A/N: T for now, due to language and some mature humor. Will be M as the story progresses for mature sexual (not explicit) content.
Hiccup and Astrid are 18 in this fic. ROB and DOB are canon in this DU (deviated universe) storyline, but RTTE is not.
Growing up is hard; one simple fact that Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III knew painfully well. Never mind that adolescent years were enough of a struggle for the common man: hormones, relationship struggles, and the accompanying angst of self-discovery. Hiccup had to endure the additional woes of growing up Norse; or rather, he had tried to. Years of one desperate attempt after another to find his place among his tribe had only earned him ridicule. Every valiant effort to fit in had only caused him to be further ostracized. In a culture that fostered conformity to rigidly upheld traditions and standards of behavior, being a forward-thinking individual was about as useful as a flightless dragon with no firepower. In addition to being about as un-Norse in physique as humanly possible, Hiccup's uniqueness was only further insult to his tribe, and to his family name.
Shame? He was no stranger to it.
Feelings of inadequacy? They were lifelong friends.
Isolation and regrets? That relationship was an intimate one.
Living every day as the village embarrassment, surrounded by the constant reminder of everything he could never be, was a special kind of misery. His tribesmen took great care to point out his shortcomings daily. As if he was not already well aware of how he failed to measure up...
Then came Toothless, fortuitously shot out of the sky by his own hand. Watching the dragon plummet to the woods had filled him with a sort of nervous excitement. He could not have anticipated that everything was about to change in a most drastic and unexpected way. In the darkness, as the dragon's growl grew more distant and he fell from sight, befriending the Night Fury was not even on Hiccup's top ten list of outlandish possibilities.
How quickly they came to understand one another was surprising, though they were of vastly different species. Hiccup found it peculiar just how much he related to the dragon; more than he ever could relate to his own people. Toothless was the first soul to accept him as he was, with all of the flaws and no expectations. Theirs was friendship and a bond so real and unshakable, it was as if Odin, himself, had forged it. Together they changed the course of history, turning three-hundred years of rigid Norse tradition on its head. No one would have dared to believe that Hiccup, the village's greatest regret, would become the Berk's greatest triumph, taking down the Red Death.
Fortunately, he always had an aptitude for the unexpected.
In a manner of days, almost everything Hiccup had known about life on Berk was upended, and he had been unconscious for the greater part of it. He was accepted, celebrated even. Hiccup was not sure how to process it all at the time, besides standing around dumbfounded.
His father looked at him with pride, not disappointment; something Hiccup had wanted for years, but had to flirt with death to obtain. It was simply the way of things, unfair as it was. Hiccup and his father were both headstrong and seldom admitted to the other when they had been wrong. Their odd new dynamic was as close to a genuine apology and reconciliation as Hiccup could hope to expect, so he made peace with it.
He did have friends, though. At last. Not to mention, more admirers than he cared to count; the younger girls in the village, especially. He was flattered, but no less awkward about all the extra attention and eyelashes fluttering in his direction. The giggles that followed him around Berk has a new, coquettish tone. Younger boys sought out his mere acknowledgement. The world had gone insane. He was considered a source of inspiration and authority on all things dragon. His intelligence was finally recognized, and his Hiccup-ness, appreciated. If anyone had predicted these things would one day come to pass, he might have laughed himself to tears.
Yet, there he was, a chief-in-training. He was expert dragon trainer, commanding respect and awe as he sailed through the skies on the back of his loyal Night Fury; and Toothless still proved to be among the most favorable company.
Hiccup seemed to have weathered the storms of teenage angst and arrived to the sandy, sunny shores of maturity—but that was before he realized he had one more tempest left to navigate. The storm been looming on the horizon for a few years, creeping ever closer with ominous black clouds and rolling thunder. It was as Thor, himself, had fashioned her from a lightning bolt. Hiccup was not sure he would survive her, his emotional typhoon incarnate; he was not sure he had the strength to deal with the wreckage of his heart against the rocks of her ambiguous feelings for him. For this storm took human form of a young Norse woman who was a fierce as she was beautiful. A walking enigma of feminine mystery that had stolen his heart years ago.
Hiccup, of course, was thinking about Astrid Hofferson.
For a brief time, shortly after the defeat of the Red Death when the transformation of Berk was still new and exciting, Hiccup had dared to think that maybe he stood a chance with Astrid. After all, she had kissed him in front of everyone, and he had taken that as clear sign that they were a couple─that they were supposed to be a couple─that they should have been a couple.
