The sky was deep purple; a dusky blanket of stars that grew brighter with sunset. Dark clouds were formless masses, ominous without their sunlit outlines.

Everything was more formidable in the dark. Hiccup should have known that.

And he should have known the slight hope lurking behind his rational thought was plain stupidity. Astrid was going to marry Stefnir, and that was the end of it. Any further anguish he felt then would be foolish echoes of a one-sided infatuation. He growled, more at himself than anything or anyone else.

Toothless was flying along his own course and Hiccup was his passive rider. Flexing his prosthetic foot in the tail mechanism was second nature now, performed almost involuntarily based on subtle cues from Toothless's shifting muscle. His mind was freed to wander, vulnerable to all his furious, self-disparagement. He was vaguely aware of the salty sea spray prickling along his skin like icy needles; and the fluttering of his tunic, circulating humid evening air over his body.

Time passed as Hiccup gazed out at the spreading dark of the freshly set sun. Time passed. He did not know how much.

"Toothless, where are we going?" he asked, clicking the Night Fury's tail fin into a new position when he felt the dragon begin to list.

Toothless warbled and Hiccup squinted in the fading light. He could make out a barren stretch of land, distinguishable by the volcanic peak rising up from black sand. He asked his Night Fury to take him far from Berk quick, fast, and in a hurry; but Dragon Island was not as far off the edge of the world as he wanted to go. Still, it was uninhabited by man or dragon, haunted by the memory of the Red Death. Although she was long dead, her tyrannical presence could still be felt in the reigning silence and the island's perpetual gloom.

The beach rushed closer and a small adjustment in Toothless's tail fin saw them safely to it. Sand was never kind to Hiccup's prosthesis, forcing him to readjust his stance often as the metal limb sank into the grit. He would have chosen more solid ground, but Toothless gazed at him with rounded eyes and a soft growl, seeking reassurance that Hiccup was satisfied.

Hiccup's lips twitched; not a true smile but sparing whatever shred of kindness he could for his best friend. He laid a hand on the dragon's scaly snout, and Toothless pressed into his touch.

Gulls shrieked above them, just visible. Toothless jerked his head, following their path with a curious snort.

Hiccup did not think it fair to keep his dragon with him as he wallowed in his misery.

"Go on, bud." He gave the Night Fury a gentle pat.

Toothless hesitated, barely turning away, warbling his reluctance. Hiccup nodded and his dragon lingered a moment before bounding off into the shadows, in search of whatever prey would best entertain him. With the Night Fury gone, Hiccup felt alone on that beach; but for once, that did not trouble him.

He trudged through the black sand to the water's edge, his limp more profound, watching the waves rolling in by the rising moonlight gleaming off the crests. A briny wind combed through his hair and cut through his tunic. The moisture in the air made his skin feel clammy.

Sighing, he sat down, just out of reach of the breaking surf. One knee bent, and the other leg folded beneath it, he leaned back on his hands, staring out at the sea. Images flashed in his mind, more vivid than the world around him. Old memories of kisses and smiles; and newer memories of cold stares and disappointed frowns; colors and fragments of conversations past, which had been all-consuming at the time, but had ultimately amounted to nothing. Sitting alone on Dragon Island with a heap of regret was all he had to show for two years of pretending he was above everything; for failing to see the bigger picture beyond his own selfish concerns.

He had been punishing Astrid under the pretense of safe-guarding his feelings; reading too much in her attempts at lukewarm friendship; expecting there was something deeper and intentionally hurtful there; claiming he no longer cared when, in reality, his feelings for her ravaged his subconscious, tucked away in the back of his mind and making a mess of things. How he managed to fool himself into thinking he was over Astrid, was a mystery.

Maybe she had a crush on him once: a girlish attraction to a boy who tamed wild dragons? Giggles still followed him around Berk from the younger girls of their tribe, now coming of age. Sure, he could see how that pedestaled image of him was appealing; but there was no depth to it beyond the ebb and flow of adolescent hormones. He and Astrid were older now, and she found something more satisfying in whatever her relationship with Stefnir offered. Hiccup could not beat that, and he knew it. Holding it against Astrid was counterproductive to any sort of healing or reconciliation. It was a barrier to any civil interaction between them. For no other reason than Hiccup wanted what he could not have; and was unwilling to accept what was for the idea in his mind of what should be.

