A/N: What is this? An update only two months later instead of six? WHAT IS THIS MADNESS? Well the madness is pretty much I got sick this week and somehow had a few extra minutes to write and edit. I'm still mostly super busy, trying to keep my business open, working like 48-50 hours a week. But here's a new chapter that is really long but mostly filler, or at least it feels that way to me, but I had to edit like a thousand words out of the opening scene because it basically existed to make a few unfunny sex jokes.
Also please remember that everyone in this entire story is pretty messed up, so like...there is no intention to hate on any characters. This is important, because...well, you'll see.
ALSO Persephone turned 2 years old yesterday. (or the day before? Something like that.) Hooray! I totally thought I would have finished this monster by now. Blerf.
Chapter 31: Wishes and Other Impossible Things
Astrid hated trying to sit still, and with the healer woman poking and prodding at her ribs, she had to sit especially still.
"What did you say happened to you, again dear?" Astrid had to suppress a sigh. Every time.
"I fell down the stairs."
The old woman's eyes narrowed. "What did you do that for?"
"I was carrying a basket of laundry and missed a step. Down I went."
The old woman glanced at the door, closed and separating Hiccup from the two of them. "How did you really get hurt?"
For a moment Astrid was taken aback. The old woman had asked her how she had been hurt every time she'd come in, but this was the first time she had really questioned it. Astrid had assumed the old woman was just senile and forgetful. "I told you," she said after a minute. "I fell down the stairs."
The healer raised an eyebrow. "Did he hurt you?"
Astrid almost laughed, but caught herself. "What? No, he didn't hurt me."
"Because I've seen a lot of women over the years who said they 'fell down the stairs'—"
"Well, stairs are dangerous if you're not paying attention-"
"Except it wasn't usually the stairs that hurt them. If he's hurt you I can help. You can trust me, dearie, I'll make sure you and any children are cared for and see your husband brought to justice."
Astrid shook her head. "No, really, I mean, that's very kind of you, but he hasn't hurt me. He would never. I honestly just fell down the stairs."
The healer didn't look convinced. "Why do I get the feeling you're lying?"
Astrid sighed, rolled her eyes and fixed her gaze on the chair the woman sat in, thinking. "Look, it's just that the circumstances were kind of embarrassing, it's not because my husband hurt me."
There was a heavy silence that prompted Astrid to continue. "I was…I was running from my husband. Not like that!" She added, glancing up. "He was…playfully chasing me-we're still basically newlyweds-and I wasn't paying attention and I tripped on the stairs and fell." Even knowing it was a lie designed to hopefully stop anymore questions Astrid still felt her face heating up.
"I get the picture," came the healer's reply. Astrid glanced at the woman's face and found the old woman looking utterly nonplussed. "That's early days of marriage for you, I suppose. And I don't see any other signs of abuse. Still, I always check. And that said," the healer began, fixing Astrid with a sharp look again. "If he ever raises a hand against you, I'm here to help. Don't wait until it becomes a recurring thing. The first time he strikes you and thinks he can get away with it, you poison him."
Astrid's eyes widened. "Poison him?!"
The healer waved a hand. "I don't mean fatally, not unless he really deserves it. I say save that fate for the repeat offenders, or the ones who raise a hand against the children, or who force intercourse. Oh no, you just throw a little something in his dinner, something to make him really really sick. I mean, on the floor, puking and soiling himself so much he can't move to strike at you in retaliation. You want him sick enough that he learns not to bite the hand that feeds him. Literally, because unless he wants to personally cook his meals all his life he's got to learn to respect the woman who can slip poisonous herbs he can't even identify into his supper and tell him it's seasoning." She nodded sagely. "Worked wonders on my dear old Haskell, rest his soul. Came home drunk once when we were young, had some ideas in his head about being in charge of his household, thought he could hit me for reminding him to respect me. I whipped up some chicken stew he never forgot. He was a changed man after that."
Astrid picked her jaw up off the floor and arranged her face into something she hoped resembled a smile. "I'll uh…I'll keep that in mind. I don't think it'll come to that, but, um, thanks?"
The healer nodded and returned the smile. "I'm just looking out for the younger generations. I've seen too many starry eyed young brides turn fearful and silent. But anyway, your ribs are looking fine, much better than the last few times I've seen you. You're probably good to go back to your usual activities. Boy!"
The door opened and Hiccup poked his head in. "Uh, is that my cue?" The woman nodded and he sidled into the room. "So," he said, his arms swinging as he rocked on his feet. "What's the verdict?"
Astrid hopped up from her chair. "I'm healed up, apparently." She crossed to him and took his hands in hers. "All clear to resume normal activities."
To her surprise Hiccup actually looked a bit concerned at this news. A slight crease appeared between his eyes and small frown worked onto his lips. He looked over her head at the healer. "Her ribs have healed? Completely?"
The healer nodded, rearranging some of the numerous jars on her equally numerous shelves. "It's been a month since she was injured, that's plenty of time to heal even a broken rib, and I think she may have cracked one at the worst, most likely they were merely bruised. She's had no pain or soreness with movement for more than a week, and I can't feel any tenderness or swelling. She should be fine."
Hiccup's fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around hers and his expression didn't soften. "Good to know." Astrid frowned.
