A/N: I wrote this chapter in seven hours, which feels like a real achievement. Also, just a warning that there is a lot of innuendo in this one. The whole first scene of the chapter is just one giant innuendo.

Astrid's axe sprouted from the neck of a wooden mannequin, and glinted in the low morning sun.

"And that," she declared, turning to Snotlout, "is called the Hofferson. My mother and I spent three weeks perfecting it."

Snotlout, whose mood was suffering under his hangover, stared at the theoretically very dead target with disgruntled terror. "It's pretty good," he coughed, feigning confidence. Astrid grinned and went to retrieve her weapon.

"So how's your signature move coming along, Snot?" (She had always privately referred to Snotlout as Snot, but after his antics last night, it seemed like the only name for him.)

Fishlegs giggled from where he was drawing out a tournament bracket on the blackboard, in preparation for the day's event. Snotlout shot him a glare. "It's fine. It's in the draft stage right now. I don't want to show anyone because they might steal it." He strode over to where Hookfang was napping in the corner of the arena, and tried to get the unhappy dragon to stir.

Astrid exchanged an amused smile with Fishlegs. She had sort of missed torturing Snotlout. He was so easily wounded.

"Anyway," he added bitterly, "it's not like anyone cares about my signature move when Hiccup's got that dumb fire sword—"

Astrid swerved to look at him. "A fire sword?"

"Ugh, yeah, it's one of his nerd inventions."

Fishlegs chimed in excitedly, "Wait until you see it, Astrid, it's got a telescopic blade. It's amazing!"

She found herself gazing off in the direction of the forge. Hiccup and the twins were due to arrive any moment for warm-ups before the tournament. And he would be fighting today with the sword, which last time they'd spoken had been "just an idea." Her heart thudded against her ribcage and, feeling herself start to smile a smile that could only be described as giddy, she bit her lip. Giddy wasn't really the vibe she wanted to give off in front of Fishlegs and Snotlout.

"Sounds cool," she said finally, now watching the arena entrance, where she could hear someone approaching.

The arrival of Ruff and Tuff came as something of a letdown, particularly since she wasn't sure how much Ruffnut remembered of their conversation from the previous night. She would tell Hiccup what had happened in her own good time, of course, but Ruff blabbing that Astrid had a secret about Southern men would make her look a lot more suspect than she actually was—because she hadn't done anything wrong! She would tell Hiccup, she would. Though, judging from the smart grin Ruff gave her, she needed to do it sooner rather than later.

But the other girl had no time to interrogate her, because Hiccup arrived on the twins' heels, and Toothless on his. "'Morning, gang," he called to the group, but she caught a hint of exhaustion under his outward cheer, and wondered how things had gone last night after he'd returned home with the chief.

Fishlegs stepped forward. "Hiccup, show Astrid Inferno, she hasn't seen it yet!"

Hiccup, his mouth hanging open, turned to look at her—he was trying to determine if an apology was in order. Astrid folded her arms across her chest, grinning. "Yeah, Hiccup. Show me Inferno."

"Sure," he said slowly, and reached down to the holster strapped against his calf, which Astrid hadn't noticed during the day she'd been back. He pulled out a device she recognized from his sketches—it had been almost a year, but the design hadn't changed much. She continued to grin, strangely exhilarated by the sheepish expression on Hiccup's face. Goading him gave her a nice rush, and she decided not to consider how that might prove fun as their relationship progressed, tempted as she was to contemplate.

He flicked the button and, almost instantly, a pillar of flame grew from the hilt, taking the shape of a blade. The other teens flinched at the suddenness of it, but Astrid didn't move. Her breathing had gone ragged. It was a really magnificent weapon, and it looked brilliant in Hiccup's hand, like it was made for him to wield it. Which she supposed it had been. There was something hot clawing at her chest.

"Can it fight?" she inquired quietly.

Hiccup tried a few passes with the sword; he was agile, as of late. "I just reinforced the bolts this morning, so it should work, but I haven't strictly speaking tried it in combat."

Now unable to fight a smile, giddy or no, Astrid drew her axe. "Okay. Let's give it a go."