If he could take it all back, he would have. Pining away brought a lot of unnecessary pain when he should have been focused on moving forward with his life. His father had more than implied a political marriage. Such a notion was not an inherently despicable thing. It made sense for him, and for his people. Political marriage was the inevitable conclusion when no love was to be found on Berk. Indeed, in times gone by, he might not have had any choice in the matter, if it was for the Hooligans' survival. Now, Astrid would be another man's wife. He had no other sensible prospects above a daughter of Berk's allies. He could do it. He would do it.

In the morning, he would finally make peace with reality. He would be sincere the next time he congratulated Astrid. He would go to his father and tell him to start working diplomacy with other tribes, to offer up their eligible daughter. That was how it had to be. He would go on to take a strange bride from a strange tribe, and provide Berk with an heir. Such was his duty to his people.

He could learn to be pleased with it, too.

After he spent one last night lamenting everything.


Stormfly landed gracefully, spraying a little sand as her claws gripped the damp earth. Dragon Island was about as far from Berk as Astrid was willing to fly that night. It was also remote enough to shout all manner of obscenities at the gods, should she feel so inclined.

She slid out of her saddle, crouching low as her feet hit the beach. The island held so many memories that needed to be laid to rest. On that very shore, her feelings for Hiccup had evolved from girlish fancy to a deep respect and admiration, watching him risk everything for the people who rebuked him. How fitting it was then, that she had returned to the same place to let him go.

The stars twinkled above her, in a beautiful mockery: little vantage points from which Hiemdall could watch her struggle.

"Damn you," she hissed at whatever deity might be laughing now.

She paced, locking her fingers together and running them over her head with a long, slow breath. Her nerves were still shot. She looked to her left at the colossal bones of the Red Death, like twisted, grotesque shadows to remind her of a short-lived happiness where she thought everything might be alright. She should have told Hiccup then how she felt about him; she should have told him so many, many things…

...That her marriage was arranged, was at the top of the list.

She had never wanted it, never asked for it. Her parents had sprung it on her one evening when she had come home from Dragon Academy business. The world seemed so bright and full of limitless potential then. She and Hiccup often lingered behind after the other teens had gone home for supper. They would talk, laugh, and enjoy each other's company in a way they just couldn't when their friends were around. Then, that world dissolved in one evening of bitter truths that ruined what remained of Astrid's youthful carelessness.

Her parents informed her the marriage arrangement had been struck before she could crawl; before she showed she had any prowess in battle, that she could survive as a shieldmaiden not beholden to any man for her welfare. A deal, to better her family and protect their assets, uniting with another clan of repute, seeking more influence on the chief's council. Strategic social advancement: that was what it was about, for the Svensons. In return, Astrid would be cared for, should her husband fall in battle with dragons or Berk's enemies. That was the rationale behind it, and all the arranged marriages made at the time. They were meant to provide a young lady with means when war could take her husband early in life. But such a system became antiquated as soon as there was peace with dragons. The practice quickly fell out of favor before many youths their age became victims to it. Some families, however, still clung to old ways, be it for tradition or power-grabbing. Or, in the Hoffersons' case, because they felt honor-bound to uphold withstanding arrangements.

Astrid had been furious. She felt betrayed by her parents, making her into an object for barter. On top of all that, her mother had known of her attraction to Hiccup, even when her father was clueless. Astrid would have denied it then, if anyone asked her outright; it was a matter of pride to a foolish girl to whom being tough once meant everything.

But she did not feel tough any longer; made brittle under the weight of a false affection for her intended husband and Hiccup's cool, distant demeanor. She could handle one or the other, but not both.

Perhaps it was what she deserved for her duplicity? For lying to Stefnir, to Hiccup, and to everyone else. Telling the truth in the beginning would have been easier in hindsight, but her parents made the finality of the engagement abundantly clear. She had thought, at the time, the truth was too messy; too many feelings that would lead to nowhere, if she was, indeed, bound to marry Stefnir. Playing along seemed less complicated, since marriage still was still a far-off, abstract concept to a fifteen-year-old. Astrid would do what was expected of her, because that was who she was; she respected her parents and traditions.

Until her friendship with Hiccup became collateral damage.

