Chapter 37: …Their Side…
Prior to the Norse Reformation of 1044 AD/AM 4804/435 AH/ArO 0, the Norse pagan religion was in the process of dying out under the onslaught of a semi-organized campaign of Christianization. Iceland, Norway, the North Sea Islands, and Denmark had all been forcibly converted over the prior century, and were at least nominally Christian, although Norse beliefs were still held by much of the populace through folk transmission. King Olaf I, Magnus the Good's father, was personally responsible for much of the Christianization of Norway, having engaged in the torture and execution of Norse priests and the destruction of Norse temples. Sweden remained a bastion of resistance, with the Norse cult at Uppsala having a mutual nonaggression agreement with the Swedish kings dating back to 990 AD, but the status of the traditional faith was eroding steadily there.
Around the Eirish Sea and Alban Hebrides, there were various overtly Norse cults and tribes; many of these were close allies in an increasingly Christianized region, bound by treaties and marriage ties. These tribes included the Bog Burglars of Wales, the Meatheads of the Outer Hebrides, and of course the Hooligans of Berk, to name the three largest examples. But their numbers were dropping from their heydays of a century prior.
The general consensus of historians of the period is that, without the Norse Reformation, it is unlikely that the Norse religion would have survived another century in the face of the aggressive Christian efforts to render it extinct.
Instead, the Crusades against the North Sea Empire over the following century only helped revive and entrench the reformed faith, especially due to the martyring of ethnically Norse Christians by the Crusaders…
—The Second Flowering Of Yggdrasil: An Analysis Of The Norse Resurgence, 1710
Isle Of Berk, Alban Hebrides
Heather opened the door to her house and slumped inside, Fishlegs following her. After her near-death experience earlier today, he wasn't letting her out of his sight. And she didn't mind that. Not one bit. In fact, she was resisting the urge to take him upstairs to her room and to bed.
Then she paused in realization. Her reputation was such that everyone assumed that she'd already done that, so why not have the fun anyway? If anyone made the accusation to Stoick, who knew the truth, he'd just laugh it off.
So she turned around and pulled Fishlegs into a tight kiss. He made a noise of surprise, but relaxed after a moment and put his arms around her.
They continued to kiss as Heather tried to put aside the thoughts buzzing around in her head and focus on the moment. But it was hard. Astrid had managed to pull up a request from Twiglet for a saddle for her Gronckle Oakleaf, and the handwriting listing the design specifications didn't match at all—Twiglet had such excellent and precise handwriting that Heather had actually found herself both jealous and wondering why the woman wasn't working with the scribes.
But she pushed that to the back of her mind and focused on kissing her boyfriend.
Finally, she broke the kiss and, breathing heavily, said, "Want to come upstairs?"
He blinked, and then flushed as he realized what she meant, and let go of her in a hurry. "What!? No!"
Her mouth fell open a bit and her eyes widened. She felt like she'd been punched—a feeling that deepened as he stepped back from her urgently. "Fishlegs… what's wrong? Did… did I say something wrong?"
"We're only courting, Heather, not… we're not… it's not right! I don't want you to get in more trouble!"
She blinked, taken aback. "Um… Fishlegs… I don't know if you've noticed, but someone tried to kill me today. I can't get in more trouble."
"Yes you can! And it's not right! It's against the law for a reason, Heather." He looked down at the floor. "What if you got… got… got pregnant?"
She moved into his line of sight, her heart tying itself in a knot, before she could push out, "Would you still love me?"
"Of course I would, but—"
"Then there's no prob—what the?" Heather said, and held up a hand. "Did you hear that?"
Fishlegs froze and cocked his head. And then nodded.
And they both dove for the stairs. Heather took them two at a time, hearing rapid footsteps sounding on the floorboards and then a clattering slam.
An instant later, she shoved the door open, and felt bile rise in her throat at the smell. Her room was a shambles; there was a small half-covered bucket, filled with some green-yellow fluid, which was dribbling out its contents across the floor; her clothing was piled on her bed, and the window shutters were flapping open—and there was no culprit in sight.
She ran to the window and looked out.
Unfortunately, there was no convenient screaming body lying on the grass below, lamed by a mishandled jump. She could see the footprints where they had landed, though.
Scowling, she put a bit of her training to use, vaulted out of the window—ignoring the bizarre sound Fishlegs made as his yelp of surprise combined with gagging at the smell—twisted her grip on the windowsill, lowered herself down, and dropped to the grass below, tucking and rolling to lessen the impact on her ankles.
Springing to her feet, she looked around intently. A few people looked at her oddly, and she ran up to one—Noxoaf clan Jorgenson.
"Did someone just jump out of my window!?" she demanded.
"Aye," he replied laconically.
"Who was it!?" she asked.
"You," he said, and smirked.
"Argh! Did anybody else jump out of my window before I did!?"
"Mebbe. I didn't see nuthin," he said, and walked off.
Heather looked around, saw the amused or hostile looks on the few passersby who even were bothering to look at her, sagged and sighed. "All right." She turned and walked back to the house. She had some cleaning—and airing out—to do, apparently.
She listlessly reentered her room, to find that Fishlegs had already found a mop somewhere and gotten to work at cleaning up. He gave her a questioning look, and she shook her head. "They got away."
"Well… at least we kept them from…" he turned a little green, and pointed to her bed and the pile of clothing heaped on it; the bucket—probably stolen from the tannery—was lying nearby, half of its contents gone on the floor.
She gagged at the thought, and went to give him a peck on the cheek, but he flinched away. She backed off, and looked at him, hurt. "What's wrong?"
"I… let's get it cleaned up in here?" he deflected, and she nodded, still hurt.
As she and Fishlegs mopped up the dragon urine from the floor, the subject of her offer from earlier lay between them like a bare knife with no handle—whichever of them would pick it up first would cut themselves on it.
But as she mopped up the putrid liquid from the floor under her bed where the bucket had spilled, Heather decided that she really, really wanted that lock now…
###
Astrid sat in the forge as Hiccup worked on his latest project—some new kind of wheel that would harness the power of the wind like his waterwheels harnessed the power of the rivers. She handed him tools as he asked for them, and occasionally glanced over his shoulder at the latest device that was taking shape. The x-frame that she'd seen before was mounted to an axle that would let it spin; it used the caged-balls-in-a-frame that he had made to let the axle spin more freely. Attached to that were more wooden gears that were mounted in a frame; she recognized those as a small version of what was in her parents'—well, her uncle's, now—mill.
