Nightfall. The torches were lit, and Astrid was lingering in the Great Hall, watching whoever came in. She had met up with Toothless and given him the biggest fish she could find in the storehouse, but she had not lingered long there. There was a feeling of anticipation in the air. Nobody had seen Stoick or Thunderguts since the demonstration, which implied they were finally discussing the attack on the nest. Would Thunderguts go for it?

In favor of the attack was superior information about the target, specialized forces, and stubbornness mixed with a lack of patience. They knew, more or less, what was at the nest, and getting there would not be difficult, even without Toothless directly leading the way. They knew now that the nest was in the center of the massive fog bank. Assuming they could make it through, it should not be hard to find.

Making it through, which meant sailing through waves of dragon attacks, was why nobody else had ever seen the nest. Nobody got far enough in.

But they had two tribes, nine ballistae, and stubbornness issues.

Against the proposal was the obvious. Winter was coming. If they left any later than a week from today, they would have no chance of even getting to the nest before the water froze around them. If they left tonight, they would not be able to return. She knew first-hand how barren the nest was; Stoick had to have an answer to how they would survive even if they won, because as it was the elements and lack of water would kill any who survived the assault, no matter how successful.

Assuming Stoick had a plan for that, there was also the absolutely absurd scale of the monstrosity. Any beast that could swallow a Zippleback whole was going to be an issue. A big issue. The ballistae were hypothetically the answer to that, but Astrid had her doubts. Maybe that would work.

And of course, there would also be the hordes of unwilling servants that would assault them every step of the way. This would be a slaughter either way.

Sound objections, all in all. But the problem was, Astrid didn't see a Viking Chief backing down at either of the latter two, and the former was such a fundamental issue Stoick had to have an answer ready. It was entirely possible Thunderguts would-

A loud, flatulent eruption echoed across the Great Hall. Astrid held in a groan, breathing entirely through her mouth and hoping it would not reach her. It seemed her luck had finally given out when it came to avoiding that particular pastime of the Windy Isle tribe. Hopefully, judging by the one proud Viking sitting alone, it would not turn into a contest. She didn't want to be driven out of the Great Hall.

What had she been thinking before that? She looked around the Hall, trying to regather her thoughts. There were plenty of people here at the moment, eating, drinking, or arguing. Nobody noticed her in the corner, the same corner she had found Tuffnut in, shrouded by shadow. They might not even see her, given how perfectly dressed she was to hide in darkness. That was how she liked it. Her presence could only disrupt things, given how infamous she was.

The doors to the Great Hall swung open, admitting a group of rowdy Vikings, clearly already drunk. Trailing behind them was Snotlout, along with five teens about his age, all male, and Tuffnut.

Now she was thankful she would not be seen. Snotlout did not look happy, and while she preferred him frustrated to confident, neither meant she wanted to interact with him.

He and his entourage sat at a table somewhat close by, though not close enough for her to be within eavesdropping distance. Snotlout was muttering sullenly, and everyone else was listening closely.

That went on for a worryingly long time. Astrid did not like the looks of it. She probably would have attempted to get closer and listen in if Tuffnut had not been there. As it was, she planned to catch him alone and find out what was going on as soon as possible.

The strangely secretive and ominously serious talk went on for a few more minutes, before Snotlout sent one of his newfound cronies to get mead for them all.

That was no surprise. Astrid only drank watered-down mead, but the rest of the teens were more than fine with the normal stuff. She personally disliked not being in control of herself while drunk, which was why she avoided it.

That dislike, she reflected, was also probably because she worried she would break down and loose some torrent of bottled-up emotion. That would no longer be much of a problem given she did not care what others thought of her, but she still stuck to her habit of not getting drunk.

Drunk, like how Snotlout and company were quickly becoming. They became more and more boisterous and distracted as they drank, none of them old enough to have developed much of a tolerance for what was in their mugs.

Eventually, Tuffnut shambled over in her direction, swaying drunkenly, and plopped himself down in a chair opposite her, staring at the wall beside her.

