The Morning After (part 1):

Stoick spent a long night doing his best to get mindlessly drunk on mead, since that was all he had in the house, and he couldn't bear to wander back into the village to find something stronger and possibly meet someone who might look at him accusingly of being a terrible father and Chief.

Unfortunately, mead was never going to be strong enough to take down a man of his size, no matter how many buckets worth he consumed.

So, instead of dulling his memory of his losses and failings, Stoick was cursed with having to make an extra trip or two to the outhouse and a guilty conscience that weighed like a full grown yak on his shoulders. Maybe even two full grown yaks; one for each side.

He couldn't stop thinking about his fight with Hiccup. Couldn't stop thinking about his fight with Hector. How their words had finally opened his eyes to the truth of Hiccup's mediocre status in the tribe. Nor could he stop thinking about his Loki cursed words about Astrid. That poor girl had not deserved that from me by even the tiniest degree.

He was also beset by worry over where Hiccup had gone and if he was all right. What if he got lost? What if he was carried off by a dragon? What if he ran away and never came home? These same thoughts repeated too many times to count.

And to top off his misery, Stoick missed Valka more than his own life. He'd dragged the cask of mead and his solid wood chair into the doorway of his bedroom and stared at her painting for hours that night by the flickering light and shadows of the fire, mug in hand, and what felt like a never-ending stream of slow tears trickling into his beard as he begged the Gods to please bring her back to him and help him fix the mess he'd made of his son's life.

Because he didn't know what to do.

He didn't know how to make everything better again. And he couldn't make his tormented mind come up with anything helpful, either.

Eventually, he fell asleep in his chair, empty mug falling out of nerveless fingers, and heart aching in his chest.

When he woke up, the sun was already a couple hours past rising and shining directly into his face through the window in his room.

Squinting and grumbling, Stoick forced his stiff body from the chair and made for the outside world. Because, personal hell or not, he was still the Chief and he had a job to do to keep his people safe, fed, and happy.

Hiccup had spent a large portion of the night plotting before finally falling into an exhausted slumber. Despite this, he woke up with the first call of the woodland birds before the turning of the planet had done little more than ease the sky into a lighter shade of dark.

The tops of the trees were black against the deep blue sky as he climbed a tree and hooked his bag, blanket, and pillow into a notch between branch and trunk to help preserve them from critters and possible inclement weather. I really need to get myself a tent. And some tools… Tools would definitely be helpful if I'm going to make a semi permanent camp out here.

With Astrid's sword strapped to his waist, he jogged back to the village, which took him about half an hour, enough time for the first ray of the sun to crest the horizon. He was just early enough to sneak through town without meeting anyone. He reached the smithy before Gobber, which was normal, ignoring the grumbling of his stomach that was demanding breakfast, and set to work starting the forge.

Five minutes later, he had a small piece of silver rod melting to make a new pin for the back of Astrid's silver skull ornament.

While that heated, he unstrapped her sword, unsheathed it from the plain scabbard, and set to work sharpening it for her, not knowing if she'd need it for her confrontation with Elof, but figured it was best to be prepared anyhow.

It didn't take him long to weld the new pin on to the back of the little skull with more melted silver, which was good because he was nearly hopping with eagerness to see Astrid again. He gave the metal a minute to cool naturally before dunking it in room temperature water to speed up the process, the weld too delicate to risk dunking it sooner.

And then he was out the door and power walking towards Astrid's house with her sword cradled under an arm and her skull held carefully in his hand. He wasn't sure how he was going to get Astrid her things without getting in trouble if her father was still home, but he figured he'd come up with something on the fly if he had to. It was too important to him that Astrid be fully armed if she needed to be than for him to play things safe.

More people were up and about now, and they either ignored him, called good morning, or sneered at him but refrained from outright name calling for once, not wanting to inspire Stoick's wrath if found out. Hector's beating and how Stoick had walked away from the fight virtually unscathed was still fresh in their minds. Every once in a while, it's actually a good thing to have a four hundred pound battering ram of a Viking for a father.

I wish it was more than once in a while.

I wish I was bigger so that he could have been proud of me from the start and didn't have to hide me from the world.

