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"I heard it carried off a cow in each paw."

"What, two cows?"

"No, four, you pillock."

"Why would it carry off cows? I heard it eats metal—specially iron."

"But iron is heavy. How could it fly with a belly full of ploughs and all?"

The tales grew ever more outlandish the more time passed. She wasn't sure what was worse: the stories themselves or the fact that no one thought to consult the people who knew the answers. Well, no more.

She caught the sleeve of a servant and made her request, along with a hissed addendum to try to be discreet. As if no one would notice, with her sitting at the head table and people watching her every move.

The girl bent to whisper in his ear and Merida saw the men across from him grin and nudge each other. If they thought she was flirting with him, all the better. She moved away as he nodded, then put his hand on his father's shoulder and stood, jerking his other thumb behind him. Hiccup left the table and then the hall entirely; after a moment he returned and skirted around the edge of the room to the dais, where he looked up at her with a quizzical expression. She waved for him to join her.

"Was that discreet enough for you?"

She sighed. "I meant for her to be discreet in asking you, not for you to wander about like that. Thank you, though," she added. "I hate having all of them analyzing every single thing I do."

He resisted the urge to look around the room, where several pairs of eyes were doubtless trained on them. Now that he thought about it his skin started crawling, and he had to fight not to slump down in his seat. Instead he focused on Merida—but took care not to focus too much. "Did you want me for something?" he asked. As the sentence unspooled between them he heard how awkward it sounded and wished he could say it again with different, less embarrassing words.

She merely nodded, curls bobbing. "Will you tell me about it? Please?"

He glanced down at his leg. There wasn't anything more to the story than what she'd already heard. "It?"

"Him, I suppose. All I know is what I've heard in fairy stories, and now all the rumors." She gestured to the room and the people he was fast forgetting were there.

"Oh, him." He grinned in relief, glad not to have to talk about himself. There really wasn't anything like the Night Fury, nothing to compare him to, but he did his best, using his hands to sketch the shape of a broad head in the air, the span of wings. Merida imagined that the way Hiccup looked now, proud and affectionate, must be the way she looked talking about Angus—though if she were to be entirely honest, the dragon meant more to Hiccup, and he to the dragon, than her mount did to her. The bond they had was deeper, stronger, forged in blood and fire, loss and courage and sacrifice. They were brothers-in-arms, each willing to kill and to die for the other. No one whose blood she didn't share felt that way about her. She'd consider herself lucky if anyone ever did.

An empty hollow appeared in her stomach at the realization. To distract herself from it she focused on his face. She was sure that though hair stubbled his jaw he'd never have as ample a beard as his dad had. The swelling from Ewan's blow was receding, the bruise across his cheek a dull purplish-grey; he smiled as he enthused about Toothless, everything from his speed to his intelligence to his color.

"Next to impossible to see in the dark, which is great until you have to get up in the middle of the night and end up with a faceful of dragon," he was saying with a chuckle, "but in the sunlight he's got darker spots. It's subtle; I think it helps with camouflage, because nothing in nature is all one solid color, you know? And his eyes are amazing, they're this brilliant green—"

"Like yours?" She'd been quiet for so long that he'd just assumed he'd bored her so much that she'd quit paying attention; the question caught him off-guard. She was staring at him now, looking right into his widened eyes—eyes she knew the color of, apparently. He licked his lips.

"No, I—they're lighter than mine, I think. More like…" He tried to come up with a decent comparison, though right now she was being illogically distracting, watching him that way. "Like yours would be, if they were green. That bright and clear."

Her mouth formed a perfect little o and her cheeks pinked. When she broke eye contact he hoped he hadn't offended her. He didn't think he had, but girls could be unpredictable. Maybe they didn't appreciate being compared to dragons, even if it was in a nice way.

But then she sighed bitterly. "I'm starting to think I'll never get to see him. Every time I think I'll have a chance you're busy, or my mum gives me something to do, or one of the stupid suitors appears wanting my attention." She looked up to see him with one eyebrow raised.