His voice, despite the appearance he was currently holding, was alert and solemn. "Trouble is coming. He has no solid plan, but if he and his gang catch you alone, you're going to have to hit first and ask questions later. I won't be able to warn you ahead of time if that happens."

"He cannot risk-" she began, troubled.

"He doesn't care anymore," Tuffnut revealed. "Opinions about you are conflicted enough that he thinks he'll get away with what he wants. The way he's spinning it, you're not going to be wanted by any man anyway at this rate, so he and his new friends might as well-"

"I get the idea," she growled. "Seriously, though? He said it straight out?"

"Clear as water," Tuffnut confirmed. "He's not fit to be Chief like this. Hel, he's not fit to be a Berkian at all. We have more honor than that." His voice was downright murderous. "I will fight by your side if I'm there when they corner you, if it happens, but there's no guarantee I'll be there. It might be seven on one."

Even if Tuffnut fought for her, it would end up being six on two, which was still not good odds. "I appreciate your help."

"At this point, I'd be doing this no matter what," Tuffnut revealed. "Snotlout needs to go, for the good of Berk. With my testimony, we might be able to get him disgraced, or maybe even Outcast."

"Assuming he attacks me," Astrid corrected. "We'd need at least two, ideally more, testimonies to get him. One can always be discredited, especially if it's mine, and you could be just as vulnerable. Neither of us is highly regarded."

"If Ruffnut listened to me, I'd ask her to tail you until the Windy Isle tribe leaves." Tuffnut sighed sadly. "But she won't even talk to me at home, and avoids me whenever she can. Maybe if you asked her yourself."

"Maybe." She did not like the idea of being followed around the village, but it would only be for a few days, and Ruffnut was probably still bored enough to seriously consider the idea, the reason aside.

"And-" Tuffnut began, before being cut off by a slamming sound.

Astrid looked over his shoulder. The doors to the Great Hall had been slammed open, and two imposing figures were entering, side by side. Stoick and Thunderguts. They looked serious.

This was it. She knew before Stoick even opened his mouth. They would not be announcing anything if the plan was not going to happen.

"People of Berk," Stoick began.

"And Windy Isle," Thunderguts added.

"Ready yourselves for battle," Stoick thundered, hoisting his hammer proudly. "We set sail in three days, for the nest!"

There was a ragged, halfhearted cheer. Only one person spoke in actual dissent.

"We'll all die o' dragon, and if we don' the ice'll get us!" Mildew complained, for once voicing real, legitimate concerns.

Stoick laughed scornfully. "You would not give your life to our best chance to rid the archipelago of the nest that has plagued us for seven generations? But do not worry, we have thought of that. Two ships loaded to the brim with survival supplies will follow two days behind us. We will take the nest, and we will occupy it until Spring, or until we can break our way back through the ice to Berk."

That was... ambitious, to say the least. The logistics of getting all of that ready in two- or actually, four days, was going to be immensely complicated. But assuming it could work, that was the question of the ice solved.

"We'll spend the Winter holidays carvin' mugs outa the bones of our enemies," one Viking yelled happily. "And diggin' outhouses on the nest!"

That got everyone excited. Vikings began to stand and unholster their weapons in a show of support.

"We're goin' too," Thunderguts repeated loudly. "Soldiers, prepare for battle! Chief Stoick has agreed to host yer families here, so don't worry abou' that!"

That got the Windy Isle Vikings into the mood. They began to cheer, the idea clearly beginning to appeal to them. The Great Hall grew louder and louder, until it was a cacophony of voices and other noises.

"Well, that's great!" Tuffnut yelled, barely audible though he was only a few feet away. "We're all gonna die before Spring. Sounds awesome!"

"Spread the word," Stoick boomed, somehow loud enough to be clearly audible in the tumult. "Sharpen your weapons! Polish your armor! We leave at noon in two days! The dragons will never know what's coming, and we'll have a Night Fury at our beck and call just to rub it in their scaly faces!"

