A/N: I'm sorry this has taken so long to update. Writing takes time, and I don't have much lately. I have adult responsibilities, I have a business to run. I have a boyfriend to spend time with. And uh…apparently sex is a lot harder to write about once you're actually having it. Who knew.

But to make up for being so late this chapter is like 90 percent smut. You're welcome. I've had this chapter planned out for months and yet it was super difficult to actually write. Once again, I'm never abandoning this fic. Don't send me messages or leave reviews asking me if I'm continuing it. The answer will always be yes. Chapter title from the One Republic song "If I Lose Myself."


Chapter 32: If I Lose Myself Tonight

They were pushing their luck and he knew it. They couldn't afford a baby right now, not with everything happening. This was no place to raise a child and having Astrid out of commission for months at a time would jeopardize everything they'd worked towards. He knew Astrid drank the herbal tea religiously, but even that wasn't foolproof.

There were other solutions, of course, though he wasn't sure how he felt about that. In the past he hadn't let himself dwell on it. He did his part and trusted the girl would take care of anything that came up regardless. A fatherless bastard would have a hard time in this world and he wouldn't wish that life on a child. To his knowledge the situation had never arisen, and of the few girls he'd had recurring relationships with, with each one there had been the implicit understanding that one way or another, no children would come out of this.

With Astrid, it was different. They weren't equipped to care for a child right now, but something felt wrong to him about losing the chance to know even one of their children. And then there was the murky matter of how the gods felt about that sort of thing. Hiccup was torn between thinking that the gods seemed to hate him enough already without him angering them further, and wondering if it was even possible for him to anger them any further, in which case this wouldn't sour their already negative opinion of him. Especially since it was uncertain if in their eyes he and Astrid counted as married.

His father had paid her parents before the sacrifice. The chief of the village had given her to him. And, though it took many months, it could technically be said that both bride and groom had consented to the wedding. They'd skipped most of the usual wedding fanfare, but when it came right down to it who knew which parts the gods considered essential.

What was certain was that the gods frowned on ending a legitimately conceived child.

He knew he loved her, he knew he wanted to father her children one day. He knew now was not the time for her to bear his children, no matter how much his heart ached for that day to arrive. He knew that they were not being nearly as careful as they should be.

He knew that in the heat of the moment, it was so very hard to care.

It was a glorious thing to see Astrid unguarded. She had always, even or perhaps especially in their youth, been a guarded, keep-to-herself type of person, who knew her point and purpose in life and had decided on it early, and who had contempt for those who had yet to figure out theirs. Little wonder then, that her first weeks with him had been so confusing for her. Everything she thought she was and was meant to do had been turned upside down. He knew from personal experience how jarring it was to have the traits one holds most dear inverted upon oneself. Astrid was one of the most loyal people he'd ever known, and she'd been betrayed by everyone she knew.

As a child he had admired her bravery, her fearlessness. To him it seemed nothing fazed her, and he had banked on that when he pushed her to the limit of courage, forgetting at the time that she was only fifteen, and every bit as susceptible to terror as he was, all to save his own skin. He still felt guilty about it sometimes, at the thought that she had spent so long traumatized, convinced that her failure had caused his death.

How he had shaken her life. The brave girl, shown true terror. The loyal warrior, betrayed. The independent woman, forced into submission.

Astrid's arms lifted above her head, stretching and twisting as if reaching for something to hold onto. He thought momentarily about pinning them there, some girls liked that, but knew Astrid would not. The few times in the past he had done something similar the result had been the same: a slight widening of her eyes, a sudden stilling of her body and a hitch in her breath, none of them positive. She never seemed entirely conscious of the reaction, and afterward tried to wave it away, as if she too wanted to forget it existed. He had apologized and she had forgiven, but there were fears she had spent too long imagining as a certainty. Perhaps it was easier for the heart to forgive than it was for the body to forget.

