The wet stone floor offered no traction for Hiccup's metal leg, and not much for his other foot either, so Hiccup landed in a puddle. Then he slid and landed in it again when he tried to stand up. Astrid tried to catch him when he fell. When she missed, she tried to help him stand up, but her laughter made helpless clumsiness out of her usually smooth movements. She'd had enough mead that what was mildly amusing became hilarious. Her laughter, the sight of her unable to stand upright, became contagious. Embarrassed at first, Hiccup hadn't wanted to laugh at all, but then he couldn't stop.

Astrid moved to help him, or try to, once more, but she slipped on another flat rock - caves behind waterfalls tended to accumulate considerable moisture, after all - and landed on her side beside him, still laughing.

Stormfly looked at them, tilting one eye then the other, rattling her quills, her mouth open in what looked like a smile.

"She's laughing at us, too, isn't she?"

Astrid nodded, wiping tears from her eyes. "She is. I'm sure we look ridiculous."

"Probably." He leaned forward to adjust the cuff of his leg and switch to the spike point. "I've used this more this summer that I have in the winter." She looked at him, heat pooling in her belly, thinking of the times when walking traction hadn't been the primary use of his prosthetic, but holding them both in place had been.

Astrid got to her feet, wiped her palms on her shirt, and flicked her braid over her shoulder. Stormfly shuffled over to make sure she was alright, her concern answered with a gentle hand on her nose. "I'm fine, girl, don't worry."

Astrid reached to help Hiccup to his feet, determined to actually succeed this time and not drop him back into the shallow puddles beneath them. It was more difficult that it looked. She might not have been trying that hard. Having Hiccup on the ground wasn't such a bad thing, though the sogginess of that ground left a lot to be desired.

She grasped Hiccup's hand in hers, as they'd done a thousand times, and she pulled him to his feet. She watched his mouth. Every time, his lips would compress into a flat line, and every time she knew it was because he felt embarrassed that he needed help. Not her help specifically, but help at all.

She started to reassure him again, familiar words already moving through her mind, when Stormfly lowered her head, quills flaring, tail ready to attack.

All three of them froze.

The roar of the falls at the mouth of the cave smothered every sound, even Stormfly's nails, which she tapped in minuscule movements in a warning to Astrid.

Astrid caught her dragon's eye and nodded. Hiccup hadn't released her hand. They stood in a wary, awkward handshake, silent and still.

Astrid caught Hiccup's gaze and glanced twice at the darkness of the cave behind them, the tunnel they hadn't yet explored.

Hiccup raised a brow.

Astrid lowered her chin a fraction.

One corner of his mouth lifted slightly.

She gave a ghost of a shrug, keeping her shoulder armor silent.

He glanced at her lips and squeezed her hand, which made her smile. He let go as they quietly but quickly made their way to Stormfly's side.

"Let's go, girl," Astrid murmured as Hiccup pulled himself onto the saddle. She leapt up in front of him, and with a pivot that made Astrid's head spin, Stormfly turned and sliced straight through the water out into the air beyond the cave.

They both gasped in horror. Water pressed them both down onto Stormfly's back, nearly driving the air from her chest. Then Hiccup's muffled snorts of laughter underscored Astrid's exasperated growl.

"Stormfly, was that really necessary? I'm drenched!"

Hiccup was holding his side with one hand, the other covering his mouth trying to keep impossible laughter inside.

Again, it was contagious. Laughing despite herself, Astrid turned to look at him. "You don't have to be quiet. We're not in the cave and I don't think whoever was in there can hear us now."

He wiped his eyes but his amusement continued. "Oh, gods. Imagine, you sneak away into an impossibly high cave or cavern, finally alone, and who flies in but us?"

Astrid pressed her lips together, thinking that she had a rather solid guess as to who had been in the cave.

Though, if it had been Ruff, Snotlout would have challenged them or yelled or thrown some sort of tantrum.

Unless Ruff had tied him up or put something over his mouth.

That would go a long way toward explaining Ruff's sustained interest in Snotlout. He might be slightly more tolerable if he didn't talk. Very slightly.