"I think I've just been insulted," he said.

"No, no! Not you. I keep forgetting that you're a suitor."

"Because I'm not stupid?"

She bit her lip, though the corner of her mouth still turned up. "I never said that."

"Okay, now I know I've just been insulted." He smiled back, though, unable to feel hurt when her eyes were sparkling like that.

"With the others it's so obvious what they want, why they're here. With you it's like you and your dad are just visiting, like you used to. Whenever we talk I forget about what I have to do." She stopped, pressing her lips shut and fiddling with a cup. If she didn't stop now she'd say something embarrassing, or scare him away. Because with him things felt normal and right and yet full of possibility. His company wasn't something to endure; she found herself looking forward to it, even seeking it out.

He watched her draw into herself again, grow quiet and reserved, and he shifted uncomfortably. After a moment of studying her and thinking, he asked, "What about now?"

"Sorry?" She looked up, confusion clouding her expression.

Hiccup leaned forward conspiratorially. "Your mom's busy being hostess, the suitors are all occupied, and I'm right here. Can you think of any reason we shouldn't go now?"

Of course she could—or rather her mother's presence in her head could, pointing out that it would soon be dark, and it would be rude to leave the hall, and she shouldn't be going anywhere with any of the suitors unchaperoned. It wouldn't be proper to go…but it would be her. She'd been so good for so long, and it was suffocating her. She couldn't spend the rest of her life acting appropriately all the time, following rules blindly, and she couldn't spend it with someone who'd want her to. Hiccup's suggestion ignited a spark in her blood, one that was aided in no small measure by the encouraging smile on his lips and the way his voice had dropped when he offered. She bit her lip hard against a grin.

"I'll go first," she said, and his smile widened. "It'll take me a few minutes to slip out, so don't follow right away. When I've left the hall, go talk to your father. Tell him…"

"That I'm going to check on Toothless."

"Right. I'll meet you on the beach."

"Got it."

Merida drained the rest of her cup. "If you will excuse me, my lord," she said, rising, and he stood as well and gave a little bow. They'd definitely attracted the room's notice now. He remained where he was until she'd disappeared, carefully not watching her go. Then he left the table to join Stoick.

"How's it going?"

He shrugged. "Fine, I think."

"Looked more than fine from here."

He rolled his eyes. "I think I bored her with dragon talk. Hey, she asked!" he defended himself at the chief's stern look. "What was I supposed to do, refuse to tell her anything?"

"When it comes to women, you have to listen more than you talk. What does she like? What does she want?"

"She's still Merida. She likes the same stuff she did last time we were here. And she doesn't want all this." He waved his hand at the hall, filled with men currying favor and hoping for advancement, for the power that came of marrying the future queen. The idea of her marrying some of these men made him suddenly nauseous, and he silently thanked Elinor and Fergus and all the lords for agreeing to let Merida choose. "She doesn't want to be courted. Not like this."

"Then don't," Stoick said simply. "Don't push. Don't try too hard. Just be yourself."

Hiccup dropped his head into one hand. "Yeah. 'Cause that's so impressive."

"It is, whether you believe it or not. Besides, if she still likes the same things she did back then, you'll be fine."

They'd been kids then. It didn't stop his cheeks from heating up. "She doesn—didn't—doesn't like me like that, though."

"And here I thought you didn't care if she picked you or not." Stoick laughed off the glare his son sent him.

"I'm gonna go check on Toothless."

The first time around none of this had been her idea, but now it was, her idea and her choice. He couldn't imagine what that must feel like, having the burden of not only making the best of a less-than-ideal situation but also knowing that this one choice would affect the entire kingdom. Merida deserved to be happy. She deserved to find love. And she was prepared to sacrifice that for the sake of her people. He had to admire that, but he didn't like it.

He could help. Until she chose, he could be her friend, and afterward he could support her. And he'd tell his dad to make a treaty with Fergus anyway. Nobody had to get married to agree to help each other out.