There had been so far only two occasions, random and spaced months apart, where she had awoken in the middle of the night almost screaming, thrashing and whimpering and scared. He had pulled her into his arms, calmed her and comforted her, and she soon fell back asleep, the whole ordeal lasting no longer than a couple of minutes. In the morning, she had no recollection of any of it and accused him of dreaming it. The next time it happened he made no mention of it.

For the most part it was little things, so small he wasn't sure she was even aware of them. Things like the widening of her eyes if he held her wrist too tightly or restrained her in any way during their lovemaking. Sometimes Toothless would approach her quietly from a certain angle, enough to enter just her periphery, and she would spin too quickly his direction, shoulders tense for a moment before she relaxed and greeted him fondly.

Some scars weren't visible, and took much, much longer to heal. She had some of them because of him, and he'd decided to spend his life trying to ease them away.

Astrid's head tilted back and he bent down, placing kisses all up and down her neck and nuzzling the underside of her jaw. He was rewarded with a little moan and her arms coming to wrap around his shoulders and pull him close. He kissed the shell of her ear and whispered, "I love you," before biting his lip lest he ruin the potency of the confession with his usual senseless rambling.

She made no verbal reply but her hand slid into his hair and tugged gently at the little braids she'd placed there. A moment of carding his hair later she gasped out, "When we're done remind me to cut your hair. It's getting a little too long."

It wasn't the same as an 'I love you', but it had the same effect. It was just as indicative of her care, of her devotion, and so utterly wifey that he burst into laughter, burying his face against her neck. That set Astrid giggling, and finally their laughter got so bad he had to stop moving for a moment while they caught their breath. Then, just when they had calmed down, he met her eye and it set them both off again.

He kissed her soundly and started rocking into her again, her still giggling, and every time it seemed like her laughter had completely ceased, he would make a weird face and she'd burst into laughter again. Hiccup didn't think he'd ever seen her look more beautiful. Her hair was a tangled mess across the pillow and strands were sticking to her bright pink cheeks, caught in the tears now streaming from her eyes, and laughter and gasps in turn escaping her wide smiling lips. She was still fighting giggles when he sent her over the edge, her laughter cut off by a sudden sharp gasp which melted at last into a happy sigh.

He wasn't far behind her, and watching her come had coiled everything tighter. When she recovered Astrid gave him an utterly sinful look, lids low over bright eyes, lips just slightly parted…then broke it completely by sticking out her tongue, and that did it. He only just managed to pull out in time, and choked out a sound something between a groan and laugh, which must have sounded ridiculous because Astrid starting laughing again.

He collapsed beside her, exhausted but happier than he had felt in a long time. Beside him Astrid sighed in annoyance and he opened his eyes to see her wiping off her stomach. "How many times, aim for the blankets, not for me."

"It's wash day anyway," he mumbled. Astrid shot him a look, but her lips still held the hint of a smile.

"It's wash day, which means we have to wash the bedding anyway too." She balled up the blanket she'd used to wipe them both off and deposited it on his chest. "You can wash this one," she said with a smile, and kissed him. He tossed the sheet aside and pulled her down on top of him. She laughed and wrapped her arms around his torso.

Their eyes met and he smiled warmly. "Happy Birthday, Astrid." She beamed at him.

XX

The comb moved smoothly through her hair and her fingers followed its motion, reveling in the feeling of clean, soft hair. Astrid sighed happily. This was one of her favorite parts of wash day: being again able to run her fingers through her hair and feeling it move and sway. She sighed again and shivered. The fire was burning low, but she hadn't bothered to add more wood to it. It was getting late and she would be warmed up by other means soon enough, and the cool cavern air would be welcome soon after.

She pretended not to hear the quiet footsteps approaching behind her, or feel the soft dip of the pillows as someone crouched down behind her. She bit her lip against a smile. A second passed and a soft kiss dropped onto the base of her neck. A hand rose from behind her to take the comb from her hand and set it down beside the bed. The hand returned to her hair, combing through it, as another curled around her waist, drawing her back into Hiccup's embrace as he kissed the exposed side of her neck. He was shirtless and warm, not long from the bath himself, and she could feel the heat of his skin through the thin silk shift she wore.