"How long have you two been married?" Their eyes met, a split second of panic before they answered in unison:
"Since November."
The healer tsked behind them. "And still no baby? What are you doing wrong?"
Astrid spun to face the healer, nearly stammering. "We haven't really been trying."
The healer hummed in what could have been disapproval. "Well, if you're ready to try and find yourself having trouble, you can come see me. I've counseled many a young couple who had trouble begetting a babe." She paused. "Of course, many of those just weren't doing it right. It always surprises me how wrong people can get such a simple task."
Astrid and Hiccup exchanged a look.
"Right," she said. "Well, um, thank you for everything." And she pulled Hiccup out of the shop and into the street.
After a minute of shaking with silent giggles Hiccup looped his arm through hers and Astrid relaxed, leaning comfortably against his side. The fingers of her left hand twisted idly at the simple silver band on her finger. It always felt odd wearing it; a little out of place, a little dishonest. She and Hiccup only wore them when they went into town, where they couldn't easily talk as if they lived together if they did not also present themselves as a married couple. A young unmarried couple living together would bring too much attention on them, and it was top priority to blend in. It wasn't hard to do in bigger towns like this; even with wanted posters with her face on them plastered all over town no one ever seemed to match her to them.
And they might as well be married, really, Astrid mused. They lived together like a married couple, slept together like a married couple. They were as committed to each other, even if they hadn't said it in so many words. They were husband and wife in all but legal name.
And yet, they only called each other such when they were in public, in front of people who couldn't know the truth. At home, where it mattered, their relationship remained unlabeled. She had only a simple too-big band that Hiccup had made quickly one morning before they had to go into town.
It was starting to bother her more than it used to.
They made their way through the market, picking up the essentials as well as a number of luxuries. Exotic fruits, imported fabrics, useless pretty trinkets that caught her eye; anything that held her attention for more than a few seconds Hiccup was offering to buy her. He didn't often carry money, but rare enough dragon scales worked well as currency in most circles, and he had no shortage. He couldn't use Toothless's scales, since those would have been decried as fake at best and shone suspicion on them at worst, but he held onto any that Stormfly shed, as well as some of her tail spikes, and merchants were always willing to accept them. He was usually generous, usually willing to spring for anything she really wanted, but today he was exceptionally doting.
They were delayed in front of a shop for a few moments while a party of women exited it, gushing about a wedding dress for one of the girls. Astrid watched them longingly. It must be nice, to have a big group of friends like that; to have a big group of women to talk to. As much as she loved being with Hiccup and their dragons, it did get somewhat lonely sometimes. Even on Berk she didn't have a female entourage like this girl, though. She had Ruffnut, and a couple of cousins she was close to. There weren't that many girls her age on Berk. Not like this place, a town full of people. Would you even know everyone who lived here?
The women finished filing out of the shop and they caught a glimpse in at racks of fabric. A seamstress' shop, it seemed. Hiccup nudged her arm. "Want to go in?"
Astrid blinked at his suggestion and glanced in the open window of the shop. There was another woman being measured for what looked like maternity clothes. "What for?"
"To get something nice," Hiccup said, pulling her towards the shop.
Astrid shook her head, still confused. "I can make my own clothes, why do I need to go in here?"
Hiccup laughed. "Because it might be nice to have something you didn't have to make yourself? Something nice, or fancy or something?"
Astrid scoffed. "To wear when?" But she allowed Hiccup to pull her into the shop.
"You never know," Hiccup said, and his voice dropped low as they entered the shop. "One day you might want something fancy." His voice resumed normal volume. "Pick out whatever you want."
She shook her head and started examining the bolts of fabric arranged on shelves all over the little shop. "You've been spoiling me all day today, what's with you?"
Hiccup shrugged. "Consider it an early birthday present."
Astrid paused, her hands gone still on a lightweight wool. "Is it July already?" Hiccup laughed again and kissed her cheek.
"Yes, and it has been. For eight days." Astrid frowned. Her birthday was barely more than a week away.
"I…I guess it is." Her eyes slid out of focus and the fabric slipped out of her hands as she thought. "It's easy to lose track of the days back home." It was almost her birthday. She'd be twenty. No longer a teenager, definitely no longer a child.
Her last birthday had been a simple affair. Her mother had cooked her favorite meal and her father had Gobber refinish her axe handle. They'd had dinner as a family, Brenna had sung to her. Her mother had told stories about when she was a little girl while she braided her hair. Her father told her how proud of her he was, and she rolled her eyes when they joked about possible suitors, and becoming an old maid.
She hadn't spoken to them in more than half a year.
Technically she had, but she hardly counted the brief dialogue she'd had with her father or trying to tear herself from their arms when she and Hiccup had nearly been captured. She missed them. But it was more than that, really. She missed when things were simple. She missed when their love was unconditional and undoubted.
Distantly she felt Hiccup's hands land on her shoulders. "Astrid?"
She turned away from the wall of fabric and her eyes fell on the pregnant woman speaking with the seamstress. Her mother had been like that once; young and pregnant and hopeful. Her mother had carried her in her own body, given birth, given life, raised her for nineteen years. How could someone do that, and then just…give that child up? Not just that, not just give her to a husband, set her free into adult life and adult independence, but give her up entirely? Give her up for death or worse?
