Astrid Hofferson would never have suspected her father of keeping secrets from her. He had always been a doting parent, a powerful lump of a man who always had a bag of sweets and an exciting tale to share with his only daughter. He had set her on his lap countless times as a child, his wild, yellow beard tickling her face, and regaled her with the stories of how he had fought dragons and invaders, weathered treacherous storms, and sailed as far as the horizon. Astrid loved her father; even once she grew old enough to understand that many of his tales were probably heavily embellished for her amusement and that he was a man with faults, like any other, her belief that he would always be an honorable, proud Viking warrior never wavered.

So when he summoned her downstairs one morning and she found him looking very grim indeed, Astrid immediately assumed that there had been a death in the family.

"Oh no," she said, sitting at the table across from him slowly. "Who is it?" she asked, steeling herself for the loss.

Her father frowned, his fingers tapping anxiously against the table. "This is a delicate matter, Astrid. I'm not certain..."

He was interrupted by a loud clang behind him. Astrid saw her mother, a tall, broad-shouldered woman with Astrid's own fair hair, scowling at a pot bubbling on the hearth. Astrid had rarely seen her mother so irritable; she was usually a pleasant and kind person. Astrid's father glanced back at his wife, looking more unsure than ever.

"Just tell me, Dad," Astrid said, thinking it would be better to get it over with. "Who is it?"

Her father pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

"It's Hiccup Haddock."

Astrid stared at him, nonplussed. Hiccup Haddock was the son of the Chief of Berk, and certainly not related close enough to the Hoffersons for her father to be grieving over his loss. Astrid had known Hiccup all her life, though they had never been close, and she knew very well that her father considered the boy a disappointment to the entire tribe.

"Hiccup is dead?" she asked, confused. There was a sharp, mirthless bark of laughter as her mother slammed a bowl of porridge in front of her husband and cuffed him over the head none too gently.

"Explain it properly," she threatened. Astrid's father scowled.

"He's not dead," he muttered darkly, as if he thought this was an unfortunate outcome. "Hiccup Haddock is... he's your betrothed."

The words seemed to take a very long time to reach her, and when they did, she wasn't sure he had heard correctly.

"My... what?"

She glanced from her mother to her father, hoping one of them would laugh and tell her it was a joke, but they both stared at her stonily, serious as the grave.

"What?!" she shrieked, getting to her feet. "Betrothed?! To Hiccup Haddock?! Since when?!"

"Since you were both babes," her mother said gruffly, giving her husband a look of utmost contempt. "You were hardly a year old when your father and Chief Stoick made the arrangements. Against my wishes, I might add."

"Aye, and you've never let me forget it all these years," Astrid's father grumbled. "I was just acting in Astrid's best interests-"

"Astrid's best interests?!" her mother scoffed. "More like your best interests!"

"Of course not-!"

"Hold on, you mean you both knew, all this time?!" Astrid asked angrily. "You betrothed me as a child to Hiccup Haddock and never once did it occur to you that I had a right to know?! Why didn't you tell me?!"

"We meant to," her father said evasively. "But the older the boy got, the more I regretted having promised your hand. No one expected a son of Stoick the Vast to turn out like... well, the way he did. I thought you might prefer the peace of mind."

Astrid was beyond fury. She slammed her hands on the table and glowered at her father. "I won't do it," she seethed. "I refuse to marry that... that pathetic excuse for a Viking! Have you seen him?! He's nothing more than a toothpick! I'm a shieldmaiden! I'll never settle for someone that weak!"

"Sit down," her father said, his tone dangerous. She fell back into her chair, fuming. "As much as I agree with your concerns, you will marry the Haddock boy. I'm afraid we have no choice in the matter, and we've run out of time."

"What does that mean?! Engagements break all the time!"