But while she could recognize what Hiccup was building, she couldn't offer any coherent input on her own for potential refinements. So she sat, occasionally massaged Hiccup's shoulders, gave him kisses at opportune moments, and tested the balance and weight of the various weapons hanging in the racks around them.
That unfortunately left her a great deal of time to reflect and think.
Her immediate thoughts were filled with sympathy for Heather; even when Hiccup had been 'the Useless', he'd never experienced a campaign of harassment like what Heather was undergoing. She was honestly disappointed in her tribesmates, and only the promise that she'd given Heather was keeping her from marching into Twiglet clan Thorston's face and challenging her to the holmgang, or reporting her to Stoick. But the holmgang would be much more satisfying, especially if Astrid made the challenge over Fishlegs on Heather's behalf.
And that brought her to Fishlegs. His reaction to the revelation that he was being fought over had actually been pretty funny—at first. And then Astrid had realized that shy, retiring Fishlegs had never really shown interest in girls before he had met Heather, and remembered how uncomfortable he'd been when Astrid had initiated things around Hiccup. He honestly did not know how to handle the idea that a girl was interested in him, especially to the point of engaging in such harassment. Astrid would be willing to bet pounds to pennies that Twiglet had flirted with him at some point and Fishlegs hadn't even realized it.
Any humor in the situation, however, was eaten up by the attempt on Heather's life—and, even worse in some ways, that evil letter. Even if Twiglet hadn't written it, someone had, and with the intention of causing her friends to fight or break up. And if there was one thing that Astrid could sympathize with right now, it was a letter with that sort of intent showing up in one's love life.
And that thought made her cringe.
Because working with Wulfhild before, combing through the piles of parchments and notes looking for something with Twiglet's handwriting on it, had been like old times—of a month ago. Gods, the princess was still her friend; she was giving up everything to keep that friendship, and Astrid was acting greedy and self-centered. She had it all—the husband, the wealth, the status, the sex, the love—and Wulfhild had nothing…
Aside from her friendships.
And Astrid hadn't even gone to talk to Rikard, Ingrid or her sister-wives yet. Somehow, she kept finding more important things to do. Things like… oh, playing with a mace while Hiccup fiddled with small wooden gears, his attention completely absorbed in the act of creation and invention.
Astrid groaned quietly. Life would be so much easier if she were as self-centered, dishonest, and callous as some other people she could name.
Hiccup glanced up at her at her noise, apparently not as absorbed as he appeared to be. "What's wrong? Heather?"
Grateful for the diversion—and hating herself for it—she nodded. "I'm worried about her. Despite what she said, it's pretty obvious that Twiglet is aiming for her, and wanted to get her out of the way."
Hiccup nodded in agreement. "Yeah. But she doesn't want to rock the boat."
Astrid scowled. "I suppose after spending a few years getting your mind tortured and forced to betray everyone around you, the idea of standing up for yourself… might be uncomfortable."
They sat in silence, and then Hiccup sighed. "Yeah."
"I just wish we could do more to help her…" Astrid said, and then an idea struck.
That must have shown on her face, because Hiccup quirked an eyebrow. "Bolt of inspiration, love?"
She grinned and grabbed her coat from the hook on the wall. "Yep. You keep working. I have someone to go talk to."
"I don't want to know anymore, just in case Dad has to ask me about the blood and body parts tomorrow," he sassed.
She stuck out her tongue at him as she closed the coat. "Oh, please. I'm not going anywhere near Twiglet."
"Well, have fun then, and try not to maim anybody!" he said cheerfully.
She rolled her eyes and left, walking up the familiar path to her old house and pounding on the door.
A few moments later, it opened, and Astrid saw the person she had come for. "Karolina? I need to talk to you…"
###
Wulfhild lay in her lonely bed in her new room in the new wing of the chief's hut. In the rooms below her, the dragons were sleeping, and she wished that she could sleep as well, and ignore the throbbing in her veins.
Getting to sleep, though, was difficult. Hiccup and Astrid were making love, again. And for the third or fourth time that night, Wulfhild had to ignore the sounds from just a few feet away, as she had every night since she had moved into this house the week before.
They were trying to be quiet, which she appreciated. But trying was not the same as succeeding. The sounds and noises that they were making were not helping matters—either in letting her get to sleep, or in slowing her own pounding pulse of arousal.
Part of her was resisting the very rude and shameful urge to ask them pointedly to be quiet. It was a strong urge, exacerbated by her tiredness, but she knew that she'd be able to drift off to sleep sooner or later. It wasn't as if such noises were foreign to her—not when Ruffnut and Magnus had been sharing similar intimacies for months, with Wulfhild as an unwilling listener under similar circumstances. She'd been able to eventually sleep, then.
But it was harder now, and that was because of the other urge currently thrumming through her—the urge to get up and join them.
And she was resisting that one strenuously, for a variety of reasons.
It was both better and worse than it had been when her brother had gotten married to Ruffnut. Better, because at the very least she was no longer overhearing her own brother make love to Ruffnut, who had the habit of moaning dirty things—things that she could only imagine as being suggestions—to Magnus.
But it was also worse. And that was because, judging by the sounds Astrid in particular was making, even muffled by the walls, they were enjoying themselves deeply, and sharing great pleasures with one another. And while her brother and Ruffnut had made similar noises, that was her brother. Not her potential husband. And that made it worse—because, even knowing the impulse was born of both the sin of lust and sin of envy, Wulfhild found herself profoundly jealous and yet… anticipatory.
And that anticipation and commingled jealousy was born of the fact that, quite simply, despite how Astrid had been treating her these past three weeks, Wulfhild was not here as formal guest. No… she was here as Hiccup's acknowledged concubine, and legally as part of his clan. Which meant she was, eventually one day, going to go to the bed of the man who was making Astrid—strong, straightforward, sarcastic and blunt Astrid—whimper with lust about fifteen feet away.
But she was putting that day off for as long as she could manage to resist it. That was why she had suggested to Astrid the deception of having Hiccup pretend to be with her in the first place. Because if Father Henriksson had actually married her to Hiccup, she knew enough of the rules and laws of marriage to know that the marriage was not legally complete until they actually consummated it.
