Astrid had nothing. Nothing that would last, anyway. No weapon, no reputation, no future aside from the utterly boring and pointless life of a Viking woman married and stuck at home, maybe at best fighting in the odd raid, of which there would not be many, given she would be moving to a whole new island. All to escape the bad reputation that had so suddenly become a serious problem, and all because the only other solution anyone could think of was even worse.
She walked away from the tree she had just broken her training ax on, leaving the separate pieces there. What was the point? The dragon would just make her discard it anyway.
She would do what was needed. But there was nothing at the end of that struggle to look forward to. An escape from the suddenly hostile village of Berk, but to what? Not what she ever would have chosen for herself, marriage to someone she didn't even know, someone probably only marginally better than Snotlout.
Now, more than ever, she needed to push her emotions away, but that was getting harder and harder to do, and seriously damaging that tree had not helped, only making her angrier. But she managed all the same, forcing herself to pull up some final reserve of calm.
The dragon. She needed to assess its level of compliance, and if possible determine what had made it unwilling to finish the demonstration. She assumed it would be here, staring mournfully into the cove. Moping, as it tended to do sometimes.
She had no further patience for it doing that, so she had no issues with the idea of disturbing it in its mourning. She didn't get to do anything but look to the future and what was needed, so neither did it.
She stalked around the edge of the sinkhole that made up the cove, scanning the area with narrowed eyes. It would be-
There. It was not attempting to hide, sitting on its hind legs and staring.
Directly at her, not at the cove. It did not come to her, but it did not run either.
This thing put so much importance on eye contact. She glared at it, letting it know that she would not tolerate anything less than exactly what she needed from it.
It glared back, looking hurt and betrayed.
She snapped, still some twenty or so steps away from it. "Quit it! If anyone gets to feel betrayed, I do!"
It snarled at her, stalking closer. She felt no fear, still unable to keep anything but the thinnest grip on her emotions. "Yes, get over here!"
It circled her, still glaring.
She shivered, a sudden burst of wind passing the both of them, a cold chill hitting her and making its way to the dragon in turn-
The dragon inhaled, almost closing its eyes in its sudden overpowering interest in the smell carried to it. She froze, remembering the last time it had made such a big deal of smelling someone. Snotlout, and the beating that had followed, certainly unaided by what it had noticed.
But when it opened its eyes, they were wide and soft. She did not know that emotion, but it was a far cry from anything she had seen before.
It walked closer, still sniffing at the wind, as if not quite believing what it had determined. Finally, it stuck its snout right at her, bumping her in its urgency.
She shoved the spade-shaped head away, still angry. "Quit it."
It looked up at her, whining softly. She could still see hurt there, but not quite so much. What was it thinking?
She didn't know. She didn't understand it, she never had. This was stupid. At best, she'd fumble forward until she found the incredibly obtuse answer to this problem, but why bother? There would be another, and another, and she was going to have to hand it off to Tuffnut soon anyway. Let him handle this.
But if she let go of her anger, all of her other emotions would boil over. They were only held back now by the more important emotion currently in control.
She slapped it, not as hard as she could have. "You ran away! We were so close to done." Focus on this, not on everything else.
It growled at her, backing up a little.
"Scent," she shot back. "That's all that was left!"
It ignored her, staring angrily, now tense and not at all sympathetic.
Her command might as well have been a waste of breath. "Go," she tried, pointing to a place to their right.
Nothing. It growled softly, shaking its head in denial. Where was the compliance now, the one thing she had come to rely on in dealing with it? As long as she had no weapon, it was willing to do as she asked. No more, it seemed.
"Fine!" She had no idea what to do now. "Ignore me. Attack the village, get killed! It will save me some trouble. I was just trying to make sure they don't hunt you down." Speaking to it did not help it understand, but it helped her. Here, at least, was something that looked like it was listening, but wouldn't argue back. She could vent, at least.
For some reason, that got its attention in a way that nothing else had. It froze, staring questioningly at her.
What? She laughed bitterly. "Weeks, and I still don't understand you at all. Maybe he could, but I never will." And she never would get the chance, anyway.
This was pointless. "Just go away." She was done dealing with it. Soon, it wouldn't even be her problem. Tuffnut could come out here and try his luck.
Annoyingly, the dragon was walking back to her now, totally ignoring her request. "Go!" She needed to focus, to figure out what was next-
It passed her, rubbing up against her, and proceeded to trip her. She fell back, landing on it.
