AN: Apparently there are character limits to the chapter title, hence the numbers instead of words. Sorry about that.

He was twenty-four and she was twenty-three. The council talks had run late. Hic was sick with a fever and Astrid hadn't come. Hiccup was glad that Astrid hadn't come. When Camicazi had flown in from Breakneck Bog, he'd known the news wouldn't be good. He'd expected the worst and received news even worse than that. Hiccup had the tribe to think of; he had his friends to think of; he had his family to think of and still, he was glad she hadn't been there.

Hiccup had been able to see it in Cami's face as she flew in. There was no wild grin; no jubilant wave. Only sorrow and hardship.

"What's happened?"

Those had been the first words out of his mouth. Camicazi had looked away and shaken her head, her face pale and worried. In all the years that he had known the Heir to the Bog-Burglars, he had never – never – known Cami to fall speechless. She took in a deep breath and looked Hiccup in the eye.

"I don't know, but you have to see this."

Hiccup had flown out with Cami then to a set of islands south of Bog-Burglar Islands. Even when the Vikings had been at war with the dragons for centuries, even when it was at its worst, there had never been carnage like this. The damage was consistent with a dragon attack, but it was almost too organized, too specific. Dragons weren't known to kill off whole villages and yet the dead were uncountable, their bodies ravaged and unidentifiable at times. Hiccup had seen a lot in his day, but this turned his stomach.

He'd called the council to meeting upon their return to Berk and it had been hours of discussion. Hiccup was hesitant to war as they didn't even know who they were warring with – dragons or men. Drago's face burned in his memory; the madness of it, the anger he carried. They'd never found his body and Hiccup's mother seemed to think this was his handy work. For the first time, he was starting to understand what his father had meant four years ago – how some people won't be reasoned with. It was fair to say that people who could do that to other people weren't very likely to listen to words. But declaring war didn't exactly favour longevity either.

It wasn't exactly a problem that could be solved in a few mere hours by a council of scared Hooligans. They would need to call a meeting of all the tribes; they would need to call a Thing. Even though calling a Thing now wouldn't save those that had been lost. Calling a Thing now wouldn't undo what had been done, or what Hiccup had seen with his own eyes. Calling a Thing now was all they could do.

So, Hiccup was glad that Astrid hadn't been in that council meeting. He was doubly glad that she hadn't been on the flight with him and Camicazi. He was glad she hadn't seen what he'd seen. And not because she was fragile or delicate – the gods knew that she had a stronger stomach than him – but because that meant when he went home tonight, she would be devoid of those images. She would be innocent of the carnage and the violence and the gore of it all. Astrid had been spared what he himself hadn't been and maybe, with her, he could forget about it for a few selfish minutes. Maybe he could hold her and breathe in what was precious to him and know that she was safe, at least for now.

The flight home was expectedly sombre. Even Toothless could appreciate the disturbing nature of the scenes they'd witnessed today and he respected Hiccup's silence. The dragon followed him into the house, gently nudging and prodding Hiccup until he smiled, just slightly.

"It's okay, bud," Hiccup whispered, his eyes locking with Toothless', "Somehow things will be okay."

Toothless sat by the fire and watched after Hiccup as he climbed the stairs laboriously, as though the weight of the world rested on his narrow shoulders. Hiccup paused at the door of Hic's room – Hiccup's childhood bedroom – took a deep breath and pushed it open. Hic was, for lack of a better word, perfect. He was a shining little beacon of hope in Hiccup's life – a blond, green-eyed terror whose curiosity far outmatched what Hiccup's had been at that age. Hiccup crept into the room, cringing as his prosthetic creaked and clunked. Hic slept on as his father collapsed onto the stool next to the bed. His son was ill, although they'd been assured that it wasn't something to worry about. Hiccup's hand dwarfed the boy's forehead, but he smiled when he realized that the fever had broken.