How long it would be before Hiccup and Astrid's marriage would be valid in the eyes of God—assuming that claim of the Father's hadn't also been a lie—she didn't know. But Wulfhild was determined to hold out against her own desires for at least that long. Then her friends' marriage would indisputably valid, and hers would be invalid due to that validity, and their original agreement would be able to hold—her as concubine, Astrid as wife, and they would never need to know.
It was the only thing she could do in the aftermath of her disastrous and selfish sin. So, for now, she and Hiccup gracelessly made noises to pretend that they were being intimate—they'd done that once already, and it had been one of the most awkward moments of her life—but, one day, when the danger of invalidating their marriage had come to an end, it would be her turn to experience what Astrid was enjoying so greatly.
During the first night she'd been here, she'd thought that the sounds were of pain and been alarmed and frightened at what she'd gotten herself into. But she had eventually realized, midway through that first night, that Astrid could have been having her legs chewed off and not made such noises. Although, apparently, from what she was moaning, Hiccup was good with his mouth.
And, presumably, one day in the future, once the danger had passed—and if he ever could bring himself to touch her, if he could do that without her losing both of their friendships—it would be her turn to experience the same things. And that was a thought that made her mouth dry and her veins ache. And part of her was howling to make that day today. To just stand up, open the door, and join her lord and his wife in their bed.
But a more lustful, greedy, and gluttonous act she couldn't imagine. It would compound her earlier sin, at the very least, and endanger the validity of her friends' marriage. She would be putting her own desires over their spiritual health, and doing it for her own base needs. It would be the very essence of sin itself, and so she shied away from it, for their sake and her own. It was especially ironic as she had no confessor here, and she was uncertain if it would even possible to have a proper penance for such an act that would have such far-reaching and damaging consequences.
On top of that, she had realized that she could not dare give confession on that act to any priest under Father Henriksson's authority, as he would almost certainly hear… and be able to act. For that matter, she couldn't dare give confession to any priest who reported to Rome until this matter was resolved. She would not become a blade to be buried in Astrid's back.
Not when Astrid had agreed to save her and shelter her specifically in order to avoid more literal backstabbing from other foreign concubines sent to Hiccup's bed.
So she would not succumb to the sin of envy. Astrid was her friend, as was Hiccup. If that was all that they would be, then so be it. She had identified virtue and would hold fast to it.
Even if the temptation to find out how they were making that noise grew almost unbearable. But while it was still her friends' honey-month, it was beginning to come to a close. Although, if they were like her brother and Ruffnut, that might not make a difference. But, maybe, as their wedding passed into memory, things might begin to balance, and she would not find herself an uneasy witness to such temptations.
She moaned and pulled her pillow up over her ears as her pulse pounded in them, trying to ignore the way that her two friends sounded as they called each others' names in the night.
###
Mead Hall Kitchens, Isle Of Berk, Alban Hebrides
Hiccup yelped as he whacked his head against the side of the ovens' exhaust shaft.
"You okay?" Astrid called in after him.
"I'm fine!" he called back. "Okay, I'm in the right spot. Ready?"
"Ready!" Astrid and Wulfhild both called back.
Hiccup placed the Nightmare spittle lamp on the hook that normally held suspended fish or meat to be smoked, and pulled out his measuring string. As he measured the shaft and called out the measurements for Astrid and Wulfhild to write down, he noted how the iron rods that the hooks dangled from were embedded into the sides of the shaft. Then, of course, he dangled from one experimentally—and tried to ignore how warm it was, despite how the oven's fire had been quenched for over half a day now.
The rod held his weight with ease, and he bounced up and down on it a few times for good measure. It still didn't budge, thankfully, which meant that he could use it as a mounting point for his intended project. He continued to measure all of the relevant bits—and, just to be on the safe side, some of the irrelevant ones, in case they became relevant.
This shaft was nearly two hundred years old—it had been originally dug by a foolhardy Whispering Death that had been trying to get at the supplies that the old Hooligans had hidden in the mead hall. His ancestors had killed it, but they had then faced the problem of having a hole in the side of their warm refuge against the winter's worst storms. According to tribal lore, the first Hiccup had been the one who had come up with the idea of using it as the smoke hole for the mead hall kitchen fires. Subsequent refinements over the last few generations had resulted in the enclosed ovens with the hearth-fires underneath them, with the smoke being funneled out—it had been what had given Hiccup the idea for the skorsteinn in the first place, actually.
And now, he had some ideas for other improvements. Including one that had Magnhild intrigued.
Measuring done, he lowered himself out of the oven, and looked around the kitchen.
Astrid glanced at him, and immediately clapped her hands over her mouth, her eyes crinkling in a smile. Wulfhild was obviously fighting against giggles of her own.
"What?"
"You look like you got dipped in ink," Horsefly Axwitsson said, chortling.
"It's sooty in there!" he protested.
"Oh, aye, it is, but usually when we go up in there to hang stuff to be cured, we don't come out that blackened!" Ack Gallbrutesson said with a chortle. "Did you roll around in it?"
"No," Hiccup said testily. "I was measuring, that's all."
"Well, at least it's Thor's Day. Maybe you can get in an early Washday?" Twiglet said, rolling her eyes. "Regardless, are you done in there? We need to hang the meats and such and relight the fires."
Hiccup nodded, and gave Wulfhild a smile of thanks as she handed him a damp linen towel—which was turned almost instantly black from the soot. Meanwhile, Astrid had sketched out a rough approximation of the shaft's interior on the outline he'd drawn, and was giving it a contemplative look.
"What is it?" he asked as he ran the towel through his hair as Ack, Ick and Oof climbed up into the oven.
"I think it'll work," she said, tapping the stylus to her chin in thought—a mannerism, he recognized, that she'd had gotten from him, "but it'll be a giant pain in the ass to install with these iron bars in the way, and the width of the stove opening. It'll have to be done in pieces."
He sighed. "Yeah, I was thinking the same thing," he said, as the triplets started to pass hams, sausages, beef, and whole fish up into the shaft to be smoked and dried.
They left the kitchens, and Magnhild immediately cornered them. "So?"
"I think that we can make it work," he told her. "I just have to design it right so it'll fit, and then I'll have to make it—and I'll have to make it out of metal." He shrugged, and handed the blackened towel off to Wulfhild, who looked at it with an odd mix of dismay and amusement. "At least a few weeks," he said. "Maybe longer."
"Well, we've lived without it this long. And given how well the dishwashing dragons worked out, as well as the new bowls and pots," the elder quirked a sardonic eyebrow at him, "I'm willing to give this a try when you're ready."
