Never stop dreaming

by Mitis-sweets

Hiccup left Berk for good and soon finds not only someone long lost but also himself in the claws of the enemy, stuck in a game of pretending. Five years later Astrid and her father go on a trading journey, end up in Drago Bludfist's town, and Leif Hofferson manages to set up an arranged marriage with Drago's son for his daughter. Please leave constructive criticism, not hate :)

25. Chin up, Head held high

Astrid's house really wasn't built for that many people occupying it. Aside from the Twins and Fishlegs — who had stayed overnight and were currently plundering her supplies for breakfast — morning had brought four other people to her doorstep. Had it just been Snotlout, she could've dealt with it. One person more wouldn't make that big a difference. But alas, he towed with him the Chief, Gobber, and Spitelout; all of which were large men and taking up more space each than she had to offer. The main room was packed and Tuff and Ruff had already escaped onto the staircase with their bowls of porridge. They had originally wanted to go up to the bedroom and eat there in peace and quiet, but Astrid had put an end to that idea quicker than they had been able to voice it.

Fishlegs, though, quickly took the cue and finished his bowl in a matter of seconds, excusing himself and leaving to go help his father in the woods. Though, Astrid wished he had made the Twins tag along.

"Ye know why we're here, don't ye lass," the Chief said after the obligatory 'good-morning's had been said; Astrid doubted it would be good one. Not with the Chief already here first thing.

"I do, sir," she said. Snotlout had briefed her the day before on the visit. And honestly, even without the warning she would've guessed it. The Chief wanted answers, and he wouldn't be patiently waiting for her to come to him with them. He was a man of action. That he would bring his closest men with him was only logical.

The men settled on the chairs strewn around the room, the wood creaking and groaning dangerously as the chief sat down. He was a mountain of a man and the chairs were build for people a third of his size. No one dared comment on it, though. Thankfully. The atmosphere was tense enough as it was.

Astrid dropped down on the last chair, feeling like a lamb to the slaughter. But neither was she an innocent lamb, nor was this an execution. She took a deep breath and tried to settle her jumpy nerves. One wrong word and she might really end up on the execution bank, along with Hiccup and Toothless.

Calm it, she mentally snapped at herself.

"So, Astrid," Spitelout said, a lazy grin plastered on his face and arms confidently crossed over his chest. He was lounging on her chair like he owned it. Owned her. "Let's get straight tae it. Ye are a dragon-sympathiser. Ye and yer husband both."

Astrid didn't deny it. She didn't confirm it either. As long as she wasn't asked direct questions or given orders, she would rather say say nothing at all. She knew this was a questioning of which every word of hers would be weighed up three times over and brought in front of the council for judging. The less she said the less she could verbally condemn herself.

"Lass," the Chief said. "Ye've always been one o' our most admirable shield-maidens. One o' our best warriors. Vicious toward the dragons. Tell us what changed." He folded his meaty hands on his lap and leaned forward. Nothing of the raging man he'd been yesterday on the village square remained on his face. His expression was open, schooled to appear as trustworthy and empathetic as can be to get her to talk.

Astrid forcibly relaxed her hands, against her instinct to ball them into tight fists at her sides. "There are multiple things that have changed, Sir. For one, my father gambled me away to a madman."

"Aye, but that wasn't what made ye sympathetic towards the dragons, was it?"

"No. But my husband was," she said. "He showed me that they aren't the mindless killing-beasts we think them to be."

"Heresy," Spitelout spat. "They are devils, not pets."

Astrid bit back the sharp comment ready to leave her tongue. It would do her no good to disrespect her Chief's second-in-command and brother.

Gobber stroked the long braids of his moustache, but stayed silent. He kept throwing glances up the stairs, a far-away look clouding his usually sharp-witted eyes. Astrid could only start to imagine what the blacksmith must be thinking.

"Astrid, lass, ye've seen the dragon raids yerself. Ye know the dragons have no inklin' o' mercy fer us. How can ye say they are anythin' but evil?" Stoick furrowed his bushy brows, his schooled face slipping into a scowl for just a moment.

"I- Chief, the dragons here act so vastly different to the once I've gotten to know on the mainland. I don't know why they raid us, or why they are behaving so aggressively."

"So, then how can ye be certain? That man ye call yer husband could've deceived ye. He rides on a dragon, he apparently knows how ta control one. He could be just as bad as—"

"Sir," Astrid interrupted him. "With all due respect, but you don't know my husband and are in no position to make assumptions about him." Except that Stoick did know her husband; or at least had known the boy he had been before leaving. But she couldn't very well just throw that out there. It wasn't her place to do so.

Stoick's bushy brows dipped further. "I've dealt with a man who was able ta control dragons before an' barely came away alive. Now we have another stranger with the same abilities in out midst an' I am not willing ta endanger my people just based on blind trust."

"And I've had to live in one house with Drago Bludvist for the past months. Believe me when I say that Horren is nothing like that man. And he doesn't control the dragons, he is able to get through to them and get them to trust him. It's not control, it's about hard training, trust and loyalty." Astrid relaxed her jaw, her teeth were starting to hurt from gritting them so hard. "And you haven't seen what Drago did to him, how he was treating him. But I have. And I give you my word that Horren is not working for Drago." It was hard to keep using the name that Hiccup had worn in Greuelorm, the name Drago had made him wear. She needed to check her tongue everytime she mentioned him by name.

"Yer word isn't worth tha' much, lass," Spitelout said. "Ye've betrayed us."

"How so? Because I know dragons are capable of peace?" Astrid shook her head. "Vikings are capable of peace, too. And yet every few years we seem to be at war with either the Outcasts or the Berserkers for reasons that are lost to me. But either way, I never stopped fighting to defend Berk."

Spitelout looked like he was about to reach out and slap her.

"Dad," Snotlout said. "You may wanna go catch some fresh air."

Spitelout went scarlet. "Watch yer tongue, boyo," he gritted.

"I think ye're missin' the point, lass," Stoick said, completely ignoring the way father and son glared at each other and continued to dispute in hushed voices. Obviously, Snot wanted his father out of the questioning round; Astrid hoped for the same.

"Ye have continued ta defend our home, that much is true," the Chief continued. "But the way ye go about it has been most suspicious an' now we finally know why some things about ye seemed… off."

"If you are asking where my first loyalties lie, Chief, it's with the village," Astrid said. "But I go about doing what I have to differently now because I know more than before. I can't kill dragons without feeling ill at heart because I know their vicious raiding isn't their true nature."

"Astrid, ye keep sayin' that the dragons are nae evil," Stoick said. She doubted he had really listened to anything she'd said so far. "But tha' dragon, tha' Night Fury, was growlin' like the vicious beast they all are. It didnae seem the last bit peaceful."

Astrid badly wanted to whack the men in front of her over the head with her axe. "You were threatening Toothless and Horren with weapons. You were ready to chop them to pieces. Toothless isn't stupid. He knows when he and his rider are in danger and he would do anything to protect Horren. Anything. Not unlike a dog protects a kind owner."

"Ye cannae compare a dragon with a dog," Spitelout threw in.

Stoick shot a glare at his second-in-command and the man shrank back into his chair with a sour expression. "Is the Night Fury the only 'domesticated' dragon ye know?"

Astrid didn't like that word. Domesticated. Dragon's — and especially Toothless or some especially curious Terrible Terrors or Stormfly — might sometimes behave like innocent pets — like cats chasing light-spots or dogs begging for scratches with their tongue lolling out the side — , but they were still intelligent creatures of their own mind. You could train a dragon, teach it commands. But whether it would actually follow those commands was still of the dragon's own volition. Or at least it was with the way Hiccup dealt with dragons and had taught her to as well. From what she'd heard, Drago used vastly different techniques; none of them which treated dragons as pets either, but more like slaves that were kept for fighting. Only that these slaves were more deadly than any army could ever dream to be.

But trying to make the Chief understand that would be lost breath when he and the other men couldn't even wrap their minds around the fact that dragon's weren't devils working against the Vikings on Loki's command.

"No," Astrid thus said, closing her eyes and sending a quick prayer up to the Gods. Any which one that would listen would be enough, really. "A Deadly Nadder. She is to me what Toothless is to Horren."

"So ye fly on the beasts as well?" The disgust in her Chief's voice and detest in his eyes was like a punch to the gut. For all her life, Astrid had striven to stay in Stoick the Vast's favour, to come out of their peer-group as the best Viking and earn herself her place in her tribe and on the council. Many things had changed since she was the girl with those ambitions. But her Chief's disappointment was still not easy to take.

She nodded. "I do, Sir." She lifted her chin and dared anyone but especially Spitelout to condemn her for it.

"Ye do understand tha' what ye say might cost ye yer life, Astrid?" Gobber said. It was the first time he'd spoken all morning. "Accordin ta our laws, ye just confessed ta treachery an' heresy."

"I'm well aware of that."

"Should we have ye thrown inta jail right now, or will ye go there freely?" Spitelout sneered and Snotlout executed the punch to his father's biceps that Stoick and Gobber were throwing at the man with their eyes.

"If I recall correctly, brother, I'm still the Chief an' decide when someone is put in custody," Stoick said. Whatever was going on between the two brothers, it certainly wasn't just about her, Astrid realised. The rivalry between them had sprouted up worse than ever and she was just the outlet for it.

