A/N – I'm updating a lot this weekend. I had an extra day, and enthusiasm. I had the scene in this chapter in mind for a long time, even before this story was a thing, and I'm super excited to get to use it. BTW – you're all awesome.
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Chapter 12: I Know Places
The dark forest raced by in a blur of shadows and deadened Blood Trees. Gnarled branches stretched out to grab, but never reached. Astrid came and went between the forest and the frozen, encroaching darkness. It tugged on her shivering body, pulled her down and away from the warmth that held her. The world bounced around her, cold winds whipped, and froze the water on her cheeks.
"Come on, bud, faster!"
The forest vanished, and in the next moment heat, marvelous heat, gently touched her skin. It melted away the frigid pain and sting. She curled toward it, bright like the sun, but something held her back. Her body refused to move.
"Astrid, wake up."
Fire. The fire warmed her. Bright, flickering flames licked along the logs. Embers twirled into the air, and vanished into the gray smoke.
"Astrid? Look at me."
A hand touched her cheek, a warm digit. She blinked, and found his familiar face beside the fire. Wide, green eyes peeked from behind his mask. Behind him, the fire lit a cavern wall. The wall curved onto a stone ceiling. Cookery dangled on hooks. Old pots and pans piled on shelves. Baskets and dented tins and wooden bowls stacked to the ceiling.
"Hey," he said, his voice soft.
The past came back to her. The marriage. The desperate run. The fall into the waters. Astrid pushed herself up, and he reached to help. His eyes didn't leave her, and only vanished to blink. He had spoken. To her.
"Y-you," Astrid tried to say, to talk to him, to incite his voice again, to prove that it hadn't been a half-dead daydream.
"Astrid, you need to get out of those clothes."
He spoke. Astrid marveled at his mask that still hid his face, but his voice rang in her ears. His voice spoke her name, over and over.
"You did speak," Astrid said, her voice dry and cold, a stinging pain in her throat.
He nodded. "You'll warm up faster without those wet clothes." He reached to a crudely built wooden bench, and pulled his folded cloak from it. "I-I only have this for you to wear. Hurry, before you get sick." He stood up. "I'll just be…in here, while you, you know, change."
He walked out of the room. Astrid looked down at the cloak in her hands, and ran her fingers over the rough material. She wasn't sure what astounded her more. That he had spoken, or that he had told her to undress. Humor aside, he was write. Shaking, she began to undress. She tossed her frozen clothes to the floor, relishing the feeling of the hot fire on her bare skin. She wanted to jump into the flames and let the warmth consumer her, melt the ice completely.
She had imagined a voice to fit his frightening persona. Deep, powerful, and full of that natural grace that she associated with him. The nasal voice he spoke with wasn't deep or particularly powerful. He spoke with an uncertainty, cautiousness, but it still held the wonder that she expected, the audible compassion and gentleness. It fit it him, regardless.
He made a small sound, and Astrid realized she still stood naked beside the fire, holding his cloak in her hands. She drew it around her bare shoulders and said quietly, "I'm done."
He reappeared quickly. He came in and sat down on the wooden bench. She tugged on the front of the cloak and sat beside him. He made the smallest of sounds, but didn't move. His eyes found hers, and she smiled. The uncertainty in his eyes increased, swallowed them whole, and he blinked and looked away.
"Where does the smoke go?" Astrid asked, pulling her eyes away from him. She pointed toward the fire. The smoke bubbled up and vanished through a rocky crevasse in the ceiling. "I've never seen smoke from the village."
His eyes followed it, blinked, and then he rolled his shoulders in the gesture she knew so well. No one else moved like him. "I don't know. Up the mountain maybe?"
She took her eyes off of the smoke and looked back at him. His eyes reflected the firelight. He had such amazing eyes. She could watch them forever, studying the way the lashes fluttered when he blinked, the way he glanced at her, timid and unsure, the way he smiled with his eyes. He watched her, too.
