Chapter 2
"Astrid, darling!" Astrid snapped to attention, allowing a small smile onto her face - mainly relief that "talking to herself" was no longer an option if another person was in the room. Even if, yes, there had only ever been one other person, and there'd really only been one room. In one fluid motion, she leaped to her feet and twisted her hair around the hook hanging from the roof.
"Coming, Mom!" The girl watched as her hair tumbled down towards the grassy green expanse. Until tomorrow, the tips of her hair were the only part of her to actually feel the ground below. If she was more ridiculous, Astrid would actually be jealous. She felt a small weight and tug as her mother wrapped the end of Astrid's hair around her foot, grabbed her tresses, and tugged impatiently. Astrid grabbed her hair, careful to keep it from tugging at her scalp, and began pulling her mother up. When Astrid was younger and her hair shorter, her mother's only viable entry and exit point was trap-door in the floor. More recently - in the past few years - her mother had decided that was too inconvenient and demanded that Astrid fashion a pulley system with her hair. Astrid didn't mind, though her mother tended to make the end of her hair a bit dirty by stepping on it all the time. But it wasn't like she had so much extra time to wash her hair, right?
Finally, her mother stepped onto the platform and promptly embraced Astrid. Astrid hugged back. She didn't always agree with her mom. But she was still her mom.
"How you do that all the time," her mother gasped, pulling back and rubbing at Astrid's chin. "It must be exhausting, darling!" No, Astrid thought, I'm not the dramatic one. That title belonged to someone else living in this tower.
Astrid flexed her arms in a somewhat covert manner, hoping her mother would notice the lean but well-developed muscles there. Maybe if Mom could see Astrid had gained strength, Astrid would have a better shot of venturing outside. "It's nothing," the girl assured her mother confidently.
The curly-haired woman's lip curled a bit as she gently whacked Astrid's head a few times. "Then I don't know why it takes so long," she said. Astrid's shoulders fell a bit, but she knew it was only her fault that she wasn't already accustomed to the ups and downs of conversations with her mother. Mom laughed. "I'm just joking, darling. Stop taking everything so seriously!" Astrid forced out a chuckle. All she had to do was ride it out. Her mother dragged her over to the large, oblong mirror in the corner.
"You look nice," Astrid announced. If she didn't compliment her mother quickly, the woman would launch into a rant of self-pity. Astrid didn't enjoy it at all, but whatever buttered her mother up for the big request was worth it.
"Thank you, dear," the woman said, examining her face for any new and unappealing wrinkles in her face. She pulled her dark cherry lips back to examine her gleaming white teeth. Combing through her locks, she plucked at the few gray hairs hiding in her long charcoal hair. Astrid tried to be patient. This happened every day. Nothing ever changed.
Next was Astrid's turn. Her mother grabbed her hand and forced her a bit closer to the mirror. "Dear, do you know what I see?" Mother didn't bother to let Astrid reply, but continued. "I see a beautiful, confident young woman."
Astrid looked at her reflection in the mirror. She smiled a bit. It wasn't too often that Mom called her beautif-
"Oh look, dear, you're there too!" her mother shouted, elbowing her with a laugh. Astrid's smile faded. She should have known. Mother always told her that the teen's only redeeming feature was her lovely golden hair. The rest . . . Mother kind of chortled and sniffed at. Even her blue eyes. Astrid glanced at the mirror for a just-long-enough second. She liked her eyes.
Astrid's mother wrapped a delicate arm around her daughter's shoulder, pinching her cheek sharply. "I'm kidding, dear, I'm only kidding. You look alright. You'll look much better in your present." Astrid attempted a laugh. It didn't come out very well. The girl pushed away the sting of her mother's comments and firmed her chin.
"Well, Mother, I have something I really wanted to talk to you about," she announced.
Her mother flapped her hand in the air. "Dear, that can wait. I'm feeling rather tired." Astrid huffed at the implication.
"Of course, Mother," she said, oozing respect and care into her voice and expression. One lesson she'd learned long ago was that making even a temporary enemy of her mother ended Astrid up nowhere - or rather, stuck right here, which was already nowhere. Astrid broke away from her mother and tugged the woman toward the rocking chair permanently perched beside the hearth. Astrid grabbed the familiar wooden hairbrush and stool from a corner, shoved her mother into the rocking chair, hopped on the step, and shoved the hair brush and her hair into her shocked mother's hands.
Taking a deep breath, Astrid launched into the eternally familiar song, spewing it out as quickly as she could.