His hands found the hem of her shift and she moved away from him just long enough for him to pull it over her head. She turned to look at him then, at his soft smile and the smoldering look in his eyes he reserved only for her. She shivered and he reached for her, drawing her into his arms and his warmth. She wrapped her arms around his back and sighed against his lips. She loved this; she loved feeling his smooth, warm skin beneath her palms, surrounding her body, against her mouth.

He laid her down gently and her heart picked up its pace in anticipation. Hiccup drew back, holding himself over her and looking down at her with an expression she couldn't quite read. He looked at her like he was studying her, like she was a mystery he couldn't quite work out.

"What?" Astrid asked quietly.

The corners of his mouth quirked and Hiccup shook his head. "You," he said, smile growing, and bent down to kiss her again. He settled his weight on top of her, his arms snaking under her back to hold her tightly against him. They kissed slowly, savoring breath on cheeks and warm hands drawing patterns on backs. After a long moment Hiccup drew back and looked at her with eyes that burned in the dying firelight. He held her gaze as he lowered his head and swirled the tip of his tongue over one sensitive nipple. Astrid gasped, the motion thrusting her chest upward and into his waiting, smiling mouth. His lips closed over her nipple and she cried out. A tortuous moment later he released her, dropping one final kiss to the pink bud before moving on to the other one and starting her delicious torture anew.

He didn't linger there long, and returned to her lips for a passionate kiss that was all too brief before kissing down her body, his eyes never once leaving hers. Her breath quickened as his hands parted her thighs and his breath ghosted over her. She watched; her heart pounding as he kissed down her inner thigh and hovered for an agonizing moment, his breath teasing her, before his mouth was on her. His tongue slid inside her and she gasped, throwing her head back. He kissed her as he would her mouth, the movements of his tongue making her tremble and squirm. His eyes met hers for just a moment before he closed his lips over her clit and Astrid's hips bucked off the bed and she grabbed a fistful of his hair.

She panted, her eyes cast to the darkened ceiling. The fire had burned down to little more than embers now, though the fire between her legs was being stoked by every flick of Hiccup's tongue. One long finger slid into her and Astrid shuddered. She didn't have to look to see Hiccup's smirk. He stroked her for only a moment before a second finger joined the first. She cried out, her legs jerking and tightening instinctively around his head. His fingers thrust again, the sensation unusually strong and the moan from her lips unusually loud. The sound must have pleased him, because he repeated the motion, a twisting thrust of his fingers that perpetuated and amplified her sharp cries. He rubbed at something inside her and she nearly screamed and pulled out his hair, her free hand flying to his arm to grip it so tightly she half feared she'd hurt him. She'd pulled her legs up over his shoulders and tight around his head, and he reached his free hand up to gently grope her breast.

"Come for me," he growled, and Astrid almost wanted to slap him. That morning he'd made her come with a parade of goofy, thoroughly unsexy faces; it wasn't fair that he could turn that ridiculous, nasally voice into something husky and sexy and make her want to—

A twist and press of his fingers, a flick of his tongue, and her screams were echoing off the cave walls.

"Shh," she heard Hiccup saying, as if she had any control over any action of her body at the moment. "The dragons will think I'm hurting you." She'd have laughed if she had the breath for it. Finally her body stopped shaking and Hiccup withdrew his fingers. She could barely see him now; the fire was all but gone, and little moonlight filtered in through distant skylights. She heard a rustling and knew Hiccup was removing the rest of his clothes. Once she was sure he had tossed them all aside she reached a wobbly hand towards his groin, only to find to her pleasant surprise that he was already hard.

She stroked him lazily, stalling for time until she could catch her breath.

"Are you going to be able to keep going?" Hiccup choked, his hips starting to rock involuntarily into her touch.

"Not sure," Astrid whispered. "I think you killed me. I'm dead."