The way she had grabbed him then, crushing their lips together with an undeniable possessiveness; what other way was there to take it? Maybe, if it had been a one-time thing, Hiccup could have concluded that she was just happy he was alive─a sort of hero-worship thing. But their relationship, if it could even be called that, only seemed to progress from there.
Astrid had been his greatest supporter in founding the Dragon Training Academy, and she was an integral part of helping defend Berk from Alvin the Treacherous and his Outcasts, as well as Dagur and his Berserkers. She and Hiccup had worked in tandem on integrating dragons into Hooligan life. True, the other teens helped, but Astrid was always coming to him with ideas, solutions, strategies, or just simply to talk about dragons. She sought his company far more than any of his other peers. Then, of course, there were the kisses.
He was as fond of the memories now as he was tormented by them.
No rhyme or reason existed as to when and why Astrid kissed him. If she was playing games with him, then only she knew the rules. Her attraction to him was vague at best, so he did not push boundaries or question her motives. He was just pleased to be the bewildered recipient of a kiss whenever she felt generous enough to give one. They never defined the terms of their relationship, but Hiccup had assumed there was no need to put a label on it. Everyone else already believed they were together, and Astrid never protested it. She never validated it, either. So, Hiccup went on blissfully believing he and Astrid had something a bit deeper than friendly races and a mutual interest in dragons.
They shared about a year of chaste kisses, warm smiles, and lingering glances, all without uttering heavy words like "boyfriend", "girlfriend", or "love." Then, with the turning of the seasons, Hiccup's happy illusion of mutual affection crumbled like a shoreline eroded by the sea of reality.
At sixteen, Astrid had matured enough that some of the other young men in their tribe had begun to notice her. She had been surprised at first, because she had never received any obvious advances from anyone other than Snotlout, Hiccup, and the occasional brave attempt by Tuffnut. Fishlegs never dared, though Hiccup sometimes caught him looking. Then, suddenly, she was being seen by older boys as the beautiful young maiden that Hiccup already knew her to be. They wanted her company, finding her combat skills and dragon-handling equally impressive. One young man, in particular, found any excuse to hover around Astrid, making as much of an effort to know her as he could. Behind his back, Snotlout and Tuffnut mocked Astrid's new suitor, but she did not seem as turned off by his increasing presence as the other riders did. On the contrary, she and this boy seemed to have a genuine rapport.
Hiccup did not feel threatened in the beginning, since he did not think Astrid was the kind of girl to buy into blatant flattery. She was still Astrid─still the girl who laughed at his sarcastic wit, punched him for his stupidity, and sporadically kissed him for his rectitude. In Hiccup's mind, he and Astrid had a solid thing between them, even as undefined as it was. He had no reason to fear others' available perception of Astrid. At least, not until she started to see herself that way. He was alarmed when she began to look at her suitors in a new and intriguing light; it stung.
Hiccup had always thought what they had was steady and sure. Apparently, Astrid had never felt the same.
The change in their friendship became noticeable thereafter. Their time together was filled less with talk of dragons, and more with talk of boys whom Hiccup neither knew well, nor cared to know. Astrid never spoke of them in a giddy, simpering sort of way. That was simply not her style, and Hiccup was thankful for it. Otherwise he might have vomited. Instead, she spoke of various boys with a sense of admiration that she usually spared just for Hiccup and his accomplishments. Time did not diminish the irritation every time Astrid mentioned another boy in that same manner. She spoke of their style and demeanor, and how appealing it was that they still kept their battle skills sharp, even in a time of peace. They were just so masculine, so Norse─so everything that Hiccup was not, never was, nor would be. Hiccup took it like slap to the face, and it spit on everything he had thought they had been to one another over the previous year. Jealousy began to well up inside of him, forming a wedge between them that grew with each passing day.
Astrid became caught up in the allure of fitting in with an older, more mature crowd with similar interests other than dragons. She no longer sought Hiccup out with the same eagerness as before. Soon, the gazes between them ceased to linger, the smiles started to lose their familiar warmth, and the already unpredictable current of kisses dried up altogether. She still attended dragon training, and she was still Hiccup's best flying partner; but it was obvious that whatever spark might have existed between them was snuffed out.