"Flower, gleam and glow,
Let your power shine,
Make the clock reverse -
Bring back what once was mine.
Heal what has been hurt,
Change the fate's design,
Find what has been lost -
Bring back what once was mine,
What once was mine."
"Astrid!" her mom yelped, digging her nose into her daughter's locks as she tried to absorb as much of the healing glow the hair emitted as she could. "Why-"
"So!" Astrid said loudly. She would have to spit this out as speedily as she could before her mother interrupted. "So, as you probably know, my birthday is tomorrow, and-"
Her mother chuckled and poked at Astrid's nose. "Oh, no, dear! I distinctly remember - your birthday was last year!"
Astrid smiled to appease her mother. Through clenched teeth, she groaned, "That's the thing about birthdays. They're annual." Before her mother could offer any other comment, Astrid plunged on. "I'm turning eighteen tomorrow. As you can see, I'm not a little girl anymore." As she spoke, she flexed her muscles again - not so covertly this time. Her mother didn't seem to see the display, focusing more on Astrid's chest and making the girl flush with frustration. "I can handle myself. Now, instead of spending any money, I have a different request." She put on her most blindingly bright smile. Her mother winced, and Astrid toned it down in order to more convincingly propose, "I want to go outside and see the golden stars."
"The . . . the what? I mean, darling, Astrid, what are you talking about?" The woman stared at her daughter. Astrid bit her lip in frustration. Mom knew about the golden stars. Every year, for years, Astrid had pointed them out to her mother. Every year, Mom pretended the golden stars didn't exist.
Mom frowned at Astrid. "Don't bite your lip, dear. It's already so scarred. Very unattractive." Astrid opened her mouth, letting her lip slide from between her jaws.
Astrid pressed forward. "Every year, golden stars appear in the sky on my birthday. Only on my birthday. There's something about them – they're not natural. I know you've seen them."
Astrid's confidence faltered as her mother laughed, leaned back, and began examining herself in the mirror again. "Dear, they're only stars. That's all."
Astrid huffed. Her mother admitting the lights existed was a victory, but Astrid wasn't done yet. She raced over to a lever on the wall and yanked at it. The windows slammed shut, and instantly the ceiling lit up with Astrid's proudest accomplishment – the star map. For years, Astrid had charted the stars. Every star, every constellation, every comet, every movement was recorded on the ceiling. Astrid had carefully added intricate details over time. She loved it. It was, to be honest, her only true connection to the world beyond.
As her mother's placid gaze skated across Astrid's designs, Astrid began speaking again. "These can't be normal stars. They're a different color, they only show up on my birthday, and . . . I want to know why." She raced to her mother's side, flipping the mirror so only the dark brown wood panel could be seen. Ignoring her mother's annoyed glare, Astrid said, "I can do this, Mom. I want to have an adventure. This won't be dangerous!"
"W-won't be dangerous?!" Mom sputtered. "Dear, Astrid! Have you not forgotten why you are here?"
Astrid tucked a rebellious strand of hair behind her ear impatiently. "Yes, yes, yes," she huffed. "The ruffians and thugs and poison ivy and quicksand and disease and bugs and men with pointy teeth-"
Her mother wrapped her arms around the now furious girl. "And people who want to use your powers for selfish reasons! I brought you here to keep you safe, darling. Don't you appreciate what I have suffered to help you?"
"Of course I appreciate it," Astrid insisted. Carefully measuring her next words, she bit her lip. At a scowl from her mother, Astrid quickly released her jaw and massaged her lips with warm fingers. If she continued, Mom might balk and might never let her venture outside. Or she just might give the three-letter word Astrid so desired. The reward was worth the risk. Astrid looked her mother in the eyes with all the confidence and respect she could muster. "Mom, I've been training. I can do this. I can go outside. I'll cover my hair, and I'll lie about my powers. If anyone gives me trouble, I can defend myself! I can do this."
Mom's eyes turned cold. Astrid felt small for a moment, but in her mind, she snatched a hold on her fleeing confidence and held it in a deathgrip. Still, it stung when her mother whispered, "You cannot."
Astrid turned away, feeling her blue eyes burn against her will. She squeezed her lips together and breathed deeply. The burning cooled She clenched and unclenched her fists. Her palms felt sweaty. Her star chart hovered above her head. It seemed to mock her. She would never escape. She would always be here.
