How to Start a Self-Discovery
Chapter 4: Keep Her Close
The little bandage was slapped rather firmly onto her stinging cheek, but Astrid held back the whimper of pain that tried to slip past her lips. Her mother bustled around the great hall, clanking bowls and jars together as she scrapped up what was left of the midday meal and washed out the bowl she used to make the special Hofferson healing ointment. There was a palpable tension in her shoulders, and she clanged the plates together a bit harder than was normal.
Astrid tried not to flinch when a plate of leftovers slammed in front of her on the table. She waited for her mom to flop tiredly onto the seat across from her, before carefully reaching out to snag a piece of chicken. The young girl managed to be fairly quiet as she ate with her tiny fingers, waiting inevitably for the strong, female Viking across from her to explode with anger. Problem was, Astrid was never so great at waiting.
"It wasn't my idea," she started, trying to defend herself. Hilda glared at her, running a hand over her face in exhaustion.
"And I suppose that makes it okay for you to be the mastermind behind the whole thing?" she shot back, sighing heavily. "Honestly Astrid, it'll only be a few more years until dragon training; you can stay out of the arena until then, can't you?"
Obviously she couldn't, seeing as that very afternoon Astrid and her group of ragtag friends had snuck into the dragon dome, letting loose the Deadly Nadder from its cage and spending the next few minutes screaming their lungs out. Well, everyone else except her. Hofferson's don't scream; they battle cry.
Astrid pursed her lips and looked down at her lap, not responding to her mom's query. She heard another sigh from across the table. "Astrid; you could've died."
"Dad would've loved that."
Hilda slammed a hand on the table, making the plate jump and a few people from other tables look over. "Astrid!" she hissed, her eyes narrowing. The younger Viking winced at the loud sound, but refused to apologize for her comment. She had clearly already grown into her rebellious phase. "Astrid, you will not speak about your father that way."
"Fine," Astrid bit out, pushing the plate of food away and standing up; "I'll just think it."
Hilda sighed deeply as she watched her daughter walk away, knowing in her heart that Astrid was very much justified in her hatred for her so-called father. There was still a part of her though, the dutiful wife part, that wished otherwise. And it was there, sitting in the dim light of the candle, watching her daughter slam the large doors ominously as she walked out of the great hall, that Hilda Hofferson vowed to set her husband straight once he came home.
Only, the next day, when the ships from the hunting expedition came back, Boarguts Hofferson was not on them. And that very same day his daughter, Astrid Hofferson, was found trying to break into the dragon training ring again.
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"What are you doing?"
Astrid let out a shriek, whirling around and seeing her mother standing in her doorway, a little grin on her mouth. She was staring pointedly at Astrid's fingers, which were attempting (and failing) to untie and take off Ruffnut's dress at the same time. It made her blush at being caught in this position by her mother, whom she once swore to that she would never wear a "stupid, girly, useless dress even if you took my axe and beat me over the head with it."
As it was, Astrid just mumbled, "Ruffnut," and her mother 'ahhh'ed' knowingly. The two girls had been friends since they could walk, and Hilda knew that while the girl twin of the Thorston's was rough as nails, she was also equally insane. After more than a decade of knowing her, Hilda and Astrid both had given up trying to decipher how her brain worked, and what actions her brain prompted her to take.
"Need some help?" Hilda offered, and Astrid nodded meekly. It made her smile, knowing that her daughter seldom asked for help. She stepped into the room, a little wary of Stormfly, who was just outside the large back doors, keening and rolling around in the bright green grass. Astrid was fine with leaving the doors open, though, and untangled her fingers from the ties of the dress, letting her mother take a crack at them with her much more skilful hands.
They stood in silence for the next while, Astrid holding up the dress with Hilda behind her, quickly undoing the strands. There was a comfortable silence lingering in the air that the two of them treasured, a sense of mother-daughter bonding that had not been felt for several years. Not since Astrid realized that, unlike her peers, her father did not love her as much as she originally thought he did. Even after he had… gone, his presence still lingered with the youngest Hofferson, palpable, like a stain on her soul.
"So…" Hilda said, trying to fill the silence, "What did Hiccup say?" Astrid, startled, looking over her shoulder at her mother's brown hair.
"Say about what?" she asked, and Hilda smiled teasingly.
"About the dress."
Astrid turned a flushed red, her mouth dropping open. She wrenched out of her mom's hold, whirling on her with an embarrassed, "Mom!" Hilda just held her hands up in defence, shrugging.
