Notes – so I just edited this chapter, it got a bit longer and all, I'll be editing a few chapters from now on, but most chapters will remain the same size, not with over 3k words, I swear
"Stoick, the Vast", that's what this muscular built, over two meters tall Chief was known as. Either he earned this calling for his peculiar height, or his doings as a great sailor and leader, nobody could know. Legends went on and on about him, about his achievements in pretty much all a Viking could dream to achieve; he was a natural dragon slayer. Some even said he popped a dragon's head clean off its shoulders as a baby and although it sounds unlikely, nobody who knows him dares to doubt it. Berk, his homeland was a considerably known, quite northern, remote island, rather far from the other ones to fill in the Archipelago, the continent alone was a far-away dreamland for Berkians. Still, they were Vikings, eager for navigation, looting for foreign villages and exploring the land. However, a plague often kept them from any new civilizational development or interaction, save for their few neighbor allies.
What were their plague, you may ask? Dragons. Dragons had been a three-centuries-old problem to unite his people in one same, shared goal: to destroy them, stop them, to find their nest and rip down their roots in this Earth. It had been this way since before Stoick was even born - which was quite a considerable time, taking in most Vikings' lifestyle, especially those like him, who were skilled warriors who never missed a fight, no, these were usually bound to a short life there - and he was almost sure it was a plague that would last long after he were gone, too. Despite his own efforts to end it. And it wasn't that Stoick had a particular fear over burning to death in an attempt of killing dragons with his bare hands overseas, no, as he'd usually say "we are Vikings, it is an occupational hazard".
Yet, afraid or not, Stoick Haddock was the Chief of his tribe before he was a warrior, just as his father before him, and the father before him, and so on. Such fact meant he was born with the weight of a Village to lead, yes, but also to think and care for the future of his place, a future that would outlive his own existence someday.
He had no sons of his own to teach him how to hunt, how to sail, loot, along as the struggles and glories of leadership. Stoick did, however, have a daughter. Not that he didn't thought women were just as fit in a battlefield or in leadership. He thought if you could fight, you could fight, and as long as they got the dragons down, who cares about what's in their pants, right? But this wasn't the only problem regarding his daughter... No, it was not just her gender and old, patriarchal rules that keept her from being a Chiefstress alone, as he was. The old, traditional rules would require her to marry a man to rule with, and produce an heir continuing Stoick's bloodline and occupying his position when the time of his death came to happen.
That was, sadly, something the current Chief of Berk had known since his wife died. Died too young, too soon, too sudden, leaving him alone with an only child, a female heir, and even so... Hiccup had been not more than a toddler when his beloved Valka burnt to ashes in that damned, eventful raid. And still, ever since she started crawling off of her crib, he knew she wasn't... Normal. No, his only kid had come out... Too skinny, too short, too weak and with a mouth too smart for her own good. Some would even said she was born sick and wouldn't stick around for long and had he thought it was just the early years, but those characteristics never faded. He knew the Berkians would never respect her as a Chiefstress, not for being a woman, but for being, well... A disaster.
That's why he had decided, soon after allowing her to be in a blacksmith apprenticeship with his oldest friend, Gobber, the Belch, when she was not even a decade old and already sowed chaos everywhere she went by, when she was of age to understand, but didn't seem to be able to stay put in their hut at all, as he'd tell her to. Just after that, he decided, still hopeful that she could, indeed, get better, stay away from trouble, learn a thing or two of their tribe's maintenance, but, mostly, she'd never likely become a dragon huntress, what was more important than all for their people... It all lead Stoick to sign a betrothal contract, so that when any harm came, not only the village would have a new Chief to rely on, a promised heir of his own bloodline, and, last but not least, Hiccup would be protected.
Sure, maybe his daughter could be just a late bloomer, being short for her age and everything, but he was getting old, his blood red hair was turning gray, and he needed to make sure to sharp her edges for adulthood the best he could, as he was also just a single father who refused to marry after that horrible, horrible fire...
According to Berk's tradition, there were two steps a child had to take to enter adulthood and earn their full citizenship on their tribe. For boys, the first step was to pledge loyalty to their Chief, their families decided when it was time, usually around the fair ages of twelve or thirteen, whereas for girls, maturity would come by Freya's decision, as soon as they had their first bleeding. Finally, the last step was the same for both of them: to kill a dragon.