Suddenly hands were under her back and she was being hauled up, into Hiccup's lap. She released him as he settled her against him, rubbing gently against her. "Are you sure?" came his whispered reply. "Because surely I can do something to bring you back." It was so dark that she could only barely make out the silhouette of his features as her eyes adjusted to the gloom. The cave was growing frigid now, and the lack of heat and light only intensified her other senses. The heat of Hiccup's chest and lap against hers contrasted with the cold air at her back had her growing needy again already. Hiccup bent down to kiss her neck and it was so much more than usual. Sound, smell, taste, touch; everything was so much stronger in the dark.

He pulled away from her neck as she lifted her hips, an obvious invitation he did not miss. Astrid wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her eyes closed and her whole body trembling with anticipation as Hiccup reached between them. There was some fumbling; it was dark, he was distracted and she was almost too wet, but after a moment she felt that first hot inch and sank eagerly down on him. They both shuddered, and Hiccup's arms rose to pull her close and hold her tightly to him. For a moment they simply held each other close, foreheads touching and hot breath mingling in the cold air between them.

"I love you," Hiccup whispered, his voice strangled. "So much."

Astrid barely had the wherewithal to mumble a reply, but found the strength to begin to move. Their soft moans were the only sound in the cave as she slid up and down on him. She couldn't see him, but she didn't need to. His hands on her back, his kisses against her cheek, his gasps against her skin; that was all she needed to know his devotion.

"Let me try something," Hiccup rasped, and lifted her off of him. She groaned in complaint but he maneuvered her carefully, spinning her around and pulling her back onto his lap, spreading his own legs so hers could slide between them. The cold air against her front was unwelcome, but she only had a moment to think about it before he was inside her again, the new position made for a much tighter fit, and once he had sunk to the hilt she couldn't be bothered to think about the cold. His arms wrapped around her and pulled her back against his chest, one arm crossed over her breasts and the other applying hard, pulsing pressure to that sensitive bud between her legs. She gripped his arms and moaned, the only motions she seemed capable of once he started rocking into her.

It was only the two of them in the darkness; nothing else mattered. The rest of the world fell away, leaving just the two of them, their moans, the sound of skin meeting skin, and the heat of two bodies meeting so intimately they felt like one.

War didn't exist in the darkness. There was no conflict, no divided loyalties or betrayal or fear.

The heat between them mounted, their love burning so brightly it consumed them, frantic hands grabbed at sweat-soaked skin, voices echoed off distant cave walls until broken, exalted cries mingled in the air in time with the last desperate meeting of bodies.

A whispered name, a mumbled declaration of love, and they fell together into the furs, still connected, still holding tightly to one another, unwilling to let the moment of oneness end.

The cold air tickled their skin as awareness and exhaustion filtered in. Astrid shivered and Hiccup reached blindly for a blanket to pull over them. The rest of the world still felt so far away; nothing could touch them in this moment. Hiccup's breath was hot on her ear and she could feel his heart still racing in his chest.

"I love you," she whispered, her hand finding his and tangling their fingers together. "I love you so much it scares me."

"Why?" Hiccup replied.

"I don't know what I'd do if I lost you," she admitted sleepily. Such words felt easier to say in the darkness and the afterglow. "I don't think I could stand it. And…" she yawned. "I love you so much I know you could really break my heart."

There was a barrage of kisses on her ear and cheek. "I won't ever let that happen," Hiccup said fiercely, his arms tightening around her. "I've hurt you too much already; I won't ever hurt you again if I can help it."

Astrid smiled, sleep pulling her under and she snuggled against him. "I know you won't."

Xx

Gobber hesitated in front of the door before opening it. Inside he found exactly what he had been expecting: his chief, seated at the table and bent over a pile of scattered parchment, reading by the too-dim light of a dying candle flame. Gobber sighed and trundled over to take a seat beside his friend. Stoick made no acknowledgement of his presence.

"When was the last time you got any sleep?" Gobber asked flatly, noting the deep bruises and heavy bags under the chief's eyes.