Astrid was oblivious to the painful toll it was taking on Hiccup. She still called him her closest friend and confidant, which was rubbing salt into the festering emotional wound. He managed to keep their conversations light and friendly, even though he had stopped reciprocating when it came to confiding matters of the heart. She spoke and he listened, contributing nothing of equal depth.
No one had ever bothered to ask what happened between them, but Hiccup was aware that the entire village knew that he and Astrid were not as close as they once had been. Norsemen did not have long, deep talks about their feelings outside close, intimate friendships. There was no punctuating a good cry by hugging it out with a neighbor or the odd fish monger. Hiccup enjoyed the respect for his privacy and the right to safeguard his feelings, but he noticed the stares as he walked by; and he noticed the low whispers that sounded suspiciously like his and Astrid's names.
The only person who attempted to breach the subject was his father, who was well meaning, but lacking sensitivity.
"Hiccup, a word?" Stoick asked one evening.
Hiccup had just set foot in the house, and he was exhausted from a long day helping Gobber in the smithy. They worked on bringing his design for multiple dragon feeding stations to life, and it was a full-time job. Without sharing the bitter details of his anguish with his old mentor, Hiccup had attempted to hammer out his frustrations on every project that had crossed his workbench. His muscles were feeling it.
"Dad," he groaned, "can't this wait until morning?"
He hoped avoiding his father's gaze as he made a beeline for the stairs.
"Son, I know you must have a lot on your mind," Stoick began, cutting him off
"That's the understatement of the year."
Between running the academy, caring for Toothless and Sharpshot, increased responsibilities as the chief's son, drafting up village improvements, and the oppressive weight of Astrid on his thoughts, Hiccup was shocked his brain had not yet burst in his skull.
Stoick ignored his sarcastic comment; he was well-practiced. "But I want to make sure you haven't lost perspective. It is important, as the future leader of our people, you're able to maintain a level head no matter what personal issues you're struggling with."
Hiccup knew, in Stoick's own way, that framing the conversation in the context of effective leadership was his way to ask, without asking, how he was handling the whole sad, pathetic situation with Astrid.
"I'm fine, Dad."
"Son—"
Hiccup ducked around his father and climbed the stairs two at a time, retreating into his bedroom which was mutually understood to be his sanctuary from parental badgering.
Toothless, who had been dozing on his stone slab, opened his large eyes and raised his head. Hiccup took a moment to greet his scaly companion before lying down on his bed, his eyes glued to the ceiling. His dragon gave a soft, sympathetic rumble in his throat, and Hiccup raised his head to give Toothless a reassuring smile.
"I'm okay, bud."
Toothless narrowed his eyes a little, and Hiccup knew his dragon could see straight through him.
The stairs creaked accompanied by soft thud of footsteps. Hiccup sighed. In the silence, he knew his father was lingering in the shadows a few steps below the second story landing, debating the merits of violating their unspoken boundaries.
After another brief moment, Stoick murmured up through the darkness, "There are plenty of other dragons to tame, son."
Hiccup grimaced at his father's poor choice of an analogy and buried his face into his pillow. Stoick the Vast was not known for his eloquence in parenting, but he did try; although Hiccup sometimes wished he would not. He listened as his father's footsteps retreated downstairs, and though he would never admit it to the man, the small gesture of parental compassion was more of a comfort than whispers and pitying stares he normally received around the village.
The sound of Toothless' slow, deep breathing threatened to lull him to sleep. He tried not to think of Astrid; but the harder he tried to push thoughts of her out of his mind, the deeper they lodged themselves there.
But as he tried to fend off images of her hair, her eyes, and her smile, he found new resolve: he would no longer be an object of sympathy. If Astrid could move on without him, he would have to learn to move on without her. He was not a stranger to challenges. He met them, he overcame them, and Astrid Hofferson would be no different. So, he swore to himself that night, his father's attempt to discuss his relationship woes would be the first time, and the last. He repeated this vow as his eyelids grew heavy, closing them to a flash of blonde in a gentle breeze.
The following day, Hiccup held steadfast to his self-directed promise, when the sun was high and summer's heat had reached its peak.
"What's his name, again?" Snotlout asked, arms folded across his chest.
He watched Astrid fly her dragon side-by-side with her favorite suitor: the most impressive specimen of all the young men who hovered about her with an annoying persistence. Snotlout's favorite pastime to glare holes in their backs. Hiccup might have joined him once, but he was doing his best to be apathetic, patching the wound in his heart with a large piece of screw-it-all.