"Then act as one an' protect our people from dragon-loving heretics, Stoick. That, or let me discipline her back onto the right path."

"Father!" Snotlout exclaimed and Astrid's face burned.

Spitelout spoke of her as though she wasn't present and wasn't hearing every single word that tumbled out of his stupid mouth. How Snotlout had gone through his life with that man dictating each and every single step he took without going completely mad or livid, she didn't know. But she made a mental note to compliment him on his ability not to throttle his father ever other minute.

Stoick turned back to her, fists gripping onto the fabric of his pants. "And where would that Nadder be at the moment?"

Astrid shrugged. "I— I haven't see her ever since I left Greuelorm." A blatant lie. She just hoped Snotlout had kept his promise and kept his mouth shut about last night. They didn't need to know about either of the temporary inhabitants of the Cove at the moment. They would only arrest Eret and Heather and put Stormfly back into a pen in the Kill Ring. Astrid didn't ever want to see her beautiful Nadder lady back there again.

"It didn't follow ye back here?" Stoick questioned. "I find that rather hard ta believe considerin' ye tried so hard ta convince us of a dragon's loyalty."

"She's still a dragon, Sir," she replied. "She's gonna fly wherever she wants and where the wind takes her. If she decides to come back to me, she will. I don't keep her towed in place."

Stoick stroked his beard. "And ye know how ta tame those beasts?"

Astrid huffed. "They don't need to be tamed. They just need to not be attacked."

"Ye're avoiding the question. Again."

"No. I do not. Stormfly was already used to humans when I met her."

"But yer husband does? He knows how ta control them? They will listen ta him?"

Astrid blinked. She might as well have been talking to a wall. Frustrated with their inability to listen to her and understand what she'd told them, she took a route for pettiness. "I don't know."

"But he got tha' Night Fury under control. He must be able ta apply tha' on other dragons as well. Ye said as much just minutes ago."

"I don't know," she said again. If they were going to treat her like a stupid girl, then Astrid would behave as such. It wasn't her most graceful solution to the current situation, but her patience was waning by the minute and all she wanted to do was check on Hiccup again before going to check on Toothless. But those buffoons sitting in front of her were apparently adamant on wasting her time. And Snotlout wasn't really any help, either.

"Would he at least try it?" Stoick pressed.

Snotlout eyed her suspiciously before cracking a grin that he quickly hid behind a fist. He knew exactly what she was doing, but didn't stop the Chief from getting the same answer over and over again.

"I don't know," she said for a third time, looking the man directly in the eyes.

"Astrid Hofferson," The Chief ground out, "don't play dumb with me. Ye know very well what he is capable of."

"Now do I?" she asked plainly, looking down on her nails. "Because if you really believed I did then you would have listened to me instead of writing everything I said earlier off as unreliable. And by the way, Hofferson isn't my lastname anymore. Hasn't been for a while now, in case you forgot."

Spitelout stood up, chair scratching over the floor. "If ye think ye are too good ta answer our questions I think we're done here. We shouldn't waste our time with ye when the answer ta all our questions is right upstairs."

He made to go up the stairs, but Astrid jumped up and blocked his way. The twins, who had effectively managed to blend away on the stairs, were on their feet within a heartbeat as well.

"Get out of my way, girl. This isnae talk fer women and ye are wasting our time. I want ta speak ta yer husband on these matters."

"Dad," Snot said, coming up behind his father and trying to pull him back. Spitelout shrugged him off effortlessly. "Stop, please."

Astrid balled her fists, pettiness all gone and replaced by anger. "You can't talk to him."

Stoick stood up now as well. "Astrid, we will have ta speak ta him. He's still an intruder and—"

She rolled her eyes. "You can't talk to him because he still hasn't woken up yet. But if you want to question an unconscious man, please, be my guests."

Ruffnut climbed down the stairs a few steps. "I'd highly advise against it, though. As Gothi's apprentice, I have to ask you to give him a few more days. Not only to wake up, but also to recover."

The men — namely Stoick and Spitelout — glared at the two young women and Spitelout already opened his mouth to protest again or possibly to demand they simply wake him up instead. But the Chief held up his hand and nodded.

"Alright. But I want ta be informed the moment he wakes up, is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," Astrid said.

"Alright. I think we're done here fer today. But expect ta be called in fer questionin' before the whole council, Astrid." He turned to go, but Astrid stopped him halfway out the door. Spitelout was already through the door, gone before he could hear her news.

"Chief, there's more I need to tell you."

Stoick the Vast turned back and merely raised an eyebrow. He had officially ended this round of questioning. He obviously hadn't expected for her to say more freely. But there was one thing that was urgent enough that she couldn't wait until tomorrow to tell him.

"It's about Trader Johann, sir."

"What about him?" His words were clipped short, impatient.

"He was the one to injure my husband," she said and immediately saw Stoick writing her off again. She hurried to condense it as much as possible without sounding desperate for attention. "Horren went after him because he found out that Johann is Drago Bludvist's brother, sir."

Stoick said nothing immediately, just cocked his head in a manner that suggested he was processing the new information he was just given. Gobber swore out loud, the first real reaction to anything he'd shown all morning.

"Soil my breeches."

"And ye know this how?" Stoick eventually said.

"H— Horren was conscious for a short moment in the village square yesterday and was able to tell me. Please. I'm not making this up and neither is my husband."

Stoick stroked his beard. "He lost a good amount o' blood. Are ye certain he wasnae hallucinatin'."

"Positive."

"And ye never noticed?" Stoick prodded further. "Ye lived under one roof with Bludvist fer over half a year. Did ye never notice Johann comin' and goin' ta see his brother?"

Astrid shook her head, silently grateful that at least the Chief seemed to believe her on this matter instantly. "No, sir. Drago never spoke of any relatives other than saying most of his family was dead. He… kept most of his personal affairs away from the manor. For everything we know about him, there's another handful of things we don't."

The Chief nodded. "Thank ye fer tellin' me, lass." He turned for the door again. "Oh, and Astrid?"

"Yes?"

"Don' cheek me again." Then he was out into the busy streets of an early morning, villagers already demanding the help of their chief. Snotlout followed closely behind. He had known about Johann since last night and still knew more about the matter than Astrid had been able to tell the Chief; she couldn't do so without giving away that Eret and Heather were on the island.

"See you at lunch," Snotlout called and Astrid and the Twins waved him off.

The only one remaining of the Chief's personal advisers was Gobber. The blacksmith stayed seated on his chair, wistfulness in his eyes as they stayed locked on the entrance to Astrid's bedroom.

Astrid threw a look at Ruffnut and jerked her chin towards the door. The female Twin needn't be asked twice. She snatched her brother's arm and dragged him towards the door despite his protests that he hadn't finished his porridge yet.

"Oh, stop yapping," Ruff scolded him. "I'm sure mom will have made some as well. Now move it." She pushed her brother forcefully out the door and saluted Astrid before shutting it behind her. Astrid sighed.

"Why did ye nae come ta me, lass?" Gobber eventually asked after a long-stretched moment of silence. "Ye know I never would'a told anyone. Not if ye'd asked me not ta."

Astrid sat down on the steps of the stairs, propping her head up on her arms. "I'm sorry, Gobber."

"Aye, and ye've had yer reasons I'd wager."

"I did. Still do." Astrid got a knife from her belt, turning the embellished handle over between her fingers. Another one of Hiccup's most recent creations. He had made it for her when she'd been mad at him for lying to her about bringing Toothless away to safety. A small gift to that had suddenly appeared on her weapon's rack without a word. He tended to do that. Leave her new weapons or other tokens he crafted whenever he managed to get to the old smith Kerrith's forge. Usually it tied into them not being on the same page for a while; a quick reminder for her that he cared and that she mattered to him.

Astrid offered the knife to Gobber, handle first. "I never brought all the blades he's made for me. Only ever my axe."

Gobber nodded. "Eh, I would'a grown suspicious if every new weapon o' yers was made by me apprentice. Me presumed dead apprentice." He eyed the knife and held it against the light. His rough hand and hook handled it with such care, as though he held a baby and not a knife.

"The lad really knows his way 'round a smithy," the master blacksmith said with a small smile. "Heh, but ye can see tha' he hasnae been taught by the best fer a while. Beautiful decorations, but he's been better at centerin' the blade on tha hilt."

"Gobber?"

"Aye, lass?"

"You won't tell anyone, will you?"

Gobber's smile slowly slid off his face and the wistfulness was back. "No, I won't, ye have me word fer tha'. But just tell me this: That Night Fury, is it…?"

Astrid cracked a grin. "The one he shot down when he was fifteen during the raid where he was chased down the village by a Monstrous Nightmare and managed to set fire to the docks?"

"Hah. Th'lad set fire ta the docks on more than one occasion. But yes. He claimed ta have shot down tha beast. Didnae believe him, thought he was jus' makin' up stories again ta maeke his sour yak o' a father proud."

"That was Toothless," Astrid confirmed. "Shooting down a Night Fury was also the reason why he suddenly got so good in dragon training."

Gobber nodded, stroking his moustache. "Always been wond'rin' how he did tha'. But I guess… befriendin' a dragon will teach ya a thing or two 'bout those beasties." Gobber held the knife back out to her. "And… the Nadder? What did ye call her again?"