"You were right outside the house; how could I not have seen you?" she informed the young Viking dully, causing her to groan in more embarrassment and cover her face with her hands and the dress in her hands. Hilda laughed heartily, stepping forward and patting her daughter's shoulder with a comforting hand. "Now Astrid, there's no reason for you to be like this. Stoick and I are halfway through the marriage negotiations; it's completely okay for the two of you to be kissing and such." At that, Astrid just groaned louder, turning away and covering her ears with her hands, trying to block out the sound of her mother's chuckles.
Sigrid looked up from her preening, concerned when she heard her rider making odd noises inside the house. Her head cocked to the side, one of her yellow eyes peering curiously into the room. She chirped, drawing Astrid and Hilda's attention after poking her head into the room. Hilda was on guard, backing up a bit, while Astrid just smiled and laughed, reaching out to pet her. "Hey girl," she greeted, nuzzling her horned nose. Stormfly squawked happily, bumping her cheek against Astrid's body. The dress had fallen down now that Astrid was no longer concerned with keeping it up, given that her dragon was currently slobbering all over her.
Hilda shook her head in exasperation, tromping out of the room and leaving Astrid to deal with her fire-breathing domestic pet. Only, when she got to the main room of the house, Ruffnut had shoved past her rather rudely, snarling under her breath as she opened the door to Astrid's room and slammed it shut behind her. Hilda sighed, sitting down and resigning herself to listening to two stubborn, Viking-headed girls duke it out over a dress that lay in wrinkles on the floor.
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Astrid groaned, this time in annoyance as she rolled her shoulder, the "conversation" she had with Ruffnut having come to blows. She had tried to explain that she wanted nothing to do with the stupid, useless dress, but Ruffnut had thought Astrid was only saying that to psyche her out, and promptly started pulling Astrid's braid to prove her point. Naturally, Astrid wasn't going to take that from anyone, and socked the girl in the face. That elevated to full-on wrestling match, which made Stormfly believe it was play-time, prompting her to jump on the two of them as they wriggled on the floor.
Ouch, I know.
Now Ruffnut thought she was an unfair fighter who ganged up on "poor-defenceless-girls-who-Hiccup-prefers" because she was secretly jealous that she wasn't poor and defenceless and girly enough for Hiccup. (Insert scoff here.) Having said that, Ruffnut snatched up her dress, glared at Astrid and Stormfly (who squawked in confusion) and stormed out the big back doors of the room. Of course, throughout all of this she failed to realize that she started the fight.
Astrid sighed heavily again, swinging her arm around to see if that would help the soreness. She had gotten dressed again, as Ruffnut threw her clothes at her to start their fight when she barged into the room. Unfortunately, the Viking wasn't much inclined to handle said clothing delicately, she had observed, as a few of the spikes on her skirt had gone missing.
'She was probably the one that ripped them out in the first place," Astrid mused, sighing to herself in amusement as she made her way over to the smithery. Ruffnut tended to rip apart whatever was in her hands if she was angry; more often than not it was her brother. But he usually got back at her by his monstrously annoying habit of jabbing fun at the fact that she was a girl. But then Astrid would team up with Ruffnut, and he would be forced to take his words back; it was a vicious cycle. At least before Hiccup got involved.
Astrid sighed again, this time in frustration as her thoughts turned to the annoyingly unspoken leader of their little troupe. Astrid had always been commander of their group of friends; she was the strongest, and hence the most fit for the position. But then Hiccup came along, toting accomplishments on his belt like being the first to ride a dragon, let alone the first to encounter a Night Fury and live. He had changed the very fabric of their lives, pulling the rug out from underneath them and displaying a much more wonderful world that they had never thought of before. He was… amazing. And the perfect leader, to boot.
Astrid had always ruled her friends with an iron first; you want to be leader? Then fight me and we'll see. Their magna carta was the stronger ruled the weaker, because the stronger would protect the weaker. Hiccup let his friends do whatever they wanted; he adopted a more laissez-faire approach. Oh, Ruff and Tuff want to steal food from the dragons? Sure, go ahead. Snotlout wants to set loose a bunch of Terrible Terrors? Oh yeah perfectly fine. What? Astrid wants to kick all their butts and throw them in a cage for a day? Sounds like a great idea!
Well, maybe not in theory. Letting people do whatever they wanted usually spelled chaos, but it worked for Hiccup, mostly because there was always someone there to set everything straight (read: Astrid). He usually only asserted his leadership if he wanted to do some sort of group project, but otherwise Hiccup was content to stand on the sidelines and laugh at all the crazy antics of his new friends. He acted like he was just another person, just one piece of an incredibly complicated machine. And that was what solidified him as the perfect leader; he wasn't a stronger or a weaker; he was just… one of them.