His mouth fell open again, and she heard what sounded like Tuffnut whooping in the background, but in that moment no one except Hiccup deserved her attention. It had never been clearer to her: they were the best. Not him, not her, them. Their togetherness functioned perfectly. She had made the right decision, coming back to Berk.

"Are you serious?" he asked, but he had moved into a defensive stance, and she prowled around him.

"I'm completely serious."

"If you get burned—"

"Don't worry about that." Hiccup nodded. He sensed she didn't like the protectiveness, not in this context. He was a fast learner.

"If you insist," he conceded, and then attacked fast, confidently contradicting the reluctance in his tone.

She parried the first blow and landed a couple of her own, which he deflected. The heat of Inferno whipping by so near made them both sweat right away, but Astrid didn't mind. Her heart had gone from thudding against her ribcage to pounding in her throat, and she knew she was blushing, and not from embarrassment. She batted away thoughts of the muscular display visible just beneath his tunic, if she could only see through it, and swung at him; Hiccup ducked, then rolled back on to his feet.

She called to him as they drew away from each other, catching their breaths. "You kept practicing."

"Well," he heaved, giving a breathless bow, "wouldn't want to disappoint you, milady."

"You sound tired," she taunted.

"No." And he launched himself toward her again, in a series of quick slashes that nearly took her balance, but she managed to escape by dodging beneath his arm, ruffling his hair on her way out. A few passes later, a close call singed fur on one of her wristguards. This, this was amazing.

On the sidelines—this all went on in a public performance, with the tournament audience beginning to arrive in the stands—Ruffnut turned to her brother, sounding disgusted. "Is this foreplay?"

Astrid managed to catch Inferno's hilt with a nook on her axe, and they threw their weights into their weapons, both determined to be the one to come out on top of this wrestling match. It was a battle of the wills, really, with a strip of fire crackling inches from their faces, wet hair sticking to their foreheads, panting noisily as metal grated on metal. Their eyes locked, too, and she saw something evident in Hiccup that she had only just glimpsed before. The realization, or impulse, or passion—whatever it was—made her swear out loud, and he must've felt it too, because they broke away at the same time, his sword and her axe lowered to their sides.

"I'm skipping the tournament," he declared. Not once did her eyes leave his.

"Me too."

"Let's go, bud," he said, starting for Toothless, and she nodded to Stormfly. In a moment they were both on their dragons, heading for the exit.

"Bye?" said Fishlegs sadly, turning to his now defunct bracket.

The last thing Astrid heard was Snotlout's cry of "What was that?" before she and Stormfly zoomed out, hot Toothless's tail.

It was a familiar experience, to be zipping over Berk, going north, her chasing him, if more playfully now than nine months ago, when there had been something at stake. This time he did not attempt to call her off, but grinned under his arm every so often and kept Toothless just a dragon's length ahead. She recognized where they were headed: a small island. More like a few trees parked on a dirty rock than an island, really. The wind nipped at her face but she hardly felt it.

They landed hard and fast, him first and her a beat after, Hiccup dismounting smoothly in front of her. He adjusted his prosthesis just as she leapt from Stormfly and took two long strides before tackling him to the ground, the suddenness of it making both dragons scatter from their masters, who were now tangled in the dirt, a mess of kisses and heavy breathing.

After several minutes of impassioned snogging, he joked (doing nothing to disguise the hitch in voice when she pressed her lips against his neck), "This is doing a lot for my self-esteem."

Astrid sat up and whacked him in the chest. "Oh, shut it."

Mouth twisting, Hiccup squirmed a little. "Maybe I will, if you'd stop sitting on me like that." She glanced down: she was sitting right above his hips. Ha.

"Oh?" She gave him a coy pout. "You don't like it?"

His eyes narrowed, and he put his hands over hers, starting to push her off. "Not… not exactly, uh—you know, I'm not really sure you understand how I feel about it?"

She was having the same sort of fun with this that she'd had in the arena earlier; it was new for her, and wonderful. Her favorite game, with added sex! An appeal to her pride, and her libido! (Said libido had been recently piqued, a little hormonal uptick, but it was enough for her reconceive of sex as something she might enjoy, rather than a random act, which oppressed her whether or not she got to partake in it.)

