Chapter One: I Guess You Can Only Try

Astrid grunted with exertion as she pulled the lever, her eyes following the catapult's sling as it hurled a massive boulder from the downed watchtower to her left out across New Berk's harbor, until it crashed into a ship just outside it, the burst of rising fire proof that she'd hit her mark.

Not wasting another minute, she cranked the iron lever backwards, reeling in the catapult's chain.

"LOAD CATAPULT!" she shouted out the window as the lever clanked into place, taut until released again.

She ran to the opposite window, which looked out onto what had been a watchtower, the Vikings beneath moving rubble and debris as fast as they could. She leaned out and called to them.

"GET THE DEBRIS INTO THE SLING NOW!"

A high pitched whining met her ears. She looked to the front to see a huge fireball heading straight towards her.

Astrid ducked back inside and opened the trapdoor just as the fireball hit the watchtower.

Searing heat swept the small room, the tower rattling from the impact. Astrid covered her head, but slipped through the trapdoor, tumbling down the stairs. She curled herself into a ball as best she could, knowing the smaller she made herself, the less hurt she would be.

She grunted as she hit the floor, her arms, back and knees numb from the tumble. She kept herself curled a moment more, listening as the roof of the tower collapsed, crashing to the floor, through the floor, shaking the base. Heat wafting from above, hot ash fluttering to the bare skin of her arms.

The instant the tower stopped shaking, Astrid sprang to her feet, shoving fallen beams out of her way as she headed for the door. She winced as her body ached with each movement. You're getting old, Astrid, she thought to herself as she half tripped over more debris and stumbling out of the gaping hole in the watchtower wall.

Forty-two felt both old and perfectly fine…most of the time; but getting up after being nearly obliterated by a fireball and getting out safely, or with minimal damage was something for teenagers, of which she was definitely not. While she was still a formidable foe in both sparring and combat—she was New Berk's general after all—she tired faster than she used to, but not by much.

She coughed and hissed as pain shot down her leg. She looked down to find a large gash in her thigh, warm blood running down her leg.

She let out a frustrated groan at the inconvenience, swiftly tearing a swath of her tunic and wrapping it tightly over her leg. She started jogging further up into the village, glancing back at the carnage behind.

The docks were gone, nothing but fire and smoke, the houses along them black frames amidst bright orange flames. The watchtower section, the line of defense no more, crumbled, dashed to nothing but burning piles of stone and wood. What men and women had managed to survive the blasts ran past her, clutching their children and their weapons tight.

Astrid pointed upwards. "Everyone get to Great Hall!" she yelled. She ducked as another fireball slammed into the cliff where the watchtowers had been, flames crackling and snapping. Gods, what was that awful smell?

Astrid covered her nose and mouth with her hand as she ran from the scene, further up the village streets. The scent was sour, tart, harsh, wafting on the breezes as the evening sun dipped lower into the sky. Why was that scent familiar? She turned back to the flames, watched as they glided up anything and everything they touched, instantly white hot, swirling, grabbing, pulsing.

She knew she'd seen flames like that before too, but where?

She followed the masses of Berkians as they thronged towards Great Hall, stopping as a path veered out of the village, and up into the hills. This path in particular, led to the plateau where she'd let Stormfly go, all those years ago.

I'll be able to see up there, she thought, see who dares to attack us. She grit her teeth as her thigh throbbed, but she pushed through, running up the path, her boots gripping the dirt, sliding slightly beneath the pressure, tugging the grass from its place.

As the ground leveled out, she pulled the spyglass from its case at her hip, checking the lens to make sure it hadn't cracked. She pulled it to it's full length and looked through the smaller end, out to the harbor.

"Now, let's see who you really are, you cowards."

The fleet of ships, just outside New Berk's harbor, just far enough away so they couldn't be hit back, loaded ball after ball of wood and brush into catapults made for ships. Suddenly, each ball burst into flame and was hurled towards the village.