Hiccup nodded—and then he heard the horn start to blow.
All of the conversation in the room paused, listening.
One…
Two…
Three…
Incoming ships.
People were exchanging baffled looks. They were on the cusp of full winter. Who in Njord's name was out sailing?
Then the feel of the room shifted like a plunge into ice water.
One-two-three-four!
Hiccup and Astrid's heads both snapped around and they ran for their dragons by the doors to the mead hall—and they weren't the only ones, as activity erupted and people started to run to and fro.
"What does that one mean?" Wulfhild asked, trying to keep up behind them.
Astrid called back over her shoulder as they ran, "Ship in distress!"
The flock quickly gathered over the village. Hammeredge flew over to Hiccup and Toothless and called out, "I saw a foundering longboat several leagues out. They've clearly been in a scrape!"
"Are they in danger of sinking?" Hiccup asked.
Hammeredge quirked an eyebrow. "Ordinarily, I'd say 'No,' but…" He pointed a thumb mutely over his shoulder to the winter storm in the distance. It was a monster of an early winter storm—the clouds formed a distinctive anvil shape, like that of a summer thunderstorm, and Hiccup could see the rain and snow being lashed in the winds below the cloud deck. Beneath it, the sea was nearly black, lit occasionally by the whip of lightning flashes. "There's no way they'll survive that!"
Hiccup nodded. "We'll go get them! Lead the way, Hammeredge!"
"Will do!"
The flock took flight straight south, over the sound. The storm was approaching from the west, and moving fast.
Toothless kept eyeing it and making uncomfortable rumbles, and Hiccup patted him on the head. "Just a little bit further, bud. Actually…" He turned and called to Hammeredge. "We're going to fly on ahead to see if we can spot it!"
Hammeredge gave him a thumbs up. "I left Hoark keeping station above it!"
"Good!" He bent down. "C'mon, bud!"
Toothless poured on the speed, apparently grateful for the chance, and the leagues vanished behind them. Hoark and his dragon quickly grew in the skies ahead, and he spotted the longboat below with difficulty in the turbulent waves. They were making for the nearest shore, but there was no way that they'd make it in time; the waves were growing so high that the ship was spending more time going up and down than forward.
He bellowed to Hoark, "I'll challenge them!"
Hoark nodded and he and Toothless dove—which alerted the sailors aboard the ship to their presence. They'd apparently been so focused on surviving the rough seas that they hadn't noticed the dragons aloft.
Not that those dragons would be flying much longer. Hiccup was noticing that the wind was picking up strongly, and it wouldn't be safe for the dragons to fly if it got much worse.
He and Toothless reached the sea and flew over to the boat. "Hello the bo—Cami!? What are you doing here!?"
The Bog Burglar heir was standing at the tiller, desperately trying to push the longboat through the roiling waves.
"Tryin' to get to Berk, you jackass!" his friend bellowed back in her Deheubarth accent. "We met some of your friends back south and you're the friendliest port we've got up here!"
Now that he was closer, Hiccup could see that the longboat showed signs of battle; the sail was damaged, as was the hull, and several of the women aboard were frantically bailing water.
"Help is on the way!" he shouted.
"Good! This ain't no pleasure cruise!"
"What were you doing out here anyway?"
"What d'you think, jackass?"
"Well, since it's you, I'm going to go with a short list that starts with piracy, has smuggling in the middle, and burglary at the bottom!"
Cami grinned. "You know me so well, but you're wrong this time!" She sobered and then swore as a wave whacked into the rudder and sent the tiller post smacking into her chest, almost knocking her to the deck.
Hiccup shook his head. "I'll be right back!"
"We're not goin' anywhere! That's the problem!"
Some snow blew across Hiccup's field of view, and he blinked. Uh oh. If the visibility dropped, they were all in deep trouble.
He and Toothless flew upwards, and Hiccup looked to the north to see where the reinforcements were. He could see them, as dark spots against the off-white and gray of the stormclouds. The storm hadn't reached Berk.
Yet.
But the wind and snow were starting to whip up around them, and visibility was dropping—and they were off course, being pushed away by the wind.
"Toothless! Do a flare so they can find us!" he suggested urgently,
His friend nodded, and started to fire off small blasts of his breath, which detonated a few yards away, giving flashes of blessed warmth. The bright purple flashes caught the attention of the rescue party quickly, and they redirected towards where he and Toothless were flying.
They came swooping in, fighting against the gusting winds and the sheets of sleet and snow that were starting to blow across the sky, carrying the ship-net between them. There wasn't time for anything fancy—they dove and, just like they had practiced, dropped one end of the weighted net just forward of the prow, dragged it under the ship's length, and pulled the whole thing up tight against the hull. As they did that, Hiccup and Toothless landed by the stern, and Hiccup extended his hand to Cami. "Come on!"
While eight Gronckles stayed hovering overhead, holding the net taut, other dragons and riders were also landing on the deck of the longboat; some were securing the net around the ship so that it wouldn't roll, and others were gathering up the soaked Bog Burglars to ride double on their dragons. Fortunately, they had enough dragons to do that, and carry the ship without overloading everyone.
The storm was getting closer. It was a dark presence in the sky, roaring and screaming its callous craving for any life it would catch in its icy claws. The cold wind howled its lust for warm blood, and the ice and snow whispered sharp promises of a cold and dark grave below the waters.
It was a jotunn, made manifest, and it hungered for them.
Hiccup looked up at the scudding clouds coming to blot him and his friends from Midgard and hissed out a breath of defiance. "Not today." He twisted in the saddle. "You secure back there, Cami!?"
"I think so!" she said; she was shivering against him, her untamed cloud of golden-blond hair reduced to a slick set of rat-tails by the seawater.
"Good enough!" He looked out over the rescue crew. "Back to Berk!"
They lifted just as a wave came and smashed on the deck of the longship, sending supplies and equipment crashing across the deck and into the net—but the net held, and the ship lifted free of the water.
Hiccup fancied that he could hear the protests and fury of the frustrated jotunn as they turned and flew straight home—but the spires of Berk's mountains were growing faint in the gusting snow, and the dragons were having to fight for every yard that they could, and the main stormfront wasn't even to them yet. If they were still out here when it caught them…
A sudden gust knocked one dragon spiraling, and the Bog Burglar ridding second-saddle screamed and fell—only to get stopped short by the belaying lines.
Then one of those snapped.