"Stormfly."

"Aye. How did tha' one come 'bout?"

Astrid debated for a moment whether to tell Gobber that Stormfly was one of the dragons from their dragon training or not. But he already knew enough that this wouldn't add badly to it. "She… actually has been following Hiccup around ever since he left Berk. Remember the blue and yellow Deadly Nadder from the Kill Ring?"

"Tha' beast tha' almost killed the both of ye because he was too preoccupied with questionin' me 'bout Nigh Fury pamphlets and the like? If I remember correctly, ye hit it with a shield an' ran at it wi' yer axe more than once."

"That's my Stormfly." Astrid smiled. "He was the one to set the dragons free just after his disappearance."

Gobber gawked at her. "And here I thought those blasted Thorston Twins had pulled some bad prank on us an' released them all. They'd never admitted ta it. No wonder if it wasnae them in the first place."

"I was actually more surprised that they never even tried taking the credit for it. I mean, usually they own up to everything and all that seems Loki-blessed — be it their doing or not."

Gobber cackled. "Aye, tha' they like ta do." He looked up to the second floor of the small house. "Will ye tell me when the lad wakes up? I want a word wi' him before the council gets wind o' it."

Astrid worried her lip, but then nodded when she saw the dulling light behind the old blacksmith's eyes. It had dulled when Hiccup had gone missing. It was nigh time the fire behind them returned. "I will, Gobber. Just… go easy on him, yeah? He's been through a lot."

"Aye, lass. An' thank ye."

The sun was already dipping back down the horizon when Astrid finally found some time to leave the house and head for the Kill Ring. Ruffnut was staying back at her house, just in case. Astrid did not feel the least bit comfortable with leaving her husband alone and unconscious when most men on Berk would probably like to see him hang at the moment. The thought sent icy shivers down her spine. Though no one said anything directly to her face, Astrid had heard hushed whispers of the possible construction of gallows as she made her way through the village. Some even expanded the threat out to her. The people she had fought all her life to protect were turning on her one by one. It was disconcerting to say the least.

On her way, Astrid made a quick halt at the docks and collected a basket full of fish. Fishlegs had informed her that the guards seemed to forgo feeding the dragon now occupying the Ring. She hadn't believed they would do so in the first place. Usually, all the dragons the Kill Ring housed were malnourished and kept as weak as possible so they wouldn't attempt break out of their confinement, only fed for the trainees to have some action. So Astrid lugged the basked all the way to the arena. Getting inside was another hassle.

The guards seemed adamant on not letting anyone near the Night Fury but the Chief. It was only when she threatened to show them exactly how she felt about those orders with her axe that they let her pass, glaring daggers at her all the while.

"Make it short and don't try any funny business," one of them said and slammed the gate shut behind her.

The pen Toothless was in was easily recognisable. The wood of the metal-reinforced doors was charred and partially blown to piece, the metal was bent and the double-door was only handing on one of the four hinges. Toothless could've easily escaped his prison, but he hadn't. He had made a ruckus, but he hadn't even left the dark space of the pen.

Astrid neared the wrecked door, clacking her tongue. Toothless responded with a sad coo. When she peered into the pen, he was curled up in the far corner, snout tugged under his wing. A chain was locked around one of his feet, supposed to be connected to a bolt in the wall, but ripped out with sheer force that reminded Astrid that Toothless was still a dragon and could be very dangerous if he so pleased. But as it seemed, he was more broken than about to snap. The muzzle they had put on him the day before lay ripped at her feet, sliced through by sharp talons and gnawed on. Astrid could count on one hand the times she had seen Toothless use his talons and teeth for anything other than catching himself some fish.

"Oh Toothless," she said and brought the basked of fish over to him. He didn't even look at it. Instead, his drooping eyes went straight to her and then to the entrance. She knew he was looking to see if Hiccup would be coming as well. When it became clear to the dragon that his only visitor was Astrid, he gave another heart-wrenching coo and curled even tighter in on himself. Astrid dropped to her knees in front of him, reaching out to scratch him, but unsure if he'd want that. She had never seen the usually happy and playful dragon this devastated. In the end, she just placed her hand on his thick neck and stroked slow circles into the scales, hoping he perceived it as comforting.

"He'll get better, Toothless."

His eyes closed. And when they opened again, her breath caught on the utter betrayal behind them. She swallowed against the lump in her throat but couldn't get rid of it.

How was she supposed to make a dragon understand what was happening? Toothless was a smart dragon, his intelligence resembling that of his rider greatly, but language was still just a random combination of nonsensical sounds of which he understood only a few words. Astrid knew he understood names such as his own and Hiccup's and could differentiate between a couple more as well. He understood the rare direct commands Hiccup gave him due to years of training. But most of the communication between dragon and rider was based on body-language and intonation, the emotions conveyed through them. To make him understand that Hiccup was recovering and would be getting better soon was a near hopeless affair.

"I know this isn't easy," she proceeded to tell the dragon, hoping at least the sound of her voice would be soothing to him. "But I promise you that Hiccup is getting better. He is injured, but he will survive. He's just sleeping for a bit to regain his strength. He is getting better. But for now, we need to make sure you are okay." She ran her hand over his head, lightly scratched his nose and then pushed the wing away from his snout. He let her. With her other hand, she grabbed a fish from the basked and offered it to the dragon.

"You need to eat those fish, Toothless. I can't have you starving yourself because you feel sad. You need to stay strong and healthy. Hiccup wouldn't want you skipping meals so you can mope."

Toothless sniffed the fish once, then put his head back down on his paws, gaze fixed on the supple leather of his prosthetic fin. It was the half-automated one Hiccup had made him for Snoggletog.

Astrid could empathise with Toothless' emotions better than the dragon probably knew, having gone through the entire last day with a wobbling lip just at the thought of Hiccup maybe not waking up again. And for the past two months she'd had to wonder if she ever would get to see her husband again. Toothless had just gotten Hiccup back from what Eret had told her. And to be separated yet again from him when the smart dragon knew exactly his rider wasn't well, it was tearing Toothless apart from the inside.

But moping wasn't helping in any way. Toothless needed to pull himself together just as much as Astrid did.

She jutted her chin out. "Toothless," she said a bit more sharply, earning a warning look from the dragon. But she knew he'd never hurt her. She pushed the fish in front of him again.

"Eat. Now."

Toothless grumbled and tried to roll away from her, but she grabbed his face on either side and forced the stubborn dragon to face her. "Stop it, Toothless. You need to eat and I will not leave you alone until those fish," she pointed to the basked, "are all gone. And if I have to force them down your throat one by one."

Toothless stared at her, lowly growling at the back of his throat. If he were any other dragon, she'd be backing away and reaching for her axe right now. But she saw in his eyes that it was an empty threat. So she merely raised an eyebrow at him and silently dared him further. It took another couple of minutes until Toothless finally gave up and swallowed that first fish down. After that, his appetite seemed to awaken again and he finished off the entire basket in record time. He stuck his head into it, sniffing for more.

"I'll bring you some more tomorrow," she promised and scratched behind his ear-flaps.

Toothless shrugged the basked off and lay his head down on her lap, warbling up at her. He leaned into her scratches, guiding her finger to the spots he liked the most.

The guards had told her to make it quick and she'd already spent a good amount of time just arguing with Toothless. But she supposed she could spare a bit more time to cheer the loyal dragon back up. And she noted how her own spirit was raising, too. Despite all the bad things happening, she could find reasons to smile throughout her day and those were what kept her going and kept her on her feet when she felt like she was falling apart from the sum of obstacles the gods were throwing in her way. But she'd keep on fighting; not just for herself, but for all those she loved.

Toothless nuzzled her stomach and fixed his big eyes on her navel. He nudged his nose to the slight swell of her stomach and cooed, almost like a question. Astrid giggled when Toothless accidentally nuzzled a tickling-spot and pushed his head back to rest on her thighs.

"What is it, Toothless, huh?"

The dragon nudged her again, gently as if she was about to break if he was just a bit too rough. The behaviour baffled Astrid and she watched Toothless sniff her mid-section. He had never done this before. And she'd seen him do a lot of things she wouldn't consider very dragon-y.

"What in Thor's name is it with you and my stomach? Do you think I short-sold you on those fish and ate some myself, or what?" Toothless momentarily looked up at her with those big, dilated eyes, warbling happily. His tail was thumping on the ground back and forth ever so slightly, but the rest of his long body remained remarkably still.

"Weird dragon," she concluded with a laugh and gave him another scratch before pushing him off her lap entirely. Her legs were starting to feel like she was being poked by an armada of teeny-tiny needles.

"I'll see you again tomorrow, Toothless," she said, dusting her legs off. "I promise."

Toothless nudged her again gently and then curled back into his corner. Though he seemed a little more at ease than when she first entered the pen. Leaving him and hearing the Ring's gate fall shut behind tugged at her heartstrings. It wasn't right that he was locked up, but there was nothing she could do to change that at the moment without committing treason. She had promised the Chief that Toothless would behave and that he wouldn't be a problem for the village. And the only way she could convince him to actually believe Toothless would do so, the dragon needed to remain in the Kill Ring. Maybe with a couple more days of seeing that Toothless didn't mean any harm and was just scared, Stoick the Vast would agree to letting him roam at least somewhat freely. Astrid had to cling to that hope in order to move away for now, one foot in front of the other, or she might run back and take out those guards to set Toothless free.

