Ch. 3

There was a somber feeling in the air in the wake of the village's battle. While the villagers gave more during the raid, they did experience some losses of their own. They went about burning the demon corpses and setting up funeral rites for their own. As much as they wanted to start rebuilding, this was their tradition: burials and funerals after a raid, the drunken feast celebrating the dead and their fallen enemies, and then start rebuilding in the morn.

"This is dreadful!" Astrid sat in the Hofferson family's hall. Two of her cousins were killed in the raid and their wives and sisters were in the other part of her family's hall mourning together. "The devils show up to our island and take our families; husbands, wives, sons, daughters, lovers, siblings, anyone!"

The goddess sat on the floor behind her mother who was combing her hair. Despite mother and daughter being the spitting image of each other, they both contrasted each other extremely. Brunhilda's form expressed itself in her figure's Rubenesque, ample, and plump shape, while her daughter was taller, more lean, sinewy, and well built. Astrid's ice blue eyes displayed a cold, calculating raptor gaze, but Brunhilda's chocolate eyes were inviting and warm.

"It's a tragedy, yes, your cousins were about your age," Brunhilda's soft speaking was somber, "they held vigor and life. Being cut down so short in life…"

"Hell," Astrid sighed with a hand on her face, "if only I'd been stronger, I could have—"

Brunhilda's words were firm, "Stop it! Blaming yourself for their deaths only insults their sacrifices! They laid down their lives for family and hearth, allow them their glorious death."

Astrid felt more relieved by Brunhilda's words. Her mother—even when being stern—always knew how to comfort. "You are right. They knew the price of picking up a sword or spear, and they paid for it happily. I just want to be rid of these monsters! So we can stop paying that price!"

"I'm sure there is a way," Brunhilda spoke while setting her daughter's braid, "and if there is, you'll be the one down to truly rid this plague of monsters."

Astrid smiled a little at the thought of it. Fully immortalized as the goddess that rid the world of all demons. She pictured herself; a divine, graceful woman exiting the heavens onto earth and delivering the demons' retribution, answering humanity's prayers. She chuckled, thinking of the nursery rhymes and stories wet nurses and mothers would tell children about the goddess who cleansed the earth with her cold fire.

"If that's my future," Astrid smiled, "Demon-slayer would be much more fitting than Storm-bearer or the Lady of Cold Fire."

Brunhilda rolled her eyes, "Ignoring the humor in your voice, I'm serious. I do truly believe you will be the remedy that will cleanse—not just our island—but even the world. When the wet nurse pulled you from my legs and you started glowing with cold fire. That moment I knew you'd bring glory to our house and name and lead this island as the pillar of this world."

The door to the house slammed open. The orangey, purple, pink light of the evening flooded the house. Astrid's father—Lord Hofferson—marched in, his gait and stride seemingly predatory. He stopped at the two women, "Wife. Daughter"

"Husband." "Father."

"The chief has returned," his breath was a bit heavy, "he's holding a meeting with the other Lords and Ladies, and he's asking specifically for you, daughter, to attend."

Astrid's eyes became saucers, she'd attended meetings with the other lords and ladies. But usually, it was just out of her father's attempts to teach her and get her to observe the political duties that she'd one day inherit. But never has she ever been requested to join a meeting by the other the lords, especially the king himself.

She steeled herself as she was feeling a little nervous. 'This must be truly serious.'

Astrid felt her stomach doing twists and turns as she stood behind her father as he sat at a large table where all the other island's lords and ladies were sitting. Her arms were crossed behind her back as she stood stiffly from her nervousness.

Her eyes were when King Stoick started the meeting. There were plenty of large men on the island from various families, but the king was a giant compared to most of the villagers; his head and shoulders looming over the heads of every islander. His hair and beard were colored the same reddish-orange of autumn leaves. His hair was bundled into a bun with his long beard in several braids. His eyebrows were scrunched into a frown, and along with his beard and mustache led to his cold, predatory profile.

Snotlout was standing behind his father, Spitelout Jorgenson, chest puffed out and shoulders back. The Jorgenson patriarch sat next to Stoick naturally as brothers do. She wondered why he was here too.

"Snotlout!" Spitelout's booming voice seemed like thunder so much that he and Stoick could have been mistaken for twins.

"Tell us your findings."

Stepping forward, Snotlout addressed Stoick and his father, "Father, your Grace. During my travels, I have seen many faraway places, slain great beasts, met interesting people, and seen wondrous things. But there is one thing that trumps all others. A great fog lies north of the island."