With that truly depressing thought, Hiccup arrived at the Hofferson's house just as they were walking out the door. He was immediately subjected to Hector's suspicious glare from within his bruised and swollen face, making Hiccup wince in sympathy as he pictured his father's massive fists pounding into Hector.

Fortunately for Hiccup, who'd been scrambling for a good reason to be where he was, Astrid jumped down the step, exclaiming, "Oh, thank you, Hiccup, you already sharpened the sword I left at the smithy last night," forestalling her glowering father from coming to any more damning conclusions than he already had.

Hiccup nodded quickly and handed her her sword, impressed with her quick thinking. He had to work really hard to not let himself beam at her stupidly and keep his expression and tone neutral. "I did. I saw it when I walked in this morning." Then he held out his hand and waited for her to hold hers palm up. "And I fixed this for you, too." As he dropped the little ornament into her hand, he managed to just brush her palm with the tips of his fingers.

Astrid's breath caught at the touch and it was all she could do not to throw her arms around him in her thanks for his speedy fix of her skull. But she could feel her father's eyes on them and the silent warning on the air to wrap this up before he did something she'd not like very much. It was hard, though; her heart was still jumping in excitement from seeing Hiccup walking up the path as she opened the door.

She caught his eyes as she closed her fingers around the skull, seeing the barely masked longing in the beautiful green depths. "Thank you."

Hiccup's heart was pounding in his chest, the tips of his fingers were tingling, he was possibly trembling like a leaf, and all he wanted to do was kiss her good morning. But he hid it, somehow, and simply said, "You're welcome. It was nothing. Just doing my job." Then he nodded respectfully at her parents, pretending that they hadn't practically raised him. "Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. H."

"Morning, Hiccup," they replied in near unison. Alga looked at him sympathetically, her voice soft. Hector still glowered, and he all but growled his response. It wasn't hard to figure out where he stood with each of them.

Somehow, the boy made his jelly-like legs turn around and walk in a fair semblance of normal back towards the smithy. Which just happened to be the same way that the Hoffersons were going as well. Which meant he was acutely aware of them walking a few houses worth back, since they'd paused for Alga to put Astrid's missing skull back on her leather belt. He could feel their eyes on him in the form of the fine hairs on the back of his neck standing up in alert. He could hear the soft murmur of their voices as Astrid tried to tell them for what was probably the dozenth time that she'd be fine standing up to Elof on her own and that they didn't need to hover over her.

They were going to hover anyway.

And that's exactly what Hiccup intended to do as well, as unobtrusively as possible, of course.

When Gobber hobbled in to his shop an hour after dawn, rubbing his neck, still wondering how it was possible to feel like he'd slept wrong, when he was pretty sure he hadn't actually slept at all over his worry about the current messed up situation, Hiccup was already there and was working on the backlog of weapons that needed sharpening and fixing from the last dragon attack a few days ago.

"Morning, Gobber," Hiccup said cheerily.

Gobber eyed his apprentice blearily, wondering if he'd dreamed up the events of last night, despite never actually going to sleep. "You're in a surprisingly good mood this morning."

Hiccup blinked just once as he realized that he probably shouldn't be this happy considering no else could know that he and Astrid had spent an absolutely idyllic time snogging in the forest last night, Night Fury interruption notwithstanding. He quickly came up with a viable reason for his good cheer. He shrugged and gave Gobber a lopsided grin as he sharpened a sword on the grinding wheel. "It's not every day I have a roaring fight with my dad and move out of the house."

The elder Viking suddenly found himself wide awake and his neck woes were forgotten. "You didn't."

"I did. I slept in the forest last night and felt like a sort of strong, independent, almost Viking for the first time in my life." He smirked, no heat to his otherwise bitter words.

Gobber's face split into a wide grin and he clapped Hiccup on the back with his real hand. "Good for you."

Hiccup tried not to stagger, but he hadn't braced himself fast enough. He recovered by turning it into a purposeful step towards the bench that held the finished items and picked up a couple more weapons that were ready for delivery. With his arms now full, he aimed for the front of the shop, Gobber following him. As he walked, Hiccup said over his shoulder, "And the best part, Gobber?"

"What's that?"

"Dad finally admitted that I should be training like the other kids."