Astrid felt a strong wave of dread wash over her, even as the Great Hall emptied, Vikings taking their Chief's instructions literally, off to do what he had said. They were going on the offensive.

The offensive nobody had ever succeeded in before. Were they prepared enough? Was this too rushed to work?

It was all out of her hands. She could only watch and worry.

On the bright side, Snotlout's intentions had suddenly become far less dangerous. She only had to avoid him and his posse for two days, and to pick a different ship than him. Then, it was likely the dragon hordes would render him very much dead, given how confident and reckless he was.

She would have to be careful not to pick the same boat as him, though-

Wait, she was bringing Toothless along. Aside from all of the complications that could cause, that also meant she could just change boats at any time if needed. How convenient.

Less convenient was the news that she had two days on Berk and a week above the ocean to practice flight. That was not a lot of time.

So much for being done with deadlines.

Things were hectic the next day. Astrid walked into the middle of a warzone after returning from an early breakfast at the Great Hall. Weapons and clothing were strewn across the main room, and their visitors were nowhere to be seen. Her father was digging through a box of miscellaneous supplies in one corner of the room, moving frantically.

"Where's my ax polish?" her father yelled, not seeming to actually expect an answer.

"Right in front of you," Asa's voice replied from the other room, the bedroom Astrid's parents shared.

"My backup polish, this stuff is almost gone," Sighvat corrected hurriedly. "Astrid, go buy some more from Gobber." He quickly tossed her a few coins.

"Okay, but..." she trailed off, understanding all of this was in preparation for their departure in a few days. "Got it."

She jogged through the village, wanting to make haste. Everyone seemed to be about as frantic as her parents were. Vikings went about their business at a faster pace than normal, as if aware that every second counted, and every few minutes the streets had to be cleared so that some cart piled high with weapons, or food, or other supplies, could be pushed down to the docks. The village was on edge, everything moving a little faster than normal, as if a drum that had kept time was now speeding up, and they with it.

There was a massive crowd in front of the blacksmith's shop. Astrid shoved her way through to the door, knowing that she could just go in, grab what her father had needed, and leave the money in its place. Gobber would be thankful for one less customer to handle at the rate things seemed to be going.

As she made her way to the ax polish, navigating the literal piles of weapons waiting to be mended or sharpened, she could not help but overhear the frantic conversation between Gobber and Fishlegs.

"Three more spears, do those first!" Gobber yelled, tossing three dull spears Fishlegs' way. "They take less time."

"I know, I know!" Fishlegs said hurriedly, throwing two axes back to Gobber, moving with practiced ease for once. "Gobber, I can't keep up with this!"

"Ye got no choice, laddy! Jus' be glad we're going on the second wave, so we can put off all nonessential orders 'till after these knuckleheads are gone!"

Gobber didn't sound particularly pleased with that. Astrid understood the point in holding the blacksmith back to go with the follow-up ships; he would be needed to make plenty of non-essential supplies for said ships. But he had to hate the fact that he would only reach the nest after the battle was over if they won, or he would die when the dragons came for his ship, if they lost, because his ship would be barely crewed. Neither option was very glorious.

Astrid found what she needed, a tin of polish, and left the money on top of the tin that had been under the one she took, leaving the forge without anyone knowing she had been in there.

She emerged from the forge only to almost be pushed right back inside by a surge in the crowd. Another convoy of carts was coming up the street, this one headed away from the docks.

She shoved forward, wanting to be at the front of the throng when space cleared for them all to move, and caught a good look at what was on the carts.

Three ballistae, disassembled but recognizable because she knew the look of dangerous and complex machinery. The Windy Isle Vikings must be setting the ballista up somewhere.

Why, she had no idea, but if they were going to be testing them, she wanted to be there to see it. Maybe seeing the bolts actually destroy solid rock as had been promised would ease her worries about all of this.

First, though, she had to bring the polish home. Her hut looked no better than it had before, though now Helga was helping her mother and father sort through things, and the three were talking calmly enough. She dropped the polish by the old tin.