Hiccup's hands slid around her waist, and she leaned back into his embrace.

"We need a place to go," she said, not expecting him to hear.

"There was that cave on the other side of the meadow," Hiccup said.

She shook her head. "I…kind of told Ruffnut about that."

"You did?" His voice held surprise but no anger.

She nodded. "Ruff asked me if I knew of a place she could go without Tuffnut finding her."

She felt his shrug, the way more than half his body moved along with his arms and shoulders, a gesture that was entirely Hiccup.

She felt the sound of his voice through her body when he spoke. "I can understand her frustration."

"There aren't many options," she said, looking down at the paths through the trees below them.

"Yeah…I'm working on it."

"What, you're going to build a cave? In the forge?"

"Not a bad idea. It would take a lot of metal, though, more than we have."

"I can just imagine Gobber. 'Say, Hiccup, what's this daft metal tent doing in your workroom?'"

He snorted, picking up her imitation. "How d'ye think yer going to get it outside? And what's it for? And does it need any accessories?"

"Definitely accessories," Astrid said, tipping her head back on his shoulder and looking up at the sky. She settled back into Hiccup's arms as Stormfly flew in lazy swirls over and under the air currents that filtered between the mountains. His arms were around her waist, his hands resting across her stomach. They didn't speak much, both looking for a place to land. She didn't want to admit it, but she realized after a few looping circles over familiar paths in the air that they wouldn't find much, not with most of Berk outside and wandering around the island.

"I have to do one more patrol," Hiccup said after a long silence in which Astrid mentally plotted every square inch of Berk, looking for someplace to land, to be alone with him, and coming up with zero options.

She tilted her head to look up at him. He was frowning toward the horizon where the sun would eventually meet the sea. Like the two of them, she thought. It would be months before the sun would set below the ocean, and it would probably be just as long before they found a private stretch of time just for the two of them, no weddings, patrols, books, bonfires, training, or other mayhem to interrupt.

"My dad asked me to keep an eye on the ships heading in, make sure no one needs help, or…"

"Needs help turning around?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Can we join you?"

He smiled down at her. "Of course."

They circled over the academy, spotted Toothless, and landed near him. He jumped in happy circles, greeting them both, and especially Stormfly. Within minutes, they were headed out over the ocean, speeding over the waves, racing each other toward the horizon. They didn't have enough time to reach Manannan's Island, or time to reach any island where they could be alone.

The sunlight glinted off Hiccup's hair in shades of copper and fire, and she grinned as she urged Stormfly to go faster, to finally beat him and Toothless.

They didn't, but they flew over the water, making sure the ships they found were the ones they expected to see, greeting friends and guests from the air, shouting over the wind to one another as they drew lines on the surface of the ocean with the speed of their flight. It wasn't what she'd hoped for.

But flying together on their dragons was always better than no time together at all. They flew in wide circles until it was time to head back to the academy.

Astrid returned to her house in a better mood, though still plenty frustrated. She didn't arrive through the window, but walked up the steps and in through the front door, the bowl of overripe pears they didn't have time or space to eat tucked under her arm. She'd had some time with Hiccup, but not the time or space she'd wanted. She felt excess energy and irritation like lightning beneath her skin.

The room was less full than it had sounded when she'd hidden upstairs earlier, but there were still a few women there, relaxed and drinking, eating, chatting in small groups. Sigrid was washing a blue lidded bowl, the same one that had been under Astrid's bed, and she looked up at her niece with what might have been a wink. It was hard to tell in the dark.

The fire had died down considerably, and no one had added wood, so Astrid crossed the room, half listening and pretending to ignore everyone, to find more fuel for the fire.

"Astrid!" Turid was red cheeked, her eyes bright and her smile wide and wobbly. "I'm so happy to see you here."

A noise somewhere between a growl and a grunt came from the corner. Her mother was collecting glasses and bowls, bringing them to Sigrid to place in a large bucket to wash.

Astrid smiled at Turid and ignored her mother. "How was your party?"