That being said, Stoick wanted a young leader, not only so they'd last longer, but to not bound Hiccup to someone much older. This, added to the fact the new Chief would need to make it up for his unroyal blood with popular acceptance, was what made Stoick choose the Hofferson's oldest child. They had a strong son, nearly Hiccup's age, he believed, who already had shown a promissory future as a skilled warrior, amongst the other younglings. The couple were both beloved by his people, trustworthy in a battlefield and as neighbors. Artichoke was rather young and still had to grow up a bit, but it was expected for his age. No doubt he'd grown soon enough to come along the next year's campaign in to find the Dragon's Nest.
It was a common tradition, although not a rule, to set Berkian weddings during spring months as soon as the snow started to melt. However, the last few years had shown them harsher and harsher winters to come, and a tough harvest had made him declare they wouldn't sail off their ships at summer at all, but, instead, as soon as autumn started. He had also ordered his daughter's wedding to be set just a couple days before he'd left the island. It still had too much to be done, but to know she'd soon be married when he sailed off overseas was a fact that brought him a small piece of peace.
Stoick had waited three years after his daughter first bleed, having one of the most awkward conversations in their lives, dropping her off by the Elder healer's hut for instructions on the matter. By given these three years, he wanted to see how much she'd grow. She did grow, true, though remained the same lanky girl. 15 is a normal age to marry, he told himself whenever he had any doubts and, although it was allowed, he knew he had been much older when he finally took her mother's hand, so many years ago.
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The ceremony was approaching, as a slow, mystery, nerve-inducing nightmare thrill.
Two days from now. Just two days and Hiccup would be a wife and her father would leave with half the island for his annual campaign.
Although 'nervous' was an understated description of how Hiccup truly felt as the date kept approaching day by day to hour by hour. She wouldn't be the only girl she knew to have married at only fifteen, even if others usually waited until they were closer to twenty, still, she didn't feel anywhere near ready for it. Couldn't tell if the counted time was filled with a wish to lengthen time or to have her agony over already.
Of course that, as a free woman, she could divorce if necessary. She had almost as much every right a man would have in her place. Almost. And she knew she wouldn't be hurt by her new husband. Not physically, at least, no, this was quite frowned upon here, a thing to earn an exile sentence and have it called mercy. Hiccup, however, also knew she was still seen as a useless waste of space by her village. Stoick, the Vast's Mistake. Being sold out only for reproduction, as she was merely a stain in the strong dragon slayer bloodline. Nobody specifically told her that, but she knew. It was implied by a few bullies and, besides, she knew enough of their laws. And it was also why, marriage or not, she'd always keep trying to find a way to gain a grain of their respect, their pride, their acceptance, and to kill or even just shoot down a dragon was, by all means, the quickest way to achieve it. Meaning she'd spend long days, months, diving into her crazy inventions people just sighed to. Doing a good enough job on the blacksmith's backstage, Gobber didn't pry much in her stuff, as long as she didn't seem suspicious and as long as she followed instructions. Which was good, gave her space to create and draw her plans. Her teacher and family friend mocked her and would scold if she earned it, but she knew he still held hopes for her, much unlike her own distant and cold father... When Hiccup was first meet Gobber after being told of her betrothal, she remembered wondering if the man would had sold her out like a pure breed horse with a light genetic error he couldn't sacrifice if she was his daughter instead, but the mean thought was quick, as the judging glares and whispers of her neighbors and distant relatives kept growing and growing when it was announced.
Only twelve then, her father told her they'd wait. He didn't say how much and as seasons went by, so did the rumors and part of her own worry, as she focused on her own secret side work. But then, last summer it was all brought up again. A bucket of cold water and a counting calendar thrown upon her.
Being the Chief's only daughter, you'd think she'd be courted by those who ambitioned the position an union with her would bring, but that had never been the case. Perhaps because she didn't look grown enough for that, or because her appearance wasn't worth the prize. Others her age would only talk to her for mocking or if it was strictly necessary. And she knew Artichoke Hofferson was far from thrilled about their new life sentence.
He was at least a head taller than her, held the athletic built a young Viking was expected to be, keeping a characteristic headband to keep his blond bangs from getting in the way of his sight, although it only brough more attention to his ice blue eyes. Ha was handsome, Hiccup knew that. He wasn't just cute, but actually beautiful enough that she'd be lying if she claimed that, even if there was no betrothal, she'd be turned into a reddening mess whenever he was around. She hated her own awkwardness though. And Hiccup also knew she'd never be his first choice, had the Hoffersons not agreed that it was an "honor" to make such deals with their Chief, had they not gained her dowry with said arrangement.
During the feast they had last summer, when her dad made the arrangement announcement, his face had been neutral, handsome features carved into birch wood. And Hiccup had envied his willpower then, as embarrassment from judging comments too unbothered to be whispers made her eyes stung with forming tears she wouldn't let fall in public.