She was suddenly glad her mum had made her wait and her dad had seen him first. Without his warning she might have quailed at the dragon's superficial resemblance to Mor'du; though as she let out her breath she saw that all the two had in common were general size and color. The dragon's eyes were wide and curious and just as green as Hiccup said. She dropped a curtsey without thinking. The dragon cocked his head and almost seemed to smile.

"Merida, this is Toothless. Toothless, this is Merida. She's an old friend."

She was transfixed by him. He was even better than Hiccup's description; his skin shone warmly in the glow of the setting sun and his wings were folded neatly against his sides. He was entirely alien and unexpected and nothing like the book said. "You're a gorgeous thing," she breathed.

Hiccup stood by, arms folded, chewing on the inside of his cheek. She liked him. He felt foolish for doubting that she would. "May I?" she asked, hand raised, and Toothless stepped forward in answer, pushing his nose against her, past her hand and nudging into her midsection. She laughed, breathless with exhilaration, as her hand slid over the smooth hide, fingertips reading the texture of his skin, and Hiccup shivered. He didn't think he'd ever felt so jealous of his best friend before.

Toothless chirruped and purred and she laughed again. "What were those fools thinking of?" she murmured. Anyone who could look a dragon in the eye and kill it was no hero. Toothless turned his head to track her as she traveled down his side, studying him. He hadn't moved much since she'd got there but she could see the potential in every limb and curve of him, could practically see him flying even now.

She circled back around to stand in front of him again, hands on her hips. "I could almost die happy having seen him."

"Almost?"

Merida turned away from him then. "We haven't gone for a ride yet." When Hiccup didn't move right away she said, "Come now, Hiccup, you can't bring a girl out to a deserted spot, introduce her to your dragon, and not expect her to want a ride." She grinned, though she knew that she shouldn't have said it; it wasn't polite or proper. Her cheeks were warm, though she trusted the sun's setting to hide it. But she wasn't sorry—she couldn't be, not for saying something true and right, asking for something that she yearned for, for the first time in a long time. She felt her hand tremble where it rested against Toothless.

The lilt in her voice as she said his name, the faint light on her hair, the way she stroked Toothless' head, all of it threatened to send him into sensory overload. Gobber had joked more than once that the two of them must have been able to read each others' minds, what with the way they moved in sync so effortlessly. Toothless and Hiccup communicated better than many an old married couple, he'd chuckled, and one of them didn't even speak. Hiccup had always treasured his bond with Toothless, and he was pretty sure the dragon felt the same way. Now he wondered if they really had developed some kind of mental link; he wasn't sure how else to explain the fact that it felt like she was touching him when she was a respectable distance away.

Without waiting for his permission she climbed astride and adjusted her seat, trying to make herself comfortable. It was different from sitting on Angus—Toothless' back was wider, his saddle lighter, and there were no reins to speak of, only handholds near his neck.

Did she have to wiggle her hips like that? Was it really necessary? And Toothless had just let her get on his back without any hesitation. He wasn't sure whether to feel betrayed or relieved; without his input his heart settled on swelling with wild hope.

She looked down at him imperiously, like she was born for her present position. She really would have made a better Viking than him. "Are you coming?"

He crossed his arms over his chest. "You're not going anywhere without me," he said confidently.

Girl and dragon both fixed him with the same unimpressed look, to which Toothless added flicking his head impatiently, like he knew Hiccup was only postponing the inevitable. "Alright, fine," he muttered, dropping his arms and crossing to them. "Scoot back a little."

"I want to be in front," she said, pouting slightly, and Hiccup thought of her back against his chest, his arms wrapped around her waist. He swallowed.

"Maybe next time," he managed.

She stared down, her expression flickering between attempted seriousness and delight. They hadn't even left the ground yet and she already knew she wanted a next time. "Promise?"

"Promise."