Her father looked up from his quest to find some random item at the bottom of yet another box. "Thanks, Astrid."

"Need anything else?" Astrid asked, looking around at the somewhat organized chaos. Hopefully she would not be enlisted to help sort things; she didn't want to be stuck inside today.

"No, go prep your dragon for all of this, if you need to," her father recommended. "Find out from Stoick if you can mark off a part of the deck on one of the ships for it."

That was actually a really good idea. "On it." She darted back outside, feeling the pressure now that she had her own task. How long would it take to find Stoick, get his approval, and pick a spot, along with somehow marking it off? Too long, with the way things were going. She wanted to be on the ship already. All of this was too hectic to bear. Had it been this way on previous nest hunts? No, because those were planned weeks in advance. Aside from that, this was an all-out assault, so every effort was being put into it. There was a calculated risk, and then there was an all or nothing gamble, and this was the latter.

Stoick. Where would the Chief be? Probably down by the docks.

As it turned out, Stoick was indeed by the docks, busy supervising the loading of Berk's entire fleet, save for the two ships that would be following behind. Said fleet was back to normal after their last attempt at getting to the nest, Berk's carpenters and shipbuilders having had several months to create and outfit three more warships. All in all, five Berkian warships would be sailing to war, along six Windy Isle warships, with two larger, less maneuverable ships following behind. That was a lot of loading to organize. They needed supplies for their entire army for two weeks, just to be safe, along with the essentials for a week-long trip. All of that had to happen in parallel to the aforementioned carpenters going over the ships to be sure they would all make it to the nest in the first place. A surprise leak might sink their chances of success as surely as it sank the ship.

Chief Stoick was in his element, calling out orders and knocking heads as necessary, striding along the deck and somehow watching everything at all times. Astrid almost didn't want to disturb him.

But she did anyway, getting into his line of sight during a lull in his intermittent stream of orders. "Sir, a moment?"

He nodded tersely, looking preoccupied. "Out wit' it."

"My father suggests that you give me permission to mark off a small portion of the deck on one of the ships for my dragon," she relayed, speaking quickly and efficiently. "I will, of course, keep to an area that is not heavily used during normal sailing, but I need your permission-"

"Go ahead, but listen to the sailors, and mark it very clearly," Stoick cut in. "I assume you can keep your animal from attacking anyone within sight?"

"That will be easy. He will not start anything." The real worry was that someone else would start a fight, but she would just combat that by not letting her guard down for a week. She planned to spend the majority of every day flying as much as possible anyway. Any practice they could get might be vital to their survival.

"Then yes, you have my official permission to stake out a reasonable space," Stoick declared. "Send anyone who objects to me so I can set them straight."

That was perfect. "Thank you, sir," she repeated, and set off to find a good spot.

Stoick had not specified a ship, so she had to pick for herself. Not the biggest one, because that was the one Stoick would be taking, and therefore the one Snotlout was most likely to be on, as it was the ship for the leaders of the attack. Not one of the Windy Isle ships, because she did not have permission to use those, and because she was still wary of that tribe and its Chief, in spite of all reason.

She ended up picking the next largest ship, reasoning that more deck space meant she and Toothless would be less of a difficulty and thus less likely to be trouble for the sailors.

One quick surveying of the deck later, and she knew where she would be staking a claim. There was a space behind the small cabin that let down into the bowels of the ship, a spot right at the back. It was mostly out of sight, entirely out of the way, and just big enough to land in if Toothless was careful.

How to mark it was a more difficult question. She had nothing on her that could work, and she wanted it to be very obvious. Maybe a blanket or something?

No, that would get wet and moldy after a few days exposed to the ocean air and constant spray.

But some sort of less vulnerable marking...

She still had quite a bit of blue dye. That might work, if she marked the boards of the deck. She would have to clean it off when all was said and done, but if she survived to that point in time, she wouldn't mind a little cleaning.

The issue with that solution was that it meant she had to go all the way back to her hut to pick up the dye, followed by coming down here yet again, all to draw four lines on the deck of a ship.