Just a while longer, she told herself. Toothless is fine and he only needs to stay there for just a little while longer.

Only until Hiccup woke up and she could discuss with him how to proceed from here on out.

=0=

Stoick the Vast stared into the crackling flames lapping the logs in the fireplace. Sleep had not yet reached out its shadowy fingers to him, luring him into a wold that either be a dream-scape of hopes and happiness — where his wife was at his side and his son commenting on everything with his sarcastic remarks — or a nightmarish place — where horrors far worse than reality plagued him. Every night, it was a gamble which one it would be. Every night, the Chief prayed to the gods for a dreamless sleep. Because even the happy dreams, the soothing ones, the ones of an alternate reality, even they left him aching.

He would never again hear his Valka's beautiful laugh when Stoick was being uncharacteristically clumsy and he would never again see his son's eyes light up when the idea for another invention struck him. And that knowledge made those dreams even more of a bittersweet experience. Because at the end, he'd wake up and his family was still dead.

But his apprehension for dreams of any kind wasn't what kept him awake tonight.

There was a man who sympathised with the devils in his village, bearing the message of Trader Johann's betrayal.

Stoick didn't want to believe it.

Johann had been a friend to Berk for almost two decades; entertaining the youngest of the tribe with his bizarre tales of adventures and supplying the people with everything their hearts desired and more. Johann had brought Astrid back to them and always kept his eyes open on his travels for any Berkian that had taken up travelling and brining their letters back to Berk. It was hard to imagine him the brother and close confidante of their enemy.

But that was what Astrid had told him that morning when they had questioned her.

Trader Johann was Drago Bludvist's brother and the reason so many things had gone wrong for the young woman and her husband, though the Night Fury's rider had only found out when confronting Johann about Astrid's whereabouts.

Stoick felt no sympathy for the injuries Horren Bludvist — or whatever the young man's real name may be — suffered at Johann's hand. The young man had come barging into the village on his dragon and refused to show his face even when granted the help he needed. The only reason he was still alive and not short of a head was Astrid.

The lass had suffered enough already without having to witness her husband's execution.

And Stoick also couldn't deny that the possibility of finally finding a solution to the dragon scourges they faced at least three times a weak was appealing enough to keep the council and their hateful ideas at bay. For now.

Stoick grabbed a whetting stone and ran it along the edge of his axe's blade. The repetitive motion was calming and allowed his mind to focus on the problems he was facing.

One, the dragon raids. Having increased to a frequency never before seen. They came vigorously, struck hard, and left quickly. When before the village would be plagued by the beasts for hours at a time, now they lasted maybe half an hour top. That didn't mean less damage to the village, though. They had less time to prepare between raids and less time during a raid to strike back in any semblance of order. It was Helheim come alive.

Two, Drago Bludvist's impending invasion on the Archipelago. He had sent word forward to the allied tribes, but none had come back yet. Astrid's warning about the happenings and brewings on the mainland had come early enough to at least warn the tribes. He could only hope that the messages had reached their destinations and that the archipelago was getting prepared for an invasion. Judging from Astrid's reports, the army they would be facing was huge. Larger than they could imagine. And those were just the men under Bludvist's command. But Stoick and all the other Chief's of the Barbaric Archipelago knew too well that the madmen wouldn't be striking with just men alone. He commanded dragons and it would be foolish to assume they wouldn't be made use of.

And thirdly, the dragon sympathising man who could possibly help them not only one of the other two problems, but both of them. Horren must have more insight into Drago's workings and power-structures as the man's stepson. And as the rider and friend of a dragon, he would be able to figure out a solution to the dragon raids. Figure out their origins and where the damnable nest was located. And should he refuse to help where he could, Stoick saw himself forced to take on more drastic measures than simply asking. If he needed to, he would have Astrid held in custody to ensure Horren's cooperation.

And that was another thing Stoick was worried about. Astrid was still withholding information. She was still hiding things from him even though she had already told him so much that morning. And he had the feeling that he wouldn't be particularly happy about whatever she was hiding once it came to the surface. And it would come to the surface. Things never stayed a secret for very long on Berk. Not when Stoick knew they existed, anyway. He just really hoped Astrid would come and tell him before things got out of hand and he was faced with a raging council at his back when still stunned himself. Maybe it would only be that the Nadder Astrid had mentioned was hiding out somewhere in the forest. That, he could handle with ease. Much more would be fairly difficult without the councilmen executing someone by outvoting him. His veto only went so far.

When the blade of his axe was glistening in the firelight again, newly sharp and polished, Stoick decided to pay the lass another visit in the morning — given that the night proceeded uneventful. Maybe if he talked to her alone she would open up a bit more. Brining Spitelout along today had proved to be a grave mistake. His brother only cared to get the lass as his daughter-in-law, whether Snotlout and Astrid actually wanted that or not. It biased his usually very reliable second-in-command greatly and the rubbish that came out of his mouth as a result… Stoick shook his head. No wonder his nephew was prone to talk first and think later; or had been. The lad had matured a lot lately.

Stoick stood and headed for the door of his bedroom, intending to call it a night and try to find some sleep. But just as he shrugged his first boot of, the raid horn sounded and the noise of wings flapping reached him. He slid back into his boot with a groan. So it wouldn't be peaceful night after all.

He threw a bucket of water over the already dying flames of the fire warming the house, dousing them before any little accident had it aflame without the dragons helping it.

Out on the streets, he was met with bleary-eyed villagers, grumbling warrior the lot of his people. The oldest kids rushed to gather the youngest and herd them up to the Mead Hall. They hadn't needed to be told to do so in a while now. The proceedings of a dragon raid was routine even for the smallest and that broke his heart. All of the kids seemed frightened because even if a raid was routine, it was still dangerous and none of them knew if they'd see their parents again at the end of the night. But none of them complained or cried to be left with their parents. They went without complaint.

It wasn't right.

The fear in the kids' eyes the moment a horn sounded. The constant worry for the loss of a loved one. The knowledge that his people were slowly dying because the day would come when they wouldn't have enough food left for everyone and illness would spread like wildfire because of malnutrition.

Stoick barked orders as the first dragons fell into the village, methodically striking the sources the beasts knew to be the most effective for stealing livestock.

They needed to put and end to this. Soon. His people were dying and Stoick couldn't take it any longer.

A blur of blond hair and a swinging axe hurried past him and Stoick looked after Astrid rushing to defend the village like she had from the moment she was old enough to do so. A Zippleback fell victim to her precise blows. A friend of dragons and still she was fighting, killing them, to protect Berk. Stoick saw her a few times again while he fought his own battles and made sure not too many dragons got to leave the island with their prices. She never strayed far from her house, though. And Stoick had to watch with a heavy heart that she had good reason to, because some ill-minded villagers tried sneaking in with weapons at the ready, possibly to take the life of her husband.

Stoick made sure to remember who they were. All of them would be receiving a visit and stern talking-to from him come morning. But for now, he had to make sure they all survived long enough for that.

=0=

Consciousness was an elusive thing. Every time his eyes fluttered and a cacophony of noise reached through the thick clouds his head was clogged in, he already felt sleep pulling him back under again. Moving didn't hurt, but it wasn't comfortable either during the few moments he was there enough to attempt twisting his body. He was dimly aware that he must be under the influence of some drug or another, but really it was hard to tell. Sometimes he thought to hear voices, but that could also be his dreams. Other times he thought someone was touching him, holding his hand or prodding something at his side he slipped to soon away from to really put his finger on. Then he saw the golden waves of his wife's hair, her face turned down and away from him. He wasn't sure if it was reality or a dream. Or maybe he was in Valhalla and she was indeed one of their Valkyries. His Valkyrie.

His head was throbbing, a dull beat akin to his pulse. His throat was parched and mouth incredibly dry, his tongue feeling like he'd eaten sand. Moving his head was possible, but it hurt, momentarily increasing the dull throb to a sharp pound. His eyes fluttered open just a little, mostly on their own accord than by his command. Light was filtering through, not much but bright enough to sting behind his eyes. He closed them again quickly and waited a moment before slowly sliding them open again.

He view he got once his vision shifted into focus wasn't particularly telling to him. He was surrounded by wooden walls that could either belong to a house or a jail. There was a single window he could make out from the corner of his eye that let in the light of a very early morning, the scene cast in greys more than in colour. His other senses only came to him slowly, making it hard to decipher between what he supposed was there and what it actually was. It dawned on him, though, that he wasn't in a jail of any sorts. Jails — in his limited experience — didn't come with proper beds and bedding. But there was a pillow under his head, he noticed, and a soft fur tugged tightly but not uncomfortably around him. He tried to think of the last thing he remembered, but his thoughts were mushing together into a mess he was too fogged-up to untangle.

Hiccup curled his fingers, one by one, getting a feeling for his limbs again. His movements were slow and sluggish, his head still not completely clear of whatever he had been given. Feeling tickled back into his body and with it came the desire to roll onto his side. He was sleepy from having been knocked out Odin-knew how long. He moved his weight, grunting at the effort, and landed on his side only to wish he hadn't done it. A sharp pain worse than his headache shot up from his side and he yelped. His breathing hitched for a moment, two, his body unwilling to move any more as pain raked through him. It cost him more strength than it should to turn back over and lie on his back. Tears stung his eyes when he finally managed it. He didn't even have the breath or the energy left to wipe at his face and clear his vision.