From behind her, Astrid heard her mother let out a melodramatic groan. "Oh, now I'm the bad guy. Lovely," she murmured just loud enough for Astrid's benefit. Astrid's stomach twisted with slight guilt. Did she truly have the right to demand even more from her mother? She had already worked so hard on Astrid's behalf. And she was all Astrid had. Her confidence slid from her fingers and vanished into the dark corners in the back of her mind.
"I-I'm sorry," Astrid whispered, turning to face her mother. Mom smiled sweetly and embraced her daughter.
"Oh, dear, I love you ever so much," the woman crooned into Astrid's hair.
Astrid smiled at the familiar phrase. Her smile tasted bitter. She replied, "I love you more."
Pulling back, Mother lovingly tapped Astrid on the nose. "I love you most," she promised. Astrid felt familiar streaks of guilt, like a sharp gash across her heart, inching in to fill the void where her confidence once held court. As much as Astrid prepared herself for the world beyond, it was a dangerous place. Her mother's vigilance alone kept the threats from slithering through the trap door. It couldn't be an easy burden, even if Astrid desperately wanted to share it.
If there was one thing Mom loved almost as much as her own appearance, it was clothes. The woman pulled back, clapping delightedly. "Oh, I found the loveliest dress in the market today. I said to myself, 'This would look best on my daughter!' I bought it on the spot!" She rushed to the basket she carried out with her each day, pulling a checkered blanket out and onto the floor. Astrid wrangled some halfhearted excitement as she stared at the pale blue thing laying neatly folded in the basket.
"Mind you, dear, we can't afford a new dress, so this is second-hand, but it is in good condition and you can surely adjust any problems!" Mother grabbed the gleaming, soft-looking fabric and, with a dramatic flourish, thrust it into the air. Astrid bit back the comment that her sewing skills were far less than satisfactory, and instead she focused on the long dress flowing through the air. Pretty things were useless. That being said, even she could appreciate the pale blue of early mornings twirling before her. Her mother shoved it at her, and Astrid tugged at it, trying to appear thankful even as she negotiated its stitching and fabric. Strong stitching, flexible fabric, breathable weaving, she noted with approval. Her mother no doubt bought it for the beauty. Astrid would wear it for the practicality.
"Mom," she said thankfully, "this is a really nice dress."
The older woman clapped again. "I just knew even you would adore it, darling!" Astrid smiled while her mother giggled. In her heart, the desire for adventure stirred. Wouldn't it be amazing to walk into town in this dress? She wasn't giving up - not on anyone's life.
The mountains were farther off than Hiccup suspected. By the time they were within a mile of the peaks and the tower, Toothless was clearly drained. "Good job, bud," he yelled to his dragon. The dragon gave him a wide, toothless smile, even as his eyes lacked some of their usual gleam.
Some might have considered it pathetic, Hiccup knew, that the young man's best friend was his dragon. But nobody did, because nobody knew. Hiccup had heard the stories, and he'd lived through them - mass paranoia and panic that only ended in another dragon's head mounted to the wall of a castle as its flesh was served at the banquet raging below. Just the thought of Toothless gutted and lying on a platter made Hiccup sick. He took a deep breath and rubbed his buddy's scales. He was fine. They both were. Toothless, threw a comforting look back to his riding buddy. For the millionth time, Hiccup entertained a brief fantasy of tracking down some local wizards and scientists, just to test his theory that Toothless could read his mind. After a few moments of daydreaming about calculations, hypotheses, data sets, he glanced up at the mountains.
"Hey, we're not that far," he shouted, shoulders sagging with relief. The morning had been strenuous – all that stealing and running and jumping and fearing for his life had sucked up a lot of energy. Hiccup stretched his arms into the air, yawning. He hoped whoever used to live in that tower had left a bed behind. Hiccup didn't even mind the possibility of a thriving inset population. He'd slept on worse. All he wanted was to flop down on something soft. Pine needles only made good beds up to a certain point.
After several minutes, the pair finally soared above the tower. Hiccup paused to admire the lush green cove in which the turret was perched. Whoever had left here obviously had no appreciation for the true finer things in life. At least their leaving meant he could stay there for as long as he pleased, and he hadn't scored well in accommodations in what felt like a long time. The room atop the rotund stone column looked spacious enough to house a dragon, though the large window didn't seem large enough for Toothless to scramble through. Hiccup stretched a lean finger at a flat, flowerless spot just below the tower. He bent down, chest grazing Toothless' back so that the dragon could see where Hiccup was pointing.