She set out again, intent on getting this done as soon as possible. After, she could spend the rest of the day with Toothless, maybe flying, or maybe just relaxing. Either would be good, though she knew which she should be doing, and it wasn't relaxing.

Her plans were derailed when another convoy of ballista parts on carts passed by. Her curiosity would not be sated unless she saw one in action, and knew it to be as strong as it was said to be.

In a moment of spontaneity, she pitched in, helping push the cart with no explanation. The Windy Isle Vikings pushing were too tired out from what was probably their third trip to question her help, though they did look askance at her. That was no surprise; she was distinctive.

She was wearing her armor again today, with her ax and helmet at opposite sides of her waist. The reason was simple; it was the best clothing she had for the cold. The tanner had done a great job at insulating it, and the biting wind made the armor an attractive option, warm and yet also light. It felt like something she might wear in the Summer, which was a welcome change from bulky bundles of furs to combat the cold. She was actually beginning to wonder what the tanner had done to this armor that couldn't be done to normal clothing... and how much Gobber might have paid for it. The old smith certainly went all-out when the mood struck him.

Following the lead of the other cart-pushers, Astrid lent her strength to pushing the ballista parts all the way out to the plaza, and through it, to the hills. There were other carts there, along with several men and women who were finitely assembling ballista, inspecting each piece thoroughly before attaching it to one of several half-built contraptions.

Chief Thunderguts was there too, overseeing the whole process. He seemed to understand the basics of all of this, which was more than Astrid could claim.

From what Astrid could tell, watching from the sidelines, they were going over every part and making sure it was in good condition, and then assembling each ballista to test-fire it. The Windy Isle tribe was good at weapon maintenance, at least at this scale. Gobber would be jealous.

There didn't seem to be any problems at the moment. One of the ballistae was completed even as Astrid watched, aiming at the side of the mountain a few hundred yards away. It was a complex piece of work Astrid did not understand. She only knew it was finished because what seemed to be the slinging part was being cranked back, and a large bolt topped in iron loaded into it.

A test-firing was about to happen. She had gotten here at the right time. She watched closely, trying to envision how this would work at the nest.

First and foremost, they would need to assemble these things in the volcano. There was no other way to aim them at the monstrosity in there. That was going to be tough. But assuming they got that done-

The ballista fired, part of it slamming into the rest with a powerful thunk, propelling a single bolt into the mountainside in an instant, a blur of color streaking across the open space between machine and target.

The bolt stuck into the stone... for about half a foot. The rest vibrated in place.

Astrid was, to put it bluntly, underwhelmed. There was little to no chance that kind of bolt would pierce the monstrosity's lava-hardened scales. They would have to get very, very lucky and hit between scales, or some other similarly vulnerable part... all while the monstrosity either didn't notice them or attacked their very much irreplaceable weaponry... and while the other dragons probably attacked too, swarming every ballista and any other sign of invading life...

She felt sick. This wasn't going to work. But there was absolutely no way she could convince either Chief to listen to reason. They had not been there, and they had not seen what she saw. No matter how accurately she portrayed their target, they would believe it doable, because admitting defeat without trying was not something they could do. Honor and reputation would not let them.

She had no such restraints. She knew this would fail, and she had no trouble admitting it to herself. But this was all going to happen anyway, no matter how many people she told.

They would die, or succeed by some implausible miracle, no matter what she said. She and Toothless would be there, because she could not pass up a chance to strike at the monstrosity. She was pretty sure Toothless would want to be there for much the same reason.

So there was no reason to dwell on this, was there? She forced herself to turn away and go back to her hut, heading in the back door because that was closer to her room, and by taking it she would have to walk through less of the mess her parents had made.

Neither her parents or Helga noticed her, so, she got the jar of dye and left before they could, avoiding being assigned any more small tasks in the meantime. The trip back to the ship was not quick, with the chaos all around, but she made it eventually, and boarded her ship of choice without even being noticed.