Astrid's mother sighed. "Not this one," she admitted reluctantly. "Hiccup is Stoick's son; someday he will be Chief of Berk. But in order for the Council of Elders to accept him as the official successor, he must be married before the age of sixteen. He has a month left before his coming of age ceremony. Stoick will never agree to break the betrothal now, so close to the deadline."

"Aye, short of starting a blood feud, there's nothing left for me to do," Astrid's father said dully. "I don't have to tell you how serious that would be."

Astrid went pale. A blood feud would haunt both the Hoffersons and the Haddocks for generations.

"But... there has to be something!" she pleaded, desperate for a way out.

"I've tried everything," her father said, shaking his head grimly. "I'm sorry, Astrid. You will marry him, and you will be the next Cheiftess of Berk. You have to do this."

Astrid slumped back in her chair, shocked.

"When?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Soon," he said, grimacing. "We'll have a date after the negotiations tomorrow."

She spent that afternoon in the forest, tearing apart several small trees with her axe. Never in all her life had she felt so betrayed. Her own father had sold her like an object, and her mother had kept it from her! She flung her axe dead center into a tree and fell onto a stump, sobbing with pure fury. How could they do this to her? Her life, so full of opportunity and dreams, was going to be wasted, tethered to that idiot Hiccup. She'd have to spend all her time looking after him; he seemed to have an unfortunate knack for finding trouble. Never mind the dragon raids, she thought miserably; he looked as though a stiff wind could finish him off. She'd be a full time guardian, a glorified babysitter.

"I'll never forgive you, father," she swore, wiping the angry tears from her cheek. "Never."

It was unfair, Hiccup thought, that no one had bothered to prepare him for this. Considering just how important it was, and how long his father had been sitting on this critical piece of information without so much as a hint about what was awaiting him, Hiccup felt as though he had been deliberately blindsided. Hadn't he spent his life thinking that marriage was something in the far future, a choice he would make with someone special when he was a grown man and not a skinny, gangling, fifteen year old? Weren't people supposed to marry for love?

He glanced nervously across the table at his soon-to-be bride. Astrid Hofferson was looking down at the table with a defeated sort of expression in her clear blue eyes. Her hair was braided carefully to the side, her studded kransen sitting on her brow, and she looked thoroughly miserable. Hiccup had liked Astrid for years, but he had never wanted something like this to happen. As their fathers argued out the details of the bride price and Astrid's shoulders drooped with resignation, Hiccup only felt a heavy sense of guilt in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't be happy or excited about something neither of them had had any say in.

Hiccup's father had explained the situation the night before; he had to be married before his birthday next month, in order to be eligible to succeed his father as Chief. Whether he wanted to succeed was irrelevant; as usual, his father completely ignored his objections.

"You could have mentioned this at some point!" Hiccup had exclaimed angrily when Stoick finally told him. "You're always going on about how I'm going to follow in your footsteps, but never once did you bother to mention the tiny little detail that I was betrothed!"

"It wasn't important then," his father said gruffly. "Everyone was hoping you would... fill out better. There was too much we had to do to prepare you." He frowned. "There's still plenty to do, but we've run out of time. If you're not wedded by next month the Elders won't consider you as a candidate at all."

"Well, maybe that's for the best!" Hiccup argued. "No one wants me to be chief except you!"

Of course, Stoick didn't even hear this; he had more important matters to deal with than a paltry little thing like his son's feelings.

By the sound of it, Astrid's father wasn't overly worried about how Astrid felt either.

"Fifty sheep and not a head less," he scowled, banging his fist on the table.

"You're mad!" Stoick roared. "The price has always been thirty!"

"Aye, that was before your runt of a boy became," her father paused, waving his hand in Hiccup's direction as if he weren't there at all. "That."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Hiccup said drily. No one paid him any mind.

"My Astrid is a warrior! I can't let my daughter go to waste on such a pathetic excuse for a man! Not for any less than fifty!"

Hiccup wished they would stop; if he felt humiliated by the negotiations, he couldn't imagine how it must feel to be in Astrid's boots. How awful must it be to have two adult men, one of them your own father, haggle over your worth in sheep?