She was hauled back into the saddle by the rider—Hoark, now that Hiccup could identify him in the steadily worsening visibility—and they both hunkered down against the mounting storm.
They were being slowed by the ship. It was heavy, and the wind was grasping at it like a cat playing with a feather on a string, sending it swaying and bobbing. The ship lurched, and the dragons and riders carrying it suddenly plummeted a hundred feet as a gust of wind battered it downwards, making the carry-crew scream in panic as they fought to right it and regain altitude.
He turned to Cami. "We have to lose the ship!"
"What!?"
"The ship is slowing us down! If we don't…!"
She grimaced, and then nodded curtly. "Do it!"
Hiccup turned to the carry crew. "Drop it!"
"What!?" Fishlegs bellowed back from his spot on Meatlug.
"DROP IT AND RUN TO BERK! OR WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE OUT HERE!" Hiccup bellowed as loudly as he could manage.
"But the net…!" Fishlegs called back.
"I don't care! Drop it!"
Fishlegs grimaced and nodded, and then called out to the carry-crew, and started to count down from three.
Hiccup watched, tense. This was one of the most dangerous maneuvers that they'd ever practiced. Tyr, when they'd tried to do it in the past, there had always been someone who let go too late and got dragged down by the weight of the net and what it was carrying. And that had been in perfect conditions.
He looked out at the snowing thunderstorm; it was like a sideways valley or wave of foaming water, carved from shades of white and gray, roaring towards them, intent on taking their lives for the audacity of being there when it arrived.
Fishlegs' mouth formed the word one, not that Hiccup could hear him in the worsening gale, and the ship lurched and then… dropped.
But not alone.
Hiccup watched in horror as one of the Nadders—ridden by someone he couldn't make out in the gusting snow—dropped with it.
They rapidly plummeted out of sight, and, without even thinking, Hiccup and Toothless dove after them.
The screaming pair almost immediately came into sight—Tryggvi clan Hofferson and Windshot, who had a coil of rope from the net wrapped around his paw, dragging them down towards the hungry churning waters below. He and Toothless maneuvered in adroitly as close as they dared for fear of getting fouled on the pieces flapping and flying off of the plunging longship, and then…
A shock of purple light blasted the rope holding the pair, and they were free.
But now the waters below were far too close, and the storm was almost upon them.
Toothless spread his wings with a snap, and they tried to slow down, even as more gusts tried to push them down towards the water.
He saw the longboat impact the waves and shatter—and the waves were surging with such fury that the ripples from it hitting the water were swallowed up nearly instantly.
As the waters approached, Tryggvi screaming nearby, Toothless desperately trying to pull out of the dive, he thought to himself, Astrid, I'm sorry…
But he wasn't giving up. He hunched down behind Toothless' crest and remembered when they'd first gone out on their test flight.
These mountains of water could be dodged like the sea stacks.
They were just… moving.
He heard Tryggvi's scream end behind him, although he didn't hear the splash in the roar of the waves—but he couldn't take the moment to grieve for Astrid's kinsman. He was trying to keep two friends alive, and his mind was fully focused on that task, as waves the size of sea stacks sought to swat them from the air like the flailing hands of Aegir.
But Toothless fought for altitude, and they cleared the grasping waters, and made back for the group of dragons fighting through the oncoming storm.
And he saw Tryggvi and Windshot fighting to keep up.
He gasped in relief.
As they rejoined the flock, he heard Astrid screaming his name, first in fear, and then in relief.
Without the ship to slow them, they hightailed it back towards Berk. With luck—and maybe Thor's aid, as he was obviously battling the jotunn of the storm, judging by the crackle of thunder echoing across the waters—they'd be able to get back to Berk's shelter and safety before the main front of the storm hit.
###
The Great Walls, Constantinople, Roman Empire
Snotlout stood at Harald's side as the hunting fleet sailed away from Constantinople's harbor. They would be heading to the Greek islands in the nearby sea—the Aegean—where dragons were still known to lurk. In their holds were fifty cages capable of holding dragons, and they had explicit orders to capture as many of them as they could and bring them back.
As Jorn had explained to him, hopes were high for the success of this expedition; the Emperor had funded it generously, and, unlike normal Dragon Hunter teams, cost and return on investment were not going to be issues.
The Roman Empire would have its dragon riders, and Sigurd Trondsson would be the one to train them.
He was remaining behind, because he was still attached to Harald's group, who were not being allowed to go on the expedition. And Snotlout was fine with that.
Instead, he was going to be responsible for helping design and build the training facilities, especially since he'd let slip to Harald that his home had a special arena for the purpose to keep the dragons from flying away. So now he had to build a training pit here in Constantinople… and he was finding himself sorely missing Hi… his cousin's drafting and drawing skills. But they'd already started figuring where on the palace complex grounds they would be placing it.
As the fleet vanished into the sea mists to the southwest, Sigurd felt himself wishing them the best of luck—and not just for their own sakes, but in the hope that they'd get back before the Emperor lost his patience and demanded Hookfang for himself.
Harald estimated that he had a month, maybe two, before then—an estimate that terrified Sigurd.
So as the fleet disappeared into the distance, he wished them happy hunting… and prayed that they weren't chasing rumors.
###
Fort of Einar Thambarskelfir, Nidaros, Norway
Ruffnut yawned in boredom as the legal suit continued. A pair of village jarls from the south had been flown in yesterday by dragon for this case; they'd petitioned Magnus—meaning Einar—to resolve the dispute back over the summer, but the case had languished.
Einar, when Magnus had demanded that he be allowed to engage in some of the running of his own kingdom, had pulled it out from wherever it had been dozing. With a smile that had made her want to punch him on principle, he'd handed it over to Magnus. Her husband had promptly dispatched Tuffnut and Yngvarr to collect the feuding jarls.
But for all of the drama over getting them here, the case itself was deadly boring. It turned out running a kingdom involved an incredible amount of arguing over who owed who what. Thank Frigga and Freyja that she hadn't married him for his crown; this stuff was so boring to follow. Sagas, she could understand. Eddas, she could understand. Laws and arguments over who had a better claim to a stand of forest? Not so much. She got the basics of it, though. One jarl was claiming that he had rights to the game in the forest. The other jarl was claiming that he had the right to the forest's lumber. So the first jarl had sued the second one to stop cutting down trees for longboats, on the grounds that it was diminishing the size of the forest.