So she sat on Hiccup a little harder. He made a delightful, complex sound. Fun! Lowering her voice, she leaned toward him, and spoke slow. "I think I understand plenty."

Stunned into silence for a long beat, he stared up at her, wide-eyed, and then choked out, "Okay, that was—devastatingly sultry." She grinned, pleased at the success of her seductiveness, and he shook his head with renewed effort to escape from beneath her. "You're very attractive. Insanely attractive. Mind-numbingly attractive, in fact."

"Distractingly attractive, too?" she asked, and rolled off him, having lost the battle but not the war. Reminded of his father, Hiccup groaned as he sat up.

"Gods help me when he finds out I'm skipping the tournament. 'You have a civic duty, son,'" he said in that uncanny imitation of the chief's brogue, "'A chief puts the village before himself. A chief controls his feelings. A chief makes out with his duty, son.'" Astrid snorted.

"Forget him. He's being ridiculous."

After their brief awkwardness last night (she thought for the time being Hiccup had learned not to compare their relationship to that of his mother and father), her support on this issue seemed to mean a lot to him, and his shoulders perceptibly lifted at her disavowal of Stoick's behavior.

"You think?"

Toothless approached them, eyeing his saddlebag, and gesturing for Hiccup to stay put, Astrid stood and retrieved two bits of salted cod. "In my experience, when parents are completely unreasonable, it's got more to do with them than it has with us." She tossed the treats to the dragons, who squawked their thanks. "Either that or your dad hates me, which I have to say isn't my favorite option. Do you have any idea what could be going on with him?"

Hiccup sighed. "Probably what's always going on with him, which is that I'm not the son he wanted." Toothless now wandered over to his master, and nudged him, prompting Hiccup to administer a neck rub. "Anyway, he's had seventeen years to get over it, I don't know why I thought things might be different now."

Astrid sat back beside him, and Toothless nudged her too before bounding after a rabbit. In a moment of bravery, she draped his arm around her shoulders. He shot her a curious but pleased look, and then let it happen, for which she was grateful—she wanted to slip quietly into intimacy, not have every milestone trumpeted as thought she were a child learning to walk.

"Just ignore it," she told him. "He can't stop us." Which wasn't true, not in the slightest, but as long as they were alone like this, so far from everything, it seemed possible.

Hiccup assessed her critically, that thoughtful crease forming between his brows. "You ready to talk?"

Astrid glanced at the ground. She would have to tell him.

He took her hand in his, a little bashful. "Is that a no?"

"No, no, we can, I just…" With some effort, she met Hiccup's eye. "I need to tell you something that happened when I was travelling."

He stared at her, and then breathed, "Oh no," which told her exactly what she'd feared was true: Hiccup had spent nine months indulging in self-deprecating fantasies about her adventure, probably with the overtones of his various insecurities. Astrid meets a beefy guy who whisks her off her feet, etc. Gods, this was going to be hard.

"There's nothing to freak out about," she started, though perhaps this was not the best way to preface such a statement, "but when I was abroad, we visited this one—it was a kingdom, with a king. And we feasted with him and his whole court, it was…" She pursed her lips. "Well, okay, so this king asked for my hand in marriage."

"WHAT?" shouted Hiccup, so loud that a flock of birds vacated the trees above them. Astrid was cringing.

"I didn't say yes!" she protested, with the quiet addendum, "though I didn't exactly say no." The king had been tall and thick-boned, like a blonde Snotlout, and he called her shieldmaiden. He'd said he wanted a shieldmaiden for a wife.

Hiccup got to his feet, stomping away from her. "So you're engaged?"

"I'm not engaged—I am the furthest thing from engaged to this guy, it was just…" She stood, thinking to follow him, but he was pacing so furiously it struck her as a bad idea to get in the way of all that mental labor. "My mother said that I should keep my options open, because she knew you hadn't made me a commitment, and we're not noble-blooded so getting an offer from a king is, is—and they let women inherit there, so my daughters, if I had any daughters, they could be the real deal." The stress of that day came back to her in waves, and how she'd imagined Hiccup's reaction, and how much worse it was to see it playing out like this. "So I said I had to come home first and… maybe I'd come back and marry him. Which," she threw her hands up in surrender, "I'm obviously not going to do!"