Correction, landing on the ground, sliding down its side to sit with her legs splayed out. Before she could move, it curled around her, its large head on her lap, though that must not have been the most comfortable spot for it given her spiked skirt was probably digging into its chin and neck. She could feel scale all around her.
"Stop it." She tried to stand, only to be held firmly down by its constricting body and weight. "Let me go."
It rumbled softly, now extending a wing over them both, blocking out her view of the rest of the world.
She was more alarmed and confused than anything for the moment. "Hey!" This was nothing like anything it had ever done before! She shoved futilely at its head.
No movement. Nothing. She was stuck here, and unless she wanted to try gouging its eyes out and likely losing a hand in response, there was nothing she could do to get it to move. Especially when it had apparently decided to ignore any and all commands.
It was staring up at her, an emotion she did not want to name first and foremost there in those deep green eyes.
She had nothing to do but wait. Wait, and think. What did she need...
Those eyes were almost hypnotic, though she did not think that was actually why she could not seem to focus. Her breathing slowed, almost involuntarily.
Some time later, still unable to go anywhere, still staring into that eye, she came to a realization. It wasn't going to let her go until something changed.
What, she had no idea, but something. She was too gods-damned tired of all of this to even try reasoning it out. Whatever it wanted, whatever it needed, she probably just wasn't good enough. What was one more failure?
Frustration and confusion, or bone-deep despair? Both were involved, but either of those was enough, in that moment, to finally break her resolve.
Warriors did not cry, but she was no warrior. The admission felt akin to stabbing herself with an ice-cold dagger, but that did not make it any less true. She hadn't won dragon training. She hadn't achieved her nearly lifelong goal of becoming one of Berk's dedicated warriors, and never would. The village despised her, and she would be leaving anyway. It wasn't possible to be any further from what had been her only goal.
So there was no reason to hold back anymore. She had nothing to lose, and there was nobody around to judge.
Water dropped onto that spade-shaped black head, tears rolling down her face unchecked.
More time passed. She was not let free, though the light that seeped through those black wings covering her was beginning to fade. She would not be let go until whatever it was waiting for happened.
But she didn't care. All the tears she had in her had been shed, and sobs had gradually entered the mix for a while before dying away, unheard by any but herself and the dragon. All that was left was... everything she had already carried. She felt no better, just a little lighter, and a lot more ashamed of herself.
The dragon, throughout her entire breakdown, had not closed its eyes, always watching. She could name that emotion now. Now that she had already lost her own struggle to hold in everything. Pity.
An animal pitied her. It was very much the cause, if not the source of her troubles, and it pitied her all the same.
But she had not yet been let free. It expected something else. What more was there?
She stared into its eye, no longer seeking an answer. No longer looking to what was next, what needed to be done. There was no next, not here where nothing changed. Nothing needed to be done, because she stood absolutely no chance of puzzling this out in order to break free. There was only now, that deep eye, and her own internal struggles.
No responsibilities, because she had no way to do anything. No real meaning to honor, because there was no choice to be made. No reputation, except for whatever the dragon thought of her, and that...
That, she could not affect, because it had seen her at her lowest point, and it did not seem to mind. What was a reputation, but a representation of how others saw her? An incomplete, inaccurate representation. This dragon had seen her deepest moment of weakness. Reputation was not a word that applied here.
No future. Not in here. Time might be passing, but if one only measured the future by events that had not yet happened finally happening, then there was no future here. Only one event, an end she had no idea how to reach, and almost no desire to reach, now.
So, what was left? What more was there? Here, nothing between her and anyone else in the world mattered. She could do nothing to change any of that.
She was not trying to reason out the answer so much as searching her own self. What more was there, without any of that? Without honor, without responsibility, without her family or tribe or people. Just herself.
Was she anything without what came from outside her? She should be. So why was it so hard to find what remained?
She lifted a still imperfect arm, looking at it in the dim light. She was here, her physical self. Weakened, but recovering. That was not gone. But what was the point?
Something else. She had skills, things she could do if the right objects were within reach, but that was no help, not in here. That was learned, not part of her.
What was left?
Who was she?
Astrid. Just Astrid, as her family name was not a part of who she was in here. Her history was a part of her, but not the history of anyone else. She could claim that or leave it as she pleased, without the consideration of honor or responsibility or duty or any of those other irrelevant things.
Astrid. The girl who fought for what she wanted, who did as she thought was right. That was not so much, in the end.
The girl who wanted freedom and respect, who wanted to be admired?