This was what Hiccup needed to fight for – his son, his family. This is what needed protecting. He needed to protect the tribe so that his son might grow up and lead his people in a better time. He needed to ensure that what was Hic's birthright survived and thrived. Again, for the first time, Hiccup felt like he could understand some of the things Stoick had done for him, some of the lessons that had been shared and sacrifices made. A chief protects his own. Those words were made even truer by what Hiccup had seen today. Hiccup pressed a kiss into the sleeping boy's forehead and stood up.

"Sleep well, little prince," he whispered.

For a long time, Hiccup stood in the doorway of his own bedroom watching Astrid sleep, listening to her even breathing and marveling in the molten gold of her hair in the lamplight. Astrid was a different person when she was asleep. Hiccup could almost forget how fierce and capable she was when he saw her there, vulnerable and prone. In a heartbeat, she could be gone. Any wrong moves from him, and she'd be taken forever. His stomach clenched and his heart tightened at the thought of a life without Astrid. He'd come close before and he never wanted to feel that utter despair again.

With slow, deliberate steps, he made his way to the bed and perched on the edge next to her. His fingers shook when he reached out to brush them against her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open and he almost regretted touching her. Almost.

"Hiccup?" she murmured, her voice sleep-muffled and heavy.

His lips quirked upward just slightly. If he was feeling himself, he would have made some quip about men waking her in the night who weren't her husband. She would have hit him in the shoulder. He would have kissed her until she stopped raging. But he wasn't himself tonight and that tiny quirk of his lips was all he had to offer. His silence seemed to awaken her further and she rolled onto her back, blinking back sleep.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice clear and strong.

Hiccup shook his head marginally and pleaded with his eyes. Not now. Please, Astrid. Not now. Her frown was a pretty thing from the crease between her eyebrows to the downturn of her lips. Hiccup wondered if he'd ever told her that. He probably hadn't. His hand moved of its own accord, a finger brushing the corner of her mouth. She watched him with concerned eyes and all he could think was that they were forget-me-not blue.

Astrid didn't push him to speak. He loved her for the patience and steadiness that she reserved only for him and their son. If it were anyone else, she'd have slammed them to the floor and beaten the information out of them. With Hiccup she was willing to wait and he was grateful for that. Because he wanted this peaceful moment with her. He wanted to touch her and hold her as though nothing was wrong with the world. He wanted to make love to her and make-believe that war wasn't coming; that horror wasn't lurking around the bend.

Astrid's pulled herself up to sitting and ran her fingers up his arm until she could squeeze his shoulder gently. Hiccup turned into her and leaned hesitantly to kiss her. He felt his world crumble when their lips met. It was always the same, even after all these years. Astrid made him fall apart and then come back together again, stronger than before, each and every time they touched. A love like this probably wasn't fair. A love like this eclipsed all the hardships and pain he'd ever encountered. Astrid made him whole again. Always. Forever.

Astrid didn't move away when the kiss broke. She stayed there, her breath against his skin, her eyes focused on his. Without looking away, without moving away, Astrid pulled herself into a kneeling position and pressed her lips to his forehead. Hiccup closed his eyes with a sigh and leaned his head into her shoulder, letting her knot her fingers in his hair and breathing in the scent of her. She smelled clean and familiar; she smelled like home. Astrid leaned away from him and he looked up at her. Her smile was sad and warm at the same time. Sitting back on her heels, she ran a tender hand down the length of his body. Gentle hands worked at the fastenings of his prosthetic, the familiar pattern of ministrations comforting to Hiccup. The relief at its removal was as profound as his relief at leaving the council meeting. Astrid's fingers pressed and kneaded with delicate precision sending shockwaves of sensation so extreme, so carnal that a groan escaped Hiccup's lips.

His hand closed around her upper arm as he pulled her into him, kissing her with desperate, fervent lips. He was fifteen again and she was kissing him in the Great Hall at Snoggletog. He was eighteen again and she was weighing him down with her body, asking things of him she shouldn't want. It was their wedding night and he was making sure she'd never forget it. He was returning from a journey and grateful that she loved him. He was lying in the grass on Mount Ascup and bodily remembering what it was to touch Astrid. It was all the times they'd made love and all the times they would in the future rolled into that one desperate, reaching kiss.