"A fog?" Stoick grumbled.

Snotlout nodded his head, "Other locals, travelers, and explorers call it Hell's Gate."

The room suddenly felt a lot colder with some candles and candelabras not feeling as warm or welcoming. A few of the other members of the meeting shifted uncomfortably and whispered and grumbled amongst themselves. Even Astrid felt like the shadows in the hall seemed to flicker violently and dangerously.

"Many stories have said that it is a doorway to hell; I'm not sure how true that is, but I believe this might lead us to the location of the nest," Snotlout continued. "I can't verify that it is, but I can say that I have seen demons entering and exiting Hell's Gate. Not in the numbers big enough for a raid but I have seen them."

"You suggest we travel into Hell," someone shouted, "are you mad, boy?!"

That was all that it took for the hall to erupt in a sea of voices. Each voice had a unique statement with some agreeing and some disagreeing.

"Boy."

All voices turned silent, and everyone's eyes zeroed in on Stoick and Snotlout's interaction. Stoick shifted his posture towards Snotlout. Astrid could almost see Snotlout's skin whitening.

"What are you suggesting?"

"I…" Snotlout swallowed, "I suggest we take a fleet—a small one mind you—to survey and report what they find. If this is truly the way to the nest, we should take this opportunity." By the time Snotlout finished his statement, Snotlout's words and body language increased in confidence.

Stoick was silent for a minute before speaking, "That is… quite interesting. Has anyone else ever attempted to breach this… Hell Gate?"

Suddenly, Snotlout didn't seem all that confident, "There are tales and stories of warriors, adventurers, explorers, and even settlers going into Hell's Gate… But they all say that none leave once entering."

Stoick was silent again before speaking, "The demons have taken so much from us. Fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters, lovers, husbands, wives, children, and for some of us even our sanity. Everyone here has had something, or someone taken from us. I know that there might be some of us here that might want retribution, and I know that there are some of us that are just content with keeping what the devils haven't taken yet."

His eyes met everyone as he paused. "Astrid," Stoick's eyes dragged over towards her, "you've battled the witch that recently invaded. How do you feel about this?"

Stoick elaborated, "As one of the three gods on this island I'd say your opinion on the matter should be heard."

Astrid felt the eyes of every lord and lady on her. It felt like going into battle without armor or a weapon; naked, vulnerable, and easy to tear down.

She swallowed before speaking, her voice growing timid to confident, "It is as you've said, my king, we have lost so much from the demons. We have elders that were raised—and raised us to believe that the demons are natural. That their existence is no more than the wolves and bears roaming the earth, the fish swimming in the seas, or the birds soaring in the skies. But they are not natural! They are a plague, a disease poisoning this realm and everything in it."

"Whether the nest resides on an island like ours or hell itself, I say we go there and set the damn place on fire! We prove to the demons and anyone else on earth or in hell, that for every Berkian slain we will slay a thousand more. I say we march into hell and write our names in blood on every road, every corpse!"

Finishing her tirade, Astrid's face was flushed, and she was breathing heavily. She didn't realize that her passion got the better of her, but it did, and now she was back to feeling the totality of everyone's gaze on her.

Stoick crossed his arms, "You've definitely made quite the case. Does anyone have any other objections or opinions?"

When none spoke up, Stoick stood from his chair. His thunder-like voice conveyed so much poison that his teeth could have been mistaken for fangs, "Then it'll be just as Astrid has said. We will march into hell and take our vengeance for the blood they've taken from us! Will you all fight with us?!"

The walls of the hall echoed with roars of approval. Astrid's chest could barely contain her pounding heart. What she's craved and trained for the past several years was finally showing itself. The Era of Darkness was coming to an end.

The walls of the great hall were reverberating from the roars of the drinking and feasting. It was a common tradition to celebrate the dead leaving the earth after a raid. Dying in a raid wasn't a common death, not like drowning, murder, disease, old age, or suicide. This was dying at the hands of a demon. A truly mournful time that required the celebration of the individual that died.

While almost the entire village filed in the great hall to eat and drink themselves silly, Astrid stood outside, her eyes trained on the sea of ink and white dots in the sky.

The hall's doors opened with laughter and shouting spilling out. Astrid didn't seem disturbed though before a voice interrupted her sulking. "The night sky…"

Her eyes snapped wide open before turning to her side. The king stood next to her, a bear—no, a giant next to her. He also trained his eyes on the night sky. "… it is quite beautiful on certain nights."

