Hello! Sorry this chapter is a bit later than usual. I'm back at college (boo!) with a stack of assignments to do, and i've also been preparing for university interviews which are all very exciting! I'm writing this after mulling over one such assignment, during which I ended up watching Sherlock and Red Dwarf. I'm the worst student ever.

I've also been fixing my room, which now has bright yellow walls and my bed has Adventure Time bedsheets! Squee!

So i'm subconsciously aware that I need to pick up the pace and this chapter I *think* will be the last of the "description heavy underground going on's of Berk" and the next few will be more of a "Hicstrid goes on an adventure". This one is Astrid-centric.

As always, follows and reviews are greatly appreciated. Foxy'sGirl, interesting suggestion. I'm going to say no, but...

Astrid couldn't sleep. She had tossed and turned, loosened her hair and then re-plaited it, moved her pillow into various locations and hid under her sheepskin blanket, to no avail. Settling down after a busy night of contemplation, she thought to herself irritably, was hard. So hard, in fact, that she gave up. At a time she supposed must have been the very early hours of the morning, she jumped from her bed, opened her steel makeshift wardrobe, pulled out her trademark blue sweater and left her room.

Her family lived differently from the workers of the bunker because of their status. Whilst most of her peers lived in damp, ramshackle rooms the size of cupboards, Sindri had allocated a four-roomed apartment for his family to live in which consisted of a bathroom, two bedrooms and a large living space with a small kitchen. Astrid thought it was selfish and unnecessary, but she honestly had never thought an attack would actually happen so it hadn't really eaten into her psyche. Now she was looking around the barely furnished room the family socialized in, a red moth-eaten sofa next to box after box of storage, mainly books, bills, identification and entertainment. A small lamp had been left on, and Astrid took a closer look at the items left out, one of which was a framed photograph that her parents always kept close. It was a picture of the three of them after Astrid had finished first in a regional gymnastics competition, taken when she was eleven. Her blonde hair was a lot shorter, barely reaching her shoulders even as it hung loosely, and she was tall for her age and somewhat toned. She was smiling triumphantly, glossy blue eyes filled with hope and promise, and her parents were semi-laughing, teeth bared and with a sense of pride in their stature. Astrid sighed. She was not that happy little girl anymore.

Leaving the apartment, she stepped barefooted onto the draughty concrete corridor, hearing nothing but the usual hum of the electrics. It was somewhat soothing to be so alone. She had pictured what the big cities would be like completely abandoned, the ones much larger than Berk, with streets that went on for miles and buildings almost reaching the sky, ugly grey designs contrasting with the much older, more beautiful architecture of generations before. Maybe this society will live into another generation, she contemplated, and maybe they'll integrate the nuclear age with whatever comes next. Humans do, after all, make the same mistakes over and over, each time threatening the desolation of mankind, each time mankind fighting back to see another day.

Astrid met the crossroads. Left was the one she took most days, towards the mess hall and where all of the people were. But she doubted the people would still be there, and the ones that were would probably be asleep after consuming the atrocity that the chefs had called beer in heavy doses. Astrid generally didn't feel comfortable in crowds anyway, although the confidence and self-worth instilled into her at an early age, being encouraged and coaxed into being the best, had taught her not to come across as anything other than assured and gregarious to everyone around her. There reached a point where everyone seemed to be very fake and blasé and struggling to keep up the act, she had become moody and insolent towards her parents, which hadn't gone down too well, least of all with her father.

Sindri Hofferson came across as polite, caring, cocksure and evasive when faced with those he was taking care of as mayor. In actuality, both Astrid and Ilma knew he was in the wrong job. Sindri had a temper and a tendency to take it out on those who were supposed to have been closest, and he was incredibly narcissistic. Astrid also knew him to be possessive; achievement, he told his daughter, is everything. Anything other than an A would reap punishment, whilst achievement would reap acceptance. It was what she wanted more than anything, and yet it was becoming harder and harder to talk to her father, never mind try and see his point of view. Her mother used to joke that they were two peas in a pod; after all, narcissism and a hot head came with the package for Astrid. It was their similarities that bothered her most.

With a deep breath, she took a right instead. Nobody ever went up this way. It was unlit, colder than usual and vertical, with steps leading them up. Upwards, she whispered silently. She walked continuously, wary of anybody or anything around her, but hearing only her own echoed footsteps. The passage became narrower, eventually becoming a steep, single staircase that had become surprisingly slippery. A layer of moisture covered each wall now, and looking towards her destination, she saw the large, dense concrete door ahead that would give her access to the outside world, to the town she used to call home. She knelt down after reaching the top step, relaxing after the flight up the stairs and pulling up her leggings, although she thought to herself consciously that it was unlikely anyone else was around. The door had a steel lock, and a sign:

"Radiation levels will kill. Do not pass or punishment will be unquestioning."

Astrid scoffed at the ominous signpost, knowing full well that her father had written it. She moved towards the entrance, and rested her head against it, hoping to hear a sign of life. The door may be two metres thick but she was taking the chance. Something about Hiccup's delivery of what had happened made her believe that he wasn't making it up, although he had a reputation of being devious and sneaky, at least when he was back on Berk. We still are on Berk, technically, she told herself, only underneath it. Only as she sat down did she realise that she was quite sleepy after her walk. She made a mental note for the next time she was restless. Although it was cold and a little breezy, being close to home was comforting. She was only a door away from getting out of the figurative prison that the people resided in. She also knew that they were all slowly dying; rations would eventually run out, as would medical supplies. They may as well sit tight and prepare for it. Or, they may as well take a chance and try their luck on land. She yawned, holding her idea close, as she fell into a light sleep.