Astrid looked through the glass, focusing on the catapults and the men who manned them, trying to gauge if they put anything on the balls, but she saw nothing. The balls just burst into flames, as if by magic. But that was impossible. The only "magic" Astrid knew of was dragon magic, and they had been safe in the Hidden World for the past twenty-one years….hadn't they?

She pushed the thought to the side, reminding herself to come back to that. She looked at the men again, trying to discern their armor…or the lack of it. She growled. "Picts."

She looked again, to be sure, but the boats were starting to sail away, the men's armor quickly becoming indiscernable. She pointed the glass towards the sails, certain she would see their smug insignia, that intricate crescent and bent arrow, plastered over the mainsails. Her heart sank as she saw nothing but plain white.

"How in Hela's name is that possible?!" she yelled to herself, stomping her foot.

It had to be the Picts. Those smug bastards had purposefully been overfishing in Archipelago waters so they could sell the fish back at hiked prices since last spring. She knew this because Gustav Larson had taken her onto his fishing boat to prove it, yet whenever Hiccup went to meet with them, they claimed innocence, subtly threatening to sanction trade, cutting off their supply of grain. And Hiccup would comply, giving them the equivalent of a slap on the wrist, while the other tribes in the Archipelago became more and more upset.

"Astrid!"

She turned to see Hiccup running up the hill, his face, hair, and beard streaked with soot. His face contorted in pain as he held a hand to his middle.

Astrid lowered the spyglass, walked half-way down the hill, and held out her hand. Hiccup took hold and she pulled him up the rest of the way.

"Are you all right?" she asked. Damn that wound. She hated how it had crippled him.

Hiccup nodded, catching his breath. "I'm fine," he said, "just exerted myself too much." He noticed the makeshift bandage on her leg and the drying stripes of blood. His eyes widened. "Are you okay?"

Astrid glanced down at her leg, then shrugged her shoulders. "Inconvenienced, really, but it'll scar over." She playfully nudged him. "You can sew me up later."

Hiccup chuckled and shook his head. " 'It's only fun if you get a scar out of it,' right?"

Astrid laughed at her old ideas of "fun", before turning serious at the sight of all of New Berk, with the exception of Great Hall, consumed by fire.

"Did you see who did it?" Hiccup asked, drawing her attention back to the spyglass in her hand.

She gave a frustrated sigh and handed it to him, pointing to the ships slowly leaving the harbor. "There's no insignia on the mainsails."

"What?!" Hiccup exclaimed, putting the spyglass to his eye to see for himself. A surprised exhale left his lips. "How is that possible?" he turned and looked at her. "Were you able to get a better look at the men on the ships? Snotlout said no one's come ashore, that they've stayed just outside firing distance."

"He's right," Astrid replied, then paused before answering his question, knowing he wasn't going to like her answer. "It looked like the Picts to me."

Hiccup clenched his jaw and stiffened, turning back to look at the ships as they disappeared behind the cliffs. "Are you certain it's them?"

Astrid pressed her tongue to her cheek. "I've seen their armor enough to recognize it." You doubt me?

"But are you certain?" he repeated, facing her again, "From this distance?"

She crossed her arms and shifted her weight. "It looked like Pictish armor to me!"

"But you're not certain it was them?"

"Who else would it be?" she yelled, gesturing out to the sea, "They've been overfishing our waters since last spring!"

Hiccup pinched the bridge of his nose. "Not this again…" he murmured, then looked back at her, "We haven't been able to prove that—"

"Because all you give them is a slap on the wrist when a show of force would get us the answers we need!"

"We need their grain, Astrid, we can't risk being trade sanctioned—"

"Why are you not doing anything about this?!" she snapped.

Astrid bit her tongue and winced as the words left her mouth.

Hiccup's green eyes glinted. "I can't prove it," he emphasized, "and until I do I have to treat them with the same courtesy as everyone else."

Astrid flung her hand towards New Berk, black smoke billowing into the sky.

"This isn't proof?!"

"You couldn't confirm for certain it is the Picts!" He yelled.

Astrid gestured in frustration, her voice tinged with it. "Our home has been razed, Hiccup! None of the other tribes would do this to us! The only logical explanation is the Picts."

