Chapter Thirteen.
The village's fascination and fear of the masked riders didn't wane overnight. Though Astrid had spent the morning praying that the commotion would have passed after the villagers had the opportunity to sleep off the weirdness, she hadn't even left the house before she heard her parents' commentary.
"They're human, I can promise yeh that," her father grumbled. "Though not from this side of the archipelago." He didn't even look up when his daughter came down the stairs, axe slung over her shoulder. She wasn't about to leave it again after missing its comforting weight last night.
"Savages," her mother spat, using a piece of stale bread to scoop up the remains of a jar of preserves. Her expression was dark and unwelcoming. "I wonder how they came to find Berk."
Astrid pursed her lips and tried not to scowl as she approached the table. "Probably got lost," she muttered, filching a slice of the thick brown bread. "They didn't want to hurt anyone."
Her parents glanced up at her with raised brows.
"What makes yeh think that?" her father asked with a gruff sort of unpleasantness. There were crumbs from his breakfast caught in his thick beard.
She tore a bite and chewed with barely concealed irritation. "They could've. They didn't." Not in any mood to argue further or explain herself, the blonde chased a seed kernel around her teeth with her tongue as she tapped the table and turned on her heel. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she strode away and out the door. She hadn't even pulled the door completely closed when she heard the discussion pick up again. Her father muttered something about beasts and demons.
Rubbing her palms against her eyes, she sighed and paused outside the Hofferson house. The heaviness in her bones felt something like the ache of sleepiness, but it couldn't have been that. Her head had hit the pillow as soon as she'd dragged the blankets over her body the night before. There was a soreness in her legs and hips, too, but that was likely more from straddling a dragon's back than anything. No, the heaviness was something deeper and stranger, and it reminded her faintly of losing a sparring match.
Agitation aside, she strapped her axe to her back and began her morning run. It took longer than usual for her to catch her stride, but once she found it, she chased it with a vengeance. The spattering of villagers who woke with the sun gave her faint waves as she passed, and she nodded her greetings back. Sometimes she'd stop to make conversation, but that morning wasn't a relaxing jog kind of day. It was a sprint until the pounding of her pulse was louder than her thoughts kind of day. And despite the ache that burned in her lungs as she made her loop around the village, it wasn't louder than her brain. Even though the good weather had decided to stick around longer than usual, that still wasn't enough to lift her mood.
Hiccup was gone. And she didn't want to think about why that bothered her.
At first, it hadn't sunk in. She'd crawled into bed with the expectation of hearing his sleep-disturbing smack on her window. For some reason, she'd expected him to be back by morning. But he wasn't.
Astrid shook her head, running into the forest to find a good place for target practice. Her head felt like a too-full bucket of dirty laugardagur water, something she was struggling to keep balanced, lest something unsavory spill out. The sight of Hiccup's mother, tall and terrifying, and the newly discovered identity of his father- she was piecing together the strange circumstances of the feral boy's life, and she was beginning to wonder if she was ready for the consequences of what she was unearthing.
Stoick the Vast. Of all of the men in the village, how could Stoick the Vast have given life to a boy full of such vitality and idealism? He'd stared at her as if she'd turned into a Zippleback when she'd said Hiccup's name, and Gobber's jaw had flapped like something off of one of the fishing boats. There was an undeniable consternation in the way they'd evaluated her, and for a terrifying moment she'd worried that she'd stumbled over some sort of village secret.
But then the chief had flexed his fingers and dropped his gaze. "Aye," he answered roughly, his chest still rising and falling with the lingering emotion of his reaction to Valka's dragon. The one, Astrid now knew, that had stolen her from that very island. "Snotlout tell yeh about them?"
Since it was only a slight fib, she nodded. "Yeah. In passing."
He'd been crowded by villagers then, who clamored for an explanation for the strangeness. No matter what he said to try and appease them, everyone whispered and worried for their safety. Some refused to return to their homes, in case the "horned riders" returned. Some begged that Stoick request aid from neighboring islands. Some reproached him for not doing more to capture the dragons. The chaos made it easy for Astrid to wander away, quietly stunned by her realization. She felt eyes on her, though.
Stoick the Vast was Hiccup's father. She couldn't see it- not in his manner or his personality. But in his smile, a little. The few wry grins she'd seen from the chief bore a vague similarity to his son's lopsided ones. And their noses had the same shape, she thought after a moment of concentration. Hiccup's hair was a little browner. But still, she remembered the red that glimmered under sunbeams.
Her heart gave a hard squeeze, and Astrid decided to blame it on her workout instead of the thought of Hiccup in the sunlight. With a growl of aggravation, she slowed to a stop and unstrapped her axe from her back. She chucked it at the first tree trunk her eyes landed on. It stuck several inches deep and made a sharp crack.