Gobber was left with his jaw hanging near the vicinity of the floor as Hiccup practically bounced out of the smithy to deliver the finished weapons, because he'd never thought the day would come that his best friend, his Chief with a stubborn streak wider than the ocean, would admit to being wrong.

The morning sky was bright and clear as Astrid looked up at it, wishing for some clouds to show up so she could imagine them as Valkyries coming down from Valhalla to enact judgment on Elof. But it wasn't to be, so she shifted her weight a bit in her lean against a support beam of the trading post's large deck, and returned to glaring at Elof's house, which just happened to be across the path from her current location.

She'd been standing here for two hours while she waited for the lying coward to emerge and face her.

All around her, the village of Berk bustled as people went about their daily lives, shopping, cutting firewood for the winter, making repairs to houses that had been scorched in the latest dragon raid, chasing after their children and pet livestock, and so on. On the surface, everything seemed normal; with them calling good morning to her just like they always would have, but Astrid could sense the curious and sometimes judgmental glances they gave her when she wasn't looking at them directly.

The tedious wait had been broken up by Hiccup, who'd managed to pass by her on four different occasions, ostensibly on deliveries or supply runs for Gobber. They managed to pretend that the other didn't exist well enough to satisfy her father, who'd parked himself in a chair on the deck of the trading post, but Astrid saw the secret gleam in his gorgeous emerald eyes as he passed her with the barest hint of a sideways glance.

Those looks warmed her to the core and kept her resolute in her determination to annihilate the rumours no doubt flying around the village about her.

Her father, of course, was keeping an eye on her and making sure no idiotic boys tried anything funny. Not even Snotlout bothered to hang around once he was subjected to her father's glare, eyes nearly swollen shut or not.

Ruff and Tuff had kept her company for a while, chatting her ears off about absolutely nothing important, like usual. But they ended with a little bit of entertainment that actually caught her admittedly distracted attention; something about an officiating apprenticeship they tried for a whole day before the village officiator threw himself off a cliff to get away from the loquacious twins. They thought it was hilarious, of course. It was a shame, actually, because if anyone would be good at droning on about important things that no one wanted to hear about, Tuff was it.

The one thing they didn't mention was anything to do with last night's rather epic fight.

Either they miraculously hadn't heard the new rumours circling the village about her apparent promiscuity, or they'd somehow learned some tact.

Astrid was betting on the former.

Tuffnut was exempt from her father's glare, being a year younger than Astrid, and not yet showing signs of noticing that girls were desirable things. But then, with his less than fastidious twin sister as an example, he was not likely to come to that conclusion anytime soon. (Probably a good thing for female kind, considering he wasn't all that keen on bathing either.)

Astrid generally liked the twins in an eye rolling, Thor save her, kind of way, but she was happy to see them wander off, apparently to try and talk Fishlegs and Snotlout into joining them on some prank or other. She wished them luck. As long as it isn't against me. Or Hiccup. They had a terrible habit of focusing on poor Hiccup for their jokes no matter how many times she'd warned them against it. The twins enjoyed the challenge of trying and failing to avoid her revenge, mental deviants that they were.

At least they're not boring.

Which is what I am; bored out of my mind, that is.

Loitering around and accomplishing nothing useful was very much against her nature, and she was itching to do something. Anything. But she daren't leave her post, or Elof the Not So Lucky might sneak away and she didn't feel like tracking him down for their confrontation. For one thing, she rather liked this location, being practically in the center of the village and sure to attract a sizeable crowd once things became interesting. Astrid wanted the question of her good reputation cleared sooner than later, because she couldn't stand the thought of people thinking less of her.

Sighing in a rather dramatic way, eliciting a chuckle from her father sitting above her, Astrid pulled the tiny dagger out of her arm wrapping and started trimming her nails. She almost gave in to the urge to make them into sharp claws so she could scratch Elof's eyes out, but refrained because that really wasn't her style. (Both fighting and cosmetic.) Instead, she trimmed the rough edges off into the neat half circles she kept her nails at, mentally grumbling that she had to resort to personal grooming to pass the time while waiting for her nemesis to get his lazy ass out of bed.

Olaf returned from his overnight shift on the watch tower disgruntled and grumbling.