Stoick flipped over a piece of parchment in front of him but didn't look up. "No time for that. The dragons don't sleep, so neither can I."

Gobber's bitter bark of laughter did at least earn him a glance. "Hah! I'm fairly sure the dragons do sleep, actually. Most living things need sleep to survive, including you. And if the dragons have time to sleep, then so do you."

"The dragons don't have to plan, I do," Stoick growled, his voice sounding hoarse. "I'll sleep when Berk is safe."

"I would say that I hope you don't mean that literally because that could kill you, but I'm starting to think you do mean it literally." He leaned closer, trying to draw Stoick's attention to the worry on his face. "Stoick, you have got to get some sleep, especially if you're trying to plan anything. You look like you haven't slept in days, no one has seen you eat at the Great Hall lately, and Thor knows it doesn't look like there's been any cookin' done here. You're under a lot of stress and you're not taking care of yourself, and it shows. You haven't been yourself in a while now and it's only getting worse."

Stoick turned a glare on him. "What's that supposed to mean?" he snapped. "Are you saying you think I've gone mad?"

Gobber matched the glare. There were times that Stoick scared him, but especially when he wasn't himself, but those were often the times he most needed someone to knock some sense into him, and no one else on the island would be brave enough to try. "I'm not saying you've gone mad, but with the way you've been acting lately it's clear that you may well be on your way there."

Stoick swelled, his shoulders rising and chest puffing out in an action that made him look bigger and usually intimidated those who didn't know him well, but before he could start yelling Gobber cut him off.

"Half the things you're doin' lately don't make a lick of sense. First you banish Hiccup, and then he shows up again and you're talking about shooting him down?"

"I told him that if he ever came here again—"

Gobber threw up his arms. "And what does that solve, exactly? Hmm?" He met Stoick's eyes and held his gaze. "What good does it do anyone to shoot him down? He could die, Stoick, remember?"

Stoick looked away. "We have to do something."

"Thor almightly, Stoick, you're usually smarter than this. We've had this conversation before, haven't we?"

"Have you built it?"

Gobber rolled his eyes. "Stoick—"

"Have you built it?" Stoick asked again, firmer this time.

Gobber sighed. "I've built it, mostly to the specifications, but with some adjustments."

"Adjustments?"

"It was designed by a fifteen year old apprentice. A damn clever fifteen year old apprentice, but a fifteen year old apprentice nonetheless. There were design flaws to be fixed, calibrations to be adjusted, and I may have changed a few things here and there that might make it less lethal."

Stoick nodded, apparently thinking, though the wild look that had settled into his eyes of late was still there and adding fuel to the fire of Gobber's concern.

"I still don't see what good this does. You remember the last raid, Stoick, it was chaos until Hiccup showed up." He shook his head. "If that's not proof he's helping instead of leading the attacks then I don't know what is."

"Then what do you suggest we do?" Stoick asked, exasperated, glaring at Gobber.

Gobber sat back in his chair and regarded Stoick with a neutral expression. "I suggest you and Hiccup talk." Stoick began to scoff but Gobber pushed through. "And I mean really talk," he pressed, "Not yell, not accuse, not loudly verbalize twenty years worth of familial issues; talk. Sit down together, leader to leader, and discuss the dragon problem and what can be done about it, civilly."

Stoick shook his head. "Won't do any good. Even if I was willing Hic-the Dragon Master would never agree to it."

"Funnily enough he said the same thing about you."

That got Stoick's attention. His eyes widened and he leaned closer to Gobber, his expression caught somewhere between betrayal and curiosity. "You've spoken to him?"

Gobber toed at a loose floorboard with his peg leg. "He stopped by to see me after the last raid. Wanted my help with some big plan he has for ending the war with the dragons, once and for all. I told him that with everything going on between the two of you, I had to be loyal to the village, to you. And besides that I didn't think there was anything I could do to help, except maybe second Astrid's suggestion that you two stubbornass boneheaded mules sit down and talk to each other for once."