She wasn't upset. With a snarl and a foot planted against the bark, she yanked her weapon free and prepared to hit the slice it had left behind. After a few paces backwards, she narrowed her gaze and heaved the axe again. Leaves shook loose from the tree upon impact, and she smacked one that fell near her face.
She wasn't.
!
"I think I'd ride a dragon," Tuffnut sighed thoughtfully, stretching his legs out and leaning back on his forearms.
The teens were perched on one of the higher cliffs of Berk, one that overlooked the village and gave them a clear view of the sun setting over the ocean. Fishlegs had his back pressed to the stone wall, as far from the hundred-foot drop as possible. The twins had positioned themselves on either side of Snotlout, who had his elbow resting on one knee, and Astrid sat with one leg hanging completely over the edge. Beneath them, the rest of the villagers were wrapping up a long day of work, most filtering towards the Great Hall for dinner, others heading to their own homes.
The brunette of the group gave Tuff a curled lip. "Why?"
"I dunno." He shrugged and pulled at the grass beneath him. "I think it'd be cool to see how long I could stay on."
"The Night Fury had a saddle," his sister noted, and Astrid's eyes flickered to Fishlegs. There was a tight, secret smile on his mouth. "Wouldn't be hard to stay on with one of those."
"They were really tame, y'know." Tuff lifted his eyes to the swirl of color in the clouds. "I mean, they obviously weren't best friends, but at least they didn't eat anybody." With a pensive nod, he added, "I mean, they could have eaten somebody."
"There's no such thing as a tame dragon," Snotlout sneered. He shifted so that he was sitting up and rubbed his shoulder. It was an old wound of his, where he'd been bludgeoned by a Gronkle's tail. It had yielded a sick bruise, but no scar, so it had always been more of a nuisance than a point of pride for him after the discoloring faded. "The Terrors are smaller than the sheep, and they still cause all sorts of trouble."
"Well obviously there is, or those dragons would have attacked." Ruffnut glared at her fingernails as she picked them clean of dirt. "And then, again- saddle. Night Fury. Do the math."
Astrid wondered what they'd have to say if they knew that saddle had been made in Berk's forge, by one of the people sitting among them. "I don't think you can tame a dragon," she spoke up, and she felt eyes turn her way. "But I think you could get them to trust you. If you tried."
"Me too." The group's gaze moved again, this time to Fishlegs. The blonde shrugged and passed a glance back at Astrid. A cord of camaraderie struck between them, and for a moment, the buzzing of secrets in her head dipped below a deafening volume. "The dragons don't try and hurt Astrid when she feeds them. They just growl and wait."
Except for the Nadder, she thought to herself. Lips tilting wryly, she thought of the way the sky-blue dragon would wag her tail and try to trade nuzzles for fish. Feeding the dragons had become an evening time chore, since the Nadder kept getting so close to blowing her cover. It reminded her that she needed to run by the docks before the fishing boats finished unloading their day's catches. The fishermen always frowned at her when she came for the dragons' fish. It almost felt like taking food straight from the villagers' mouths.
"Seriously?" The twins blurted the word simultaneously and watched him with wide gazes. "That's weird," Ruffnut spoke over her brother as he remarked, "That's sweet."
"That's because they've been in cages for months," Snotlout argued, gesturing vaguely towards the kill ring. The wiring of the cage set jagged shadows across the water it neighbored. "Get em out in the arena and I bet they'll try and tear you to pieces."
This was her chance, she thought. The dark mood she'd been in all day lifted like a curtain at the thought of the opportunity to change their minds. All she had to do was take them down right now and show them how gentle the Nadder could be. Fishlegs was on her side, and when Hiccup- if Hiccup- came back, he could show off his dragon calming skills. It would be easy now.
But the thought of exposing the Nadder suddenly shot a spear of anxiety straight through her. Earn their trust, Hiccup had said during their flight. Bringing other Vikings to her cage in the night didn't sound like something the Nadder would particularly like. Astrid pressed her lips into a thin line and cut her gaze back over the glittering ocean.
"I think you're wrong," she sighed, and that was all. She slanted her shoulder at the exact angle she knew would tell the group that she was done with the conversation.
It was quiet for a minute, but then Ruffnut switched subjects. "Their pants were kinda tight, don't you think?"
Astrid's head whipped around to give her a half-incredulous, half-baffled glare. She didn't have to comment on the odd topic, though, because Fishlegs blurted- "I was more focused on the giant, lethal dragons."
"The dude had to be young." She continued, unfazed. Her eyes were a little distant, dreamy despite the looks she was receiving. "Kinda skinny. But broad shoulders. Good junk."