His breath was coming in shorter gasps for some time while he tried to manage the pain by just ignoring it. His memories came back to him in a jumbled mess, then, but it wasn't hard putting them into order.

Facing off against Johann.

The dagger landing in his side.

Toothless flying as fast as he could while Hiccup fought to stay conscious.

Landing and being surrounded by hostility.

Astrid. His wonderful Astrid right at his side and fending for him when he was already too far gone to do so himself.

He didn't recall being taken where he was now, but he didn't doubt it had something to do with his wife.

Something else nagged at his mind, then, but the exhaustion from rolling onto his side was already taking its toll on him. His thoughts muddled again as quickly as they had cleared and sleep tugged him under once more.

When Hiccup opened his eyes the next time, it was significantly brighter and the rising sun was painting the world in colours rather than the dull picture he had gotten last time. He couldn't tell how much time had passed. Had it been a few hours? A day? More? All he knew was that his throat still felt like he had covered it in sand and the throbbing of his head also wasn't much better yet. His mind didn't feel as sluggish anymore, though still not completely right. And then there was the pain in his side where the dagger had pierced him.

Lying on his back was still uncomfortable. He must have lain in that position for a while to the point where his butt started to feel numb. He tried sitting up with his elbows, but quickly laid that plan to rest as his arms started to quiver more than holding him up and he flopped back down with a huff both of frustration and simply because the air was knocked from his chest. Also, his injury happened to be just where he needed to bend to sit up. Amazing. Once again, the gods couldn't have taken a little mercy on him. Sometimes he wondered why he still bothered praying to them at all. But then again, they had brought Toothless into his life and Astrid and Eret and Heather. The few people left he cared for that he could rely on. For every bad thing that happened, the gods had sent him someone to help him through it.

Hiccup hadn't known he wasn't alone in the room until he heard the shuffling of furs on the floor next to the bed he was lying in. Which was surprising since it was so quiet, he should've heard the breathing that wasn't his. Maybe his senses hadn't returned fully yet after all. Hiccup's heart sped up. He had no idea where he was and who was with him in the room and clearly his mask had been take off. He vaguely recalled asking Astrid not to, but maybe he had dreamed that. Or just imagined it.

The person shuffled around some more and Hiccup debated acting asleep. If they didn't know he was awake then… He didn't even really know what it was that he didn't want them to do, his mind muddled and slow in processing. He must've insisted on the mask for a reason, so what if—

"Hiccup?" a female voice gasped. He recognised that voice. He had dreamt often enough of hearing it again that now that he got to hear the real deal he realised that no memory was nearly as good as this.

Hiccup slowly turned his head and came face to face with his Valkyrie. Hair bedraggled, eyes bloodshot from a long night and dark smudges all over her face. And yet he didn't think he had ever seen anything more beautiful. His lips stretched into a grin, fingers twitching to tug away astray strands of golden locks. Her braid was a mess. "You got soot on your nose, love," he rasped, voice strained and hoarse from disuse.

For a moment, Astrid sat stunned, a huff of breath leaving her and she looked like she as about to collapse. Then, swifter than his eyes could capture, she was scrambling up and onto the bed, her arms flying around him. He felt her nonsensical chanting of 'oh gods, oh gods, oh gods' against his neck, mixed with the occasional murmur of his name.

Hiccup brought his arms up and held her tightly against him. Or rather, as tight as his injury and low energy would allow. He buried his face in her hair, caressing a hand through the golden locks. For the moment, he ignored the pain burning at his side, focusing instead on Astrid.

Before long, Astrid pulled away just enough that he could see her blue eyes shimmer, the small scratches on her cheek, the freckles dusting the bridge of her nose underneath the smudges. Before he could wonder about it, though, she was grinning at him, mouth starting to talk and that was all that mattered.

"You're awake," she said, voice tight. One of her hands brushed hair from his forehead that he hadn't even noticed.

"Apparently," he mumbled and leaned into her touch. He blinked sluggishly. Moving felt like wading through chest-deep mud, but he needed to make sure that he was really awake and this wasn't just a very realistic dream. He was solid under his touch, vivid to look at, unmistakably true. "Tell me I'm not in Valhalla."

She choked a laugh, eyes twinkling. Gods, had he missed her. "No, you are not." She pressed her forehead to his, impossibly close but not enough. Curse his injury. "You're here. You're alive."

He breathed her in, tightening his hold on her when she made to slip back. "I missed you," he rasped, voice dry. "Gods above, I missed you."

"Missed you, too," she replied and angled her head. She was close enough that his injury didn't influence who moved first. He didn't know who did; it didn't matter. Only that finally, after over two months of separation, her lips were on his again. Hard and soft, desperate and relieved, sweet, drowning, finally and not enough all at once.

His breath left him sooner than he'd like and they had to part. His head was dizzy again, but he refused to slip back under just yet. He wanted to relish in this moment, in having his wife finally back in his arms like he'd wished for so often. He was with her again. They weren't restricted by a cruel town anymore. He was back…

…on Berk. The last thing he'd done was direct Toothless towards Berk where Johann had brought her. Berk. Where he couldn't show his face because everyone thought him dead. Or should still do so.

Something must've shown on his face, some of his sudden lurch of panic shooting through him. Astrid sat back and allowed him to breathe. She grabbed his tightly curled hands. "What?" she asked worriedly. "Babe? What is it?"

Hiccup took a deep breath and tried to sit up. Again. He failed. Again. "My mask. Where—? I was wearing it. I know I did. I can't be seen—"

"Shh," she stooped his weak rambling. "It's okay. No one knows and no one's gonna come in here for now, alright? You don't need it right now."

"But—"

She leaned across him and reached for the nightstand next to the bed. She leaned back with his flying mask in hand. "It's right here," she said. "But right now, you don't need it. It's only me here."

Hiccup closed his eyes for a moment. His quick burst of alarm left him feeling worn out more than he already was. When he opened them again, Astrid had swapped his mask for a cup.

"You should drink something," she told him. "Your voice sounds awful. Like it hurts."

She helped him sit up a little, expertly slipping pillows behind his back before he could even realise what she was doing. He forced the water down his throat, grimacing at every gulp. But when the cup was almost empty, he was already feeling slightly better. His mind wasn't as muddled, either.

"What… what happened to Toothless?" he was almost afraid to ask. But he needed to know what had happened to him. If anything had happened to Toothless just because he had been stupid enough to let Johann live… Hiccup wouldn't be able to forgive himself for that.

Astrid gnawed on her lip. "He's in the Ring. Alive, mind you. But… you can imagine that not everyone is happy about a live Night Fury in the village. He's… worried about you. Blasted half the arena to pieces because he wanted to know what happened to you."

Hiccup felt the tension drain out of him. Toothless was alive.

"I brought him a basket of fish yesterday," Astrid continued. He watched her stand up and fuss around the room with some things he didn't care look at. Not when he instead could look at her face and how she ran a cloth over it to rub away the soot. He needed to ask her about that. But not now. Not right now.

"That damn stubborn dragon wanted to go on a hunger strike. I almost had to force the fish down his throat and needed to do some very heavy convincing that everything's alright. Ever tried explaining wound-treatment to a dragon? Definitely not easy, I can tell you that." She worked on her hair next and just watching her get presentable made a calmness spread through him that he hadn't felt in quite a while. How much he had missed even the smallest of habits of his wife.

"I promised him to be back today," she said. "The guards they put at the Ring refuse to get anywhere near him to feed him and also don't want to 'waste' any resources on him."

Hiccup furrowed his brows. "I— Does Berk know you're—"

Astrid looked away for a moment and he stopped. "I'm probably going to be put on trial for sympathising with dragons. I told the Chief… basically everything. Not about you, though. That's not something I'm gonna spring on him. But everything you taught me about dragons."

Hiccup didn't know what to say to that. He probably should say something. But all his head came up with was how he didn't want her on trial for something she didn't have control of. She shouldn't be put on trial for something he had brought her into. But she was already talking again.

"You… are on trial, too, by the way." She turned her brush over and over in her hands, her hair halfway tamed. "For flying in on a Night Fury. For being 'in league' with Drago. For… I guess the council just really doesn't like Horren Bludvist," she said in a small voice. She sat back down next to him and he reached for her hand.

"It's okay," he said. He felt the urge to comfort her, to make it seem less bleak. But he knew it was a lie. It wasn't okay. Just one moment to breathe through and already things were falling apart again, out of his control.

Astrid tugged her lips up in what was supposed to be a smile. She failed terribly at making it one. He tugged at her hand, wanting her closer again. She complied and squeezed in on the small bed next to him, half lying on his uninjured side. Her face in the crook of his neck and his arm circled around her. It felt so incredibly right holding her close.

"There's so much we need to talk about," she mumbled.

"I know," he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. Already, he felt sleep tugging at him again, strong enough to let his eyelids droop for several moments. "Not now, though."

"Not now," she agreed. She stretched up and pressed another kiss to his lips. Sweet and slow and tired and relieved.