"Oh, lass, it was lovely. Your aunt made the best treats for us. And she told us you'd helped her!" Turid's face grew redder as she laughed. "But I was surprised you weren't here tonight. You'll be-"

"Turid, more wine?" Astrid's mother's gruff voice interrupted Turid. Given what Astrid thought Turid had been about to say, she was surprisingly grateful.

Another person telling her what her future was, when she couldn't find enough time to work it out for herself.

The irony of her situation wasn't lost on Astrid. She was frustrated at not having time alone with Hiccup, and frustrated at all the presumption surrounding her, shoving them together. It was just…so public, so bothersome. So embarrassing. She didn't have enough time or space or even the right words to talk with Hiccup about any of this. She resented decisions being made for her, pronouncements made to her face. Turid, who clearly had had plenty to drink, was one of the kindest, most loving women Astrid knew, and even she was increasingly…

"Astrid knows her business," her mother continued, moving away from Turid. Her voice was flat, cold, like her words were the end of the discussion.

Her mother's words and her voice did nothing to soothe Astrid's temper. Again with the pushing. This time, her mother was pushing her away from the presumption, the expectation that they'd be together.

Which wasn't what she wanted, either.

It was all so frustrating, and so difficult to explain. Her jaw was so tight, her neck began to ache. How long had she been clenching her teeth?

"Ah, don't be silly," Sigrid said smoothly. But Astrid heard an edge in her aunt's voice that meant she needed to leave the room. Sigrid knew exactly how to push her mother's temper so it ignited like the embers grabbing hold of the fresh wood in the fireplace. "Astrid knows her own mind, and makes her own decisions."

Slowly the other women left, laughing and chattering to one another in warm fluid tones that spoke of ease and relaxation. The quiet they left behind was brittle.

Sigrid washed the mountain of dishes that they gathered from every corner. Astrid helped, taking directions from Sigrid to move a covered bowl being kept for the wedding feast toward the fire, then relocating a massive basket of dough so it could continue to rise through the next morning.

The thought of the bread she'd started with Hiccup halted her in the middle of the room. She had no idea where it was. Or if it had risen. She'd forgotten about it completely.

Her shoulders slumped a little as she carried the basket to its shelf. She really wasn't good at any of this. She could follow Sigrid's directions, but on her own, she'd never remember. Or think of it in the first place.

She could hear them sniping at each other, and wanted to leave, but she couldn't. There were still so many little things to do, things that didn't seem obvious to her until Sigrid pointed them out. Of course the bread needed to move to a cooler location, and the bowls of fruit soaking in mead could stay where they were, as both would be used the following morning. Once she saw the plan, Astrid understood why Sigrid asked her to do different things, but she felt awkward and embarrassed that she couldn't see the next step for herself.

She didn't have anywhere to be, and it was late, long past time for her to go to sleep. She'd have another day of flying and cooking tomorrow, probably.

And maybe seven entire seconds with Hiccup.

Finally the rooms on the ground level were clear, all the dishes and cups and bits of food gathered, swept, and removed. But the cleaner the room became, the more angry Sigrid and her mother seemed. The sound of Sigrid's wooden spoons and fire irons became harsher as she became more angry, the hollow, sharp sounds bearing no resemblance to the comforting sounds that usually came from her cooking and caring for them with her food.

"Ye can go up now, Astrid," her mother said, her words gruff and ragged.

"No, Astrid, come over here a moment." Sigrid narrowed her eyes at her sister, though her voice was kind.

Astrid froze on the stairs that led to her room, caught between the argument her mother and Sigrid were no longer having silently, and the chance to avoid it and escape up to the book hiding in her bed.

In the end, her presence or absence didn't stop their quarrel. She didn't hear what had started it, but Sigrid's voice wasn't like her mother's rumble of compressed resentment and silent censure. Sigrid was loud when she was angry.

"Don't be daft. Do you really think all that warrior training is the only training she'll need?"

Her mother growled in reply. Astrid's heart tore a little witnessing them fighting, at being the cause.

