wouldn't, but without knowing for sure. He would prepared for that day then, when Astrid would crumble, when it would become too much. He would be there to make sure the due was paid.