Then, everything was suddenly much harder than she anticipated, but the lie was already set in motion. The longer it went on, the harder being honest became; the more harm it would do, and the more shame it would bring. She was not one to disappoint and stir up trouble, so she kept pretending; she kept pulling Hiccup in only to push him away, all while she held her future husband at a comfortable distance from her heart.

Hiccup always tried to simplify the situation by doing what she could not. He saw the futility in a continued friendship, so he drifted his separate way; and Astrid had grated on his kindness by holding on to him just tight enough until there was nothing left to squeeze from him anymore.

She had come to Dragon Island to finally let go, painfully wrenching her delusions from her heart and setting them adrift in the tide.

Stormfly growled, piercing her thoughts. The dragon trudged through the sand to nudge her rider. Astrid turned, running her hand over her dragon's neck, before burying her face in those familiar scales.

"I'll be alright. At least I have you, Stormfly," she murmured, scrunching her eyes shut as they burned and blurred with tears of self-pity she would not shed. Her lip trembled and she bit the inside to make it stop.

She stood there, face pressed into her dragon as the sea tried to sing her its soothing melody. While it was unhelpful, it was better than lying curled up in her bed, staring out of her window at the chief's house as she reflected on everything she had done; hating herself for it.

It crossed her mind that her parents or Stefnir might wonder where she was; but it was a fleeting concern eclipsed by her own need to decompress. She could have stayed there on that beach all night, everyone else be damned.

Her dragon, however, was not content to let her drown in all of her unhappiness. Stormfly started to fidget, then squawk. Astrid pushed back, staring at her dragon in confusion. But Stormfly gazed past her. Something moved toward them in darkness. Astrid could hear its heavy strides; but her dragon did not seem threatened. Instead, the Nadder took a few steps forward, flapping her wings in a jubilant greeting. Astrid's fingers twitched for her axe, fastened to her dragon.

"Stormfly, what are you-?"

Eyes.

Large, feral eyes stalked toward them, with a warble that made Astrid's heart flutter, before cutting her with a nauseating realization.

"Toothless," she gasped; and a thin veneer of sweat broke out across her hairline.

If the Night Fury was there, then so was Hiccup. And that was terrifying.

She reached out for Stormfly, resolved to return home to Berk. She felt stupid for leaving in the first place. Her impulsive quest for solitude had only brought her around Hiccup again. He was inescapable.

Her hand rested on her saddle, curling in the weathered strap she often used to hoist herself up.

She paused.

Hiccup was inescapable. Their village was not too large, and her weapon would need maintenance on occasion; their paths were bound to cross in the sky, on their dragons; and he was going to be the chief someday. She could not duck into buildings or whip around to avert her gaze every time he walked by. She refused to spend a lifetime of dodging and hiding, even if it would hurt to face him.

Alone, on the island, away from prying eyes and eavesdroppers, Astrid could finally explain everything to him. She doubted it would change anything, but at least her conscience would be cleared. Then she could lay their friendship to rest with permanence, knowing there was no more left unsaid between them. She did not expect Hiccup to care, but she felt she owed it to him for who they used to be.

She patted Toothless and the dragon crooned, always glad to see her even if his rider was not.

"Where's Hiccup?" she asked. "Take me to him?"

Toothless cocked his head as he processed her request. She climbed on Stormfly's back, but the Night Fury did not keep her waiting. He raced off into the shadows, and Astrid did not need to urge her dragon forward; Stormfly was already flying after him.


Hiccup stood, brushing the sand from his hands. His heart was pounding in his head. Shock gave way to angry disbelief. Even when he had been prepared to give up, she had that unnatural ability to find him. It was as if she existed to do nothing else but complicate things. He offered her no other greeting than lips pulled in a tight line, eye blazing.

She dismounted Stormfly, but she did not come toward him. There was only a short stretch of beach between them; but it felt far too close, yet a world apart. They gazed at each other, their thoughts no longer mutually discernible as they had been just two years before.

"What are you doing here?" he meant to snap, but he was too exhausted to muster his full indignation; he thought he sounded more annoyed than anything.

Astrid floundered for a moment. She seemed skittish even, more so than he could ever remember seeing her.