Astrid was everything. Astrid was what he needed to protect. Astrid was unequaled.

The kiss went on, evolving and building a heat between them that needed to be quenched. Hiccup turned his body, his good leg folded beneath him, his hands bunching and lifting the linen of her bedclothes up and over her head. In that moment when that magic kiss was broken, he stared at her and knew she was a goddess incarnate. As if in a dream, his hand reached out and pulled the tie from her braid. He ran both his hands through her hair, the silken coolness of it sending a chill down his spine. Her searing hands found the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head with care. Astrid's eyes fell to his chest and she pressed her palms into his skin, sliding upward with a pressure that made him bite his bottom lip with need. Hiccup wondered at the wonder on her face. She always looked at his body as though she'd never seen it before; as though it were the most fascinating thing she'd ever seen. When her eyes rose to his, he pulled her body flush against his and kissed her again as though their lives depended upon it.

Astrid ran her hands over every inch of skin she could come into contact with, slipping ever lower to the ties of his pants. Once she'd loosened the ties, she pushed his pants over his hips and reached around to squeeze his rear. He broke from her mouth with a gasp and traced kisses down her throat, the fingers of one hand in her hair again, the other stroking the slick heat between her thighs. A noise came from somewhere deep in Astrid's throat as his fingers barely entered her, teasing the sensitive area with gentle flicks.

With her hands on Hiccup's shoulders, Astrid straddled his hips, lowering herself onto the length of him with delicious slowness. They exhaled together, a collective sigh, and waited. There was a rightness when they were connected like this – a certain inseparability that no one could take from them. Hiccup's breaths were shaking, but so were Astrid's. Their eyes were steadfastly connected; Hiccup's hands rested on Astrid's hips. The first movement was deliberately slow and rapturous. Like taking a small sip of fine mead and rolling it around on the tongue, Hiccup wanted this precious moment to last; he wanted to savour it. He wanted to have this careful, unhurried lovemaking forever engrained in his mind. For the future, for forever.

Astrid kissed him, her tongue measured and languorous in his mouth, drawing his desire out, bending him to her will. As always, Hiccup couldn't help but give in to her. Astrid pushed him onto his back and rocked her hips with an insistent rhythm. A hand traveled up her back, her long tresses brushing his weathered skin. The other hand massaged the soft, giving flesh of her rear. Their pace quickened, erratic and uneven with need; his thrusts barely matching her frantic rocking. The imperfection of the rhythm only added to the rising tension – his breath coming in hushed grunts, hers in airy gasps. Hiccup closed his eyes and focused on the growing heat between their bodies, the mounting drive to finish this. Astrid cried out a sharp, pealing noise that sent Hiccup tumbling over the edge, his body jolting into hers with the physical reverberations of the climax.

Hiccup pushed himself upright, his arms vice-like around Astrid's body. Astrid buried her hands in Hiccup's sweat-damp hair and kissed his forehead while he pressed her into him as though he could encompass her with his own body and keep her safe. Hiccup leaned his face into the curve of her throat, his breathing slowly returning to normal. He didn't want to be two people again. He didn't want to let her go. He didn't want to think about anything but Astrid and their life together; of their son and their home.

"I love you," Astrid whispered into the top of his head.

Hiccup tightened his arms around her, still willing her to be part of him for always. Her hands combed through his hair tenderly and he tilted his face up toward her. He had to tell her. He couldn't keep her in the dark, no matter how much he wanted to pretend this perfection was the reality. Berk was in danger. The whole Archipelago was in danger. Things would never be the same again.

"Astrid, I need to tell you—"

Astrid pressed a finger against his lips and shook her head mildly. She leaned down and kissed him delicately; his arms loosened around her unconsciously.

"Tell me tomorrow," she whispered, her lips barely brushing his when she spoke.

Hiccup buried his face in her neck again and breathed. "I love you, Astrid."

"I know."