The dragon hummed in agreement. Hiccup silently congratulated himself on choosing a successful landing spot. In his earlier days as a dragon rider, his choices had not been the wisest. In his defense, classes on dragon landing were curiously nonexistent. Also, scorpions needed to make their dens a lot more obvious from a distance. Curving his wings downward to create a parachute-like effect, Toothless floated gracefully to the ground. The thump and disturbance associated with the landing no longer bothered Hiccup. Without pausing to orient himself, the young man slid a clasp from his belt out of a loop in the saddle and swung off his mount and onto the ground. The grass was as soft and silky as it had looked from the air. Hiccup looked around. He was no expert, but the way the beams of sun lit up the cove was pretty much magical.
He brushed dirt off his tunic and ran lean fingers through his feathery brown hair, sharing a satisfied, relieved grin with Toothless. "Nice job, bud," he murmured as he reached forward to scratch at Toothless' chin. Toothless wriggled in pleasure, his eyes rolling back joyfully. Hiccup chuckled and fell onto his knees to continue the massage. After what felt like a blissful pause in time, Toothless lifted his chin beyond Hiccup's reach. Hiccup fought back a yawn, immediately lost, and chuckled dryly at Toothless's half-concerned, half-reprimanding murmurs.
"Sorry, you're right," Hiccup agreed. He laid his palms on Toothless' side and pushed himself to his feet. Gazing up at the ivy-laced turret, he scowled slightly. No stairs, platforms, or anything that could bring him to the top of the tower were apparent. He heard Toothless snorting behind him, no doubt amused at his flightless human's predicament.
Hiccup twisted to smile widely and swing his arms out into a hug, directed at his dragon. "Think you could give me a lift?"
Toothless responded by flopping down, curling his head into himself, swing his tail around his body, and blanketing himself with his wings. From beneath his wingtips, he offered a smug look that spoke volumes.
"Fine," Hiccup huffed without too much malice. He craned his neck to study the tower. The warm blocks of stone were curved at the corners, with some decayed and careless building preserving holes in the rock. The thick vines trailing down the sides of the column provided a natural rope to climb. In all, it wasn't great, but not as bad as he'd thought at first. He was starting to understand why people might have abandoned a place with such challenging entrance procedures. A combination of clearly poor design and anachronistic architecture made this probably the fourth-weirdest place Hiccup had ever spent the night. He patted his satchel at his hip and ambled to the foot of the tower.
The ivy was thick-stemmed and slightly prickly. Hiccup wrapped fingers around the stalks, found footholds atop slightly loose stones, and began his ascent. It was surprisingly easier than he had expected. Maybe he was finally bulking up a bit? Yup, that sounded like a good reason. He would accept that reason without any further questioning whatsoever. As he rose higher and higher, Hiccup sensed Toothless' anxiety. When he occasionally glanced down – because anxiety about heights was for people who didn't ride dragons – he didn't bother sucking in chuckles as he watched his dragon planted directly below him at the foot of the tower. He smiled and called down encouragement and reassurance. Nothing pacified the dragon's nervous wriggling.
"I'm going to call you adorable, because you can't hear me," Hiccup said, still quiet despite the distance. "And if you heard me, you'd either give me silent treatment or let it go to your head."
After half an hour of scaling the stones and vines, Hiccup finally wrapped his fingers around the large, jutting ledge of the window. He would have to let his legs hang in the air for a few moments in order to pull himself onto the windowsill. Again, his lithe, skinny frame actually helped. Thanks, universe. For once, not terrible planning on your part. With a grunt, he swung away from the wall. Ignoring his dragon's panicky yelps from below, he gripped the window frame. With a fair amount of wheezing and mild cursing, Hiccup pulled his elbows onto the ledge. After that, it was a simple task to swing the rest of his body onto the ledge.
He paused to take a breath and stretch his now aching arms. Yeah. He needed a nap. Hiccup sneaked a peak at Toothless, and chuckled openly to see the dragon curl up in a particularly soft patch of grass, no doubt trying to pretend he had never worried or even gotten up at all.
Hiccup twisted to look at the window. The shutters were swayed wide open. Hopping into the cool room, he heaved a sigh of relief and calm. Once he slid back down and assured Toothless there was room for a dragon, and Toothless flailed and stretched his body through the window, both could easily stay holed up here for days. At this point, a bed was optional. Now that he and Toothless were safe, he could drop down right here.
It was a welcoming idea rudely interrupted as sharp pain rammed itself into the back of Hiccup's head. He felt himself freeze, before darkness invaded his vision and he toppled to the cold stone ground.