"I didn't expect anyone else would be out here this late." She started to approach him and he took a couple of steps back. "I didn't follow you here, if that's what you're thinking. I came out here to be alone."

She advanced one step at a time, and he retreated until the surf was lapping at his ankles. Silver moonbeams flashed off the studs of her kransen and rested in her hair, brilliant in a way Hiccup wished he had not noticed.

"So you didn't follow me here after I left the forge?" he asked, voice still with an edge.

Astrid's brow furrowed. "Why would I follow you? I thought you were still back there, working on some new project or whatever task Gobber had for you."

"Well, if you want to be alone, I'd be happy to oblige. This island is big enough that our paths don't have to cross again." Hiccup turned his eyes on Toothless, gesturing for the dragon to come to him; but the Night Fury only balked and growled an apology.

Astrid tried to cut him off. "Don't leave! Now that you're here I-I want to talk to you. I want to explain things."

"Explain to me why you're marrying your boyfriend of the past two years?" His voice was too flat, even for him. "I think I can figure that one out on my own, Astrid."

She sighed. "There's a lot more to it than that."

Hiccup set his jaw, brushing past her. They had already exchanged enough words in the smithy. He made a beeline for Toothless, no nearer to making peace with reality if he lingered there with her.

"I'm not much of the type for planning weddings, if that's what you're getting at," he said.

"No, I-"

"And I'm too busy with work to craft your wedding bands." Which was a lie he hoped she could not see through. "Gobber would be the better choice for that."

He climbed into his saddle. Toothless crouched with a plaintive warble and wide eyes. The dragon could be comforted later when Hiccup was calm enough to soothe him and explain things like he might understand.

"Hiccup, don't."

There was something in Astrid's voice, but he probably imagined it, because she did not plead.

"You'll have a lovely wedding, I'm sure of it." He fixed his prosthesis to Toothless's. He ignored his dragon's protests. "It will be a half-week-long celebration, at least. Berk will be thrilled. Any excuse to throw a party."

"Hiccup-"

"There will be more offers to help out than you know what to do with. Why would you even need my help?"

"That's not-"

He was being petty again. Facetious; hurting like he felt he was entitled to do. He breathed deeply, forcing the most insincere benignity in hope he could make them both believe it.

He opened Toothless's tail fin, preparing to fly off and put an end to the disaster of their strained relationship. "It's exciting, though. Really. I'm very happy for-"

"Gods damn it, Hiccup! It's arranged!" she blurted out, grasping his arm. Her fingernails dug into his sleeve to wrest his attention back to her. "The whole marriage is arranged! I never wanted any of this!"

Her outburst left a ringing silence in its wake, save for the squawking of gulls and the eternal rush of the sea.


Astrid's face was burning, and she was glad for the lack of daylight to hide the rosy curse of a fair complexion. She released her grip on Hiccup. He was sitting astride Toothless, just staring at her. He did not say anything, and the expression on his face was unusual. She did not know what to call it. He looked surprised, but also irritated. His eyebrows were set somewhere between the two. There was a faint curl to his lip, though she did not know if it was disgust or disbelief.

"What do you mean it's arranged?" he asked. He rolled his shoulders back so he was sitting upright. Gods, he had gotten so tall.

She cleared her throat, hands on her hips. She wanted to regain some composure, to feel like she had some measure of control to such a long awaited conversation. "I would think, Hiccup, you're smart enough to know what that means."

He sat, poised on his dragon for another moment, considering her with an intensity that she had not seen from him for a long while. She felt like she stood an eternity under his scrutiny.

Finally, his face softened, but not anywhere near the point of friendliness. He dismounted Toothless, holding fast to his saddle. He was not looking at her then, gaze fixed to the sand. She wished she could decipher it, whenever he thought that loudly. His mind shouted out words at her, but her ears were not tuned to hear them anymore.

"So you're…not marrying Stefnir because you love him?"

"Does it matter, Hiccup?"

He hesitated.

"No. It doesn't," was the answer he gave; but not the one Astrid suspected he wanted to say. His feet were firmly planted on the ground. He was not trying to run; he was engaging her, for once.

"I don't want to talk about whatever feelings I may or may not have for Stef, okay?"

"Stef? Adorable. Did he come up with that one? Points for originality."

"Hiccup!" Astrid was huffed, dropping her arms to her sides.