Hiccup gave in to unconsciousness with his wife snuggled close to him.

The warmth of Astrid pressed to him was gone when Hiccup woke next. The sun shining through the single window had gone low on the horizon, painting the world a warmer hue than it was this far north; especially this time of year. Summer was still in the future and sometimes winter still decided to rear its ugly head to remind everyone that it was never truly gone in the Barbaric Archipelago. At least it seemed like a relatively peaceful evening without too many rain clouds casting shadows overhead.

Hiccup investigated the room from his confinement on the bed. Whatever kind of drug he had been on, the effects were almost completely gone. His mind was clear safe for the dizziness of just waking up. On the nightstand stood a pitcher and a full cup. He downed it's contents without much thought. It helped his dry mouth, but his stomach grumbled angrily. Goodness, how long had he been out in total? He had forgotten to ask Astrid.

At least, he could sit up now. It hurt like hell, but his arms didn't give out while pushing himself up. And he was tired of lying down. He would try standing up, but didn't want to push his luck yet. That was, were his bladder not screaming at him for relief. He easily found a chamber pot, but had to balance himself on the edge of the bed for support. He would've been embarrassed for his inability to even relieve himself without keeling over, but his side was protesting in pain and his head was swimming from lying down so long and suddenly being upright and there was no one there to witness him so embarrassment was rather a waste of energy that he decided to deal with later.

The room was sparsely furnished. A bed, a chest, a rack displaying a handful of various weapons. He recognised all of them, having made each and ever single one for his wife. One spot was empty and he suspected that it usually held her axe. There hung a fur from the rafters in front of where he suspected the door out of the room or the stairs down. He could hear noise through the planks of the floor, people talking downstairs and stuff — chairs? — being dragged around, scraping over the ground. I took him a bit to tune his ears to make out the conversation.

For a moment, Hiccup had trouble placing the voices. There were two male ones— no, three. And one of the two female ones definitely belonged to Astrid. Could the other one be Ruffnut? He thought he had heard her talk when he'd landed in the middle of the village with Toothless.

"If you touch those bandages, I'mma cut off your arm and feed it to the dragon!" Yup, definitely Ruffnut. "I just cooked them out and I don't need your grimy fingers on them, buttelf!" So one of the male ones must be her twin. Ruff had called Tuff buttelf ever since they'd all been children.

"Geesh."

Steps too heavy to be Astrid's sounded up the stairs.

"Nuh-uh, get your ass back down here, Snot. I'm tired of telling you every other minute." Now that was Astrid. "I thought I'd made myself clear the first time."

"But-"

"No buts."

"I just—"

"Now!"

"Ugh! All the chairs are taken!" Snotlout wailed. "I just wanted to sit down, Thor damn it." A heavy weight plumped down and Hiccup suspected he had sat down on the stairs, grumbling unintelligibly.

"Just don't go up. I don't—"

"Yeah, yeah. You don't want me up there. You don't want anyone up there. I know."

"I don't understand why, tough." That was Fishlegs. Apparently, Astrid had all of their old peers over for… dinner? Was that what that delicious smell was? Someone must've cooked and Hiccup doubted that it his wife was. "It's not like we'd recognise him. All this secrecy seems… unnecessarily complicated."

"I'm allowed up there," Ruff threw in.

"Yah." Tuffnut. "Because one, you're a woman. And two, you're weirdly obsessed with other people's wounds."

"Still got that mask, though."

Hiccup leaned his head against the headboard, staring up at the ceiling, tuning the conversation out. So his identity really was still a secret. For now that was good. But he couldn't keep hiding forever, didn't want to do so, either. If he could somehow convince his father that dragons weren't bad then he could lift the mask and maybe — if the gods were pleased enough with him to let him find some peace — he could call Berk his home again. It was what Astrid had dreamt of and it had invoked the same desire in him. He had never stopped missing this wet rock in the middle of the ocean. Now that he was finally here again, he had to do everything he could that he could stay here as well. And preferably not end up loosing his head along the way.

It took a while for the ruckus downstairs to calm down and Hiccup heard most of Astrid's visitors bidding good night. The sky was really already starting to darken again.

Two voices remained, though. Astrid and Ruffnut. A light pair of steps made up the staircase. Hiccup contemplated reaching for the mask, but then Astrid already poked her head through the fur-curtain. Surprise flashed over her face, quickly replaced by a fond smile. He couldn't help but return it.

"Awake again, I see," she said and came over to him. A steaming bowl of whatever he'd smelled all along in her hands. His stomach gave a demanding growl. She laughed and sat down next to him on the bed. Without prompting she leaned forward and in for a kiss. Hiccup drew it out longer than just the quick peck she had obviously intended for; but then again, he hadn't gotten to kiss her in way too long and wanted to make each and every opportunity count. Astrid made a pleased little sound and he smiled against her lips, eventually ending the moment himself because there was just no way he could keep kissing her and simultaneously grin as broadly as he did.

"Been for a while now," he responded once he drew back. The kiss left him feeling warm and fuzzy on the inside. It wasn't the buzzing excitement he'd felt when first falling in love with her. No, it was just a quick reminder of his body that this felt so inexplicably right and that Astrid was home and gods had he missed her.

"Why didn't you let me know?" She pressed the bowl into his hands. "I could've brought you something up sooner."

Hiccup shrugged and examined the contents of it. Some kind of chicken broth, he suspected. He wasn't sure. And he didn't care, either. As long as it was edible he'd eat anything right now. "There were people in the house." That reminded him of Ruffnut who was still downstairs, doing something that involved an awful grinding-noise and an off-key tune she whistled.

"They wouldn't have dared going upstairs," Astrid told him as he took a tentative first spoonful. It tasted great and was just the right temperature. He set the spoon aside and instead brought the bowl to his lips. Astrid chuckled. "Easy there. No one's gonna come steal your soup and we have more downstairs."

He finished half the bowl in one go. "I'm famished." The rest of the soup disappeared quickly as well.

Astrid shook her head in amusement. "That's what you get for being knocked out for over two days. I did try getting something inside of you, but you try feeding an unconscious person. Was hard enough keeping you hydrated enough."

Hiccup raised an eyebrow at her. "Just two days? Sure feels longer." He set the empty bowl aside. His stomach had stopped grumbling. For now.

"Tell me about it." Astrid kicked her boots off, scooted up the bed and rested her head on his shoulder. Their hands intertwined seamlessly, fitting together like two puzzle pieces. The way she was gnawing on her lip told Hiccup that there was a lot on her mind that she just didn't know how to breach the topic. He didn't push her to just say what ever she needed saying; experience had shown that she was more comfortable finding the words at her own pace. Hiccup leaned down and nuzzled her hair.

"Eret and Heather are here," she eventually said. "Stormfly too. They are near Raven Point."

Hiccup kissed her temple. "I know. I told them to come here and find you. Just in case. Did you see them?"

She nodded. "I saw Eret. Heather was… I don't know where she was. Running around the island to spy, I suppose. Eret said she'd wanted to check something out and I didn't have much time."

"Did he tell you about what happened?"

Astrid craned her head back to look at him. "If you mean regarding Johann and that your mother is also not as much on our side as we thought? Yeah."

"Mom's probably the reason why I got arrested back in Greuelorm," he admitted and looked away. The thought that his mother really had been selling him out to Drago all along still stung. He had trusted her, had been willing to love her even after she had not bothered with him for most of his life. And that was how she paid him back. Some days, Hiccup wished he had never found her again.

Astrid didn't say anything. There wasn't anything she really could say, Hiccup thought. She just squeezed his hand, a silent reassurance that she was there for him and would stay by his side. She didn't need to say those things aloud for him to know. He read it in her blue, blue eyes shining and shimmering with empathy. They had both been screwed over by a parent; just one more thing that bound them together, made them hold onto each other more strongly. Astrid was his anchor and the world could be falling apart around him and she would still be there, holding his hand through it all.

Hiccup thought about telling Astrid about Johann's motivations regarding his bringing her back to Berk — that he had wanted to keep Hiccup busy searching all over the archipelago for her just so he wouldn't be able to thwart Drago's plans — but decided against it. That was a discussion for another time. Maybe tomorrow, maybe even later. What was more urgent was making sure he could thwart Drago's plans.

"Eret told me you've been held in the dungeons," Astrid said. "He wouldn't tell me much more than that, though."

Hiccup sighed. Another conversations he'd like to have at a later point, but he could see the questions burning behind his wife's eyes. The worry and fear flickering. And a simmering rage on his behalf. He didn't doubt that she'd try tearing Drago a new one for everything that had happened.

"That's because there isn't much to tell," he said. "I've been held prisoner in the most miserable cell they could find for about… almost four weeks, I think. I don't really know because there isn't much of a day-and-night rhythm to go off of in a dungeon. Always just the same tired and bored guards, regardless of the hour."

Astrid furrowed her brows, lips tight. "He said you looked like a ghost when they got you out."

"Must be because of the sheer hospitality they had going on down there," he said sarcastically. "Definitely the gourmet food and the top-notch sleeping accommodations. Leisure-time activities were also quite entertaining. Really worth an extended stay."

Astrid shot a withering glare up at him. "You're so lucky you're already injured or I would've hit you for that. Gods. You're the absolute worst."