Instead, his attention was on Hookfang, who looked a bit worn down and lethargic.
"Stefnir Svenson," Hiccup answered, skimming the Book of Dragons. "His dad is tapped into the fur trade network. His family is pretty well off."
"How do you know that? We hardly talk to the guy," Snotlout remarked, frowning.
Hiccup glanced up from the addendum on Monstrous Nightmares.
"I'm going to be the chief someday─a fact that, I know, just thrills you," he replied, and Snotlout rolled his eyes. "It's my job to know these kind of things." He shut the book and patted Hookfang's snout, adding, "He has a cold, by the way. This isn't some new ability he's discovered."
The Monstrous Nightmare sneezed, sending scalding flecks of saliva through the air. Hiccup and Snotlout leaped aside as the oblivious Thorston twins were showered with it.
"Agh, shit!" Tuffnut hissed, frantically wiping the blazing sputum from his skin.
Ruffnut yelped and did the same.
Snotlout, meanwhile, barked with laughter. "Still, you have to admit it's kind of awesome!"
Hiccup shook his head and handed the book to Fishlegs, who tucked it into a satchel bag for safe keeping. At any given moment, either one of them had the prized tome in his possession. It was not that the other teens never contributed their dragon knowledge to it, but Hiccup was afraid they would pass back the book full of scribbling like "Zipplebacks rule!" or "Astrid's Nadder can suck it!"
It was best to not tempt them.
"I have to get back to the forge," Hiccup announced. "There's still two more feeding stations to build."
"Do you have to go?" Fishlegs asked, disappointed. He nodded at the other teens before whispering, "Don't leave me with them..."
Hiccup smiled. He and Fishlegs became closer as Astrid grew more distant, and it was nice to still have someone with whom he could related. Someone who was not a dragon. He could bounce ideas off of Fishlegs an expect a smart answer. Snotlout and the Twins left much to be desired in terms of satisfying conversation. While Fishlegs was not as easy on the eyes as Astrid, he and Hiccup were near-equal when it came to intellect.
But in the sky, only Stormfly could compete with Toothless.
Hiccup hated the part of himself that still took pleasure in racing the Deadly Nadder, and allowing himself to care for even a moment. Among the clouds, he let Astrid in, giving her a opening to move too close again. In those short-lived bursts of happiness, he often forgot their problems. He continued to invite the competition. If nothing else, he liked it when she chased him, for a change. Then reality caught up with them, and Astrid sped off to pursue the young men she had become so enamored with.
"They don't listen to me," Fishlegs said, eyeing the other teens as they roughhoused.
"What makes you think they listen to me?" Hiccup asked. "I just make suggestions in the hopes they're vaguely followed."
"At least your suggestions are heard. I think they might actually be deaf to my voice."
"You're the best authority on dragon stats and bodily functions, Fishlegs. You're the only hope he's got." Hiccup gestured to the ill Monstrous Nightmare. "Do it for Hookfang."
Fishlegs stared back at him, flat-faced
"You're surprisingly manipulative."
Hiccup grinned; it was the greatest amount of humor he could muster. Making himself vulnerable to one emotion opened the floodgates for others. Walking around partially numb was better than the steady onslaught of bitterness that accompanied thoughts of Astrid. On such a small island, she was not always avoidable. He hoped telling himself each day that he did not give a damn would soon make it so.
Fishlegs flashed him a tiny smile, which faltered with the sudden gust of a dragon's wings. The way Fishlegs's eyes darted between Hiccup and the individual behind him left no doubt who had just landed among them.
Astrid had the habit of showing up right when Hiccup was trying to convince himself she did not matter anymore. She just could not accept slipping into irrelevance, which was typical of her.
"Astrid!" Fishlegs exclaimed, a little too bright to be genuine.
The other teens turned, interest piqued. Hiccup took a deep breath through his nose, imperceptible to everyone else. He did not care. He would not care. Astrid was no more important than anyone else: an internal mantra he would repeat until it stuck.
He glanced up at her, situated atop her Deadly Nadder. Dragon and rider were both beautiful and impressive, but that was old news that he tried to appreciate with an objective eye. She did not seem the least bit excited to see him, so he did not acknowledge the small echo of excitement within himself at seeing her There was nothing more pathetic than one-sided longing.
"Where's your boyfriend?" Ruffnut teased: a quip that used to refer to Hiccup.
"Stefnir's not my boyfriend," Astrid remarked, dismounting Stormfly with flourish.