"Your daughter will be the next Chieftess of the village!" said Stoick, pointing at her furiously. "That's an honor worth more than any flock!"

"It would be, but look at the boy!" Astrid's father shouted. "All skin and bones, not a single muscle in his pathetic little body! How is he going to protect a household, a family?! He doesn't even look capable of bedding a ghost, much less a healthy, strapping girl!"

Hiccup went scarlet, wishing he could sink into the bench and disappear. He tried to look anywhere but at Astrid as the argument continued, but it was difficult when she was sitting right across from him. He steeled himself and braved a peek at her face; she looked mortified, her cheeks burning with shame. He was going to say something to lighten the mood when she looked up and caught his eye. The words died in his throat as he frantically pretended to be listening to the negotiations.

"Forty five."

"Forty two. And not one more."

"...Deal," Astrid's father grumbled, and the two men grudgingly shook hands.

"All that's left is to set a date for the ceremony," Stoick said, more cheerfully. Hiccup's stomach did a sickening sort of flip.

"A week from now works for us," Astrid's father deliberated reluctantly, stroking his ruddy beard. Hiccup's mouth went dry. That was entirely too soon, surely-

"Agreed."

He cast his eyes back toward Astrid, panicking. She was biting her lip, but when she saw him looking she gave him a look of such deep resentment he had the sudden urge to hide behind his father's furs.

Stoick suddenly slapped Hiccup heartily on the back, making him wince. "Well, my boy, I'm sure you two have a lot to discuss," he grinned at them. "We'll leave you to it; just remember, no funny business before the wedding!"

"Dad!" Hiccup hissed. Stoick ignored him, and he and Astrid's father left to get drinks to celebrate a successful negotiation.

The silence was deafening. Hiccup went over a thousand different threads of conversation in his head but couldn't seem to open his mouth. It was only after a painful five minutes that he finally managed to say something.

"Well," he rasped, and had to clear his throat loudly. "This is awkward."

Astrid made a noncommittal noise of agreement.

"I'm guessing no one told you either...?"

"No, not a word," she said darkly, crossing her arms and glancing at their fathers on the other side of the Great Hall. Her expression softened slightly and she sighed, looking resigned once more. "I know these things happen, sometimes. I just didn't think-"

"It would happen to us," Hiccup said grimly. "That about sums it up on my end too." He tapped the table restlessly with his fingers. "You- you can refuse, you know," he said quickly. "I know I'm not exactly a catch. You don't have to... if you absolutely don't want to..." He wasn't sure what response he wanted to hear from her.

"I do have to," she grimaced. "And so do you. Breaking off the engagement now will cause our families no end of trouble. It may even start a blood feud. Besides, no one will ever want to marry either of us if we break it off after being engaged all our lives; we'll look like damaged goods."

Hiccup was about to joke that he would gladly marry her if no one else would but caught himself right before he said something monumentally stupid.

"I'm sorry," he said instead. "It's not fair that you got caught up in all... this," he said flatly, gesturing at himself. "You deserve someone better."

"It's not like it's your fault this happened," she sighed. She gave him a calculating look, as though she were trying to properly appraise his worth for the first time. Her eyes lingered on his thin arms and scruffy hair; he couldn't help feeling like he was being sized up as prey by a much larger animal. "I guess it could be worse," she muttered. She didn't sound very convinced.

Astrid spent the next week feeling oddly detached from reality. Preparations for the ceremony and the feast were in full swing at home, but Astrid couldn't help feeling like she was an observer in someone else's life. Her mother hurried back and forth around the house, preparing Astrid's clothes and picking out a suitable sword from her father's collection, helping Astrid memorize her vows and helping her pack all her things away neatly, but Astrid couldn't quite wrap her mind around the fact that all this fuss was for her sake. It wasn't until the afternoon before the wedding that everything became all too real.