Freedom, yes. Respect would be nice, but she had been operating without that for a while now, and if she could exist without it then it was not part of who she was. The same went for admiration.
Or maybe she needed those things, and would never be happy without them?
No, she could be happy with neither, here, because she had neither, and she was not unhappy now.
Not unhappy. Her emotions were far away now, all the negative in here with her and yet distant. On hold, at a remove so she could look at it. Those were a part of her at the moment, the only impact the outside had left on her in here.
She examined them, turning each over in her mind, still staring into that eye but no longer really seeing it.
Shame. First and foremost, the most pungent of that which made up her emotions. Shame that she had failed, shame that she was failing so often and so thoroughly. Shame that she could not seem to do what others thought was right, because what others thought and what she thought never seemed to match up nowadays.
Pride. Pride that she was still alive, pride that she had the drive to succeed, the drive so many others lacked. The will to do what needed to be done.
Both of those were nothing, really. The facts were true, but how she felt about them..? They belonged outside, and she should not carry them with her here.
She let go of both at once, feeling a slight lightening in her chest as she did. Good and bad, or bad and good, both gone either way. They were not a part of her, and she should feel neither here.
What was left?
Sadness, deep and profound. She was not accepted by most of her peers. The world she had known and liked was changing. Her parents were unhappy, their names tarnished, because of what she had to do. They also did not totally understand her, to even consider forcing her into any marriage. They valued the family name more than her happiness.
That was a stark, painful thought, but she could find no argument against it. At its core, what was happening was not the end of their lives. They, she and her parents, could and would survive even leaving Berk with no refuge to flee to. They knew the world, and knew how to survive in it. Leaving would not be the end. If nothing else, they could live alone in the wild.
So the only thing her parents were really protecting was their name. She could not fault them for that; she had cared outside, had thought the same. But in here, with all that stripped away, she saw it another way. They, and she, placed that pointless abstraction above her own happiness.
They did not have her absolute best interests at heart. How could they? She had not either.
She dismissed those facts to the outside as well, no longer dwelling on them. They were true, but irrelevant. Her parents were not absolutely perfect, just like her or anyone else. She should feel no sadness caused by that.
The rest of her sadness was less simple. Not being accepted by others was not part of her. In here, their opinions held no sway. That too went outside. But the deep sadness that the world would not stay the same, that the things she liked were just as likely to morph and change as the rest?
That truly was a part of her, one she carried even here. That stayed... but while it was a part of her, it was one she could live with, as long as she figured the rest of this out.
Sadness, dealt with. She felt a true lightness in her chest at that, most of the weight gone now. What else?
Happiness? She had precious little of that at the present moment, but a few things were there.
Joy, because she was still here, not yet done with life. That was good and pure, and she set it aside, keeping it safe. If she lost that, if that was not part of her in here, then who was she? Everyone should have that.
Happiness, plain and uncomplicated, because...
Because? Why? Was that just how she would be, if nothing else bothered her, if she finished purging herself of all other outside influences?
If nothing was happening, if she had no trials or problems in life, would she be happy? Yes, it seemed, though that was only possible here, and not really even here. She left that too. Not because it was important, as it would never really come to pass, but because it did not belong outside.
That was all. Confusion and frustration had left with her problems, and she knew who she was.
Astrid. She did what she felt was right, and did not give up. All else, all the traits and quirks that made her who she was, was too complex and detailed for her to grasp, but that was there too.
Who she was could not be changed by anything outside of her own mind. As long as she knew that, she could be happy with whoever she appeared to be.
Who she was outside would change. It had been changing, though she did not like that before. That was inevitable; the small sadness that nothing lasted, good or bad, also applied to herself.
But she was who she was, down to her core, no matter how she let herself change. It was a paradox, an internal contradiction, but she understood it all the same. She did not change, no matter how she changed. All that was left was learning how to accept and guide that in herself.
She blinked, feeling as if her body had not moved in ages, long enough to grow roots. That was not true, but it was how she felt. The dragon was still staring at her, but now she saw something different. Approval.
It would move if she asked. She knew that without really knowing how she knew, a deeper understanding. She was no longer trapped here.
But did she want to leave?
No. She had finally figured out who she was, and that left her purely content. If she left, all that she had pushed away would come back, and something told her she would never truly recover this feeling again. It was something that could not be replicated, could not be recaptured.