"Ruff!" The only other female among them turned red and swung her leg over the ledge. "How do you-"
"Tight pants!" she repeated, a hand thrown out as if to say, duh. "The chick had some weird armor up top, but she looked kinda stacked. I bet they're a couple."
The more she spoke, the wider Astrid's eyes grew. It wasn't the thought of Valka's breasts that made her indignant so much as the thought of Ruff looking at their crotches. "Out of everything that happened last night, that's what you were worried about?"
"I'm very observant," was the girl's only defense.
The blonde tried to stifle the strange sense of disturbed annoyance that boiled in her chest. There was no reason for her friend's interest in Hiccup's body to perturb her. She certainly had no claim on him.
Her mind's eye wandered to the thought of the young man's pants. Were they that tight? She'd never noticed, but on a second thought, she realized that they did cut rather close. Still, she'd never thought about the bulge between his slender hips, never stolen self-indulging glances at what might hide beneath. Even when he'd been naked in her room. She'd had plenty of chances then. Though, she wouldn't lie and say she hadn't given that particular area a thought or two while his chest was pressed to hers the night before.
Her fingers itched to rise to her mouth, to trace the sparks that he'd left in the creases of her lips. She'd felt his weight above her, the warmth of his arms encasing her as he learned how human mates showed affection. Parts of her wanted him too much. Wanted his hands untangling her braid, wanted his skin against hers, wanted to peer into him and understand all the things he thought about. She'd flown, in more ways than one, and for a few hours she'd been like a dragon. Free to choose, if just for a little while.
Still. Maybe it was ridiculous of her to think that he'd thought as much of it as she had. He didn't know the implications behind it, of course, didn't know how important such a thing would be to her. To him, it was probably as innocent as touching her hair or holding her hand- those other forbidden things that seemed like nothing to him.
But- she thought to herself as she recalled the wet heat of his tongue sliding along her skin- it was something to her. Her fingers clenched into a fist, and she found her face dropping. To glare at Ruffnut, she had to stare past Snotlout, and that was something she couldn't do quite yet. He'd been keeping his distance, giving her the space she'd had to fight to earn. But every now and then she'd catch her intended looking at her out of the corner of his eye with a sort of peace he never had before she kissed him.
She wished he wouldn't. The kiss she'd pressed so recklessly against his lips hadn't been an encouragement or a sign of good faith, but it seemed that was how he'd interpreted it. It won her some time to think for herself, but when she thought about the fact that she'd had her first and second kiss in one night- with two different men- she was mortified. A pang of guilt had struck her when she realized she'd forgotten all about Snotlout until after Hiccup had disappeared.
Astrid sucked her lower lip into her mouth. The last rays of the sun sparkled off of the black ocean. Two kisses. Two men. One training to be chief, the other the rightful heir. One a dragon killer, the other a dragon rider. One safe and lukewarm. One a flying thunderstorm.
"Do you think they'll be back?"
Astrid didn't completely hear the question at first, but then she realized that it was Fishlegs' voice that asked it. She lifted her head and caught his gaze. "Hmm?"
"I said 'do you think they'll be back'?" He pulled aside his helmet for a moment to run his fingers through his limp blonde hair and then secured it back in place. "Or do you think they're gone for good?"
She felt the group's eyes on her. Though they had no real reason to suspect her of anything, she couldn't help but feel like she was drawing more of their attention than she should. Shrugging him off as if she couldn't be bothered, she pushed to her feet. "Who knows? Depends on if they found what they came for."
A little flicker of hope beneath her stress prayed that they hadn't.
!
The Monstrous Nightmare nearly set her on fire when she opened his cage, but after swallowing down her terror and holding her hand out towards the blistering heat, the flames went down. He was the largest and most intimidating of the dragons they kept, and therefore the last she'd wanted to befriend. But after flying on Toothless, she'd found a new faith. If Hiccup's mother could find a friend in a dragon as fearsome as Cloudjumper, then perhaps she could calm the Nightmare enough to feed it.
"There you go," she whispered, keeping her hand outstretched as his blazing slowly simmered. Flames still licked at his crown and claws, but the longer she waited, the more curiously he watched her. When she dropped her arm and slowly went for his bucket of fish, he only exhaled a stream of black smoke. "Dragons that don't eat me get extra food. Doesn't that sound nice?"
After befriending the Nadder, she'd tried the Terrible Terror. It had been a vicious little thing at first, but once it saw the guppies in her hands, it curled up like a kitten at her side. Then after it was the Gronkle. She'd needed a few minutes of outrunning it to gather up the courage to stand still, but once she did, the beast had all but licked her hands clean. The Zippleback was just scary. Not hard. She'd stood in a cloud of noxious gas, holding a bucket of fish above her head with trembling arms. They ate, and when the gas cleared, she found two blinking dragon heads staring down at her.