Hiccup couldn't suppress his grin. The memories of his time in the dungeons underneath Greuelorm weren't even slightly nice or worth grinning over. But to see that his sarcasm still had the same exasperated-eyerolling effect on Astrid as ever was definitely worth grinning over.

"Stop grinning," she told him. "That was bad. Really bad. Even for your standards." Just a glimmer of humour appeared in her eyes, gone in a flicker of time. The worry won this round.

Hiccup touched her cheek, replying genuinely, "I won't lie, it really was awful. I… wasn't tortured or anything if that's what you're worried about. But I think…" He took a deep breath unable to meet her eyes. Not if he couldn't shield himself with sarcasm. "If Heather and Eret had gotten me out any later, I would've gone mad down there, Astrid. I was kept on a bare minimum of bread and water and it was constantly dark and I was alone." He cracked a grimaced smile. "Apparently, my thoughts alone aren't the best company to have."

"Hiccup," she whispered somewhere between shock and sympathy.

"It's alright, love. They got me out and we got away and I'm here now. It's alright." It wasn't though. Not everything and not as much as it should. But he'd gladly already overcome most demons from those few weeks in the dungeons.

Astrid leaned against him and for a while they just held each other tightly.

He was here. She was here. And for now, she couldn't be taken from him. They were safe even if only for a moment.

Their moment of peace was interrupted rather harshly, though. The sun was on it's last glimpse over the horizon before it would disappear for the night, making space for the moon. Ruffnut was still in the house and Hiccup had to begrudgingly admit to himself that he had forgotten completely about her presence just a floor below.

"Oi!" Ruffnut Thorston yelled up the stairs. "Are you two done being all cuddly and stuff? Those bandages still need changing."

With a groan, Astrid slipped from his grasp. "Be right back," she said and disappeared behind the fur curtain, taking the empty bowl of soup back with her. Hiccup heard the two women rummaging about downstairs, occasionally hissing something to each other, but their words stayed a mystery to him. Listening in on conversations was way easier if the people talking did so loudly and without care for who might be listening in on them. And for all Hiccup knew, he could be not the only one doing exactly that.

Eventually, Astrid came back up the stairs, hands full of clean cloths. "Ruff's coming up in a minute," she informed him. Hiccup immediately grabbed for his mask. Astrid sat on the edge of the bed again and stopped his hand. "Don't bother. She knows."

"What do you mean, she knows?" Hiccup hissed, slightly alarmed.

"I mean," Astrid said, "she knows about you. I… told her when I had a lot on my mind and needed at least someone to talk to without checking every word twice. I'm sorry."

Hiccup blinked, breathed in, breathed out, and set the mask back down. It was a strange feeling, knowing you'd meet someone you had last seen years before again. When he'd see Astrid again for the first time, it was a coincidence. This wasn't coincidence. And his nerves were on the edge of jumping out the window. It was a good thing he couldn't even leave the bed without his side protesting harshly.

"Are you mad I told her?"

"No." And it was the truth. He knew that Astrid wouldn't betray his secret until absolutely necessary. And whatever she'd had to go through, it probably wasn't a easy. "Just would've been nice knowing a bit sooner."

Astrid leaned in to kiss his cheek. "Sorry," she repeated without a hint of regret in her voice. Astrid wasn't one to regret her choices easily. And if she didn't regret telling Ruffnut, then it wouldn't be so bad. Right?

Either way, Hiccup didn't have time to contemplate the new situation further. Ruffnut already came barging up the stairs and didn't pause for even a second before entering the small bedroom. Astrid's hand found his and squeezed tightly, reassuring. Ruffnut hadn't changed all that much since Hiccup had last seen her almost six years ago other than that she had gotten older.

"Odin's fucking balls," Ruffnut said after a moment of silence and staring. "Someone pinch me."

Astrid obliged the request with a smirk and Ruffnut yelped. "Hiccup?"

"Um.. Hi? I guess?" He rubbed the nape of his neck. His heart was thumping as fast as Toothless' wings beat at top-speed. His fingers were still itching for the mask. When he'd first touched down on Berk with Toothless — barely conscious and only half-aware of his surroundings — the mask had meant a layer of safety beyond shielding his face from the harsh winds of flying. It meant anonymity, the protection of a foreign identity. With the mask on, he would've been able to look just about anyone on Berk in the eyes just because he knew they wouldn't recognise the boy he'd been when he left. No one recognised a ghost of the past.

But the mask was already off his face and Ruffnut was already in the room and Astrid had told her already, anyway. There was no point in donning the mask now.

Ruffnut shook her head and tilted her mouth into a mischievous curve. "Hot damn. I thought Astrid was exaggerating, but damn it, apparently she was it was an understatement."

Instantly, the all thought about masks and revealed identities and everything he wasn't yet ready to face slipped from his mind and the hand from his neck. "W—What?" He looked between the two women.

Astrid levelled a warning look at Ruffnut. "Don't."

"All I'm saying is—"

"Ruff, I swear to the gods if you—"

"—that you didn't tell me just how—"

"One more word and—"

"—good puberty was to him!" Ruffnut said as if Hiccup wasn't right there.

"Ugh!" Astrid threw a pillow at Ruffnut who dodged it with a cackle. "What did we just talk about downstairs?"

"Sorry, but…" Ruffnut directed her gaze back to Hiccup who just watched them with incomprehension. "Who'd have known that that's how you'd turn out."

Oh.

"Uh…" His hand went back to his neck. That was… so not how he'd expected this to go.

"Alright," Astrid said, clearly done with this situation. She jumped off the bed and instantly the hand she'd bee holding felt cold. "Bandages. Now."

Ruffnut cackled again and waved her off. "Yeah, yeah, Mrs. Bossy." To Hiccup she said, suddenly most mirth gone and a rather… professional expression on her face, "And you, Mister Not-so-dead-after-all. Shirt off and lie down. I need to see if that wound is healing properly."

Hiccup complied with just a little hesitation. He remembered that Astrid had mentioned — albeit a good while ago — that Ruffnut had started an apprenticeship with Gothi. Before he lay down, Astrid unwound the old bandage from his middle. It stuck a little to the wound, but the last layer came off with a tug. Hiccup hissed.

"The painkillers are probably wearing off," Ruffnut informed him while she brought her supplies in order on the nightstand that was overflowing with clean bandages, little jars of ointments and salves and what he suspected was a flask of some alcohol of sorts. "Another dose before you sleep and you should be good until morning. But after that, I'll lower the dosage. Can't have you being awake and high when every other hour someone barges in here to question you."

"Alright," he said, unsure what else to reply. He grimaced as he lay down because of the stress the movement put on his wound. It had been stitched where the dagger had pierced him, the skin around the wound coloured like a nasty bruise and droplets of blood slowly tickling out, dried half-way.

Ruffnut didn't talk much while she took care of the wound and Hiccup did his best to squirm as little as possible as she poked and prodded the sensitive flesh. He grit his teeth and cursed under his breath when she cleaned it with the alcohol; but not before taking a swig of the flask himself. Oh, how he hated that part of wound-treatments. Astrid shot him a disapproving look, but he ignored it. He was the one with a stab-wound at his stomach and if he felt he needed a gulp of whatever awful kind of alcohol was in that flask to make the treatment a little more bearable, then that was that. He also ignored the following disapproving looks from his wife as he continued to grumble profanities.

Ruffnut cackled again at a rather filthy one. "That one could make a sailor blush. Where'd you learn to swear like that, H? Don't think I've ever heard you use that kind of language back when." She dabbed again with an alcohol-soaked piece of cloth. He glared at her.

"Just get this fucking over with," he ground out. "And— hey! Sure, tug on the fucking thread while you're at it, why don't you. Thor fucking damn it."

"Your own fault if you work the stitches loose and tear open the wound agai," Ruffnut snapped back. "You should be damn glad it didn't start bleeding like a bitch again."

Hiccup threw his head back with an aggravated groan, but instead of getting to stare at the roughly hewn beams of the ceiling, Astrid looked back down at him.

"Just let Ruff do her job, babe," she told him and stroked a stray hair out of his face.

"Easy for you to say," he said and reached for her hand. Concentrating on his wife's face instead of whatever Ruffnut was doing to his wound next helped, though. It wasn't nearly as discomforting as before — which also may be because Ruffnut had finally ditched the alcohol.

Eventually, Ruffnut instructed him to sit back up. "Slowly and carefully. I just fixed that threading and if it opens again it'll have to be restitched." Hiccup didn't like the thought of getting poked with a needle while he was fully conscious, so he did as the healer-apprentice instructed. With help of Astrid. A new set of bandages went around his stomach while Ruffnut told him all the ways he wasn't allowed to move just yet so that the skin could close back up.

"And don't scratch at it," she warned with a poignantly pointed finger. "It's probably gonna start itching, but if you scratch it, it'll only come open again and heal real ugly. Understood?"

"Not like I've never had stitches ever before in my entire life," he deadpanned and earned himself a light slap to the arm. From Astrid though, not from Ruffnut.

"She's just doing her job," she reminded him. "And by the way, remember when you cut open your arm because you and Eret were being drunk idiots with swords? You scratched at it all the time even though you told the healer the exact same thing."