She moved fluidly with her piercing blue eyes settling on Hiccup. Unlike the coy little glances she used to give him, he felt this was predatory, and he looked away. For all her disinterest in what they were to each other now, she certainly paid him more attention than he would have liked.
"Aren't we racing today?" she asked. "You all were supposed to meet us on the beach."
"Oh, how could we have forgotten?" Snotlout replied. "I can't believe we'd miss out on being the..." He tallied up the rest of them and added, "Fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth, and...nineth wheels."
"You are not," Astrid retorted, frowning. "We've always enjoyed the friendly competition."
"'We?' So, it is you and them; and then the rest of us," Ruffnut said, folding her arms.
"If there is a division, it's because you've made it," Astrid said, narrowing her eyes. "I don't see why it has to be 'us', or 'them'."
"Because they are a pack of thick-headed Gronckle-fuckers," Snotlout responded, scowling.
Fishlegs shot him a dirty look, turning to cover Meatlug's small ears.
"And you wonder why I don't find you more appealing," Astrid sighed. She turned to Hiccup and smiled. "At least I know at least one person who isn't a judgmental ass."
Hiccup wanted to laugh. "It's a waste of energy to blindly hate a person," he told her. "I usually need a reason."
He had many. Astrid stepped toward him, standing much too close; more so than she used to even when their amiability was mutual. He could smell the scent of the soap on her skin; and it filled his nostrils and burned his lungs with an unwelcome rush of longing.
"Stefnir keeps boasting he'll beat your Night Fury," she told him, reaching up to playfully tug at his hair, sharpening the ache in his chest. "I don't think he understands it doesn't matter how fast his dragon is. Toothless is not getting any slower."
She twisted a braid in place, like she often did, even though he made a point to always undo them afterward. They did not cross paths as often anymore, yet she still found reasons to touch him. He wanted to scream for her to stop, to keep her searing hands away from him; but that would make his weakness obvious.
"Stefnir might learn something if you brought him around the academy," Hiccup said; and it was an empty suggestion.
"He has a lot on his plate," was her excuse.
"Yeah, I'm sure. Flexing my muscles is an all-day thing for me too," Tuffnut retorted and the other teens snickered.
Astrid dropped her hands to her sides with a huff. The constant taunting annoyed her, but she was never as defensive of the other boys as Hiccup expected her to be.
Once he was certain she was done touching him, he deftly undid the braid she had just made. The disappointment on her face was clear.
"If the rest of you gave Stefnir and the guys a chance, I think you'd find there's plenty you have common," she said, turning her attention back to the other teens. "Instead, you all just want to be assholes."
"Somehow, I doubt there are enough similarities to carry us beyond small talk," Hiccup replied, brushing past her for Toothless, who was already poised to fly, reading his mood.
Her eyes widened at his brusqueness, and he did not understand why. She did not have much interest in his opinions anymore.
"Where are you going?" she snipped. "Hiccup, there's a race and─"
He paused and glanced back at her.
The entire situation was unfair. He did not understand what gave her the right to both demand his presence when it suited her, and to push him away when it did not. People gave her too much, indulged her too much. Perhaps he had given her the impression he did not have a will of his own outside what she wanted of him, but he did not exist for her entertainment, as much as she seemed to think so.
"Looks like you'll have to get along with only four extra wheels today," he replied.
"Because your little projects are just so damn important?" she snapped.
"Something like that, sure."
"You're breaking my heart," she sighed.
He wagered she would be more upset if she had misplaced her favorite battle-axe.
"Astrid," he deadpanned, "I sincerely doubt that."
Rain pelted Berk with unrelenting fury. There was not a a square inch of the village, indoors or out, that did not feel thoroughly soaked and drafty. Sometimes a blustery drizzle, but often a howling deluge, the weather was giving one last fight before the seasons changed. The fading days of late summer had already cooled, heralding the oppressive reign of Berkian winters, and all the stubborn snow and ice to come. Besides being a welcome distraction, the smithy provided a constant warmth. Toothless enjoyed lounging about the forge and helped keep it burning. Hiccup sought to fill the daylight hours with projects and flights with Toothless, whenever the weather permitted.
Both he and the Night Fury were enjoying their refuge from the downpour, watching Gobber mull over the plans in his one, good hand. The rain hissed around the shop, declaring its ceaseless presence.