The pregnancy wasn't helping either. She was apparently one of the lucky few who didn't experience morning sickness. However, the fatigue, soreness, and dry skin were ganging up on her to make up for the lack. Yesterday had been really, really bad. She had only left the bed to use the latrine and eat; other than that, she had either slept, or made love to her husband after sleeping for half the day—and that surge of energy hadn't lasted longer than the time it had taken for the act itself and eating the food he'd brought her.
He, for his part, was proving to be a dutiful and devoted lover. Yesterday, he had gotten some salve from somewhere and rubbed it all over her cracking and itchy dry skin while she had laid there like a moaning, scratchy lump.
According to the midwives, she would start to show in the next few weeks—which was making Magnus hover around like an anxious Gronckle. He also kept breaking out into a giant grin that made all of the older married people laugh.
But it was important that they be here. She was certain that Einar had deliberately pushed Magnus towards the most boring meetings and discussions to try to discourage him. But he wasn't going to be dissuaded, and she was going to be right there with him.
Finally, the discussion was over and everyone was dismissed. Magnus told both jarls that he would consider their arguments and they would discuss a settlement in the morning. Then, as everyone left, he turned to her and smiled. "You all right, Ruff?"
"Bored. Tired. I grew up expecting to fight dragons, not listen to people arguing and expecting me to make decisions on which one of them is right. Especially over something as boring as hunting rights in a forest, what, ten or twenty times the size of my entire home island?"
"Well, you don't have to come to these, you know. I appreciate it that you're willing to, but…" He bit his lip and their eyes met and they both nodded; she was here to support him, but she wasn't actually that helpful, not being trained to this level of governance. They'd realized that after they'd had to spend a great deal of time explaining the rules and laws to her—time that he had needed for the case yesterday. "I mean, really, if you wanted to, I could get Sigvatr to spend some time with you and teach you all of the sagas you could ever want."
"Mmmh. Tempting." And it was. "But while that would be nice, I want to do something!" She stood too fast and staggered, the blood rushing from her head. In an instant, Magnus was standing next to her and helping her back into her chair.
"You are doing something, Ruff. You're making our child," he said gently.
She gave him an exasperated look. "Not what I meant. Back home, everyone helped! And, yeah, my brother and I pulled pranks when we were bored." And while she had some good ones planned for Father Henriksson, they were currently in the early stages, not helped by her fatigue. "But, please, give me something to do, even if it's just sewing or cooking or embroidery, or just riding the dragons around to help with construction on the fort or the city! My hands itch!"
"That might be the dryness," Magnus said, deadpan.
"Not what I mean! I want something to do! I know you just want to stick me in a bunch of linen wrappings until it's time, but I'll go out of my mind!"
He hugged her and she pushed him off. "No, I'm serious! Look, Magnus, I love you, and part of me just wants to rip off your clothes right now and take you right there on the table, but I'm starting to go stir crazy, and it's been barely a week and a half since we got here! I need something to do, aside from you!"
He blinked at that, paused and seemed to actually consider it for a moment, rather than just react. Then he said slowly, "I need to find you some ladies-in-waiting, and I think we might want to go out flying the next time the weather is clear. As for things you can do…" He waved his hands a bit helplessly. "What would you like? Help me here, Ruff. I want to give you everything you want."
She paused, looked at him for a long moment, considering, and then went, "Hiccup had an idea to help the neighboring tribes and stuff when Snotlout started acting up. We would go around and introduce ourselves to people."
"And…?"
"I want to do that for our people. I can build a kitchen, or maybe a hospital or something!" She shrugged expressively. "The midwives said that the fatigue should pass soon, right? So that gives me some time to come up with something, start planning how to do it, and decide what to do. Some place in the city where I… I can meet people and they can get to know me, and get to know the dragons, and help them with their problems! I might not be as good at getting chiefs to agree as you are, but my mother taught me the basics of medicine-making, and it would give me something to do and people to meet!" She cocked her head in thought, and said, "And… it would also undermine Einar's control over the local people, if they know us."
Magnus looked at her, blinked, and a smile bloomed over his face. "I love you," he said, giving her a kiss. "You seem like a fool at first, just joking around and playing pranks… but you've got a wonderful soul, and I adore you."
She basked in his regard. "So…?"
"Yes. We'll find a place, or build one, and I'll get you a staff, and you can be an almoner, helping our people as we should be." He kissed her and she kissed back, hard. "You amaze me," he said, breaking the kiss.
She grinned, and pulled at his clothes. "Shut the door. I changed my mind about the table."
###
Mead Hall, Isle of Berk, Alban Hebrides
As the doors slammed shut behind them, Astrid shivered and dismounted from Stormfly's back. Her hair was caked with ice and snow, and her skin was numb from the cold. The Bog Burglar who had ridden with her was even worse off; her lips were turning blue, and she was almost spasming from the deep chill. Stormfly wasn't doing much better, and she immediately went over by the fire and joined the growing pile of purring dragons there.
Much of the tribe was already assembled in the hall to wait out the storm, and people immediately leapt into action to help warm and dry out the carry crew and rescued Burglars. Tryggvi had fallen off of his Nadder and was kissing the stone of the floor in relief—and then made a squelched yelp as his Nadder proceeded to squat on top of him like a brooding hen.
Stoick had run over to Hiccup and Toothless, and was currently crushing Astrid's husband in a hug that was making him make similar noises to Tryggvi. Not that she could blame him. For Frigga's sake, she didn't know whether to thump him for diving out of sight like that—and coming back soaked with seawater and washed clean of soot—or hug him for saving Tryggvi.
"When I realized that you were out in that—" her father-in-law thumbed towards the doors, "—I was terrified."
"Thanks dad," Hiccup wheezed.
There was a light poke on Astrid's side, and she whirled to see Cami standing there, shivering and hunched in on herself. "Hey cuz…" she said, her teeth chattering.
"You okay?" Astrid asked.
"Early winter storm… longboat gone… freezin' me tits off… yeah, I'm fine," Cami said, her sarcasm dripping like hot tar.
Stoick noticed them at that moment. "Oh, Odin…" He turned to face them. "Cami, what are yeh doing here?"
"I'd say a long story, just to piss you off, but it ain't." She gave a teeth-chattering smile to Stoick, which made Astrid roll her eyes. Hiccup came up next to her; he was shaking with either shivers or suppressed laughter.
"Aye? And…?" Stoick asked with exaggerated patience.