Another woman entered from an adjacent room, looking like an older version of the pregnant woman. Her mother, Astrid realized, watching the older woman gush over the color of a certain fabric going with her daughter's eyes.
Would she ever have that?
She'd spent most of her life considering things like marriage and motherhood a far off fantasy, incompatible with the state of her life and her village, but when she had given it thought she'd always assumed that if the time came and she found herself facing motherhood, she would have her own mother's guidance. The mother and daughter were talking about fabric and baby clothes now, and they laughed at something the seamstress said and they had the same laugh. In profile they were almost identical save for the crow's feet and laugh lines on the older woman. They had the same sharp nose and full lips.
People always said Astrid looked like her mother. She and Brenna both had their father's coloring, Hofferson blonde hair and blue eyes, but their features strongly favored their mother.
Her heart ached, an image appearing in her mind of herself with a child of her own who looked like her. She could see her mother playing with a little girl who looked like Brenna, but with Hiccup's bronze hair.
Her throat felt tight. Would that ever happen? Could it ever happen? With the state of the war, could things ever change enough to rebuild the broken bridges? Could she ever forgive her parents enough to let them back into her life? Or would the resentment, the anger, the heartbreak and betrayal always simmer below the surface?
It didn't sound so bad, oddly, being a housewife. After so much of her life spent fighting, there was something appealing in the idea of settling down, spending her time loving her husband and raising her children. It seemed calm, peaceful, boring…lovely. A year ago the idea of marriage and domesticity disgusted her. But now, it just sounded like early retirement. She was a warrior at heart, she always would be, but gods, it would be nice if she didn't always have to be.
"Astrid?" She came back to herself, finding Hiccup's hands rubbing her arms. He was looking at her with a concerned frown. "What's wrong?"
She shook her head. "Let's go," she said, her voice strangely rough. "I just want to get out of here."
"Hey." Hiccup gently spun her, trying to get her to face him, at the same time that she was trying to pull away. She found herself facing a mirror across the room, and it gave her pause.
Gods, she looked like a wife. Silver band glinting in the light coming in through the open windows, hair braided up off her neck, sturdy canvas shopping bag at her side filled with necessities and her husband's gifts; sensible, comfortable clothing, and a concerned husband with his hands on her shoulders. They looked like an ordinary married couple, out and about running errands. Wouldn't it be nice if it was all that simple?
But they weren't, and it wasn't, and the longer she stood in this room looking at the beautiful lie in the mirror and the impossible fantasy behind her, the more her chest ached, so she shrugged Hiccup's hands off her shoulders and stepped quickly outside.
Hiccup was half a step behind her as they made their way through the alley, into a smaller, less crowded street. He followed silently behind her and Astrid was thankful for the space. The air felt warmer here than it did in Berk. Perhaps this town caught warmer currents, or perhaps it was just the heat of a hundred more houses and businesses and people. It felt a bit stifling in the narrow streets between houses and buildings crowded together. This town was an interesting place; still technically Norse but just far enough south and centered on enough trade routes to almost feel Southern. There were always enough people about that there was always something going on, but she missed the simplicity of village life. She missed the clear, cool salty air. Down by the docks you could still feel the ocean breeze, but this far into town the buildings were too close together for it. The salt was drowned out by the smell of hearths and bakeries and leatherworks.
The farther they got towards the outskirts of town the more the buildings spaced out and the clearer the air felt. The knot in her chest loosened and she felt like she could breathe a little easier.
"Are you okay?" Hiccup finally asked. Astrid took a deep breath and released it through her nose.
"Yeah."
"You wanna tell me what happened back there?" There was no press to his words; he was genuinely asking if she wanted to tell him, not demanding an explanation.
Astrid thought about it for a moment. As much as she loved him, as much as she trusted him, the thoughts that had overwhelmed her in the seamstress's shop did not feel like thoughts she wanted to share. Not now, at least. Sharing them would not help matters. There was no fixing any of it, and she'd expressed her desire for children and a safe world to raise them in before, anyway.
"No," she answered finally, and Hiccup made no reply.
They walked in silence, making their way towards the edge of the village, where streets and houses turned to farmland and fields.
"Do you think your father would be more likely to talk to you if we had a baby?"
She heard Hiccup stumble at her words.
"What?"
She shrugged. "I was just thinking, disowning his son might seem easy until he realizes just what all it means giving up. It stops being so abstract when he sees that he's giving up not just the chance to know his son, but the chance to know his grandchildren as well. It wouldn't be the first time that parents and children have made up for the sake of the next generation." She scratched at her scalp through the thick braided bun. One upside to not being officially married: she didn't have to get used to marriage braids. "Maybe he'd be more open to talking things out if it meant getting to be in his grandchildren's lives."
After a quiet moment Hiccup said, "Astrid? Is there something you need to tell me?"
The corners of her mouth quirked. "I'm not pregnant, Hiccup."
His pace quickened and he walked beside her. "Are you sure?"
She rolled her eyes. "I'm as sure as it's possible to be. I'm just thinking hypothetically. As far as I know, I'm not pregnant."
"As far as you know?"
She couldn't help but laugh. His panic was unnecessary but adorable. "Hiccup," she groaned, "We haven't done anything in a month because of my ribs, and I've had proof I'm not pregnant in that time."