Astrid groaned as her father switched on her light-switch, looking excited and ready for what was going to be a very long day.

"Wake up sweetie, we're going to the bunker!" he barked. Astrid glanced at the clock; 5.14am. She rolled her eyes as she sat up.

"Why are we going at this stupid hour?"

"Because we have places to be later and I wanted you to be the first to see, before your friends from school." Sindri smiled, and he hastily left the room. Astrid sat up blinking for a few moments, stirring only when she heard the kettle on and the chinking of her father making a coffee. This was odd, she thought to herself. It'd been a long time since they'd done anything father-daughter; usually their conversations ended up in heated arguments over trivial matters, such as Astrid bleaching her already golden hair into a platinum blonde and experimenting with dark make-up. At 14, this behaviour was quite normal, but to Sindri, it was an abomination.

After a quick shower, Astrid quickly patted her hair dry and plaited it as she got dressed into her school uniform. It was incredibly ugly, she thought, with it's burgundy blazer, sleeveless black jumper, white blouse and tartan skirt, finished with long white socks and polished black parade shoes. Her parents liked it though, commenting on how it was much more tasteful than the scruffy polo shirts and sweaters that the kids at Berk High called a uniform. On more than one occasion, she had asked for a transfer, and on every occasion, her parents refused to remove from the exclusive private day school she had the "privilege" to attend, so Astrid had stopped asking.

She crept downstairs, figuring that her mother was still asleep, and sat in their contemporary kitchen, sipping the cappuccino and chewing the bacon cob her father had made her. He's forgotten the sugar, god dammit, Astrid thought to herself as she struggled with the bitter taste. At around six, the duo got into the car and drove through town as the sun rose. It was much different than the usual urban mayhem of rush hour, with cars blocking every junction, children and their parents running over the pavements and businessmen opening their shops with cardboard cups of coffee from the local café in their hands. Said café was the only thing that seemed to be open as they drove, with the occasional person walking to work or walking their dogs in the dim light. She wondered what it must be like to be going to work at such an hour, telling herself that'd she'd never do such a thing no matter how well they paid her. Neither spoke as they drove, although once they got into town Sindri turned on the radio to catch the news on the political situation and to hear about any threats.

"We've got to be on our toes!" he would mutter to himself, and his daughter would nod, eyes fixated at what was outside.

They reached a hill just outside of the town centre, with a few cars parked haphazardly, along with the vans of construction workers who were currently engaged with plans. Sindri parked next to a van and got out, immediately asking for a look of the blueprint that the team were working on. Astrid got out afterwards, scowling at the chilly weather. Christmas was next week, she sighed, thinking about all of the family gatherings she would be required to attend. She couldn't share her fathers giddiness at the introduction of the shelter that was designed to house the entire town for up to six months. Why would anybody be happy after the threat of destruction? She suspected greatly that her fathers happiness was an act; after all, nuclear war was deemed as quite unsurvivable to most experts that frequented the television during news hour, and her fathers upstanding attitude was actually somewhat deceptive. If this bomb goes off, people are going to die. Of course, she reasoned, the bomb probably wouldn't go off. They had gotten into a debate in class and Astrid, being her strident self, had won, on the basis that surely nobody would be so stupid.

"This door is made from concrete and steel and is two metres thick! Nothing is going to get through this!" she overheard one of the engineers who was walking around with a mug of coffee in his hand tell his colleague. He was overweight, middle aged and had balding hair. Astrid wondered whether he had a wife, and children, and a house, and she realised that this shelter was a sense of security to the town, no matter how superficial it was.

"Astrid! Come on, love, let's go inside!"

The girl walked towards the entrance of the bunker quietly as her father pulled open the sturdy door. Looking down at the steps before them was like looking into oblivion.

Astrid woke with a start, and she quickly realised that she must have fallen asleep next to the exit, which was quite forbidden. She steadied herself against the wall and ran down the moist steps as quickly as she could, not caring if she was heard. She paced back to her apartment and opened the door to find her mother on the sofa in a nightgown with a herbal tea in her hand.

"Where have you been?" she asked stiffly, and Astrid thought about telling the truth but remembering that her father was in the next room.

"I just went to sit in the mess hall for a bit. Couldn't sleep."

Ilma grunted before looking up at her daughter.

"I saw you with that lad last night...Stoick's son huh...". A smirk crossed her face briefly as her daughter returned with a look of slight embarrassment and frustration.

"We were just talking, you know. He's had a pretty rough time."

"He looked a mess yesterday morning, all that blood. Although he did a marvellous job on the axe; only he could've finished it as lightly as he did so there's no point in denying it. But...I want you to have it." Ilma stood up and grabbed the axe, passing it over to her daughter who held it awkwardly over her elbows.

"I need to know that you can defend yourself. And maybe one day you will be able to pass it on to someone else." Astrid looked at her mother, gobsmacked. Why now? It wasn't her birthday, and Ilma hadn't died. But the glint in her mothers eye suggested that she knew something. Defend yourself? Why would she need to do that?

"Thank you..." Astrid gasped finally, heading towards her room. As her door swung open, she thought she heard her mother whispering "stay strong".