Such eyes. Astrid extended her hand toward the cheek of his mask. Her palm met hardened leather, and he twitched out of her touch. She retracted her hand, curling her fingers toward her palm.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
He shook his head, eyes on the floor. He blinked, met her eyes again, and reached for her hand. His fingers covered hers, and flattened her hands against his mask. He dropped his hand into his lap. She hesitated, then brought her other hand to mirror the first. A gentle nod of his eyes gave her all the assurance she needed. Astrid held her breath as she gripped the mask, and lifted it upward.
His eyes vanished from the holes, and a defined jaw appeared below, shadowed by fine stubble. Well-shaped lips followed, his lips. A feverish warmth swarmed through her veins, and she leaned forward. She pressed her cold lips against his mouth. He jumped, but welcomed her simple kiss. She broke away, and lifted the mask off entirely. She found his eyes again, the same brilliant green, nestled underneath a mess of red-brown hair.
Astrid let the mask fall from her grip without looking where it landed. She couldn't take her eyes off of him. His eyes flickered downward, a brief showing of self-doubt, and she reached a hand out to his cheek. Underneath her cold palm the warmth in his face burned. His stubble tickled her fingertips. She didn't see the rest of him move, not his arm or hand, but she felt his calloused hand against her cheek. His hand covered her entire cheek, from his thumb on her cheekbone to his little finger along the pulse in her throat.
He came closer, and she leaned in without hesitation or thought for consequence. This is what she wanted, and she would have it.
His lips met hers, but not like before. A warmth spread through her like she'd never felt. No mead or medicine could mimic such a marvelous, weightless feeling. She melted into his touch, into his tender kiss, not minding the loose cloak as she abandoned her grip to touch his face. She felt the material slip down her shoulder, but made no move to hide herself. She didn't need to hide from him. A rough, gentle hand touched her exposed shoulder, warmed by the fire, kind my nature.
Their kiss ended, and Astrid hummed against his lips. She ran a finger along his jaw, along the fine stubble. "I was beginning to think you couldn't speak at all. Why not say something sooner?"
His eyes flickered from her lips to her eyes. His thumb traced her cheek. "I was told not to speak to anyone. But you're not just anyone. You're a friend."
A fire-flower bloomed in her chest, warming her far more than a fire ever could. "Who told you not to speak to anyone?"
"Mother," he said simply.
"Your mother?" Astrid asked. The flower hesitated and withdrew.
"Yes. She doesn't trust the Vikings, or anyone from Berk." His eyes moved to the fire and came back to her. He shifted. "What are you doing out here? You would have died if Toothless hadn't heard you last night."
"Toothless?" she asked slowly, making sure he'd heard him right.
"My dragon, the Night Fury," he said calmly, as if that was an obvious statement.
"The Night Fury?" Astrid's voice faded. The fearsome dragon flashed into her mind, poised to fight, teeth barred, hissing and snarling, a terrible sight that had left more than a few villagers unable to sleep. His rider had looked just as furious, dark, and mysterious. The young man whose face she held in her hands looked too kind and gentle to be the same glorious dragon master.
"Yes." He smiled, a warm sight that brought a shiver to her stomach. "I'll show him to you if you want. He likes you, I think. He didn't used to, but you've grown on him. He was worried about you." His magnificent smile straightened and fell in a frown. His hand on her shoulder tightened. "I am, too. What's wrong?"
Astrid inhaled, and the words bubbled up inside of her. The bright anger and ugly betrayal burned fresh. "My parents…they sold me." Anger turned sour in her stomach and melted her throat, choking her with a sob. "They sold me as a bride when I was fifteen. They just told me." She bit back the tears. "I don't want to marry him. I'd rather be an old maid, or dead."
He arms came around her, and she collapsed into him. She clutched onto him, and buried her face in his warm neck. Tears pushed their way out, and she fell apart in his arms. Two sturdy hands held her as she sobbed. The tears fell onto the leather and rolled off, gone without a trace. When the worst of it passed and the tears had gone, she remained in his arms until her cheeks dried. Reluctantly, she lifted her head. He watched her, brow furled, eyes confused and sincere. He reached up, and gently ran his thumb along her bottom lip.
"I-I don't know what to tell you," he said with a slight shake of his head, shaking his hair. It fell down into his eyes and she whisked it back. "I'm not familiar with marriage. My mother has talked about it, but not much."