"Why do we need a dragon wash?" Gobber asked, unconvinced. "Just stick 'em outside fer a few minutes!"
Hiccup answered, "Well, unless you actually like Grump's-"
"I am rather fond of his stench, actually," the older Norseman interrupted, shuffling Hiccup's sketches aside. "I suppose you like saddling these old bones with more work, eh? It hasn't been but three months since we finished those feeding stations, and you're already itching for something else to busy your hands with."
"Come on, Gobber. Have you ever known me to sit still?"
"No, but I've got a few ideas of ways a young lad, like yourself, could better occupy his time."
"And that's where this conversation ends," Hiccup exclaimed, grabbing his leather blacksmith's apron from its peg.
"All I'm saying, Hiccup, is that your prospects are much better now that you're the town hero. Perhaps it's time you found yourself a girlfriend," Gobber suggested, hobbling over to him. "Or, you know─your hand could do in a pinch."
"You've been talking to my dad again, haven't you?" Hiccup accused. He tied the leather apron on a little too tight in his frustration.
"No─well, yes. Maybe. His solutions are a little more practical and long-term, though. Dating and marriage and all that business I've never had the itch to mess with," Gobber answered, waving his false hand dismissively. "You're too high-strung lately. You need to unwind. My solution is a little more immediate. Instantly satisfying, if you know what I mean." His obscene gestures were more than explicit enough to convey his meaning.
"Why are you so concerned about how I spend my time?" Hiccup asked, frowning. He reached for a set of tongs. "And I am not high-strung."
"Hiccup?" came a sweet, familiar voice that he had come to dread.
He fumbled with the tongs, dropping them on the ground.
"Oh, sure. You're as calm as a snoozing Hotburple," Gobber mocked, limping away.
Hiccup glared at his mentor's back as Astrid came bounding into the forge, drenched and breathless. Her tunic clung to her body more than it really needed to, and the slight flush on her fair cheeks was not helping. He could pretend she no longer meant anything to him, but he could not pretend her physical beauty was nonexistent.
"Oh, good. I'm glad you're here," she said.
"I often am," he replied, bending over to pick up his tongs.
She smiled, as oblivious to his internal anguish as she ever was.
"I have a job for you, if you have the time," she said.
Of course she did. Besides dragon racing and blacksmithing, the last remaining vestiges of their friendship held little value. He was useful to her in terms of his practical skills.
"I'm sorry, Astrid," he replied, hoping to deny her another opportunity to waste his time. "I have plenty of work to-"
"Eh, he's exaggerating," Gobber scoffed seeming to reemerge at Hiccup's greatest inconvenience, slapping him on the back.
Hiccup sighed, withstanding the buckling of his knees. "What is it that you need?"
"A dagger," she answered. "Stefnir broke a blade practicing in the woods, and-"
"Those vile trees. We're so fortunate we have such brave men to defend us from their encroachment. Tell me, what is it like to cull the timber herd?"
Astrid wrinkled her nose and swatted at him. He wished he did not find it adorable.
"He's not just throwing his daggers at trees, though you wouldn't laugh if you saw how accurate he is. He almost always hits his mark," she remarked.
"Mn, yeah. He's amazing. I got that the last hundred times you mentioned him. I bet he's prepared now, to take on the entire forest single-handed."
"More like defend Berk from raiders, Hiccup."
"We have our dragons to do that." He gestured pointedly to Toothless. "Forgive me if I am less than impressed."
She rolled her eyes and leaned against the wall, arms folded. He quirked an eyebrow at her.
"Was there something else you needed?" he questioned, wary of providing another reason for her to linger.
"I'm not allowed to stand here?"
"Why would you want to?" he asked, bemused.
Astrid smiled at him in that way that tore.
"I've always liked watching you work," she answered. He frowned, so she snapped, "Do youwantme to go?"
He turned his back to her, grabbing a piece of iron ore with his tongs.
"I don't need the audience," he muttered.
He heard her storm off as he placed the raw material into the burning forge. The mixture of both relief and regret was strange, but with Astrid gone, he could focus on his work. If she had stayed, he would have used up his brainpower on remembering not to care.
Once she was out of earshot, Gobber spoke up. "You know, you might get her attention if you fought for her, not against her." He shrugged his massive shoulders.
Hiccup compressed the bellows and replied, "I've done my share of fighting for people." He gestured down at his prosthetic and added, "It usually doesn't end well, and I'm not looking to lose anymore pieces of myself."