He never should have taken that extra flask of whiskey with him, but his son's less than stellar behaviour had seemed like it was worthy of an extra drink or two. Somehow, he'd fallen asleep and managed to set his boot on fire. Aside from jumping off the tower and going for a swim, the only thing he could come up with while in a panic to put the fire out has him now smelling like his own piss. And then he'd been caught asleep yet again when Bucket had to prod him awake to take his turn on watch.

Olaf was already not having a good day.

And to make it just that little bit worse, his head was pounding, he needed to empty his bladder in a more conventional fashion, and a tiny blonde haired girl was parked across the path from his house, looking like a very pissed off young Valkyrie as she tossed a miniature dagger into the air over and over again.

And Hector was sharpening his axe on the trading post's deck.

And Alga was conveniently nearby as well, talking with a small pack of females like they had nothing better to do than eyeball his house and look murderous. He couldn't help but notice that they were all mothers of teenage girls.

Shit.

My stupid, stupid son is in big trouble.

And he bloody well deserves it.

Not for the first time, Olaf wished his wife hadn't died birthing his idiot son. And maybe he should have looked for a new wife to replace her, but like his Chief, he believed his mate to be irreplaceable. But he'd obviously messed up somewhere in the raising of Elof all on his own.

"I'll get him," he snarled to Astrid as he stomped past.

"Thank you," she said sweetly to his back.

Olaf crashed into his house with a bang, slamming the door back against the wall. He promptly winced as his head protested the noise, but it didn't stop his feet from continuing their trek up the stairs to Elof's room. That door was crashed open as well, headache be damned.

Elof was snoring away on his wooden bed platform, hugging his pillow, dressed in only his trousers, and completely oblivious to the drama awaiting him outside.

Growling under his breath about Thor forsaken teenage sons, Olaf grabbed a foot and a wrist and dragged his son right off his bed, dumping him on the floor with a hard thud.

Elof woke up sputtering before he got his bearings and glared up at his father as he scrambled to his feet. "What the fuck was that for?"

Olaf crossed his arms and glared down at his son that he was thankfully still taller than. Just. "That was for lying about Astrid last night."

Elof crossed his arms over his bare chest and curled his lip belligerently. "Who says I was lying? The little whore?"

Olaf let his temper loose with a backhand to that sneering face that so favoured his wife's Thor blessed family. "THAT'S ENOUGH!" he roared at his son who was now sprawled on his bed from where he'd fallen. He sucked in a deep breath to cool his temper a fraction before he whipped off his belt and walloped his almost grown son like he was still a naughty child. "You will cease defaming Astrid right now or I will personally kill you, do you understand?!"

Elof pushed himself back to his feet, the right side of his face burning like fire. "But she stabbed my dick! It was bleeding and everything!"

Olaf blinked a couple times as he processed that somewhat shocking bit of information. And then his brain kicked back into gear. "And what did you do to deserve that?!"

Elof couldn't meet his father's angry, disappointed brown eyes any longer. He shrunk into himself a bit and stubbed his toe into the floor board. "I forced a kiss on her that she didn't want."

Olaf rolled his eyes and snorted in derision. "Then you deserved it. And you deserve whatever else she does to you."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean she's waiting for you. And her parents. And half the village, it looks like. So get dressed and get out there and apologize for lying or you're not my son anymore and you can get your horny ass off this island and find a new tribe."

Elof gulped at how dead serious his father sounded. Holy Thor, I think he actually means it. The words that emerged sounded like a pathetic squeak. "Yes, dad."

Olaf nodded once. "Good. Now go fix the mess you made." He turned on his heel and stomped down the stairs and then out the back door to the outhouse to take care of one more aggrievance.

He felt bad about striking his son, but he honestly didn't know what else to do get through to him sometimes. He loved his boy, he really did, and he was usually very proud of his accomplishments, but lately Elof had been acting more and more self entitled and like the usually unspoken rules of honourable behaviour didn't apply to him anymore.

Maybe this incident with Astrid will finally be what is needed to open Elof's eyes to reality.

If I'm really lucky.

Hiccup had just passed Astrid for the fifth time that morning, carrying another armload of swords and axes, when Elof finally showed his highly overrated handsome face to the light of day.

"It's about time," Astrid muttered to herself in a less than quiet tone, straightening up from her lean and crossing her arms over her chest.