"We was doin' a bit of light piracy off of Eire last month and ran into a bunch of Danes and Anglos trying to run away from Berk as fast as they could. After bumpin' into 'em a few times in supposedly safe ports or out on the seas, we turned around, stead of leadin' 'em to the rest of the tribe." She rolled her shoulders in an expansive shrug. "So we came here and figured we'd overwinter with friends in a port that we know is safe." Her eyes darted to the door. "Winter kinda beat us to it."
Stoick rubbed at his face and chuckled helplessly. "Aye, of course yeh did." He sighed and continued to chuckle, glancing at Cami every so often, which renewed his chuckling. Astrid could sympathize with that, and a quick shared glance with Hiccup showed that he did as well. While the drawl and the lack of common-sense restraint was mostly a put-upon act to hide Cami's intelligence… it was only a 'mostly'. The idea of having Cami overwinter in Berk was… well, at least the twins weren't here.
Finally, as Cami's shivers started to diminish, Stoick sobered and said formally, "Camilla Berthasdoittor, I offer yeh hospitality for yeh and yer tribesmates for the winter. Do yeh accept and agree to abide by all of the rules and restrictions?"
Cami pouted at Stoick, making Astrid laugh. Her cousin was light-fingered at the best of times.
Stoick continued to stare at her, unperturbed, until Cami cracked. "Fine. I agree to the restrictions and accept your hospitality on my behalf and on behalf of me tribesmates."
Stoick grinned. "Excellent. Come, sit by the fire. I hardly recognized yeh with yer hair wetted down like that."
Cami sagged. "Aye, and it's goin' to be a right pain to deal with…"
Toothless burbled, and pushed his nose into the small group.
Cami's face lit up. "Aye, I remember you from last Thawfest!" she said enthusiastically, and then looked over at Hiccup. "Hey there, Hiccup! Thanks for the rescue!" Her eyes then fell on the ring on his finger, and then darted over to the one on Astrid's finger, and her face lit up. "You, you, you…!" She cheered and pulled both of them into a hug. "Yay! Now I can treat Hiccup like a relative!"
Hiccup stiffened in alarm—part real, part comical, Astrid could tell—and started to exaggeratedly pat himself down.
Cami released them and snickered, although she was still a little wild-eyed and twitchy, even by Cami's standards. Stoick was looking at them all, his eyes crinkling with suppressed laughter.
A quiet voice came from behind Astrid. "Um… hello. Could I ask for an introduction?" Wulfhild asked.
Astrid nodded. "Wulfhild, this is Camilla Berthasdoittor of the Bog Burglar tribe, down by the south Eirish Sea, but everyone calls her 'Cami'. She's one of my cousins."
"Aye, Papa took one look at Mom and said that he'd be willin' to leave Berk and become a Chieftess's consort," Cami said with relish.
Stoick made another snort that was clearly suppressing laughter. "As I recall, Bertha didn't give him too much of a choice!"
Astrid snorted. She'd heard that story. Naoise clan Hofferson's courtship of—and by—then-heir "Big-Boobied" Bertha was the stuff of family legend. What had started with him tripping and landing in her lap during a Thing had become a back-and-forth series of burglaries and thefts where the pair of them had stolen their bride-price and dowry back and forth in an ever-escalating series of antics—most of which Astrid doubted the full truth of in the story as she had been told it. She did know that it had ended with Bertha mock-kidnapping her intended and leaving the dowry behind in his bed for Astrid's grand-uncle Eysteinn to find.
"He had a choice—big spoon or little spoon!" Cami shot back with a grin. "So, who's this?"
Astrid shared a glance with Wulfhild, who shrugged, so she said, "Cami… this is Wulfhild Olafsdoittor, Princess of Norway."
Cami did a glorious double-take at Wulfhild, who bowed politely.
Stoick gave Astrid a side-eyed glance. "Yeh forgot one bit, lass." He leaned in. "Wulfhild Olafsdoittor clan Haddock, Princess of Norway." He leaned back out and said, "After all of that, it's worth not forgetting about."
Astrid winced as Cami's eyes turned perfectly round. "What?!" She looked at Stoick, stunned. "You… you… you remarried?"
Stoick shook his head.
"But… then…" And the light dawned. Cami turned onto Hiccup angrily. "I thought you were devoted to Astrid! What in Freyja's name, Hiccup!?"
"What?" Hiccup asked, confused.
"You took Astrid as your concubine?!" Cami yelled angrily. "I thought she was your one and only!"
Hiccup looked shocked, and Astrid sighed. Okay, maybe more of a false-dawn, then.
Cami was taking small angry steps towards Hiccup, muttering something under her breath about trust and Berk. Before she could wallop him, Astrid stepped forward and restrained Cami. Family or not, it wouldn't be good for her cousin to technically violate hospitality (by attacking the heir and her rescuer, no less) within the same conversation.
Then, loud enough so that the onlookers (who were watching in amused curiosity) could hear, she said, "Calm down, Cami."
"Why? He—"
"Married me. And I'd really you rather not break my husband! I kinda need him."
One of the watching Bog Burglars coughed and laughed, and Cami stopped resisting and blinked at her. "What?"
Heather stepped in at that moment, smiling, and proffered mugs of some steaming-hot drinks on a tray. "I think you could use something warm, yeah?"
Cami glanced at Hiccup, but grabbed a mug from the tray and took a long pull. Astrid did the same, quickly followed by everyone else in the immediate group. Once there was one mug left, Astrid watched Heather scud over to Fishlegs and handed him the last one; she gave him a peck on the cheek before vanishing back into the kitchens.
As she drank, there was a tug on Astrid's arm, and she turned to see her cousin—second cousin, technically speaking, as they were both great-granddaughters of Rikard—giving her a narrow-eyed look. Cami pulled her away from the rest of the group and over to the fire. She still looked agitated, her hands shaking on her mug.
"Tell me everything. Like how is she in the clan and a princess if you're the one that married him…" Cami asked after taking another two pulls.
Astrid settled down on the bench. "She's his concubine… here for a treaty with Norway. So she's part of the clan, but not married to him. It's for politics."
Cami blinked, looking stunned, and then shook her head before giving Hiccup another long look. "So… it did go to his head." She scowled. "And I was hopin' he was better than that." She drummed her fingers on the side of her mug. "Well, I guess I have to find Ruff and Tuff to help me prank Hiccup until he's afraid to open a door. You know. For old times' sake—"
"Cami, give it a rest. What's wrong?"