Sigrid waved her spoon at her sister. "She wants to go on and learn new things, she has to learn tradition, and this is as much tradition as your part."

"Cooking lessons?" Her mother's voice was made of sharpened rocks and anger. "Passing on the tradition of being at home, of hanging up her axe and staying indoors."

That was not what she wanted.

But her mother's angry snarl echoed some of the words she'd heard in pieces for days now, people asking her what she would wear to the wedding, what her own preparations might be. At least two vikings mentioned her axe specifically, and she'd ignored them.

She couldn't ignore her mother's comment, but she didn't know what to say. Her inaction, her frozen posture on the first stair, made her angrier at herself.

"Astrid is a warrior first."

That she could agree with.

"Aye, but it's no' the only role she has, or will have," Sigrid's voice was quiet, but heavy with meaning and a terrible confidence that felt…threatening.

"I taught her to fight. To train. She's a warrior and a leader."

Did they forget she was standing right there, could hear everything they said? Did they even remember she was in the room, or in the house?

Gods, what else did they say about her when she definitely wasn't around? She'd have to do more strategic sneaking into her room in the near future.

"You passed on your axe to her, true enough. So what's wrong with my passing on what I've learned as well, then?"

"I will no' have her limited, not in that way." Her mother's voice went from a rumble to a roar, but then her mouth closed with a snap. In her temper, she'd said the wrong thing.

Astrid really wanted to run up the stairs to her room now, but she couldn't move, draw attention to herself. The best strategy now was to stay hidden, avoid notice.

Hide.

Like prey avoiding two snarling predators.

Astrid did not like hiding, and did not think like prey. But Sigrid's temper was more fearsome than her mother's and all of them knew it was about to erupt.

"Limited." Sigrid's words were icy shards that dropped on the floor between them and shattered.

"I didn't mean-"

"Oh, no, I think I heard perfectly what you meant, there. That being a wife and mother and caring for a home and caring for the people you love, that's limiting, is it?"

Her mother's throat worked as she swallowed, either trying not to speak or trying to think of the right words to undo what she'd done. But Sigrid wasn't finished. Holding her spoon, she advanced slowly across the room, her glare pinning Astrid's mother in place. Her mother, who could kill a dragon or a person with one strike from any of a dozen weapons, who was feared by just about everyone in the village. She was held in wary stillness by Sigrid's cold rage and a wet wooden spoon.

Few people knew who held the real temper in the Hofferson household.

"I've never heard a complaint from you about hot meals ready when you arrived home after a day spent killing everything in sight. That I made my home with you, with Astrid, after…." She trailed off, not mentioning the details of why she'd done so.

Astrid was quietly thankful. This conversation was painful enough already.

Sigrid's voice grew flat. Her spoon, which she'd been holding as a weapon of defense and offense, slowly lowered to her side. "You talk like what I do, what I know, has no value."

Astrid shook her head instinctively, denying what Sigrid had said, that her work had no value. But her aunt had noticed her, one sharp glance spotting her, her back pressed against the wall in the shadows at the bottom of the stairs.

"I'm feeding our village and another besides, for beyond a week, for a massive celebration. One we've all been preparing for weeks now. But Astrid shouldn't know about any of that? It's not relevant?"

"I…." Her mother swallowed, tried again, her voice rusty as if she hadn't spoken in days instead of a few tense minutes. She didn't seem to be aware that Astrid was in the room at all, which hurt immeasurably. "I don't want Astrid to lose. Herself, who she is."

Sigrid looked at Astrid, her expression affectionate and sad until she turned to her sister. Then her voice and her face froze in anger.

"No. You don't want her to become who she is. Who she can be."

There was a long silence, the crack of Sigrid's hearth fire the only sound. Something simmered on the hook above, probably breakfast, or half a recipe for something to be finished in the morning. Or both.

"You're the one who is limiting her. You. And only you." Sigrid's head turned and she looked straight at Astrid. "Upstairs with you, now."

"Yes, Sigrid," Astrid said in a broken voice. She ran.