Astrid swallowed. Her voice had gone dry, and came out like a croak. "It's when two people decide to start a life together, just the two of them. They get their own house and have children."
"Oh!" His eyes brightened. "When they become mates?"
"Yes." She nodded, a smile on her lips. His innocence lightened her heart, but reality pulled it back down. "I always wanted my parents' marriage. They were best friends, and always happy around each other, even if they were fighting or didn't agree. I don't…I can't stand Snotlout, let along be in the same house with him for the rest of my life."
He blinked, and nodded. She'd told him all about her friends and fellow Vikings. She had no doubt that he knew exactly who Snotlout was.
"If you don't want to marry him, you shouldn't have to," he said kindly. He touched her chin. His brows came together. "You are my best friend, should we get married?"
A smile burst over her face, and she couldn't have stopped it if she tried. He smiled in return, stroking her cheek. She said, "Maybe we should. I'd rather spend time with you."
The sparkle in his eye multiplied, and when he leaned in, she did, too. They kissed, and proved that their first kiss hadn't been a one-time accident of the extraordinary. This one warmed like the sun, too, and sent shocks through her cold body. She wanted more; she wanted to stay like this until they were both skeletons hugged by rock and dirt.
The fire burned and they stayed together, cuddled beside the flames sharing simple kisses and gentle touches. She didn't know what time it was and she didn't care. Time didn't exist in his cave-home. The cavern ceiling shielded them from the forces of day and night, from chores and duties. In this space, only they existed.
"Your clothes might be dry," he said after a while.
Astrid glanced over to her haphazard pile of discarded clothing. No patches of ice remained, nothing shimmered with lingering wet. Reluctantly she stood, abandoning her warm place beside him, and checked.
"Yeah, they're dry."
"Great." He jumped up from the bench, and her heart fell with his enthusiasm. He quickly added, "I want to show you something."
"What is it?"
"A surprise, but it's outside, and you should be dressed first." He jogged into the other room.
Astrid blinked at the empty doorway. With a sigh, she accepted that their moment had ended. She let his cloak fall to the floor and dressed without worrying if he peeked. He could, if he wanted to. She didn't mind those eyes.
Dressed, Astrid followed his steps out of the room. The rest of the cavern was dark. She squinted down a narrow corridor, and saw several rooms branching off.
"Ready?"
She jumped. He stood beside a very narrow slit in the rocky wall, half in and half out. He motioned for her to follow, a wide grin on his face, and then he vanished. Astrid went to the slit and peered inside. A long, shadowed hall stretched out. At the very end she saw a dim orange-red light, and heard the splatter of water echoing up through the rocky passage.
"Where are we going?" Astrid asked.
"Outside, come on." He spoke without hesitation or fear, and she let his courage fuel her.
She stepped into the pass after him, squeezing her body through the narrow gap. In several places the rocks brushed against her breast. If they were any bigger, she wouldn't fit through. Most Vikings wouldn't be able to fit through. She'd often wondered about his home, and now understood the real elusiveness. The hunters would never find him because they would never get to him.
How had he gotten her through it?
The pass opened, but only slightly. The end came to a small, shallow cave at the base of a waterfall. He stood at the mouth of the cave, waving her out. Astrid tiptoed alone the slippery rocks, not wanting to repeat the freezing water rescue. The mountain rose up above them, towering into the frosted darkness of a late twilight. The sun had vanished behind the western clouds, leaving them in a pale orange-blue light.
"Come, this way," he motioned to her.
Astrid followed him a short way into a mountain cave. The light did not reach, but he wasn't afraid.
"Toothless, are you in here, bud?" he called out. He turned to Astrid. "Since he can't go home with me, he lives here most of the time."
"Most of the time?" Astrid repeated.
"What? He's a dragon. The world is his home."
A low warble echoed inside the dark cave, and Astrid froze. She took a step toward the outside, and he reached out a calm hand to her.
"It's okay, he won't hurt you." His eyes gleamed in the darkness. "I promise. Trust me."
"Okay," Astrid said, although she didn't feel much better about the soft, padding footsteps coming toward them. The shadows moved, and something appeared through the darkness. Two bright green-yellow eyes peered out, wide and curious, followed by the rest of the dreaded, black Night Fury.