"Because they're different from us?"

Astrid paused at his words. Was that his old insecurity popping up? "Are we still talking about them or you?"

Hiccup sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "I don't understand," he murmured, "We've been at peace for twenty-one years." He shook his head and looked into his wife's eyes. "We've done nothing to warrant this attack."

"So strike back." Why is this so hard for him to understand?

"At whom, Astrid?"

She rolled her eyes. "The Picts for starters—"

Hiccup rolled his. "Oh, gods, Astrid—"

"There's no one else to challenge!" she fumed, "They're the only ones who've been acting suspicious. Every other tribe in the Archipelago has complained about them since summer. Why are you so insistent on turning a blind eye? That's not how you work."

"Because I can't be in two places at once! I have to put everyone else's needs above my own! I cannot focus on the village's needs and go traipsing all over the Archipelago to suss out a possible threat."

"So send me," she countered, "You made me general." Why was none of this simple to him?

Hiccup sucked in a breath and bit his tongue before replying. "I don't want a war on my hands."

Astrid gasped at the barb. "Maybe a war is what we need," she bit back.

Hiccup's eyes widened in disbelief. "Are you serious?!" He gestured towards smoking smoldering New Berk. "Look at our village!"

Astrid stood her ground. "We'd be perfectly justified in declaring war."

"We. Don't. Know. Who. Did it." he emphasized, smacking the back of his hand into the palm of the other. "We can't declare war on an unseen enemy."

Astrid scoffed. "And your constant peace talks have made a difference how?"

Hiccup winced at the barb. "I'm doing the best I can, Astrid."

"Yeah, alone."

Silence hung in the air between them.

"Just talk to me," Astrid continued, her voice tight with emotion, "All I'm trying to do is help, but you won't let me. You don't have to lead alone, remember?"

Hiccup balled his fists and turned away. "We'll discuss this later," he said, making his way back down the hill. He nodded towards her leg. "You need looking after. Let's go to Great Hall and get you cleaned up." He held out his arm to take her hand.

Astrid squared her jaw and walked past him. "I can look after myself."

Hiccup looked forward from scanning the destruction at the flood of sound and a sharp whistle from Great Hall's open doors.

Nuffink stood in the doorway, his back to them. He was tall for fifteen—almost the same height as Hiccup—his hair a thick mop like his own, complete with short side braids, and his eyes the same shade of green, but the color—that was golden wheat—the same as his mother's.

Hiccup quirked a small smile at the sight of his teenage son's broad shoulders. Nuff's upper body was still on the lean side at the moment, but he knew gaining muscle would not be a problem. He takes after his grandfather that way, he thought.

A brief ache of grief pricked his heart. Dad would be pleased. A real Viking for a grandson.

Hiccup frowned at himself, remembering all those years ago, hearing the people of Berk—his people—commenting on the fact that he'd been too scrawny, too gangly for a Viking, brushing him aside because he was too much; too eager, too out there in his ideas…too troublesome.

A burst of resentment flashed in the back of his mind as he listened to his son take command, gesturing to the right, then the left, attempting to give order to the panicked and anxious crowd within. I have to fight to get their attention.

Nuffink took after Astrid in that regard; he knew how to gain control, how to use his presence to command attention, to speak plainly, and provide practical, hands-on solutions. No nonsense.

Hiccup gave a small smile, the resentment fading away as pride took over. He'll make a great Chief one day. I'm glad I started showing him the ropes. It helped that Nuffink showed an actual interest in the job, and he had the knack for handling tasks and problems that Hiccup struggled with. He'll be much more prepared than I was. Dad would definitely be pleased.

Hiccup laid his hand on his son's shoulder as he and Astrid approached from behind.

Nuff whipped around, startled. HIs eyes widened and he breathed a sigh of relief. "Mom! Dad!"

He hugged them; briefly, Hiccup noticed, just long enough to make sure his friends weren't watching. He squeezed Nuff's shoulder. "Thank you for keeping order in my place. I'll take it from here."

Hiccup glanced back at Astrid, watched her shift her weight to her good leg, the glint in her blue eyes cold.