"Good. Because you realize that if you did get pregnant, it'd be all your fault, right?"
She scoffed. "All my fault? I can't get pregnant without your help, babe. It kind of takes a team effort to make that happen."
It was Hiccup's turn to scoff. "Excuse me," he said indignantly, "I was a master of the pull out method before you came along, little Miss Locked Ankles." He tugged on a strand of her hair and murmured, "Just because you've got a thing for me coming inside you."
"Which you always adamantly refuse to indulge?"
"Well," Hiccup conceded, finally catching her eye and mirroring her blush, "It's not really my fault that I can only fight you so hard. And I am usually a little too busy to argue."
"Then we'll agree that it's a team effort and leave it at that?"
Hiccup rolled his eyes and sighed. "Fine, I suppose." He shot her a warm smile and she felt the tension in her body ease. He was good at that, at helping her relax. At making her feel a little more hopeful. She caught his eye and his arm wound around her waist and pulled her closer. They were approaching woodland now, towards the dense forest and cave where Toothless was waiting. With no other eyes on them Astrid relaxed into Hiccup's side, leaning into him as they walked.
"So what do you think?" she asked, and Hiccup's confused hum answered her.
"About what?"
"About your dad?"
Hiccup didn't answer immediately, and she felt his arm stiffen. "I don't know," he said. "If he still managed to disown me after thinking I was dead and finding out I wasn't, then I don't see how finding out he's going to be a grandfather would help things." He shrugged with the shoulder she wasn't pressed against. "And it doesn't really matter, does it? You're not pregnant. And ideally you won't be until things are less…" he trailed off, his hand lifting and waving in the air in front of them in a vague gesture.
Astrid sighed. He was right, of course. "Still," she said. "As excited as you are for Plan B, I still think actually talking to your dad should be in the running somewhere."
"Astrid," Hiccup sighed, exasperation clear in his voice, "I tried that, remember? How did that go?"
"You didn't try," she reminded him gently. "That doesn't count. The two of you were both over-emotional and angry, and you let all of that get in the way of anything else. Now that you've both had time to think, to process, I'm sure that if you sat down and talked rationally and calmly you could work something out."
They stepped into the shade of the forest and a shadow fell over Hiccup's eyes, shielding his exact expression from her. "He disowned me, Astrid. I don't think he's willing to talk."
She watched him for a moment. His arm was still around her and she knew he'd keep her from tripping over anything on the path. "Stoick hasn't been the same since you left, Hiccup. You didn't see what it did to him. What it made him do to others."
"I saw what it made him do to you," he said quietly.
Astrid nodded. "I think when he lost you something kind of…broke. It was like he didn't have anything left to lose and had everything left to lose at the same time. He'd lost his wife, he'd lost his son; I think at some point he just decided that there was no sacrifice too great if it meant bringing an end to all this loss. I think he was tired of meaningless deaths that accomplished nothing. You and your mother hadn't died in battle, fighting to end the war, you'd just been taken. Senselessly, pointlessly." She looked at the ground now, at her boots stepping in time with Hiccup's. "I don't know who first brought up the idea of a virgin sacrifice, or if it was even a serious suggestion at first, but I think…I think the idea of one final death that actually meant something, that did some good, that ended all other deaths appealed to him." She sighed. "And I'm sure it wasn't a stretch for the part of him that wanted justice to decide that it balanced things out to give up the girl who in his mind had failed to save his son."
They were quiet for a moment before Hiccup asked, "Why are you defending him? After what he did to you?"
"I'm not defending him. I'm just trying to understand, and help you understand." She kicked at a pebble. "He wanted peace; he wanted safety for his people. He wanted an end to the suffering and the pain, and most of all he wanted his son back. But he knew that last one wasn't ever going to happen. And I think it added to his pain that there was never any body to burn. There was no closure, no goodbye." Her free hand found his and entwined their fingers. "And then suddenly here you are, and you're alive, and you're, I don't know, cavorting with the enemy. And suddenly that thing he wanted more than anything, that he thought was impossible, isn't impossible anymore. Except then you started yelling, and he started yelling, and everyone got mad and the dragon issue got brought up when everyone was mad. Now those things that he wanted more than anything all seem possible but not compatible. How can he have you back, but still have hope of safety and peace for his people? He doesn't see how those things can all happen together. He thinks his son is still gone." She squeezed Hiccup's hand. "I think you need to show him that you aren't. And then you have to make him see that he doesn't have to choose."
"I don't know how to do that," Hiccup said, his voice low.
Astrid shrugged. "I believe you'll figure it out. But I think it probably starts by talking. And I mean talking, not yelling. Not accusing. Talking, and listening. I'm not saying it would be easy, but at some point, no matter what happens, no matter if Plan B or C or D through Z works, there will come a moment where you and your dad will have to sit down and talk."
She looked at Hiccup, at the sunlight filtering through the trees and illuminating his downcast eyes and slight frown. He nodded. "I suppose you're right." Their steps slowed to a halt and he looked at her, something soft and unreadable in his eyes that made her stomach feel warm and her heart beat a little faster. "When that time comes, you're gonna be there with me, right?"