"Hey there, Toothless," he cooed. "You know Astrid, don't you? You saved her last night."
Toothless warbled softly, and sniffed the air. He nosed his master and warbled warmly into his chest. Then those big eyes turned to her, unblinking. The dragon inched closer to her, nostrils flaring with each sniff. A low warble came from the back of his throat. His wide mouth opened, and pink gums stared back at her.
"He doesn't have teeth?" Astrid asked.
"Oh, he does. They're retractable."
"Really?" Astrid asked.
"Okay, just let him know that you're a friend."
"How?" Astrid asked. He reached for her hand, and lifted it. He pulled her palm toward the dragon, who sniffed it, and gently touched his nose to her palm. The big dragon eyes blinked at her, and she smiled.
"See? Dragons aren't monsters." He stepped around the dragon's side, to the saddle. He padded the leather and held out his hand. "Let me show you."
Her heart fell into her stomach. "You mean flying?"
He nodded. "Come on."
She slid her hand into his. He helped her onto the saddle, and then climbed on himself, sitting in front of her.
"You're going to want to hold on," he said with a smile.
Astrid listened, and snaked her arms around his middle.
"Okay, bud, you know what to do. But let's take it slow to start, alright?" he said to the dragon, who answered with a dangerous warble.
"What does that mean?"
He laughed, a nervous sound that made her grip his leather suit tighter. "I don't know. I can't actually talk to dragons."
Toothless shot toward the mouth of the cave. In one swish motion he extended his massive wings, pushed off the ground, and took off toward the sliver of the moon. Astrid held on, muffling her screams in his back, as the cold wind slapped against her cheeks. The mask suddenly made much more sense. The ground below lurched farther away, and she closed her eyes and buried her face in his back.
The dragon soared upward, farther and farther, pushing her stomach into her throat. The rushing finally stopped, but it took a moment before her insides returned to their normal places.
"Astrid, look."
She peeled her cheek away from his leather-clad shoulder and opened her eyes. What she saw took her breath away, pulling it out in an awed gasped. Instead of the ground, below them was a floor of fluffy clouds, turned golden by the sun. On all sides, clouds towered in pink and golden and orange pillars. Up and down no longer mattered as Toothless navigated between them with ease, the same natural grace he shared with his rider.
"It's amazing," Astrid breathed in his ear. She tightened her embrace around him, hugging him close. She'd often wondered what Valhalla looked like, and now she knew.
"I've tried to tell Mom that we need to do something about the fighting. She doesn't want to bother. She doesn't think that Vikings can change." The tone that he spoke with tore at her heart. Disappointment filtered through, edged with defeat.
"They've never seen this," Astrid said.
"I know. If they only knew what it was like to have dragons as friends, not enemies, they would change. Like you."
"Yeah," Astrid agreed. His hand touched hers. "I could get used to this."
She could get used to flying through the skies, without limits, without guidelines, exploring and wandering. She could seek her own adventure, like her father, and make her own amazing tales. She'd fallen in love with flying, with the sky, to the man she held onto to. She knew it, and wouldn't deny it if he asked. Would it be possible to stay with him in the forest? They could leave Berk behind and start somewhere else.
They flew for what felt like a short amount of time. He called it a night when Astrid's growling stomach caught his attention. She tried to laugh it off, but he wouldn't hear it. They would find something warm to eat at home. They tipped below the clouds and the night greeted them. Astrid found Berk, a tiny mass of glittering torchlight and windows, and her mouth fell open. Toothless flew over the trees, toward the mountain, and landed swiftly by the cave.
He climbed off the saddle and she lingered, but accepted his hand and slid to the ground.
"We'll see you later, bud," he said, gently padding the dragon's head.
Astrid laced her fingers with his as they headed back toward the narrow passage behind the waterfall. She couldn't go home. Not after that evening. Not after him. Her mind returned to the burning hearth fire, and a night spent with him, and followed him into the passage. She happily stepped back into his cavern house, but he stopped short.
"What is this?" a shrill voice asked.
Astrid looked around him to see an unhappy, middle-aged woman standing in the doorway to the hearth room, hands on her hips, face turned in a scowl.