They hadn't spoken the entire walk down the cliffs.

Hiccup clenched his teeth as he turned and walked into the crowd. The people milled about, close, shoulder to shoulder. Tension filled the air with the buzz of worried voices, punctured by shouts of pain from the wounded, the acrid stench of smoke permeating the room.

She's right, he thought. He didn't want to admit it, but it was true—he was trying to lead alone.

Hiccup internally kicked himself as he pushed his way through the people to the head table at the northern end of the Hall. I shouldn't have accused her of being out for blood. When he reached the table, he clambered atop it, put his fingers to his lips and whistled, the sound piercing the hall. Silence lapped over the people of New Berk like the waves of the sea. Thank Thor Astrid taught me that whistle. I can't project loud enough sometimes.

"Listen up!" he projected, "I know you're scared, and I know you're panicking about what to do now, but I can't get to the bottom of any of this if all of you are scrambling over each other."

He pointed to the back, where Fishlegs, Heather, and their kids tended to the wounded and dying. "Fishlegs Ingerman and his family are tending the wounded in the back of Great Hall. If you heard my son earlier, you'll heed his words and mine when I tell you go back there if you need attention, but please do so in an orderly fashion! Seriously, I could cut the panic in this room with a knife."

Various New Berkians threaded their way through the crowd towards the back. Others pushed their way closer to the table, where Hiccup stood.

"Chief!"

Hiccup scanned the crowd to see Eret, Son of Eret approach him, along with Snotlout and a few other warriors. "What's the problem?" he said he got down from the table.

"I don't mean to state the obvious Chief, but where are we going to stay tonight?" He gestured around Great Hall. "This Hall is barely big enough to hold everyone," he dropped his voice so as not to cause further panic, "and we don't know how many we've lost yet—"

A wail of grief pierced the Hall from the back, sending shock down everyone's spines.

Hiccup ran his hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. It's going to be a long night…

He made eye contact with two women, their eyes pleading. He nodded to the first. "Go to the back of Great Hall and take count of the dead and the wounded. Employ anyone who has experience help tend the wounded." The woman nodded and left.

Hiccup nodded to the second. "Go to the store rooms and take count of every single piece of food and drink we have." The woman nodded and peeled off.

Hiccup turned back to Eret, Son of Eret. "Unfortunately, the only place we can stay is here; and from the damage I've seen we'll be staying here until we can get temporary shelters up. I need you to corral everyone who will listen to cooperate and if they need something to do, give them a job: signing up for the night watches, starting to clear rubble, help take stock of supplies and each other, anything."

Eret nodded. "Yes, Chief," he said as he walked away, task in hand.

Snotlout barreled up to him. "Who in Hela's name did this, Hiccup?" he demanded, "We deserve to know who kicked our asses so we can go kick theirs!"

"I don't know who did this, Snotlout," Hiccup replied, "But I promise I'm going to find out." He turned, and searched the crowd for Astrid. He found her still by Great Hall's door, talking with Nuff.

"ASTRID!" he called. When she turned her head and found him, he beckoned her over. He watched her give their son a reassuring smile before limping through the crowd towards him. He winced with guilt. I should have taken her to Fishlegs as soon as we came in—

His attention was diverted as a loud crash sounded along with the sounds of scuffling. Hiccup got on top of the table again and saw that a fight had broken out near where Eret was taking tally of the people and handing out work. He whistled again, drawing all eyes to him.

"WILL EVERYONE PLEASE GET A GRIP AND CALM DOWN?!" He yelled. "WE'RE NOT GETTING ANYWHERE WITH ALL THIS FIGHTING AND CHAOS! FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIVES JUST DO AS YOU'RE TOLD!"

The cacophony of raised voices softened to murmurs as Hiccup got off the table. He exhaled in frustration. "Thor help me, I'm turning into my father," he said to himself.

"So, you're delegating to everyone else but me."

Hiccup swore in his head as Astrid appeared beside him, her jaw set, body tense, eyes ice cold.