Her grin was so wide that her face felt fit to split, and she moved back some to let him throw a leg over Toothless' back. His feet slipped into the stirrups and he tugged at straps before leaning forward. "Try to keep it under control, bud," he said.

Merida leaned forward to address the dragon as well. "Quick as you can, Toothless."

Like he needed any encouragement. "She doesn't have a harness, Toothless."

"I trust you," she said, patting Toothless' side. Then she put her arms loosely around Hiccup's stomach. "And you."

Everything within him lurched, and Toothless leapt.

Her body was on the dragon's back but her stomach had stayed somewhere below, and took its time catching up. Toothless' wings worked steadily, their motion graceful; it was all impossibly smooth. She'd thought that Ewan's horse had a gait like silk, but silk dragged across the forest floor was nothing compared to silk floating through the air, with nothing to snag on, nothing to slow it down. Or almost nothing: somehow there were currents in the wind, streams his wings billowed over. "He's so fast," she murmured.

Hiccup smirked, though the wonder and admiration in her voice pleased him. Okay, he'd told Toothless to be careful, but they could afford to risk a little more speed. He leaned forward. "Hear that, bud? She thinks this is fast." Toothless snorted. He'd show her what fast really was. "Hang on," Hiccup called over his shoulder, and she just had time to tighten her grip before they shot forward.

Merida's yelp of surprise soon transformed into a triumphant whoop. Tears streamed from her eyes as the wind whipped past. She felt as if she'd awoken from a long sleep, the sort that accompanied an illness. The air that rushed into her nostrils was bitingly fresh, cool and smelling of water and the hills and something that must have been Hiccup. Here and now, in the most fantastical of situations, everything felt more real than the weeks that had come before.

All too soon they slowed. Toothless rose to what seemed an unimaginable height, high enough that they looked down on the castle, the courtyards already glowing with torchlight and pale golden squares marking out the bedrooms in the tower. Below them the loch lay shimmering with the last bit of sunlight. It was more beautiful than she ever could have dreamed, and Merida felt a swell of pride and affection for her home so great that for a moment it was hard to breathe.

As Toothless descended toward the shore her stomach seemed to float freely within her until the dragon touched down with a slight bump. Hiccup hopped easily to the ground, then reached up to take Merida's hand and help her down. She hadn't needed help down from a horse in years, and if it was offered she refused on principle. But she felt addled all of a sudden, like she'd stepped from a rocking boat onto dry land; her body didn't know she had stopped moving, and she wasn't sure she could trust her legs to hold her. So she didn't hesitate to slip her hand into Hiccup's and throw her leg over the saddle, sliding to the ground. Her head spun a little as she walked to Toothless' head; Hiccup let her hand drop, though she felt his eyes watching her closely. She stroked Toothless' nose, just as she would do Angus', looking into his eyes as they shone in the twilight. He blinked slowly, and she would swear he understood what she couldn't find the words to say.

How was she meant to go back to the castle, to her room or, heaven forbid, the great hall after that? How did Hiccup walk anywhere when flying was an option? Her limbs felt heavy, a weight she'd never noticed before; a wordless wonder had pushed everything else from her heart. They didn't speak as they made their way back up to the castle, not until she stopped out of sight of the guards.

In the gloaming he looked older, far older than she felt. The man before her seemed almost like a stranger, accomplished and brave, a suitor worthy of a princess, worthy of a throne. Though a strange shyness threatened to overcome her, she took his hand, rough, warm, and somehow familiar, in both of hers. "Thank you."

The flippant response that she didn't need to thank him since Toothless had done the flying never left his mouth. It couldn't, not when her thanks was so heartfelt. Her hair was mussed from the flight; he nearly lifted his free hand to brush a coil of it back from her cheek, but stopped himself just in time. "You're welcome," he said finally, the words woefully inadequate. Her eyes really were beautiful, he thought as she murmured a good night and dropped his hand, and her smile was sweet and all the more welcome because of its genuineness.