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The smithery was cool and dark, mostly because Gobber and Hiccup weren't working so there wasn't a big fire going. Astrid peeked around a bit, looking at all the weapons on the wall and wondering if they had any dull metal spikes lying around. Probably not; those weren't the type of things to be saved for any time she needed it. Figuring it was probably better to come back tomorrow, Astrid turned around to exit, only to catch Hiccup grinning at her from the doorway.
"Hey," he greeted, and she wondered how long he had been standing there. Her mouth went dry.
"Hi."
"Need something?"
"Ah," Astrid flushed, glancing down at her skirt. She touched it rather pointlessly, grinning at him. "I'm missing some of the spikes on my skirt," she informed him. He chuckled, pushing off the doorway and placing his hand on the small of her back, urging her to his space at the back of the smithery.
"Come on; I might have some spare parts." She followed him there, into his private workspace; the place where he came up with crazy ideas and thought about all the things that made him… different. She could see it the minute she entered the room, all the detailed drawings and complicated phrases spilling over from one page to the next. The back of the room had some barrels of metal and leather, which made Astrid guess that his workspace was also a bit of a storage room.
"Sit down on the desk," Hiccup said as he made his way to the storage area. Astrid did so without complaint, hopping onto the slanted desk with ease. Hiccup looked as though he was going to be preoccupied for awhile, so the curious Viking started to look around his desk. She picked up a few drawings, but they were much too crude and complicated for her to understand, not to mention she was just plain uninterested. But there wasn't much to look at; Hiccup didn't keep things like axes and swords in his work area. Well… except that.
Astrid snagged the helmet from where it hung on a nail above her head, inspecting it. One of the horns was crooked, so she twisted it back into place. It was rather sturdy, and she vaguely remembered it from the dragon killing ceremony. Hiccup had thrown it away in order to gain the full trust of the Monstrous Nightmare. Stoick the Vast had gone absolutely insane after he did that, ordering the ceremony to end and slamming his hammer on one of the rails of the dome. She had always thought it was a bit strange, how he had only ordered the match to end after the helmet was gone, but not when the sword or the shield was dropped. Why was that?
"You know, that helmet is the other half of my mom's breastplate." Astrid, startled, whipped her hand off the top of the helmet, looking up at Hiccup's grinning face. He was walking towards her with a few dull spikes in his hand. She looked back down at the helmet, finally registering his words.
"This was your mother's?" she asked, and he nodded, still grinning.
"Half of it, yeah. My dad's got the other half. Says it keeps her close." He settled down in his chair, scooting closer to her skirt and lifting it to poke the spikes through some of the empty holes. Astrid watched him closely, suddenly aware of how near they were; she could only see the top of his ginger-coloured hair.
"Does it?" she asked, and he shrugged. The two of them lulled into silence after that, Hiccup working diligently on her skirt. His fingers were nimble and professional, not being touchy-feely and teasing like Astrid expected them to be. He seemed to take a rather perverse pleasure in teasing her about her decidedly Viking-like take on romance and affection, and went out of his way to aggravate and embarrass her. It earned him quite a few nasty bruises, but he never seemed to mind.
"Okay, stand up," Hiccup told her after he finished filling all the empty holes at the front of her skirt. She hopped off the desk, turning around and placing his helmet on the spot she vacated. There was a lot of rustling and metal-clinking, originating from her skirt, before Astrid heard Hiccup's stool creak, signalling he had risen. She waited for him to back away, but jumped a bit when his lips pressed softly on the nape of her neck.
"Hiccup—" she started, only for him to hush softly at her. His hands wrapped around her tiny waist, and the rest of him followed, pressing into her. Astrid shivered when she felt his breath ghost along her neck, and then even more when it was his mouth. His arms wrapped around her fully, his nose nuzzling her cheek. One of his hands reached out and softly touched the helmet that was once a piece of armor that protected his mother's heart. A piece of armor that now protected his preciously intelligent mind.
"I miss her everyday, helmet or not," he whispered to her. And then he was gone, like the wind.
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Later that night, Hilda looked up from tending to the fire, watching her daughter walk into the house. She stood up, sensing something was wrong when Astrid looked so forlorn and was consciously avoiding her mother's eyes.
"Mom… about… about the wedding…" Hilda blinked, a little taken back. Astrid had wanted nothing to do with the wedding or the wedding negotiations, claiming it to be irrelevant to her kick-butt Viking lifestyle.
"Yes?" Hilda urged, the prolonged pause making her impatient. She supposed that was where her daughter got it from.
"I, um… I was wondering if… if you had already started making the dress." Astrid looked up, her face nervous and clearly uncomfortable. Hilda smiled warmly.
"No, I haven't dear. I have some ideas though. What do you think about flowers?"
"No way!"
"Astrid…"
"Okay, maybe just one…"