Two stripes of blue dye went on the deck from the back rim of the ship to the back of the small cabin she had noted before, marking out a strip of deck that was only a little bigger than Toothless was when fully extended, such as when landing. Two more stripes went down the middle of that rectangle, further marking it as an area, not just two lines.

On a whim, she put the runes for 'landing area' in one corner of the space, just in case somebody wanted to know what it all was for.

There. This place was marked off, and short of physically staying there, she didn't know how else to make it clear that it was spoken for. Now she was free to go visit Toothless.

By the time she made it to Toothless, she only had an hour before she needed to turn around and go home, which ruled out anything in the way of practicing flying, to her mind. She did not want to work up the nerve to take to the sky only to be done a few minutes later.

Besides, Toothless did not look to be in the mood for a flight, sprawled out on his back in his cave. The only way she knew he was awake was that he had warbled in greeting as she approached.

It was a good thing the saddle was so flat already, otherwise she might be worried he was squishing it with his weight.

Actually, at that, she needed to take it off of him at some point. She knew from experience that one did not wear skintight, or in this case scaletight, leather constantly. It would chafe and grow sore eventually.

She would take it off once they were securely on the boat the morning after tomorrow, if Toothless did not request she remove it sooner. He was fully capable of conveying such a request, so she wasn't too worried about him chewing at the straps in an attempt to remove it himself. He seemed to value it much too highly for that.

So... Toothless was relaxing, she had to go in a few minutes, and the sun would soon set on this penultimate day of preparation.

She had nothing better to do than to lean up against him and close her own eyes for a few minutes, something she would not have done if he was not already setting a good example.

It was nice to have a companion who knew when to relax, but who was also as driven as she was.

Those few minutes of relaxation left Astrid calm and confident through her entire walk home. That lasted up until about three seconds after she entered the hut. Her parents and Helga were sitting at the table, talking intently, but they all went silent the moment they saw her.

"I'll be in my room," Astrid announced, seeing that they were clearly discussing something she wasn't meant to hear. What that could be, she didn't know, but they would resume talking once she was out of sight…

And she could listen in, because while her parents would trust her to do the honorable, polite thing and ignore them, she was no longer so content to be left out of the loop. Nobody would know if she listened in.

But the moment Astrid opened the door to her room, she realized that wasn't entirely true. Vanna was already there, clearly listening intently.

"Eavesdropping is impolite," Astrid remarked, entirely aware she herself planned to do exactly the same.

"They're talking about daddy," the little girl explained. "I wanna hear."

"You can ask your mom about it later," Astrid offered. "For now, do the right thing and try not to hear them, okay?" It seemed she didn't have to try and overhear them; if they were discussing Helga's late husband, it really had nothing to do with her.

"But I can hear them," Vanna complained, leaning off of the bed to demonstrate, her ear pressed against the wall. "Why not listen?"

"Do you feel good about listening?" Astrid asked, trying a different method of persuasion. "Would your mom be happy to know you did without permission?"

"No..." Vanna admitted, pulling back a little.

"So don't do it. You'll feel better about yourself if you only do what you think is right." There was absolutely no way Astrid was going to be able to convey her own outlook on doing what was right, regardless of what others thought, to a child. But a little push in the right direction would not hurt.

"I'm bored, then," Vanna declared, getting down off of the bed. "If I can't listen."

"How about we do something, then?" She had no idea what, but it would not be hard to come up with some little game. Just another way to while away a few more hours.

There was only so much time left. Whether to doom or victory, her people and Vanna's people sailed the day after tomorrow.

Author's Note: In case anyone is wondering, Astrid is going to need a crash course from Gobber in smithing and repair work eventually. She's working with borrowed tools in regards to Toothless's tail, and at the moment their flight is incredibly risky, because if anything breaks, Astrid will have a difficult time fixing it, no matter how trivial it might be. That's probably not going to come into this story (if it was, I wouldn't be saying anything), but I wanted to point it out. Like it or not, Astrid is going to have to learn some basic mechanics. She would probably consider it another survival skill at this point, if it ever occurred to her.