Cami looked down at her mug. "First, I hear story after story for the last month and a half all across the Eirish Sea about Berk—specifically Hiccup—kickin' the ass of the Anglos. Then we get chased out of harbor after safe harbor by the Anglo fleet, or just by the locals who view our tribe as unnatural. So we come here. Hiccup smashes my ship—I saw it shatter on the water—and now he's got a princess as his bed warmer? What in Freyja's name am I supposed to think, other than him actin' like a man and lettin' all of that power go to both heads?" She scowled, shot Hiccup a dark look, and took a drink.
Astrid rolled her eyes. "It's not like that. He's not like that."
"Then start talkin', or I find Ruff and Tuff and a bucket of tar."
Astrid smirked. "You might find that part difficult," she said and took a drink of her mulled ale. Oh, this was going to be good.
"Why's that?"
"Ruff's married."
Cami choked on her ale. "What!?"
"Married to Wulfhild's brother—the king of Norway." Astrid chortled at the expression on Cami's face. "They're expecting their first baby next summer."
Cami's mouth gaped like a landed fish, and Astrid, relishing the moment, reached out and shut her cousin's jaw with an extended finger. It clicked, and Cami shook her head to clear it.
"So that's it? You traded hostages? She's your peaceweaver, and Ruff is theirs?" Cami asked after a moment. Her tone was much calmer.
Astrid nodded. "More or less. To stop a civil war in Norway. And it's not like they're our enemies. Ruffnut loves Magnus and Wulfhild is one of our best friends and, and… well…" Astrid sighed slightly, "I'd rather have her with us and the potential for what Grandpapa Rikard has with Ingrid and Dagn, than have to watch my back for a knife in it." She just, well, had to talk to them to get some advice. Eventually.
Cami frowned at the mention of their respective great-grandmothers, and then nodded. "You don't sound convinced."
"It's complicated. Tell you later?"
Cami nodded again, and bit her lip. Then she forced a grin. "So, cuz, you got married! How is Hiccup in the sack?"
Astrid, ignoring the blush that threatened to rise in her cheeks, leaned over and whispered in Cami's ear.
A few moments later, the whole hall turned and looked at them as Cami burst out laughing and started to clap in glee.
Until a scream broke everyone's attention.
###
Heather wove through the crowded mead hall, carrying warm food and hot drinks to the shivering Bog Burglars. Ironically, she actually knew more about them from her childhood than from her time as Adalwin's thrall—they were a Freyja and Sif cult, living in one of the bogs near the coast of the Eirish Sea in Deheubarth. As they were ruled by and mostly populated by women sworn to the goddesses, Murray had been negotiating with them as a place that she could seek sanctuary when she was twelve, and Dagur had been making threats about declaring war in order to take her back. But they were a small tribe, less than half the size of the Hooligans, and the negotiations hadn't gone anywhere before Hallr had arrived and taken them.
The Burglars looked half-frozen, and soaked to the bone, and were gratefully accepting the tankards that she was distributing through the crowd.
Astrid was talking with her cousin, and Heather gave her friend a grateful nod; she'd gone and pumped Karolina for information the day before, and it had given her some more insight into Twiglet's campaign of harassment.
She wandered over to where Hiccup and Stoick were discussing things with some of the other Burglars, and then a quick, smaller form darted in front of her, and Heather dodged—just as the shorter person slammed the heel of their hand up into the tray and sent the hot drinks streaming at Heather's face.
She flinched and closed her eyes just in time, and screamed as the steaming liquid cascaded over her head and face. There was a sudden hush, and then the sound of a tussle nearby.
Then Fishlegs was holding her, and he gently wiped away the hot liquid from her face as she whimpered with pain. She cracked open one eye, cringing against the pain, and, her vision blurry, she saw Burl Woodnutsdoittor struggling in Gobber's grip.
"I saw yeh, lass! You shoved that tray right into her face!" he was saying angrily.
Burl was fighting to get free. "G'off me, old man! I didn't do nothing!"
Even as her face, neck, and shoulders felt like they were on fire, Heather suddenly remembered that Burl had upset the tray of bread rolls and stepped on her toes by 'accident,' back when the harassment had really hit a higher tempo. It looked like she'd had her lucky break in catching one of Twiglet's minions in the act…
Stoick—because that tall, blurry red-topped shape could be nobody else—and Hiccup—there weren't many lanky Vikings around here—came into her blurry field of view.
"Let's get yeh treated, lass. Those burns look nasty…" Stoick was saying, and was calling for someone to open the door and get her some snow to put on the burns.
Gobber, still nonchalantly holding a thrashing Burl, wandered over and took a close look at her face, gently using his tong-hand to move her head side-to-side; the cool metal felt good on her skin. "Light burns. Should be healed in a week or so."
She sagged in relief, and rubbed at her eyes, which was a mistake. It hurt. A lot. But her vision cleared for a brief moment, allowing her to catch Twiglet's eye as the older woman was staring at her from the doorway to the kitchens.
And then paused. Because Twiglet was looking confused—not triumphant.
She turned away, and a moment later, someone came up with a pack of snow wrapped in linen to put on her face. She did so, and felt instant relief. Oh, thank the gods…
Stoick turned and looked around the hall. "Everyone, back to yer drinks!" He turned to Heather, Fishlegs, Gobber and Burl—the last of whom had stopped trying to get free, and was panting in exhaustion. "You lot, with me. Heather, are yeh all right?"
"It hurts," she said, "But I think that I missed the worst of it. At least it wasn't boiling…"
Stoick gave Burl a narrow-eyed look, and Woodnut came running up. "What's this?"
"Yer daughter just assaulted a tribesmate," Stoick said flatly. Heather's eyes had teared back up, but she could tell that Burl was staring at her father—but the precise expression was lost to the blurring from her pained tears. "And as she's still a child, she's yer responsibility." Astrid and Cami came up as he was saying that, followed by Wulfhild and Hiccup. "Come. Let's take this over to the chief's hut. No reason to air dirty laundry in public."
They walked outside, and Heather shivered from the wind, although it felt good on her burned face. The snow was coming down so thick that she could barely see the chief's hut from the mead hall doors.
Walking in a line, they reached the doors and stepped inside. As Hiccup and Toothless lit the hearth-fire, Heather hoped that she wasn't about to find herself a social pariah at the end of this. It would be the height of irony for her to get justice and be ostracized at the same time.