He turned his head towards her. "No ale?"

Getting over her shock she answered, "No, your grace, if we are to start rebuilding tomorrow, I don't want to feel the curse of too much drink."

"All duty before fun," Stoick chuckled, before taking a swig of his mug, "or is it that you don't want to entertain the drunken affairs of Snotlout."

The young goddess laughed, "It is that as well. Drunken Snotlout will stick his cock in anything that will fit. And I don't trust my drunken self to not oblige his offers."

Stoick's rumbling chuckle made Astrid feel more comfortable. "I see."

For a long moment, both gods stood there staring at the vastness of the sky. Astrid was in her own world when Stoick's voice called to her.

"Earlier during the meeting, you agreed with me," he spoke blankly, "that the demons have taken so many people from us. There was a lot of fire in you then. Who did they take from you?"

Astrid closed her fists tightly. Clouds formed and materialized in the sky, obscuring the moon and stars with a slight rumble in the distance. "My uncle."

Stoick's eyebrows perked up as Astrid continued, "There was a raid, nothing like anything else at the time. My uncle was my hero as a babe, everyone knew him as a warrior whose fortitude death couldn't even waver. But in the end, it seemed the demons were even more frightening than death."

Astrid hung her head, "He froze. It cost him his life that day. And he went from Fearless Finn to just… Finn."

She continued, "From day one all the way to his death he told me that one day I'd bring glory to our house and name. That the world would look at our island and see a bastion of strength that could never be rivaled. Hopefully, finding and exterminating the nest I can prove him right and cleanse our family and name of his shame."

The goddess looked towards her king, "Who did you lose—" she caught herself, "I'm sorry, your grace, that was out of line, it's not my place—"

"My wife and son," Astrid was taken aback by Stoick's words before he continued, "there was a raid, I went to protect my people, while my wife went to make sure that our son was safe. He was a few months old at the time. But, a demon—bigger than any I had ever seen—headed for our house. I left the battle for them… but I was too late. The house was in flames and the demon was nowhere to be found. The fire was so intense that I couldn't Valka's remains couldn't be buried as there was nothing but ashes to be found. Miraculously, my son survived, but the demon… cursed him."

Astrid was thoroughly focused on hearing the king spill his guts. "I brought in every healer I could find and paid every one of them more than handsomely to fix him. They all told me that nothing short a god with the power to raise the dead could dispel whatever curse plagued him."

They were both silent for a long moment before Astrid whispered, "What happened to your son?"

Stoick looked towards the ground. He sighed, "Healers couldn't help my son. But they all said that the curse wasn't just a physical deformity, they said that darkness travels wherever he goes. Everywhere he steps darkness, disaster, and chaos will follow. The raids will get worse, and more people will die. I refused to believe any of it. But in the end… raids got worse and worse. More and more people died."

"And like any dutiful king would do in these situations, I sent him away," Stoick breathed heavily, "far, far away… where his storm of darkness couldn't plague us anymore. The demons killed my wife and cursed my son. That's what they took from me… my family."

The silence was thick and heavy, almost as if both were afraid to speak. But ultimately Astrid took the first word of course.

"His name was Hakon, wasn't it?" Astrid responded softly before Stoick nodded.

Astrid was remembering more clearly. A messy mop of brown hair, a petite and skinny frame, crooked teeth. "We all called him 'Hiccup' because he was so small and short."

"He never liked that name," Stoick chuckled before sighing. "Small he was, but quite intelligent. He would've made a great king."

The king looked towards Astrid, "You know if he were I'd have no doubt with you as his confidant that the two of you would conquer heaven and earth."

"You honor me, my king."

Stoick stood up straight and stretched, "But enough of our crying. Soon enough, we will take retribution for families and cleanse ourselves of our shame."

Stoick started for the hall's doors. "If you aren't going to feast and drink, go get some sleep. I need you well rested if you and Snotlout are to plan out destroying the nest."

"Me?" Astrid perked up, "You want me to lead this quest?"

Stoick nodded his head, "Of course, it was Snotlout's proposal and your fiery approval that made fired everyone up, wasn't it?"

She watched as the doors closed, eyes wide open. Astrid the Storm-bearer would be leading the extermination of the nest. She whispered to herself, "This will work. This will work."

Like I said this fic ain't dead. By the time you see this, I will have written five chapters ahead of this current chapter, so check weekly for new chapters. (So I should be working on chapter 8 right now.) Who knew actually planning out and writing chapters in advance would help consistently posting.