Stoick settled back in his seat, tired, wild eyes thoughtful. "Some big plan, eh? Maybe it's the path he's taken so far, but something tells me whatever plan he has in mind, it's not likely to make much of a difference."

It was the closest to amenable Gobber had seen Stoick in a while and he scooted his chair closer.

"Or maybe it would," he said gently. "You won't know until you talk to him. What's the worst that could come of that?"

Stoick sighed, deflating into a tired, sane-looking lump in his chair and just as he opened his mouth to speak something small and loud came soaring in through an upstairs window. Both men leapt to their feet, Stoick reaching for the sword that was never far from his side, and in the dim candlelight they caught sight of a small Terrible Terror circling the rafters.

"Dragon!" Stoick shouted, and jumped onto the table, nearly knocking over the candle, and attempting to swing at the beast.

"Stoick, wait!" Gobber shouted. The Terrible Terror was out of Stoick's reach but swooped down just long enough to drop a roll of parchment into Gobber's good hand. It squawked, Stoick swung, and the Terror bolted upstairs and out the window again.

"Is a raid starting?" Stoick said, panicked, and jumped off the table to throw open the front door on the peacefully sleeping village of Berk. "What the—"

"Stoick," Gobber said, having unrolled the parchment and started reading it. "Speaking of talking to Hiccup, I think you might want to see this."

Stoick turned on his heel, dropped his sword on the table, and nearly ripped the parchment out of Gobber's hands. He fell into his seat and Gobber stood behind him, reading over his shoulder. The further he read, the more Stoick's fingers dug into the parchment, crinkling and crunching the page.

Gobber reached the end first and looked at his friend. "Stoick," he began, his tone one of warning. Stoick slammed the parchment down on the table and stood.

"Is that it?" he boomed, stomping around the table to stab at the embers in the fireplace. "That's his big plan?! That's what he wants us to do?!"

"Stoick—"

"Just talk to him, just talk to him, eh?" Stoick tossed the poker to the floor and glared at Gobber. "He may claim not to be on anyone's side but that sounds an awful lot like taking the dragon's side to me."

"Stoick," Gobber tried again.

Stoick snatched the letter from the table again and looked at it. "Did you even read this, Gobber? He wants us not to fight back? Not even defend ourselves? Focus instead on getting people to safety, on defense, not fighting back unless we absolutely have to? And this, this." Stoick laughed, an indignant, incredulous thing devoid of humor. "He wants us to prepare an offering of food to be brought out when the dragons arrive. Prepare an offering!" He tossed the letter aside. "What, are the dragons our new gods?"

"Look, I agree there's some flaws in this plan," Gobber said, stooping to pick up the letter from where it had fallen on the floor. "But his intention seems pretty clear."

"That it does," Stoick growled. "He wants us to give up, roll over and accept our fate as we let the dragons destroy our home."

Gobber sighed. "Or, he's trying to come up with a short term, easy to implement plan to reduce the violence and bloodshed. He's not saying we can't defend ourselves if a dragon is coming straight at someone, just that we shouldn't strike back or antagonize them if we don't have to. And he mentions that quantity matters more than quality in the offering, so we could put out our weakest, sickest livestock and hide the rest. The whole point of that to make it simple for the dragons to get what they came for without needing to burn down any buildings or harm anyone to get to it." Gobber shrugged. "It wouldn't work forever but it might reduce the risk of all our crops being raized before we can harvest them."

"And we're supposed to trust him that it will work at all?" Stoick asked, his voice still too loud for the quiet empty house. He shook his head. "Yes, the dragons might take the lovely picnic we set out for them and leave, or they might snatch up our offering, look around at our total lack of resistance, and then raid our unprotected village for the rest of the food." There was a finality to the shake of his head this time. "No, for all we know this is a trap."

Gobber groaned. "Well you know how we could determine if this wasn't a trap? By talking to Hiccup."

Stoick went still for a moment, his eyes on the fire. "We can't talk to him on his own terms."

Gobber raised half a hairy unibrow. "What d'you mean by that?"