She returned his smile, and reached up to kiss the corner of his mouth. "I'll be right here."
X
They were back.
They'd had a whole month's reprieve from raids, and Stoick had actually started to believe that perhaps they were gone for good. But here they were again, and it was worse than it had been in a long, long time. As of yet, no one had been seriously hurt, but there was more damage than there had been in a long time.
And the Dragon Master was nowhere to be seen.
He couldn't call him Hiccup. He just couldn't. Stoick stopped for a moment and squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't reconcile his boy with this man. He always saw plenty of Valka in Hiccup, and he always worried that he would inherit her pacifism and it would get him hurt or worse, but he never dreamed their son would go so far as to choose the dragons over his own people. His son wouldn't do that. Valka's son wouldn't do that.
"Stoick!" Someone called from a watchtower above him, and he looked up. Hoark pointed west. "The storehouse! There's a Monstrous Nightmare, flame on, heading towards the storehouse!"
Stoick nodded and called for men to follow him. If the dragons set the storehouse aflame all the food they'd gathered so far this summer would be lost. His group of six men crested the hill and below they could see the dragon stalking towards the large wooden building. They'd doused the wood as soon as the raid had begun, but by this point it might have dried enough for the powerful flame of the Nightmare to catch. As soon as they were close enough, Arvid Hofferson yelled and hurled a hammer, catching one of the beast's outstretched wings. It was enough to catch the Nightmare's attention and it turned away from the storehouse for just a moment. There was a bleat, and Stoick noticed a sheep cowering in the storehouse's shadow. That was the Nightmare's target, no doubt. The storehouse was just a large, highly flammable object in its way.
Someone else threw an axe, but they didn't have Arvid's aim and the Nightmare's tail batted the weapon away in midair. It ignored them, turning back towards the sheep. Stoick grit his teeth. The thing was still burning, and his men were all armed with weapons best suited for close combat. It would be difficult to get close enough to do any real damage while the dragon still blazed. Panic rose in his throat. If that thing brushed the storehouse…
"Burned hands or burned food, men! Attack him!" There were nods from beside him, and the men surged forward.
There was just a second's warning, that tell-tale high pitched shriek.
"Get down!"
A blast of purple light exploded against the Nightmare's back, and Stoick just barely caught the black shape as it blurred out of the smoke and disappeared into the night sky.
The enraged Nightmare roared and followed, leaving the terrified sheep and the storehouse unharmed.
Stoick searched the skies but they were already gone, invisible against the black sky. Back in the village proper he saw another blast of purple light, and again barely caught sight of the Night Fury against the flames before it again disappeared.
"Back to the village, hurry!" He started running but then stopped, noticing one of his men still standing still behind him. He looked back to see Arvid, his arms by his side, his eyes on the blackness above.
"Arvid!" Stoick called, but Arvid held up a hand.
"I'm trying to see if Astrid's with him."
Stoick shook his head. "Her dragon is in the Kill Ring. She wouldn't be up there."
Arvid looked at him. "That doesn't mean much." His gaze shifted, and he pointed at something over Stoick's shoulder. "There!"
Stoick looked the direction Arvid pointed, and in the distance he could see smoke rising from the arena. And then, out of the smoke, the figure of the Nadder rose. He couldn't see from this distance, but he knew Astrid would be on its back. He grit his teeth and growled and took off for the center of the village.
The dragons were leaving quickly, and Stoick knew the battle was all but over. There was a blast of purple light nearby, but as the dust cleared Stoick saw that the Night Fury's blast had been a controlled explosion; the blast had sucked air away from the fire of a burning building, and sent dirt flying over the flames and helping to extinguish them. He looked up to see Hiccup and his dragon circling overhead.
Stoick would not have thought it possible to salute sarcastically, but somehow Hiccup managed it.
Xx
Freedom.
The wind whipping her braid, cold air in her lungs, and the warmth of Stormfly's flank beneath her.
There was still a battle coming to a close below them, and Astrid would worry about it at some point, she would, but she needed this moment. Stormfly shrieked victoriously, delighted to be in the air again and reunited with her rider. She was a bit thinner than she should be, but otherwise unharmed. She had nearly alerted all of Berk from excitement when Astrid had come to break her out. In the chaos of the raid, made worse by Hiccup's absence, no one had been there to guard her, and springing her had been much easier than Astrid had anticipated. There had been a close call with some of the men from Eret's crew, but she knew Berk and its hiding spots better than these foreigners did, and it hadn't been hard to slip out of their sight before they could catch her.
Hiccup had been watching from the shadows just in case, at any rate. As soon as she and Stormfly were safe to fly away he had gone to disrupt the raid. She and Stormfly had not stuck around to help him; Stormfly's condition was unknown and they did not want to risk tiring her out, or risk Astrid being shot down again. Hiccup had made it clear in no uncertain terms that she was to get Stormfly and get out.
The show of dominance had been frustrating, annoying, and, if she was being honest, a little bit sexy.
It'd been a month. First her ribs had prevented certain physical activity, then the presence of three extra dragons, all intent on showing their loyalty by following her and Hiccup around, had limited their privacy. As happy as she was to see Stormfly, she was kicking all dragons out of their bedroom tonight.