Hiccup sighed and pressed his hand to his head. I don't have time for this right now. He turned around and got up onto the bench beneath the table and whistled again, the responding silence sharp, immediate.

"All warriors gather in the northwest corner immediately!" He thrust his hand in that direction as he stepped down, looking Astrid in the eye. "Can you please talk to them?" he snapped, "I can't deal with this right now."

"You're the Chief," Astrid responded, the inflection in her voice speaking what she really thought. The only time she ever called him "Chief" was when she was angry with him, and when she thought he was screwing things up.

Hiccup clenched his jaw. "Just do it," he demanded.

Astrid stared in displeasure at him, then walked away towards the warriors.

Hiccup leaned against the table, exasperated and exhausted. He shook his head, trying to drown out the noise in Great Hall, the incessant, buzzing noise of every single voice murmuring, whining, screaming, pleading, asking every single question that swelled inside his head, building, pressing, pushing until he thought it would burst from the tension.

How on earth are we going to get through this?

He had no time to think of an answer as multiple farmers approached him, all speaking at the same time about their fields and harvests being burned and what they were supposed to do for food since winter wasn't far off.

Hiccup saw Astrid's face pale out of the corner of his eye. He reflexed, lunging forward as she grit her teeth in pain and sank. He caught her by the arm and held her up. He shoved all of his thoughts, all of the situations and circumstances and the need to problem solve away. All of that could wait. Astrid needed him. He could take a moment to take care of his wife.

He carefully walked her from the main table, away from the warriors, winding his way through the Berkians to the makeshift healing area.

"Hiccup, I told you I can take care of myself—" Astrid stated.

He sat her into an empty chair. "I know you did," he looked into her eyes, flickering with hurt from the way the conversation on the hill had ended. "and I know you can," He glanced at her leg and exhaled, "but you're in more pain than you let on, and I can't have that." I hate it when you're in pain.

He shook off the people of New Berk's stares as he grabbed a bottle of clear alcohol and a candle, placing them on the table next to him. He laid his hands on the knotted and bloody fabric wrapped around Astrid's thigh and carefully unbound it.

Astrid sucked in a breath, her body tense.

Hiccup removed the rags, grabbed the bottle of alcohol and poured it over the wound.

Astrid groaned, knuckling the seat edge of her chair. "Odin's Beard," she swore, her breath ending in a whimper. She clenched her eyes shut. "Ow."

Hiccup swallowed the pain that spiked in his chest at the sound of her cries. I should have done this earlier.

A short silence punctured the low buzzing of the people as they turned their attention to them, then went back to their conversations. He grabbed clean rags and placed them on the gash. Astrid finished the movement by placing her hand upon the rags and keeping pressure.

Hiccup released his hand and took a needle and a sinew thread and threaded it, holding the needle in the flame for a moment before removing it. He looked into his wife's blue eyes.

"Still want me to sew it up?"

Astrid nodded, her face tight with pain. "Please."

Hiccup knelt in front of her and removed the rag. The gash wasn't deep—Thank Thor—but is was ghastly to see.

"How'd this happen?" he asked.

Astrid hissed as Hiccup thread the needle through her skin. She took a swig of the alcohol before responding. "I don't know. I probably cut it somewhere during my fall down the watchtower stairs."

Hiccup's eyes flickered with fear. "You were in the watchtowers?" he said, attempting to keep his voice even. He shuddered at the thought that she could've been killed.

Astrid nodded. "I fell down the trap door just as a fireball hit." She winced again as the needle stung. "For all I know, it's just as likely it got cut while I tried to fight through all the debris."

"Well, I'm glad it's not deep," he glanced into her face and gave her a small smile. "And I'm glad you made it out safely."

Astrid smiled back. "Me too."

Silence drifted betwixt them as Hiccup continued to stitch her up.

"I'm sorry," Hiccup said after awhile, "I didn't mean to call you bloodthirsty. I was just…frustrated." At everything. My useless peace talks, the fishing problems, our fights, myself…

Astrid laid her hand on his shoulder and waited until he met her gaze. "I'm sorry too," she said, "I know you're trying your hardest. I was just upset that this happened in the first place."