As the date approached, the pressure inside her chest only grew and only two days from the ceremony, she found herself running towards the woods, looking for some peace and quiet as her tribe prepared for the wedding and for the campaign to follow it.
Dodging social interactions was something she was not a stranger to in any form, so she'd spend her afternoons in that green sanctuary of trees, still warm by the fading summer. Doodling ideas for future inventions on the ground for the next couple hours, cursing to herself for not bringing a sketchbook. Sloppy lines formed on sand until Hiccup saw the first pink lines cross the sky, indicating the upcoming sunset that would bring a chilly night.
Aware she wasn't far, though trying to track down where, exactly she was, as she'd make her way back, Hiccup heard a grunt, like someone had just made a strong effort, followed by a quick sound of something hitting a stomp that made her wince a little. Hiding in the trees and bushes, she approached the sound's origin and saw Artichoke swinging his axe, aiming for the trees, a symbol marked on the tree's trunk, probably imagining the targets as future dragons he'd slaughter. He held himself with something that made her think of sheer masculine power and strength, but differently from the ones she was used with seeing on her father, like if young energy shone through him. Nothing alike her, as she was desperate to belong something he was a part of since birth.
As he held his axe up high, he turned and threw it to a tree which mark she couldn't see, since it was way too close to where she was standing herself. Hiccup let out a pathetic squeal when the axe landed on the wood, she was hiding herself behind, drawing attention to herself.
"Hiccup?", yup, caught, "what are you doing there?" Artichoke asked, raising a caramel eyebrow towards her as she held herself from almost falling, not wanting to add a stupid fall to a pathetic reaction, though she'd made the mistake to try hiding again. Gods, what if he thinks I'm a stalker? That I can't even wait a couple of days? There's no way he'll believe me if I say I was just passing by and saw him, even because I stopped to watch him, that's pretty creepy in all honesty…
"Hiccup?" he asked again, this time sounding more as a calling to shake her off her anxious inner thought that clearly matched her wide eyes and heated face.
"W-what are you doing here?", she stuttered, failing miserably at her attempt to try the attention from why was she in such compromising position behind a tree while he trained enjoying solitude. Well, at least he's alone... She didn't have the best of interactions with his group of friends, one of them being her awful cousin.
"Uh, practicing?", he crooked his head to the axe still stuck in the tree next and in between the, double sided, meant for battle. She could barely pick one of these up for sharpening back at the forge, even less throw one as a light arrow, to hit so deep into a trunk with his precision. She noticed Artichoke had just a few drops of sweat in his temples, not looking tired from this practicing at all. It was probably a daily activity. It made her shrink, as if her body was trying to match how small she felt inside.
"R-right", she gulped at the obvious answer to her own stupid question, nodding lightly.
"Do you want to practice, too? Helps lifting my mood every time", he asked, either misreading or ignoring her reaction, while he yanked the blade off of the wood. Recalling her last thought of weakness and pathetic physical strength, she chose not to display such things anytime soon. Her eyes aimed for the sky as she replied.
"It's getting late, we should get back home before it gets too dark", she wasn't so lost at this track.
He nodded in agreement.
"Do you want to walk the way back together?", a bit too late, Hiccup noticed he might have invited her to train together out of both politeness and as a conversation starter, as they were barely more than acquaintances during most their young lives so far and, in all honesty, she became nothing but a blushing mess by just held eye contact since the marriage agreement. Hiccup would like changing that, given their sentence. Though not by making a fool of herself.
"Ah, I mean, I don't think it would be such a good idea if anyone sees us walking back from the woods together, like... Before Friday". Yup, there was, red spreading like wildfire through Hiccup's face again at the implication. Was she childish for not thinking about it in the first place? Even if they weren't that far from the village and were seen just talking, people from this distant island didn't have much to talk about, so gossip tended to last longer.
"Yes, yes, you're right", she nodded, looking away, as if she didn't saw his eyes then they wouldn't see hers. Suddenly, the floor beneath their feet was much more interesting.
"You can go first, I'll go in a couple more minutes", the axe in his hands indicated their tribe and she hummed an agreement before walking that way, not daring to look up.
Well, she knew it could all be... Worse. Way, way worse, considering their world. There were worse boys in her tribe to be betrothed to, or even in ally tribes. But it wasn't Artichoke, the person that she hated, it was the whole situation they were put in. She was unable to shoot off any sarcastic reply, her only coping mechanism of defense against others. She couldn't do that because she knew they'd be sharing a bed from a couple days and on and this was another thought that terrified her. Just another out of several times she wished her mother was still there to guide her in womanhood. Not that Hiccup thought her mother had been anywhere close to the screw up, weak outcast she was, no, she was probably great, but still would be nice to hear her words of advice.