Stormfly squawked and rolled in midair, making Astrid laugh. The dragon looked back at her and chirped happily. Astrid gave her a fond smile. Alright, fine, maybe not tonight. She'd kick all the dragons out of their bedroom tomorrow night.
"Happy to be back in the saddle, milady?" She looked up in time to see Hiccup and Toothless pull up beside them, Hiccup pushing his helmet back to reveal his face.
She beamed at him. "I'm happy to have her back safe."
Hiccup's smile softened. "I'm sorry we had to wait so long to get her." From the look on his face, she could believe him.
"We had to be careful," she admitted. "I'm just glad we've got her back now." She patted Stormfly's side, and her dragon trilled happily.
"Happy Birthday, Astrid," she heard Hiccup say over the wind. She shot him a look.
"It's not my birthday yet."
He grinned. "It's close enough."
"This doesn't mean you get out of giving me a birthday present."
Hiccup frowned. "I've given you lots of birthday presents."
Astrid shook her head, smiling mischievously. "You've given me lots of pre-birthday presents. I still expect something on the actual day."
His smile shifted, and something about the look on his face promised her things that made her stomach curl. "Don't worry, milady," he said, "You'll be getting lots of things on the actual day."
Gods, she hoped so.
X
It had been a long day and a late night, full of rebuilding, reforging, repairing, resharpening, rebalancing, re-doing everything he'd finished in the last month's respite.
And not a moment's success in trying to talk to Stoick.
It was to be expected, really, the day after a bad raid. The chief had important things to do, and he'd surely be in no mood to listen to Gobber's advice concerning one particular detail of that raid.
Well, at least no one had been seriously hurt. That was one small mercy in the midst of the chaos.
All that stood between Gobber and his bed now was a smithy that needed tidying up. Gobber yawned as he limped into the forge and reached for the hammer attachment he'd left on the corner of the table, only to find his hand closing on empty air. He yawned wider, considering skipping the cleaning and just going to bed, and groped blindly for the missing instrument.
"I put that away already."
Gobber jumped, yelping.
"I put things back where I remembered them going, so sorry if you've reorganized since then." Gobber's hand covered his chest and his pounding heart as he glared at Hiccup, who was relaxing in a chair pulled up near the simmering fire, his boot against a table tipping his chair back precariously. "The place was a bit of a mess, I thought I'd clean it up some."
Gobber glared. "You know, a bit of warning wouldn't hurt. You don't have to wait in here like some nasty troll and scare me half to death every time you want to talk."
Hiccup grinned. "Yeah, but it's more dramatic and fun this way." Gobber rolled his eyes.
"What d'you want?" he asked, closing and locking windows and doors to insure no one would hear or see something they weren't supposed to.
"Needed a few things," Hiccup said simply. "And needed to talk to you about a few more."
"Care to be more specific?" Gobber asked, and took a swing at Hiccup's chair leg with his own wooden leg, sending the boy off balance and scrambling not to fall backwards. Hiccup caught himself on a nearby table and glared.
"Yes, I—"
"Is this the right one?"
Gobber jumped and swung his missing arm, which tonight was fitted with only his mug attachment, at the intruder. Astrid ignored him; she was leaning out of the curtain that led to what had been Hiccup's workroom and holding a piece of parchment in front of Hiccup's face. Hiccup glanced at it and nodded. She stepped fully into the room and her eyes narrowed as they landed on Gobber. She rolled up the parchment and tucked it into an interior pocket in the cloak she wore.
"Astrid," he breathed, and took a hesitant step towards her. She backed away and a little behind Hiccup's chair. Hiccup looked tentatively between them, reaching for Astrid's hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. Gobber stayed where he was. It was the first chance he'd gotten to really get a good look at Astrid. Every other time she'd been near there had been so much other chaos going on. She looked older than he remembered; not in any hugely noticeable way, but something about her just looked…more mature, maybe. She didn't look quite as thin as he remembered either; she was probably eating better than she had been. Berk had been a bit strapped for food last autumn, and the Hofferson family never had much in the way of money. She looked healthy now, though. Of course, for all he knew she could be pregnant, and that could be the reason for her slight weight gain. From what he had gathered about the nature of their relationship it wasn't impossible. But she looked alright, and that made Gobber breathe a sigh of relief. "I've been worried sick over you for months."
Astrid's expression hardened. "Funny how much everyone worried about me after I didn't die like I was supposed to."
"Astrid." She pulled away from Hiccup's touch, withdrawing into a corner, and it seemed, into herself. She crossed her arms and refused to look at either of them.
"I was against it," Gobber entreated, feeling his chest tighten at the way Astrid seemed to close up. He'd seen her like that a lot, in the early days after Hiccup vanished, when she stopped being so bright and strong and determined, and turned instead into a traumatized young girl, filled with fear and guilt. He remembered how she used to come into his forge and sit in Hiccup's workroom, surrounding herself with memories of him as if she could torture herself into changing history. "From the beginning, I said we shouldn't, that it wouldn't work."
"So what?" Astrid hissed. "You didn't stop it."
"Astrid." Hiccup got up out of his seat and wrapped his hands around her arms, pulling her closer to him, and she seemed to soften the tiniest bit. "Hey," he whispered, "Look, he wasn't part of it, there wasn't anything he could do. Please, just-"
"Can we just go?" Astrid interrupted, pulling out of his arms and turning her stony glare on him.