Hiccup had stilled, his back to her, maybe looking out at the distant speck on the horizon that was Berk—his kingdom. Or, his chiefdom. As a Viking, he would never be able to call himself 'king'.

The lack of response made her pulse speed up. "Would you rather I hadn't told you?" she demanded.

"No."

"Please don't be angry." Someone needed to shake this boy—or maybe she just hoped for a way to reset the conversation. "I came back, Hiccup. And it wasn't for Fishlegs."

He finally turned back to her, and the expression on his face might've punched a hole through her chest. "I didn't make you a commitment because you said you weren't ready." She went to him, wrapping herself around his torso, the comforting instinct perfectly natural after she'd had to put such effort into an arm around her shoulders.

"I know, and I wasn't ready. I wasn't," she said into his shirt. "My mom didn't know how things are, and this wasn't about—this wasn't like it is with us, it was just about marriage."

Though she sensed some reluctance, he hugged her back, his voice by her ear. "So what's it about with us, if it's not about marriage, Astrid?"

The word that popped into her head began with an l and ended with an ove and she couldn't say it aloud just yet. Instead, she pulled away a little to see his face. "Partnership."

"How's that diff—"

"It is." Hiccup glanced down—he already understood, even if she had to remind him. "Marriage is you paying my bride price, and having to tell the village, and me figuring out how in Thor's name I'm going to be the chief's wife." Exhausted by the thought, she pressed her ear to his chest. "Partnership is just… us. You know how little of that we're going to get? It'll be polygamy, you and me and all of Berk, living in domestic bliss." He laughed, shaking pleasantly against her.

"You're right. Okay." She felt his hands on her face, drawing it away so he could look at her. "So you don't want that right now."

Astrid shook her head.

"What do you want, then?"

She hesitated, then countered, "What do you want?"

"Well, ideally, Astrid, we get married and then I skive off half my responsibilities on you, so the tribe has at least half-competent leadership." With a scoff, she feigned pushing a grinning Hiccup away, and strode back to where they'd sat before. Slipping back into seriousness, he exhaled, and trailing after her. "I think I just want to know what you are to me. And if I know, I don't care who knows." They exchanged a small smile. "Could be the whole archipelago. Could be just you. Could be just you and Toothless and Stormfly," he amended, since the sunning dragons had begun to watching their masters, half-curious.

"The dragons always know," she thought outloud. What she was to Hiccup—she could do that, now. Or she thought she could try, at least. "All right." Astrid stuck her chin forward. "Then I'm your girlfriend."

A light came over Hiccup's face. "You are?"

"Yeah. I think so."

He shook his head furiously. "No, no 'think so,' you are or you aren't."

"Uh." Her nose wrinkling, she stomped in place once. "Okay. Okay. I am! I'm your girlfriend."

His grin was so big you could've forgotten the rest of his face existed at all—he was just Hiccup Haddock, the giant grin. "You know what that means?"

"What does it mean?" she played along, happiness rebounding between them.

"It means I'm your boyfriend."

Astrid's mouth popped open. Somehow in all this she had forgotten that once she conceded to be something to Hiccup, he immediately became something to her. So as much as she was losing a little autonomy, she was gaining some of his! Bizarre. It made her laugh.

"You are. You're my boyfriend, my boyfriend the chief's son. I did well for myself, didn't I?" She punched him in the gut. "And you're handsome, too, this is great!"

"You think I'm handsome?" he wheezed, gripping his stomach.

"No, I think you're hideous, that's why I chased you here and pinned you down to kiss you."

He started to giggle and, recovering himself, pulled her to him. "Then it's a good thing you don't have to suffer the public embarrassment of dating me. Not yet, at least."

"I really am lucky," she muttered, and kissed him. "Now, let's pretend we're already in charge and not go home 'til dark. Just between us."

He grinned, agreeing, "Just between us."