He was being unusually abrasive, and she could not begin to imagine why. He had no interest in her romantically; that much was plain. She did not understand why knowing she had no control over her fate aggravated him.

"If you don't want to talk about him, what is the point of bringing up your impending marriage at all? Why bother telling me it's arranged?" he scowled. "What does it accomplish?"

"Because I'm hoping it'll change things."

"As far as I know, you're still going to marry him."

"Yes. But that's not the point."

"Then nothing's changed. You and he are-"

"No. I want to change things...between us, Hiccup." She gestured between them emphatically.

"Us?"

Astrid nodded.

Hiccup withdrew his hand from his saddle and turned toward her fully. "What is 'us', Astrid? What is there to change?"

"All of it. Hiccup, we've lost something. I want to get it back, if that's even possible."

He moved toward her, closing the distance between them. Her breath caught in her chest.

"I've spent two years trying to convince myself that all of those kisses and flirting didn't mean anything. You're trying to tell me now that they did, once?"

"They still mean something."

Hiccup laughed, but it was humorless. "Does Stefnir know that?"

"No. He thinks you're little more than a friend to me now."

"Not even that, Astrid."

He turned back for his dragon but she lunged forward, seizing him by the shoulder and spinning him around. The floodgates had opened, and she was not going to leave things there. Reconciliation or not, there would be an end to all of it, right there on that beach.

"You've never been a cruel person. You said you don't hate me. You congratulated me on my engagement. Now you're so distant. You won't talk to me for more than a few minutes. You avoid me. Hiccup, I could freeze to death from that icy wind blowing off your cold shoulder!"

He scoffed. "You have Stefnir to keep you warm. You're not marrying for love, but you care for him. What, then, could you possibly want from me? You made it clear two years ago that you'd be just fine without me around, and now you're trying to tell me you're not? So all of the toying with me you've done has been to get back in my good graces? I guess it must really be miserable for you to have only one guy to jerk around. I'm tired of the games. I'm tired of the bitter feelings."

"Don't presume you know how I feel!" She brandished a finger at him. "I was trying to salvage a friendship that you've, apparently, lost interest in. Come to find out, you've been stewing in bitterness this whole time? Don't act like I'm the only one who's been dishonest!" She took a deep breath and continued, "We can put a patch on things, Hiccup. I'm sorry it's taken this long. I should have told you the truth two years ago. I never told you I had to marry Stefnir because I was trying to save you the disappointment."

"Right. Replace it with a different kind of disappointment? Makes sense."

Astrid's mind was reeling. She was so livid with his flippant comments, and hurt by his persistent disdain. Her heart ached with guilt and indignation, knowing the whole two years she had thought he simply did not care, he was inwardly seething. Things were more dire than she thought, and they were at a crossroads. The way back to yesteryear's rapport was blocked by their mutual lies; but the two roads ahead diverged. Down one path, they parted ways completely; down the other, they found a tepid new friendship always undermined by the truth that they could have been something more if only given the opportunity. Both roads were unsatisfying in their own right; and Astrid frantically scanned the horizon for a third option.

"If you can look me in the eye, right now, and tell me that you hate me; if you can honestly say you're not interested in any kind of friendship between us anymore, then I'll leave you alone. I'll go on to marry Stefnir, and you can go on holding your grudge and marry…some daughter of another chieftain, I suppose? We'll coexist in our miserable, parallel lives," Astrid said. "But you have to look at me now, and mean it!"

She was trembling, leaning in and rising up on her toes to make herself taller as she delivered her challenge. Hiccup was gazing down at her,arms folded across his chest. He did not answer her, but he was thinking loudly again. She could see it in his eyes as they stood so close. If he was so resolute–so determined to cast her aside–his answer should have been quick and sure.

But he stalled.

"I'm not interested in just a friendship with you, Astrid." His tone was sincere. He had meant what he said, but his eyes were laced with regret as the words left his mouth.

He seemed genuine, but so did his eyes telling her there was a follow up to that statement; an implied "but" he would not speak. It was there nevertheless, in the utterance of "just".

In his reluctance, Astrid found the third option: the hidden road.

"Good," she replied. "Because neither am I."

She seized the collar of his tunic and pulled him down the short distance into a desperate kiss.