She lingered a few moments more, ensuring she would never forget this feeling. This was a memory she needed to carry with her, something to think back to when all seemed as terrible as it had recently. If she could not go back to this, she would just have to remember it, and carry on.
Then, with a heavy sigh, she lightly pushed at the dragon's head. It immediately lifted, unpinning her legs, and withdrew its wing.
She saw, after her eyes adjusted, that it was not yet sunset. She had spent an hour or more in there. It had felt like minutes, or an eternity.
She did not get up, content to sit there, the dragon's head now by her side, still looking up. The rest of the world had come crashing down on her, but it was not so hard to hold it just a hairsbreadth apart, to keep a tiny bit of distance. She still felt content, even with all the problems and complexities of normal life there with her.
"Thank you." She spoke with feeling, totally sure it understood perfectly. Anyone would understand that.
As if in response, the dragon stood, moving away and forcing her to sit up on her own. It walked around to her front, stopping right in front of her, its head down and ears flat against its neck.
Astrid didn't have time to be worried about the less than friendly look; almost immediately, the dragon confused her even further by pressing its nose into the ground right in front of her outstretched legs, doing exactly what it had refused to do in front of the village.
"... Okay…" Astrid said slowly, somehow sure that the apparently submissive gesture was no such thing. That was just too easy. "Good-"
The moment that approval had left her throat, the dragon sprang forward, driving a paw into her chest and slamming her to the ground, snarling so loudly her ears hurt. The paw held her down, though she certainly wasn't fighting it, far too preoccupied in continuing to breathe despite the sudden pain and impact.
The deep, threatening snarl continued for a long moment, and then tapered off, replaced by heavy, angry breathing. Then the dragon back off, lifting its paw and turning away from her, pointedly putting its back to her.
Astrid sat up, glad she had not hit her head as hard as the last time this particular dragon had taken offense, and quickly got to her feet, not wanting to be quite so vulnerable anymore.
Her mind was not on danger or the sudden attack, though. The imagery, the comparison, was just too pointed. Animals might be angered by provocation in the moment, but this was something entirely different, something she would never expect from an animal. A message, meaningful and relatively complex. The almost mockingly obsequious bow beforehand was more than enough of a hint as to what was meant by the subsequent attack and anger. It felt far too much like something she would have done to be ignored.
The dragon slowly turned back to her, its ears still down and its eyes narrowed in a decidedly unfriendly fashion.
"You didn't like that, being told to bow," Astrid murmured, half addressing the dragon and half speaking aloud to help herself work through the insane yet entirely fitting conclusions she had come to. "You didn't like me telling you to do it in the first place, and I tried to trick you into doing something similar in front of everyone…"
The dragon's actions all made sense if she looked at them from a very specific point of view. What would she have done in its place? Refused to fall for the trick, left in anger, and later let her disapproval be known in no uncertain fashion, with a bit of violence added in just to make it clear that her anger was not to be taken lightly.
None of that was what any animal, no matter how intelligent, would do. But it all was what someone vaguely like her might have done. The missing piece, the reason this dragon was so unfathomable, was something no Viking would ever believe in the first place. Dragons were animals, or possibly demons from Hel or some other unsavory realm depending on the person asked. Definitely not people.
And yet it all made sense only if she considered this particular dragon to be a person. The strange reactions, high intelligence, ability to learn and compromise and understand so easily, to plan and remember for later…
The dragon was still glaring at her. It didn't know if she understood now, and it had already given her so many chances to figure it out, waiting to see what she would do at every opportunity. Waiting to see if she could see the same thing Hiccup in retrospect so obviously had. Watching and tolerating her as she ignored the obvious in favor of treating it like an animal in need of controlling.
"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I've been bad." Bad Astrid, not bad dragon. Gods, even that felt so demeaning applied to her, and she had used it without thought. Why would it want to be around her now? She had shown her true colors.
But was that how she felt now? No, of course not.
So what was this dragon to her now? Not a pet, not a trained animal...
A person, different but not lesser. One who mourned... a friend. That was what Hiccup had been. It mourned a friend.
He. Hiccup had referred to it as a he, and she had not seen anything to disprove that, though she had not been looking. Not it, he. The first step towards correcting her perception, starting with her own mind.
Did she really want to change in this way? To treat a dragon as a person? It would be a change.
But she understood now that change was inevitable. What mattered was how, not if, she changed. This was a good change, one that felt right to her.
"I want to start over." No more demeaning commands. They would work out some alternative method for communicating intent. There had to be a way, because she still needed to put up the facade that until now had been truth, to protect it-, no, to protect him. But this way would be one between equals, partners. "I've been treating you like a dog. Not who you are."