Hiccup tied off the stitching and cut the excess thread away; he took Astrid's face in his hands and touched his forehead to hers. She placed her hands on his face and returned the gesture, their symbol for forgiveness.

When they released, Hiccup poured more alcohol over the wound and bound it with clean rags.

Astrid gasped at the stinging pain.

With her wound properly bound, Hiccup took her hand, pulled her up, slung her arm around his shoulder, and walked her back to the main table where they sat, Astrid leaning against his chest.

New Berk had hunkered down for the night, Great Hall packed from end to end with people, the large fires pulsing warmth into the Hall. The only sounds around were the rustling of bodies, sniffs, and the occasional murmur of a mother telling her children to go to sleep. The only people left awake were those on guard, now into First Watch.

Both Hiccup and Astrid sighed as they looked out one of Great Hall's windows, the only remnant of the fire a sea of smoldering embers, punctured by streaks of sparks, spiraling towards the inky sky above.

"Did the fire smell weird to you?" Astrid asked suddenly, "You were down in it longer than I was."

Hiccup nodded against her head, his interest piqued. "It did; it smelled sour. It should've been unusual—"

"But it wasn't," Astrid finished.

"You noticed that too?"

"Mm-hmm. And the fire looked familiar too, the way it consumed everything it touched, combined with heat that intense…" he watched her glance at her arms, "I'm surprised I didn't get steam burns from it."

Hiccup hugged her before speaking, careful not to be accusing in his tone. "Did you notice anything about the fire from the ships? Did they put anything on the balls?"

Astrid shook her head. "Not that I could see; it was like they magically burst into flames—" Hiccup felt her straighten. "Which reminds me," she continued, "the dragons are still safe in the Hidden World, right?"

Hiccup almost laughed at her question. The idea of their dragons not being safe after all this time…it was funny until he caught the intention behind it. What if they weren't? "It's been eleven years since we saw them last, so, yes, they're safe." He turned to look at her. "Why?"

"The only explanation I could come up with for the balls "magically" bursting into flames, was if they were prompted to do so by dragon fire."

Hiccup furrowed his brow. "That makes sense, except for the fact that no one, save us, has seen a dragon in over twenty years, and we're the only ones who know where to find them."

"Could there still be dragon goods out there?"

Hiccup shrugged his shoulders. "It's possible, but if that were the case, then they would be very rare and very high priced." His brows knit tighter together. "Which would mean someone in the Archipelago would be behind this." Which would mean that Astrid's right…again.

"Anyone come to mind?"

Hiccup shook his head. "No one living."

Astrid sighed. "What about the Northern Markets? Rare and high priced goods often end up there, especially unusual items. We could send a longship to check it out. Thank Odin our ships were safely hidden in the caves, otherwise we'd really be in dire straits."

Hiccup exhaled and rested his forehead on her shoulder. "Maybe…" he shook his head, then raised it, staring back out the window, the weight of their circumstances settling heavy on his shoulders. "There's so much to do now, to think about, organize…I need to write all of the other tribes and ask for aid…it's almost too much."

Astrid laid her hand on his face and turned it towards her. She kissed his cheek and ran her fingers through his beard, smiling at the new gray hairs within it.

"There will be time to think of all that tomorrow." She removed her hand from his face and took his hand in hers, fingers entwined. "I'm just glad we're all safe, and that we're together."

Hiccup thought of his daughter, far off at sea, doing what what he had longed to do with his life before he'd become Chief before his time: explore.

"Well, not everyone."

Astrid squeezed his hand. "I'll write Zephyr tomorrow…tell her she needs to return…to what's left of home."

Hiccup sighed. "She's not going to be happy about that." Gods, if there was one think that ticked his daughter off the most, it was plans being cut short, especially long awaited plans. "But I'd rather have her here, knowing she's safe, than out there hoping she might be with no guarantee."

Astrid leaned her head against his neck and pat his hand. "Let's try to get some sleep," she said, "Thor knows we've got hard times ahead. Might as well start making the best of it."