So the Nightmare was the only one she'd still been feeding through the door slots. But it was time. Too long she'd tiptoed past his little prison as he snarled and banged and thrashed in his cage.
Her skin felt too warm as she carried the bucket forward, sweat beading on the back of her neck. The Nightmare's pen seemed to shimmer with the heat it gave off, and it was more humid than any summer day Astrid could ever remember experiencing on Berk. Breathing in the air was like putting her face directly in front of the hearth.
"Dinner time," she murmured, forcing the weight from her legs to dissipate so she could approach the fierce dragon. It was one like this that had nearly burned her to a crisp. She wasn't so much a fan of fire anymore.
The Nightmare's pupils narrowed and widened with uncertainty, and he shifted his weight as she came closer. He watched the gift that she set down in front of him, taking a wary sniff. Then with a heart-stoppingly quick movement, he slashed the bucket so that it fell over. Fish spilled across the stone floor, and he ate quickly and quietly. Astrid thought about waiting until he was finished to let him out to stretch his legs like she did for the others, but she decided it was better to be overly cautious. If he got angry at her, she'd have to explain why she let him out to begin with after someone heard her screams and came running.
So she silently picked up the empty bucket as he ate and backed out of the cage. He hardly looked up at her to watch her crank his door closed once more. After she released the lever and wiped the sweat from her forehead, she half-smiled at the cage with a sense of pride. He wasn't exactly begging for belly rubs like Toothless, but at least he hadn't tried to take a snap at her.
Feeding time for the Nadder was a much more pleasant task. The dragon nearly tackled Astrid as she burst from her cage, pinning the girl under her claw and licking her face with enthusiasm. She could only laugh, dodging the slimy saliva and throwing the bucket of fish to the side. It was the only thing that would distract the Nadder long enough for her to get her footing again.
They played catch with slimy cod and a hushed version of wrestling. The Nadder liked to try and catch Astrid in her wings and hold her tight to her chest. She also liked her baths, cooing and purring as the blonde ran a wet cloth over her scales and a hard-bristled brush over her horns. It was soothing to both of them- the Nadder had the physical pleasure of being fawned over, and Astrid got the relief of being able to murmur all her anxieties to someone who wouldn't judge.
"If only everyone was as good of a listener as you," she sighed, one corner of her mouth tugging upwards as the dragon sniffed at her braid. The Nadder helped her relax. Helped her decompress. Helped her forget.
Astrid realized she owed her something in return.
Her mouth set with determination as she rose from her kneeling position and threw the rag in her hand over to the stack of empty fish buckets. The Nadder tilted her head at her, first one way and then the other.
"Stay there," she instructed firmly, holding her hands out and giving the dragon a stern expression. Then she backed towards the entrance to the kill ring. Her heart started a nervous rhythm in her throat, and she had to swallow down the voice of reason that wanted to stop her. She hesitated when she wrapped her hands around the crank to the heavy gate, but then she bit her lip and began to roll the door open. Out of her peripheral, she could see the Nadder growing restless at the sight of escape, but for all the tail twitching and excited chirping, she stayed where she sat.
"Okay," Astrid whispered, standing in front of the door to block the exit. "Come here. Come to me."
The Nadder wasted no time. She jumped to her clawed feet and ran with a shocking speed to the girl's side.
Astrid wet her lips and ran her eyes over the dragon's spine. No saddle. Nothing to hold onto but a row of mace-sharp horns. Valka hadn't been using a saddle, she recalled, and Hiccup had never seen one until Fishlegs made his. It would be as if she was one of them. Pointing down at the floor she said, "Can- can you get a little lower for me?"
With a happy trill, the Nadder crouched. She wiggled and shifted as Astrid tried to get a grip on her neck, making the blonde huff with frustration. Finally, the shield maiden frowned and used a firm hand to grip the lowest horn at the base of the dragon's head. Then she was using her upper body strength to pull herself up and swing her leg over the Nadder's neck.
Apprehension instantly gripped her. The idea seemed much more sane from the ground. Even just a few feet off of it, she felt unsteady and afraid. But she didn't have a chance to second guess herself- as soon as she had her thighs pressed firmly to either side of the Nadder, the dragon took off running. She sprinted through the tunnel leading out of the kill ring and took flight before they were even completely free.
Astrid had to resist the urge to scream as the dragon took her up, up, up. There was no more wild boy to hold onto. No assurance that the Nadder would take her back. It was the girl, the dragon, and the wind on her face.
And as her panic turned to a laugh of hysterical relief, Astrid decided that flying could become a terrible addiction.