He looked up at her, his eyes widening and softening as he moved, a hostile expression morphing into something else entirely in a matter of moments. He nodded, slowly and deliberately, and came closer, walking on silent paws until he was close enough to touch, holding eye contact all the while.
Of course he liked eye contact. What better way for a creature who could not speak her language to convey how it felt, and to see what she felt? And what had she used that for?
She was the equivalent of a Viking yelling at the top of its lungs and only listening when it suited her. No longer.
"I'm Astrid. It's nice to meet you..." she trailed off, stymied.
Should she give him a name? No, she was done thinking herself above him. That had gotten her and him nothing but frustration and heartbreak. But calling him 'dragon' was equally bad, implying a distance she no longer wanted.
What had Hiccup called him? She struggled to remember.
Toothless.
Hiccup had called him Toothless. And as the two had been far closer than she and the dragon were now, it was safe to assume he liked that name.
"Toothless?"
He perked up immediately, a happy warble escaping him.
"Can I call you that? I know Hiccup did." She was now unsure how much he understood of her words, so she defaulted to asking like she would if she knew he could understand perfectly. There was some level of comprehension, so it could not hurt.
He tilted his head, before purring and nudging her agreeably.
So that was settled. 'It' was now 'he' and 'dragon' was now 'Toothless.' In private, anyway. She would figure out if she wanted the rest of the village to know of this attitude shift later.
That was, if there would be a later. She had just agreed to hand him off to Tuffnut. But...
She smiled broadly, seeing with fresh eyes what she had promised. To try to hand him off to Tuffnut.
"Who would you rather work with, me or Tuffnut?" she asked seriously.
He tilted his head again, chirping inquisitively.
She had to hold in a laugh. That was a new sound to her. Really, the way he acted now was subtly different in a lot of ways, but that one stood out. "You know, the one singing." Guessing that he would need more of a reminder than that, she started humming the discordant tune Tuffnut had used to torment-
A small blue bolt of fire blasted into a nearby bush, setting it aflame. Toothless pounced on it, smothering the flame, and then returned, leaving a crushed and scorched bush behind. He glared at her.
"So that's a no on Tuffnut." There, she could truthfully claim she had tried in some capacity. The rest of her future wasn't going to be so easy to circumvent, but that was for later. Right now, she wanted to make things right with this one person. He deserved it the most, for helping her in her darkest hour.
"But you're okay with working with me? I just want to keep you safe," she explained, kneeling down so that they were on equal footing. "I won't order you around, but we have to work together, so I will ask you to do things."
He seemed uncertain about that, backing up a bit.
"Please? This can go both ways. I'll help however you need." To obvious limits, of course.
That settled him down again. He still didn't indicate what he thought, once again staring into her eyes.
She put a hand out, not quite touching him, and not looking away. "Give me a chance?" She had taken his obedience for granted before, so now she would wait for an actual answer on a more fair partnership. If he turned her down... well, they would deal with that if it came to that.
Deep green eyes searched her heart, or whatever they could see in her own blue eyes. She hoped they saw a willingness to make things right, along with a desire to understand, a desire to maybe try and at least rival Hiccup someday. Friends. She wanted to be friends, if not quite as close as he and Hiccup had been, for that might not be possible. There would be no way for her to know, so she didn't care. Hiccup had first claim, and always would, but he was gone. She wanted to get to know the one he had left behind, and maybe in the process to understand him a little better too.
Never breaking eye contact, Toothless pushed his snout into her hand, a heavy, solemn gesture.
Friends.
There was no flash of light or noise, no outward sign that something had happened, but she knew it had nonetheless. There was a truly relaxed feeling in the air as Toothless pulled back and walked off into the forest, out of sight for a moment. She did not wonder where he was going-
Then the faint sound of water hitting a plant informed her where he had gone, and why. Okay, it was a good thing she hadn't followed. To be fair, he hadn't had a chance to relieve himself for the last few hours, and had probably not bothered beforehand.
Still, something about that sound totally broke the seriousness of the moment. She laughed lightly as she waited for him to come back. She did not have to go home quite yet.
Really, looking up at the sky, it was not even as close to dusk as she had assumed. By her calculations, she had about two hours before would be late. Subtract an hour to get home from here, and she had another hour to spare.