Hector snorted to himself in agreement from above. His axe had never been sharper in its life and his arse was going numb from sitting on the wooden bench for so long.

Elof took a second to glance up and down the path, noting the unusually high number of people lingering in the area before he turned his focus on Astrid and sneered, curling his lip up in disdain. He stepped off the flat stone that graced the landing of his doorway and started walking across the twenty or thirty feet that separated them.

Astrid immediately moved to meet him halfway. "Careful, Elof, or your face might get stuck that way," she taunted. Then she smiled at him in a most unpleasant fashion. "Then again, keep the sneer; it's a more accurate representation of who you truly are."

Elof stopped a few feet from the girl who was roughly half his size, hands curling into fists at his sides. "Did you just insult me, you little bitch?"

Astrid had her axe in her hands in an instant, trying to decide if anyone would blame her if she beheaded him or if maybe chopping him off at the knees might be a more fitting punishment.

From his hiding spot just out of Hector's line of sight to the side of the trading post, Hiccup growled under his breath, hands closing convulsively around the hilt of a sword and dropping the rest of the weapons thoughtlessly.

Hector shot up to his feet and growled much louder in a warning fashion, drawing Elof's gaze for a half a second before he was dismissed as unimportant. Hector was not impressed and was seriously considering pounding the lying, dunderheaded teenager into the ground until there was nothing left but a moaning mass of pulp left. Astrid can beat up whatever remains of the little shit after that.

A little ways down the path, Alga was thinking nearly the exact same thing.

"ELOF!" His father's voice cut across the space from the doorway behind him. "What did I just tell you?!" Olaf all but thundered.

Every single person in hearing range froze whatever they were doing or pretending to do and rushed to the area to see the drama, including one grumpy Chief of Berk.

Elof glanced over his shoulder and sneered at his father too. "Why should I apologize to her? She doesn't deserve it."

Astrid glared up at the world's stupidest boy. "If I'm a bitch, then you're an asshole, Elof the Lucky-to-Still-Be-Alive-Right-Now."

Elof scoffed. "Oh, really? And who here is going to do me in then? You? Your pathetic, beat up father? Your mommy? Your afterthought of a boyfriend who isn't much bigger than the sword he's holding?" He flicked his eyes to where Hiccup had unconsciously moved to the front of the trading post where he was now quite visible after squeezing his way to the front of the crowd. "None of you could take me in a fight even if I had one hand tied behind my back and my feet were tied together."

Stoick forced his way through the gathering crowd, using his bulk to his advantage. "I'm very tempted to make you prove that boast, Elof Olafson," he called out in a warning tone, all but stomping up to the teenagers. "Against me." He came to a stop pretty much in Elof's personal space and crossed his arms over his massive chest and glowered down at the boy who, while tall, was still about five inches short of Stoick's 6'9" frame and a couple hundred pounds of muscle lighter.

Elof gulped, suddenly realizing he might have blundered. "I didn't…"

"SHUT IT!" Stoick bellowed.

Elof snapped his mouth closed and looked sick as Olaf moved to join their little group.

Astrid twirled her axe in her hands, smirking a little as the boy was put down. This might not be the beating she wanted to give him, but humiliation was working for her as a pretty close second.

Stoick turned his piercing green gaze on Olaf. "Your boy is aggravating me, Olaf. Is there a purpose to this mess that I've missed that would explain things?"

Olaf nodded quickly, glaring at his son. "Elof is supposed to be apologizing to Astrid for telling untruths about her last night but he's already forgotten what I told him about disowning him not even fifteen minutes ago."

"I see." Stoick raised a bushy red brow at Elof. "If you have any sense in your pea sized brain, you will apologize to Astrid." The fearless leader of Berk closed his eyes for a second and appeared to deflate ever so slightly before adding, "Right after I do."

The vast majority of the Hairy Hooligan tribe, who had gravitated to the proceedings like vultures to the dying, gaped at this unprecedented event. Stoick the Vast had never publicly apologized to anyone for his actions before yesterday and now he was on his second apology in less than a day.

The world must be coming to an end.

Stoick faced the tiny little warrior girl, who, despite being tall enough for a girl (though still a good foot shorter than Stoick), was still very lean for a vikingess, and winced at the look of hurt and disappointment on her face as she looked up at him. He rubbed the back of his neck as if that would help with the apologizing. "Astrid." Add in a heaved sigh for effect. And then another, "Astrid," that went nowhere.