Stoick pointed at the letter. "That's the kind of thing he'll tell us if we're talking to him on his terms. Protect the dragons, lay down and die. Risk destroying the whole village for the sake of a few beastly reptiles. It's clear where his loyalties lie."

"Stoick—"

"So we need to talk to him on our terms."

Gobber did not like the tone Stoick's voice had taken. It was that same deep, low, almost soft rumble he used before a battle, or before he dealt a deadly blow, or when he had a plan in mind that would lead them to victory. It was a rumble that meant his mind was made up, and his mind right now was not stable enough for anything it settled on to be good. It was this kind of rumble that had approved the plan to sacrifice Astrid Hofferson.

His blue-green eyes were blazing when he next turned them on Gobber. "You're right, we can't risk killing the Dragon Master by shooting him down. But we need to get him on the ground. We need to be able to talk to him."

Gobber shook his head. "And we can't just send him an invitation?"

"I told you," Stoick said, gathering up the loose parchment on the table into a neat stack. "We need to talk to him on our terms. I'm not convinced of where his loyalties lie, and even if what he's said is true, I'm not sure I believe he's got a plan that could really end the war for good." Stoick crossed to the desk in the corner and stowed the parchment in a drawer before looking up at Gobber with wild, war-ready eyes. "But I think he's got information that could. Information he may not give us if we're talking to him on his terms. So that's why we talk to him on ours."

"And we're gonna do that how, exactly? And what even are 'our terms'?" Gobber asked again, following his chief around the room as he tidied up. "You just said we can't take the risk of shooting him down, but we have to get him off his fancy super fast dragon and onto solid ground, and we are going to do that how?"

"You said you made some changes to that contraption that makes it less lethal?"

"Potentially, yes, but we've agreed we can't shoot Hiccup. We can't risk killing him."

There was so much and yet, so very very little, of the man Gobber had been friends with in Stoick's eyes when he replied, "I told you before, it's not him we have to shoot down. There's more than one way to get his attention."

X

Her back felt stiff and she shifted, trying to get comfortable. It made no difference so she reluctantly pulled herself out of Hiccup's arms, yawning. Astrid twisted her back until she heard the bones crack and felt the tension release. She sighed and sat up, light coaxing her eyes open. Dawn had broken; there was light beginning to come in through the holes in the cave ceiling, and at some point in the night Hiccup had gotten up to rekindle the fire. It burned low, but it was heat enough to warm their small section of the cave.

Astrid stretched, shaking out sore muscles so she could more comfortably go back to sleep, and when her arms dropped the light caught on something on her left hand. She raised it and stared at the third finger.

Gold, carved with intricate patterns and symbols, and fitting her perfectly, a ring encircled her finger. It fit so well she hadn't even noticed she was wearing it. It was beautiful; the craftsmanship beyond comprehension. How had he fit such complicated shapes into so small a space?

She looked to Hiccup, still asleep beside her, and then noticed something on the ground beside the bed. There was a small wooden box sitting on a square of linen. In the box the wood was carved to hold two rings. One spot was empty, the other contained a ring identical to her own in design but larger in size.

The question was obvious: take one out or put one back in. The choice was hers to make; Hiccup had already made his. Astrid stared at the ring in the box until her vision blurred with tears. Then, slowly, her hands shaking, she reached into the box and drew out the other ring. She held it reverently, admiring the beauty of its making, of its meaning. Then she pulled Hiccup's left hand from beneath the blankets and slipped the ring on his finger.

She bent down and kissed it, then placed his hand back on the bed. She snuggled down into the covers and wrapped her arms around Hiccup. He yawned and snaked his around her. Astrid buried her head into his chest and let sleep overtake her, safe in her husband's arms.

x

When they both awoke some hours later, their eyes and smiles met and their hands, the ones wearing matching rings, rose to clasp each other. Smiles grew into grins and they kissed happily and pulled each other close.

There were no words; no vows. Everything worth saying had already been said. All promises worth making had already been made.