Hiccup looked back at his wife over his shoulder where she sat behind him on the bed. "Thanks for the reminder." Another deadpan. Though she did have a point there.

Ruffnut tied up the last knot. "All done." She gave his chest a little pat and rummaged about her supplies; closing jars of ointments up, folding unused bandages and recapping the flask.

Astrid passed him back his tunic. Only now did he notice that it wasn't the one he'd worn when confronting Johann, nor was it one from Toothless' saddlebag. "Whose is this?"

"Tuffnut's," Astrid said and helped him tug it back on without stressing the injury. His right arm was not allowed up over his shoulder to minimise the strain. "You're about the same size."

"Ah." That made sense.

There was a moment of silence that was suddenly weighed with unspoken words. Hiccup didn't know where this sudden change of atmosphere came from, but he wanted it gone. Ruffnut was stilling in her movements and worrying her lip.

"Come on, out with it," he said. He could imagine what was coming. After all, he had been believed dead for the past six years and now suddenly reappeared on top of a Night Fury. He and Ruffnut hadn't been remotely close before he had left — his sudden burst of popularity had only come from his sudden success in dragon training and nothing more — but Astrid had said his 'death' had affected most everyone on Berk.

"Why did you feel the need to let everyone think you're dead?" There was no real malice in her words, but her tone wasn't exactly pleasant either. It felt more like an accusation. Like he was responsible for all the bad that was happening to Berk.

"I… actually didn't," he said, looking down at the hem of the tunic that wasn't his. "I didn't even know everyone thinks I'm dead until Astrid told me."

"Yeah, but you could've just left a message. Like, hey guys, I'm taking a little vacation from Berk. Possibly forever, maybe not. I'm not dead though, so don't sent search parties after me. Have a nice life."

Hiccup winced. "Not my best moment or decision, I know."

"Damn straight, Haddock. And you might wanna go apologise to Snot. He's been thrown into your job, filling in as heir and got lectures from the Chief every time he so much dared to breathe. Or think. Or do literally nothing wrong at all except not being you."

"I…"

"Ruffnut," Astrid said.

"Almost done," Ruff said and held up a finger before she continued. "You knew about dragons. You have a pet dragon for crying out loud. And did you ever think about maybe using it to figure out why in Helheim we're hit by raids all the time?" Hiccup oh so badly wanted to put his head in his hands; but that would be against Ruffnut's instructions. "Maybe… maybe — with your help and with a dragon on our side — we could've figured out a way to stop the raids years ago."

"I… didn't think me staying would've made a difference. I thought the village was better off without me." That was years of insecurity and being an outcast in his own tribe speaking. Now, he knew better and his decisions would be different than fourteen-year-old Hiccup's.

"Oh? Just because you blew up the village every other week and hit people with crazy faulty inventions? Guess what, Tuff and I still blow up parts of the village every other week and prank everyone who isn't careful enough. The village is so not happy with us either. Difference is, we stay here and keep our rolls in the tribe to contribute something rather than nothing at all."

Ruffnut closed the last jar with more force than necessary and Hiccup winced again, pulling his face into a grimace. Ruffnut had a point in her argumentation, but she wasn't entirely right either.

"I couldn't have stayed without endangering Toothless," he said. It wasn't the best argument; the life of one dragon weighed up against the wellbeing of an entire village. But at that time, Toothless had been all Hiccup had, all he would've gone to the end of the world for because Toothless understood him on a level no one else did. It had been a simple decision back then. Now it wasn't so simple anymore. "And I can't change my past decisions."

Ruffnut regarded him for a second, then glided her eyes over to Astrid, and back again. She tapped a finger on the jar's lid, slowly like she was measuring beats of time. Eventually, she nodded. "Welcome back, Hiccup. Don't fake-die on us again."

"Thanks, Ruffnut. I'm done running from my problems."

Ruffnut snorted. "Say that again once you've gotten rid of that mask. It looks ridiculous."

Behind him, Astrid broke out into laughter. "Sorry, babe, but it really does."

Hiccup wanted to glare at her, at them both. But he couldn't find it in him to really mean it. So instead of glaring, he leaned backwards and pressed a quick kiss to the soft skin where her jaw ended, just below her ear. Astrid squeaked between her laughs.

"You're so lucky I love you or else I'd be wearing it all the time just to tick you off," he said.

"Lucky me indeed," she snickered and stole a proper kiss from him. Not that he minded. He never minded.

"I'm gonna interrupt you two right here," Ruffnut said and they parted, reluctantly. She had her arms akimbo and the mischief was back, showing blatantly on her face. "Before you get any filthy ideas for when I leave, heavy jostling is gonna wreck those stitches and strain the wound. We want that thing closed as fast and neatly as possible, not ripped back open and bloody just because you two can't keep your hands off each other. The passionate happy-reunion-sex'll have to wait for a while." With that, Ruffnut retreated down the stairs before the blood had finished rushing into his cheeks.

"I'll leave you the painkiller-sleep-drug-tea steeping on the table," Ruff yelled up the stairs and cackled at the sputtering of the couple. indignation

Astrid groaned and hid her face on his shoulder. "Sometimes I feel like throwing my axe at her. Inappropriate bitch."

Ruffnut kept rummaging about downstairs for a bit before yelling a "Good night! Go easy on those stitches!" up at them and then Hiccup supposed it was the front door falling shut behind her.

"That was," Hiccup slowly said, "something."

"It's Ruff," Astrid replied to his shoulder. "What do you expect?"

"I don't know. More lewd comments."

He felt his wife grin. "She made those. You just weren't around to hear them. But believe me, her well of lewd comments is far from being dry yet."

"She should meet Eret," Hiccup said, suddenly overcome by a yawn. "They would make an inappropriately lewd couple."

Astrid parted from his shoulder, eyes glistening with secretes. "Just one problem with that. Well… two. Ruff is with Fish and Eret definitely already has cast an eye on Snot."

"What? When did that happen?"

"I went to see Eret and Snot came along. Really, I think it might've been love on first sight."

"Huh."

Eret's flexible desires for both men and women was nothing new to Hiccup. He'd seen his fried chase after either sex often enough that it didn't come as a surprise any more. But… Snotlout?

"What's Snotlout's stand on the matter?" he asked because that was a new concept to him. He remembered his cousin's infatuation with Astrid or any other girl who only so much as looked in his direction.

Astrid hesitated, mirth dulled a bit. She looked up as though to find the answer hanging in the air above her. She was so clearly debating with herself whether she should tell him or not that she didn't even need to tell him anymore for him to know. The answer was so blatantly obvious in her inability to answer.

Hiccup blinked. "Huh. That's something new." Then he furrowed his brows. "Is he… not open with it? With himself?" For as long as Hiccup had known Eret, his friend had bee open and comfortable with his sexual preferences. It was… not weird, but sad to think that others were not. And sad only because it must be the social circles around them pressuring them into believing there's anything to hide when it came to their preferences in bed mates.

Astrid sighed and shook her head. "No. Spitelout is pretty clear about how he wants Snot's life to look like. I… don't think he's ready to have everyone know about his feelings. Actually, I think I'm the only one he's told." She stood up and padded for the stairs. "I'm gonna go get that tea. It should be done steeping now."

While Astrid got the tea, Hiccup mused over his cousin. Everything he'd been told about Snotlout was so drastically different to the boy Hiccup had grown up with. He'd missed out on so much on Berk. Astrid had told him a lot, but that was still different to seeing it for himself. He really had made a stupid decision back then, leaving with Toothless and never once returning. Of course, he missed his father, missed Gobber, missed a great lot actually. But it had never been a good enough motivation to return until it had been because of Astrid. Only his wife had been motivation enough to return.

What a fool he was. For letting himself think that his absence had been for the better. For letting Valka anchor him to Greuelorm where most was made of misery. For getting himself tangled in a political net of warfare instead of choosing from moment one the isle he'd grown up on.

Eret. Heather. He reminded himself of those two people who had helped shape the person he was now. He wouldn't have met them were it not for Greuelorm. Wouldn't think of them as family more than just friends.

It was for naught pondering the what-ifs and could-haves of his life. Maybe he wasn't living the best life he could right now, but he could fight to get there, could make the best of it still.

And for that to happen, he needed to convince a whole island full of dragon-hating stubborn vikings to accept him. And then he needed to come clear about himself. He just hoped he had enough time for that before the first troops with the Bludvist banner started to arrive.

A/N:

Whelp. This chapter definitely turned out longer than I'd anticipated. Especially Hiccup's part. I hope none of you are gonna lynch me because of lot of things you've been rooting for to happen in the amazing reviews you left didn't happen. Like, Hiccup still doesn't know that he's gonna be a dad. Stoick doesn't know that his son's not dead. Heather's still not arrived back on-screen. Basically, if I think about it, I don't know what most of the 16k of this chapter have any business being there… But hey! At least I gave you that Hiccstrid reunion, right? Also, please don't look to closely at the medical accuracy of Hiccup's wound and all. Most of this is based on assumptions and my limited experience with wound-treatment of this level. If anyone of you DOES know better than me and sees mistakes, please do tell me so I can be educated and learn because I did not have time googling everything I put in. :)

Alright, before I leave, little teaser for the next one: It's gonna involve our dear Valka and you'll want to come after me with pickaxes and pitchforks.

Until the next one, lovelies!