She raised the brow not covered by her side swept bangs at his procrastinating.

Who knew apologizing to a girl would be so hard? Then again, I certainly did my share of apologizing to Valka, so this can't possibly be that different. Right?

Stoick tried again. "Astrid. I am deeply sorry that I said some things that I know were not true which lead to the yakhead here to slur your name further. I'm also sorry that I kicked you out of my house last night. You know you're always welcome at my hearth."

Astrid only needed a few seconds to forgive the man. He was a male after all, and their stupidity as a whole was a well known fact that womankind had learned to live with eons ago. And he'd always been nice to her during all of their previous interactions. And he'd looked like he was about to walk into a pool of lava without any boots on while he said it, so she didn't want to make the poor man suffer any longer. She smiled widely at the Gronckle sized man with the rather epic beard. "Apology accepted, Chief Stoick. You can rest easier now knowing that I won't let either of my parents murder you in your sleep."

"Thanks?" Stoick thought she might be teasing about that last bit until he glanced at said parents and received matching glares. Apparently they're still not entirely pleased with me. Oh well. Stoick shrugged it off, knowing his friends would forgive him eventually. He turned his focus back to Elof and scowled at him when he found the boy glaring obstinately at an axe twirling Astrid, their gazes locked on each other in a silent glare off.

He smacked the boy upside the back of his head, eliciting a, "Hey!" of protest.

"Rescind your statement from last night, Elof, or you're out of this tribe and sailing away in a leaky dinghy with no supplies," Stoick growled.

Olaf grimaced at the warning, knowing it was no empty threat. His son was an idiot, but he didn't want to lose him.

Elof grimaced in a nearly identical expression, but he wasn't as stupid as everyone was thinking right now. He swallowed his pride, plastered on an expression that vaguely resembled sincerity, and said, "I'm sorry I lied about you yesterday, Astrid. Although I doubt anyone believed me anyhow; you're entirely too frigid to let any of us so much as snatch a proper kiss, not to mention get anywhere near your knickers."

The crowd gave a chorused gasp while more than a few (Astrid, her parents, Hiccup, Stoick, Gothi, and several more women) glared with insulted indignation.

"Elof!" his father scolded with a wince, smacking the moron upside the head again. "Seriously, son, we have to work on your tact."

"What?" Elof asked. "I'm just speaking the truth."

Stoick growled under his breath. "Is that a satisfactory apology for you, Astrid? Or would you like more?" his tone clearly said he'd fully support her if she wanted more.

Astrid did.

She smiled maliciously. "Oh, I think more is needed. I want to see him fight the way he boasted he could."

Her axe twirled in her hands again threateningly as Stoick said, "Done," and Elof paled to the colour of new snow.

"And just to make things perfectly clear," Astrid added with every syllable emphasized through gritted teeth. "Hiccup is not an afterthought nor is he my boyfriend."

"Uh oh," Hiccup muttered, sensing where this was going. Astrid was in a right rage and she was going to say something that she (or he) was going to end up regretting later.

"Hiccup is my BEST friend. And my FIANCÈ. And he doesn't think I'm frigid at ALL!"

Another shocked gasp from the crowd, except for a few exceptions, as Alga gave a knowing smirk. Stoick wasn't far behind, shooting his son a wink. Hiccup didn't see it though, because he had his palm over his bright red face.

Up on a hill overlooking the village, hidden amongst the trees, two dragons looked on with their keen sight and hearing. "What's a fiancé?" the black one asked the white one.

The white one shrugged. "Not a clue. Maybe another word for mate, considering you said those two acted like mates last night?"

"Sounds like a reasonable guess to me." Toothless gave his own promised mate a panting smile for being so smart.

She rolled her eyes at him playfully and nudged him hard enough with her shoulder to almost knock him off the thick branch they were perched on.

His green eyes heated and she gasped in mock alarm, dodging just in time as he leapt at where she'd been perched. Giggling, they scampered through the tree tops in a game of chase that ended with Toothless pinning her down and licking all over her face repeatedly until she finally opened her mouth and licked him back.