"... and you'll need to store your kransen away properly," her mother was saying as she folded a set of quilts and lay them into Astrid's dowry chest. "If you and Hiccup have a daughter, it will belong to her, just like you inherited it from me."

"A daughter...?" Astrid repeated weakly, feeling like she might faint.

"That's right," her mother said, counting through a set of fabrics carefully. "Of course, it will be useless if you only have sons, but-"

Astrid sunk into her bed, completely overwhelmed.

"Mom, I don't think I can do this," she said in a hoarse whisper.

Her mother looked back at her and gave her a sad sort of smile.

"It'll be okay. Marriage isn't the end of the world."

"That's easy for you to say!" Astrid groaned, hiding her face in her hands. "You're not the one who has to marry Hiccup, of all people!"

"Don't be cruel, Astrid," her mother scolded, turning back to the swatches of cloth. "He may be lacking in a lot of the usual ways, but Stoick's son is a good boy. He won't make life difficult for you."

"I highly doubt that," Astrid said coldly. "He's always doing something stupid, and he's so weak!"

"Astrid," her mother warned.

"You know it's true!"

"Be that as it may," she huffed, folding another cloth and arranging it in the chest, "there is nothing any of us can do to stop this union, and Hiccup no more asked for this than you did. You can either waste all your energy kicking and screaming and make yourself miserable for the rest of your life, or you can accept the inevitable and make the best of it. Isn't it better to have someone friendly to share the ordeal with?"

"We're not friends," Astrid muttered mutinously.

"Maybe not yet," her mother said wisely. "But believe me when I say a good marriage isn't built solely on love and passion. You need mutual consideration and trust before anything else."

"Trust?" Astrid scoffed. "After the row you and Dad are having about this whole thing?"

Astrid's mother shot her a glare. "That's something else altogether," she snapped.

"Sure it is," Astrid muttered.

"Just, try, Astrid," her mother sighed. "Don't resent the boy for something he had no say in. Everything will be so much easier on you both if you get to know each other before making any conclusions."

Astrid seriously doubted that, but what choice did she have?

The days leading up to the wedding passed by in a sickening blur. Hiccup had the feeling that the more he wanted time to slow, the faster it all went. Before he knew it, the new house was built, his things were packed away, and the preparations for the feast began. His father and some of the other villagers were responsible for Hiccup's clothes and ceremonial sword, but the ring he would give his bride at the ceremony was his own responsibility. He drew tirelessly for several nights, a steady pile of balled-up parchment growing around his desk, before he finally sketched something he was happy with.

He spent the last two days of his single life holed up in the forge, making and remaking the silver band until he was satisfied. At last, late on the last night, he finished, wiping his forehead with exhaustion. He pulled the tongs from the trough and let the wet ring fall into his palm. He turned it over in his fingers, letting the flickering light of the flames catch the engraving. It wasn't much, really, but he hoped Astrid would sense the sincerity behind it. It was the only thing he could offer her.

He yawned, tired, and pulled off his apron as he glanced at the sky outside the window. He had to be up at dawn to start the purification ritual, so he had about three hours to rest. He rubbed the back of his neck, wondering if he'd manage to sleep at all.

"You too, huh."

He jumped, nearly dropping the apron into the trough. "Astrid!" he yelped, hastily shoving the ring into his pocket. "What are you doing here?!" She was watching him from the doorway, mild amusement twitching at the corner of her mouth.

"Couldn't sleep," she said, sitting on a table against the wall. "I saw the fire outside, I thought I'd check to see who was burning the midnight oil. I should have realized it was you." She kicked her foot halfheartedly in the air. "It doesn't seem real," she said quietly.

Hiccup hung his apron on its hook, trying to think of something witty to say. "Well, it might not be," he said. "I'm holding out for the possibility I'm still asleep."

"If this is your dream, I want out," she grumbled.