And she did want to use that hour here, with Toothless. She was not quite confident enough to trust her newfound self-assurance to guard her from the derision she would have to bear in the village. It would still hurt, if not hit quite so close to home.
Really, not much had changed. She just had the all-important reassurance that only she could really change who she was, and the memory of that moment of simple peace to fall back on if needed.
Not to mention the not-insignificant fact that she was friends with a dragon. That was total anathema to all her people stood for, but she didn't care. It wasn't against what she stood for. Who she was had never needed anyone else, friend or foe, to exist, so she could categorize and treat either as she wished. If she decided this dragon was a friend, she was not betraying anything that mattered.
Sure, her honor still mattered a little. She would uphold it if possible. But for the first time, she could see a world in which she chose to do something others would declaim as dishonorable. As long as she saw it as the morally right thing to do, she wouldn't care. Her reputation was even less important now. It was not who she was.
She smiled as the dragon returned from his outhouse- or was it outforest- break. "Way to ruin the mood, Toothless."
He snorted and rolled his eyes, walking right up to her and licking her across the face.
She had not been expecting that, and recoiled, shocked. "Hey!" Since when..?
Since when, indeed. Why was he acting different now? Because they were friends, not... however he had seen her before. Apparently, that made a world of difference. She should probably forget the depressed, pliable persona he had embodied these last few weeks. If what she had seen in the brief time with Hiccup was who this dragon truly was, she should expect a lot more free will.
Like now. Toothless got behind her and began pushing at the back of her knees, urging her forward in a way that almost knocked her flat on her face.
"I get the message," she laughed, still feeling lighthearted, and let him take the lead, voluntarily following him deeper into the woods.
Where they were going became clear quite soon. His den, of course. Why was less clear. The more interesting thing, at least to her, was the path they took to get there.
It was roundabout, switching back almost at random, but the one thing that kept her so interested was how easy it was. All the paths she had been so proud of forging were still difficult, they were just less difficult than the alternatives. This one put her best paths to shame, leading them to Toothless's side of the island in less than half the hour it should have taken. She would be able to get home before dark if she could remember that path and follow it on the way back.
But... "Why are we here? I do have to go home." She did not intend to sleep here, no matter how friendly he was now. Bare stone or damp ground was no replacement for a real bed. "And I have to go soon."
He nodded impatiently, stalking across the now quite old and brown layer of branches covering his clearing, walking to-
To the ax Gobber had made for her, still hanging from that same tree, looking no worse for wear.
He stood on his hind legs and carefully grabbed the handle, unlodging it from the crook she had hung it on, and bringing it back to her.
Offering it to her. He wanted her to take it. He trusted her to have it, now.
Did she want it? It was a change.
But she had just decided change was fine, if it was the right kind of change. This ax was thinner, longer, and a little more deadly in certain ways, but decidedly not normal. Was she okay with that?
"Yes, I think I will," she announced, and carefully took the ax from Toothless's open mouth. Its weight was not familiar, oddly balanced, but she was pretty sure she could get used to it if she tried. Now she wanted to try, and that was all that really mattered.
Author's Note: Originally, this chapter was titled 'What He Saw,' in reference to Hiccup, and, you know, the whole thing so many stories love to make a big deal out of, the 'I saw myself' line. But as I wrote it, the title started to feel wrong. This is Astrid's moment, not Hiccup's. I figured that was worth mentioning.
And what a troublesome moment it was, too. I came back to this chapter and tried to rewrite it, to spread the musing out over actions and time, but it just would not work no matter how many different ways I tried. Without this highly introspective moment, there's absolutely no good way to reach the same sort of epiphany without it feeling ridiculously forced. It seems to be an inherent issue in the plotting and pacing of the story. Oh well; I didn't dislike this way, I just thought it might be a bit much. We shall see how it is received. Special thanks to Deadly-Bagel, who looked this over for me, even though I'm trying not to have this story beta-read as practice for myself. Sometimes there's no alternative to another set of eyes.
As for the chapter itself... I've only rarely gotten that philosophical before. Don't expect any more this story; I'm all tapped out. And I'm glad it's Astrid's inner struggles I had to dive into here; someone like Snotlout or Hiccup, people with complex pre-existing issues, would have been way harder. I created all of Astrid's problems here, which makes it easier to take them apart, and she didn't really have any problems from canon for me to add to the mix and muddy the waters with.
(And for those of you who are still probably craving some proper Astrid and Toothless interactions, don't worry, we're finally in a place where they can happen now, and I'm not going to stiff you on that after so long getting there.)