Hiccup's hands hovered uselessly in the air for a moment. "In just a minute. Until then, can you please, just, not…" he trailed off, his hands waving awkwardly.
Astrid rolled her eyes. "Yeah, sure," she said, her voice a little higher than it should be. It was still odd, Gobber mused, seeing Hiccup so tall, and Astrid, a fairly tall girl herself, a good head shorter than him. These two so grown up and…together. Astrid gave Hiccup a look Gobber couldn't quite read. "This just really isn't what I wanted to be doing tonight." Her eyebrows rose in a way that Gobber guessed was supposed to mean something to Hiccup, who ran a hand nervously through his hair.
"Well," he started, his own voice sounding a bit strained, "The night is still young."
"Not really," Astrid said immediately. "It's pretty late, actually. It's going to be very late by the time we get home. I'll want to go straight to bed. And straight to sleep."
Ah, there it was. A whole lot said, just by adding that last sentence. Someone wasn't keeping the missus happy.
Hiccup grimaced. "Astrid, I just need to finish up here, okay, this is important."
"I know."
"Astrid—"
"It's fine," she said, in a voice that clearly indicated it was not fine. She pushed past Hiccup. "I'll go find the rest of those blueprints. You hurry up and talk."
Hiccup watched her go helplessly as she stomped back into his workroom.
"It's hard for her to forgive us, isn't it?"
Hiccup nodded and ruffled his hair. "She wants to, I think," he began, frowning. "But…I think every time she tries, she just gets stuck back on what happened to her. It's too hard for her to get past what happened."
Gobber hummed. "Sounds familiar." He sighed and scratched at his head. "What are y'doing back here, Hiccup?"
Hiccup dallied for a moment, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "I need your help with something."
Gobber sighed. "The last time you asked me for help with something, you told me it was going to help end the war. And yet, here we are, still in a war."
"I know, I know," Hiccup said, wincing. "Things didn't quite work out the way I hoped they would, but—"
"And now you need my help with yet another mad scheme?"
Hiccup seemed to collapse in on himself as he fell back into his chair. "Look," he said, "I don't have the most concrete of plans when it comes to this whole thing. It's…well, it's just kind of a lot of new territory, you know?" Gobber nodded and Hiccup continued. "And I've got a few ideas, and I don't really know how well any of them are going to work, but even assuming one does, I'm still going to need a man on the inside."
"Meaning me?"
"Meaning you." Hiccup's expression shifted, and he suddenly looked more serious. "My dad won't listen to me. It doesn't matter what I do, or whose side I try to show I'm on. He's not going to listen to me." He took a deep breath. "But he might listen to you."
Gobber started shaking his head. "I don't like where this is going."
"Gobber," Hiccup pled, his hands reaching out. "Please, if I could just get my dad to listen, to even start to listen to what I'm trying to say—"
"You mean, if I could start getting your dad to listen to your crazy message that dragons are really a-okay and pleasant and friendly beasties?"
"Gobber, if I'm ever going to do this, I need your help."
Gobber shook his head, backing away. "Hiccup, after everything that's happened lately, I'm not sure I can keep helping you." It broke his heart, the way Hiccup's face fell, but he pushed on. "You're asking me to believe in a plan I know nothing about, and to convince your hard-headed father of something I'm not even fully convinced of, and to help you with something I don't know will work or help anybody." He sighed. "Your father is touchier on the subject of you than he's ever been. The way he sees it, you really are dead and gone, and this man walking around with your face and your name might as well be someone else entirely."
"Gobber—"
He looked away. "You were always like a son to me, Hiccup," he said softly, "But my loyalty has to be to my chief, and to my village. I'm sorry."
"Gobber—"
"Shh!" They both looked up as Astrid slipped back into the room, her eyes wide. "Someone's coming!" she whispered. "We need to leave, now!" Everyone froze, and heavy footsteps sounded outside the forge. There was a knock at the front entrance.
"Gobber?" Stoick's voice boomed in the still night. "Are you still up? I can see the glow of the fire? Didn't leave it going by accident, did you?"
Hiccup and Astrid's panicked eyes met his. Gobber waved towards the back door. "Out the back," he whispered. "Hurry, go, I'll keep him busy."
They nodded, and Astrid started pulling Hiccup towards the exit.
"Hiccup," Gobber whispered, stopping them. He hesitated. "My help stops here. I really am sorry."
Hiccup nodded, crestfallen. "Yeah, me too."
"Gobber? Have you locked the door?"
"Eh, coming, Stoick!" Gobber shouted, as Hiccup and Astrid slipped out the back and into the night. "I was just locking up for the night."
He made a show of rattling the barrels and boxes in his way and the door's lock until he was certain Hiccup and Astrid were at least out the door, and then opened the front door to let Stoick in.
"I'm sorry, Stoick, I wasn't expecting anyone this late at night."
"Aye, I know it's late," Stoick said, entering with a distant look on his face. "I just got something into my head and couldn't get it out." He walked past Gobber and into Hiccup's workroom, causing Gobber momentary panic. He had no idea what Astrid had been doing or looking for back there.