"It could be your dream," he grinned. "No one would blame you, not with a groom this handsome."

She gave a derisive snort. "Dream on, Hiccup."

"I'd really rather not," he said, his smile fading. He sunk into a chair tiredly. "What are we gonna do, Astrid? I don't know about you, but I don't think I'm ready to be a husband."

"Do I look like a bride to you?" she scoffed. "I've never cooked a meal in my life. I don't even know how to run a household. I skipped my mother's lessons because I thought learning how to fight was more important. I can throw an axe and hit a target square in the center, but I never thought I'd need to know how to use a broom."

Hiccup laughed dryly. "Well you're in luck then; I couldn't fight off a squirrel, but I can cook and clean just fine. You take care of the dangerous beasts and deadly invaders, and I'll make sure you have a warm meal waiting for you when you're done knocking heads." Astrid fell quiet, thinking.

"I know you're putting yourself down, but honestly? That wouldn't be so bad," she admitted. "I'd feel better if you weren't running around like an idiot during raids at least."

"Duly noted," he grimaced. "I promise to behave if you promise not to get yourself killed."

"Deal."

Hiccup suddenly remembered something else that had been on his mind since the negotiation. He blushed furiously at the thought, but it was too important to avoid discussing now.

"Astrid, about the wedding night..."

"Oh. That," she said in an oddly strangled voice.

There was a deeply uncomfortable silence. Hiccup stared at the floor, too afraid to look at her in case she thought he was being too forward.

"I don't think I'm ready for that," they both said at the same time.

"You're not?" Astrid asked as Hiccup blinked in surprise. "I thought..."

"No, I- Not that I wouldn't want- that is, it has nothing to do with you- I'm just not- I mean-" Hiccup stumbled over the words and could have cursed at his own clumsiness. Clearly he was only making it worse, and his face was so hot that the heat of the forge behind him was nothing in comparison.

To his horror, she laughed. He looked up at her, expecting to be ridiculed, but instead she gave him a tired, wry smile.

"Don't worry, I get what you're trying to say. I feel the same." She sighed, avoiding his eyes. "It's just too sudden, expecting this from us. We're only fifteen years old."

"I know," said Hiccup gloomily. "I've never even kissed anyone, much less-" He realized he'd said too much and broke off, feeling more ashamed than ever.

Astrid cleared her throat pointedly, kicking her foot harder.

"We need a plan," she muttered. "If we're not going to do it, we need to fake it."

"How?" Hiccup asked. "They're going to check the sheets in the morning, you know that."

"I know, we have to get blood on them somehow."

"We're not allowed weapons in the bedroom during the ceremony," Hiccup said concernedly. "Not since... the incident."

They both shuddered. Some years ago, a clan wedding had gone horribly wrong during the bedding ceremony. The bride and groom had gotten into a nasty, drunken argument, and having their swords within easy reach turned out to have been a terrible mistake. Since then, both parties in a wedding were thoroughly checked for concealed weapons and their belongings examined carefully before they were brought into the bedroom.

"Well... we'll come up with something," Astrid said, sounding skeptical.

Hiccup was about to agree when he glanced out the window; it was still dark, but a faint light was creeping up from the east.

"You'd better go home," he said suddenly. "They'll be coming to fetch you soon."

Astrid gave a start, her eyes widening in apprehension as she followed his gaze.

"Oh gods," she said, not even bothering to hide her dismay.

"Oh gods indeed," he said, feeling a wave of pure terror wash over him.

Astrid got to her feet slowly, her face white. "I guess... I guess I'll see you later then..." she mumbled.

"Yeah..." Hiccup replied. Neither of them seemed able to look each other in the face. "I'll uh... I'll see if I can come up with a plan. You know... for the uh... night." They both coughed awkwardly.

"I'll see what I can do too," she said. "Well... Bye, then." She hurried from the forge before he could reply.

"Bye," he said to himself softly, running a finger over the ring in his pocket.