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The next couple days were filled with a fuss over feast preparations, as it would be not just due the Chief's only daughter's wedding, but also the usual goodbye and good luck wish the staying villagers would give the ones who'd sail off with the late campaign. It wasn't spring, but some flowers were yet to be killed by the winter's hardships and so these were picked up and used for decorations around the Great Hall on the village's center.
Artichoke's mother was one of those working with all these absurd ornament preparations and adornment, though working with the public food was already her regular job. He hadn't find her unoccupied in the last week, even less in as the hours approached. Nevertheless, the middle-aged woman found some time to drag her oldest son back to their hut, to sit on a stool and let her give his way-too-long-for-a-boy hair a long braid. His mother wore a braid too, high as a crown in her golden head, as his he and his siblings had also inherited. Artichoke, as any self-respectable Viking who was old enough to walk and talk, knew how to do his own braids, but his mother wasn't having any of his shit today and insisting in doing it herself, as if she wouldn't have her other kid's hair to fix for the next couple years. But the young man didn't protest.
His mother was probably the happiest with this whole situation, already picturing how her grandbabies would look like, already assuming undoubtedly that she'd heave a Chief for a grandson and although he rolled his eyes at that mentioning, Artichoke gulped, unable to associate himself with parenthood for anytime soon. Even feeling to young for that, he also knew he was ready to grow up. To sail on the ships, to fight dragons, participate in their invasions and travel overseas, to meet other islands and maybe the continent. And he truly believed, knew, that he was, indeed, ready to participate in all that a Viking could crave to participate... But he was also grown enough to know that this wasn't all of what life was. On housekeeping batters, for instance, he usually felt like a child. He saw how his own parents were and that was as much as examples he had. He knew couples slept in the same bed, he knew his parents were both strong and discussed openly about their disagreements, although inside their hut and always aiming for what was better for them, as a family. He knew his parents weren't ones to show many affection displays in public, save it for when his father came back in one piece from being overseas, something his mother had chosen not to do ever since his youngest sibling was born. Artichoke knew his mother was- well is one of the skilled shieldmaiden, as important to their raids and sailing as others were. His parents never told him whether they chose to get married, or it was just a choice over common interest and Artichoke couldn't imagine his future with the same clarity he did as a kid... So many pieces of his future now seemed unfitting and confusing, his bride being one of those thing. Internally, he chocked after thinking of that word. Bride, wife, marriage, it was still something too distant, as if he wondered about his time as an old man. Should be years away, but it was just days, hours.
He let his mind drift back to Hiccup and what he knew about her. She wasn't exactly unattractive per se, despite her lanky figure, he could see beauty in her full freckled face matching her brown-ish auburn hair. And he had no certain previous disagreement with her either, they've barely communicated growing up. Others would mock her when they were younger, he remembered not participating, but stepping in either, just not caring enough. Artichoke figured nobody could just care for another person overnight, and she was mostly a stranger, but he also couldn't deny the common opinion his village had, the eye rolling and muttering, like she's some scapegoat. He lacked information to tell whether she did deserve this title or not. All in all, Hiccup was just... An odd girl.
An odd girl he had no idea how to approach further, not only due the tribe opinion, not only cause her constant sarcastic sense of humor and clumsiness didn't made sense and were slighty annoying, but also because she seemed uneasy whenever he came near. Her skinny figure became as stiff as a stick and awkward tension filled the air as a warning, as if her body wanted him to be the furthest away as possible. Artichoke also wanted to escape those situations, honestly. But he wondered if she was actually scared of his presence. And maybe he wouldn't give two thoughts about her reaction, weren't they bound to marry so soon. Sometimes he liked the fear, well, the intimidation really, he knew it was something to result in respect and admiration amongst the Vikings, sure, just like their Chief Stoick could be intimidating sometimes, but it's not like he was dangerous or anything.
Artichoke's mother had also warned him about this type of thing. The woman who had gave him birth made a few braids too tight as a reminder of the threat of pouring scolding water in her eldest son if he assaulted any girl, especially his own wife.
His parents, no, his tribe, they had many expectations. For him to become a warrior and a dragon slayer, those expectations could feel pressuring to some, but he actually wanted those things since always. A new expectation and duty of him was to be a husband, to be groomed for leadership soon enough. He dwelled on those new responsibilities, but still aimed to perform them with dignity. He just couldn't find a way to tell his bride that.