"Eh, Stoick? What, eh, what can I help you with?" He followed Stoick as the big man crammed himself through the tiny door into the little workroom, which was lit only by a small candle which Astrid had left burning on the desk. For a moment Stoick paused, taking in the little room. Gobber wondered if he'd ever been in here since Hiccup disappeared. There was a brief moment where Stoick seemed to falter, and then his brow furrowed and he started going through things on the desk.
"Stoick, what're you—"
"Looking for something," Stoick mumbled, rifling through papers and blueprints. He paused, coming across two particularly damning pieces of parchment. On one, there were beautifully detailed sketches of a Night Fury, depicting it sleeping, playing, eating. On the other, was what appeared to be Hiccup's initial designs for a, a—
"A prosthetic tail?" Gobber breathed, looking over the designs. He glanced back at the sketches of the dragon and noticed that it indeed was missing half of its tail, one tailfin was completely gone. Stoick spread the next few designs in the stack out on the table, and they could see the evolution of the design, the tailpiece itself, and then a saddle, and then a complicated rig involving foot pedals, used, it appeared, to control the motion of the artificial tailfin. "This is incredible," Gobber said, pushing Stoick aside to get a better look at the blueprints. "That boy figured out how to do all this, at fifteen, with no help! And it works, clearly!"
"The dragon lost its tail when he shot it down," Stoick said, his voice low and gruff. "That's how he did it."
"He built the beast a new tail, and figured out how to fly it. That's why you never see the Night Fury flying without Hiccup on its back," Gobber said, stroking his mustache pensively. "It can't fly without Hiccup to control the tailfin."
Stoick was silent for a moment longer, just staring at the sketches and designs, and then he pushed them all in a pile to the side and kept sifting through the remaining pages. Finally, at the bottom of a stack in the corner, he seemed to find what he was looking for.
"Here," he said, spreading out the parchment on the table. "This is how he did it." Gobber remembered this device, another one of those harebrained Hiccup-y contraptions that just needed a few adjustments to the calibrations, and then it would totally work, or so Hiccup kept insisting. Except, it seemed, this one actually had.
Gobber nodded. "That's definitely the one he had that night. Must have been lost or destroyed in the battle, I never saw it again."
"Can you build it?" The question caught Gobber off guard.
"What?"
"Can you build it?" Stoick repeated, nodding at the machine on the page. "You taught him everything he knows, I assume you can work out how he did it."
For a moment Gobber wasn't sure how to respond. "Why?" he managed finally.
Stoick didn't look at him as he replied. "We know it can bring down a Night Fury."
Again, Gobber was speechless. "We know that one kid with, apparently, the best eyesight ever, given that he shot an all-black, super fast dragon out of the night's sky, managed to bring down a Night Fury with it, with what was probably the luckiest shot in history. That doesn't mean we can replicate his success."
"It's our best shot, though," Stoick countered. "Eret and his crew aren't bad, but maybe with this—"
"Stoick," Gobber interrupted. "Look, first you banish him, now you want to shoot him down? What good is this gonna do? And you saw what happened the other night before he showed up! Look, feelings on his methods aside, I think you have to admit at this point that Hiccup's not leading the attacks, he's just trying to make them less destructive."
Stoick's eyes squeezed shut. "Would you stop callin' him that?"
"No, I won't!" Gobber pressed, even as Stoick twisted to the side, as if he could physically turn himself away from the truth. "Whether you like it or not, the Dragon Master is Hiccup, is your son. And maybe, if you would try to talk to him—"
"I didn't ask for your opinion Gobber, I asked if you could build the damn machine!" Stoick boomed, his voice magnified by the small space. Gobber stared at his chief for a few silent, tense moments. Stoick had that slightly manic look, the one Gobber had seen on his face during those first few raids or attempts to find the nest after Valka or Hiccup had been taken. He wasn't thinking rationally about this.
"When Hiccup shot down the Night Fury with this thing," Gobber began, speaking calmly and slowly, "It ripped its tail off. You really think you could shoot that thing down again and not do serious, if not fatal, damage to the person riding it?"
Stoick didn't reply for a moment, and then said quietly, "If we shoot close enough to the ground—"
"He never gets that close—"
"We'll give him reason to."
"And if that doesn't work?"
Stoick grit his teeth. "If it can bring down a Night Fury, it can at least bring down a Deadly Nadder."
"You still risk someone getting killed!"
"We were willing to risk her life before."
"Stoick!"
"We get one or both of them to the ground. We'll worry about the rest of it from there."
"Stoick!"
"Just build it," Stoick growled, pushing the parchment into Gobber's hand. "That's an order."
For a moment, his expression cracked, and Gobber could see the fear, the desperation, the pre-emptive guilt. A chief protects his own, Stoick used to say. A chief makes the hard choices, the unpopular and difficult decisions. Stoick's eyes squeezed shut and he took a deep breath. He opened his eyes and avoided Gobber's gaze. "We have to put an end to this, Gobber. One way or another. So just built the damn thing. Or I'll find someone else who will."
And he pushed his way out of the room.
A/N: Oh Stoick, poor bby. There are so many bad decisions in your future. There are a lot of bad decisions in everyone's futures. As I said on tumblr, this fanfic could pretty much be subtitled "Everyone Is Just So Messed Up".
