See if you can spot the veeeery subtle nod to Iabri's Mericcup comic. If you haven't seen it yet, go look: upon-a-gray-dawn dot tumblr dot com /post /62849225238/ i- just- randomly- got- the- urge- to- draw- hiccup- with
Can't wait for part three, Iabri! :)

She willed herself to stay asleep as long as she could, but her stomach was rebelling, grumbling its demand for food. She threw one hand over it and the other over her eyes, and then started at the quiet chuckle next to her. She hadn't forgotten about him; she just wasn't used to someone else, or anyone beside her mum, being there when she woke up.

"Morning," he said, voice gravelly. Funny how that made her stomach churn in a different way than it had been doing.

"Good morning." She started to sit up and then froze, clutching the sheet to her chest. Right. She hadn't put her nightclothes on afterward, and unless he'd gotten up earlier, he was just as naked as she was. Hiccup gave her a sympathetic smile as he scooted up to lean against the headboard.

"Looks like this whole getting married thing will take some getting used to." He rubbed a hand over his eyes and then through his hair; it did nothing to tame his unexpectedly adorable bedhead. "I guess that's what the honeymoon is for."

Among other things, Merida thought, stealing a glance at his bare chest. She sat quietly, considering. To eat she'd have to go downstairs; to go downstairs she'd have to get dressed; to get dressed she'd have to get out of the bed. She couldn't very well ask him to leave while she dressed—he'd have the exact same problem she was currently having. What would her mum do? she mused.

She wouldn't be acting this ridiculous. They were married, for heaven's sake; he'd seen her without her clothes on the night before, and certainly would again, maybe even tonight. The memory of his eyes on her, his skin sliding against hers, his breath hitching in her ear made her tingle all over, warmth blooming deep in her belly to fill every part of her. Before shyness could take hold again she jumped out of bed and whipped the sheet free in one movement, ignoring Hiccup's yelp as she wrapped the fabric around herself. She paraded toward the washroom with a triumphant grin on her face, pausing at the door to peek back at him; he had a very red face and a pillow strategically positioned over his lap, and she giggled.

After a quick wash she pulled a clean shift on and returned to the bedroom, where Hiccup was seated at the edge of the bed. "Can you come here?" he asked quietly, and she left off rifling through the wardrobe to join him. He'd put on a pair of linen undershorts and his leg rested across his knees; he patted the bed on his left side and she sat as he explained it all, showed her how to fit the socket to his leg and do up all the straps. She listened and watched intently, though she might have to see him fasten it a few more times before she got it right. When he finished he stood and looked down at her with a nervous expression, and she got to her feet and hugged him firmly, sighing a little when he returned the embrace.

Had her stomach not protested, she would have been happy to stay in his arms much longer; but she pressed a quick kiss to his lips and stepped away to finish getting dressed. He followed her example, finding a tunic and pants and tugging them on. As he watched her comb her fingers through her hair and move toward the door a feeling of trepidation washed through him.

"We don't really have to go down there, do we?" He could think of nothing more mortifying than facing Merida's parents when they knew what he'd done with their daughter last night. They liked him, he was pretty sure, but he didn't want to push his luck.

"That's where the food is. I'm starving, and I bet you are, too. I hope you don't think I'm going to fetch you anything," she added with a glance over her shoulder.

He was new to this marriage business, but he wasn't stupid. "No, but…"

She paused with her hand on the door. "Do you have a better idea?"

He had a window and a dragon.

When midday came and went with no sign of them, Elinor had to check. They were fine, she was sure of it, just embarrassed; she remembered all too well the unimpressed look on her mother-in-law's face when she and Fergus had attended breakfast the morning after their wedding. Elinor hoped Hiccup wasn't as terrified of her as she had been of the previous Lady DunBroch.

Outside the door she listened for a moment, but within all was quiet. She knocked, gently at first and then more forcefully, finally rising to a volume that not even her daughter could sleep through. Then worry began to gnaw at her, and she put out a hand and hesitantly tried the door; she found it unlocked when she lifted the latch.

"Merida?" she called through the gap. "Hiccup? Are you all right?" There was still no answer, so she opened the door and stepped inside.

The room was still. The bed was empty and unmade, the bathroom unoccupied; Merida's wedding dress was draped carelessly over a chair and the wardrobe was ajar. It was strangely comforting that even with so many changes in their lives, some things about her daughter and her habits hadn't changed. Elinor peeked inside to see her daughter's second-sturdiest pair of shoes missing. She was certain that if she looked in the chest of clothes Stoick had brought back it would be missing one workaday outfit.

It was possible they'd managed to sneak downstairs and out of the castle somehow, though the triplets had been watching all of the stairs carefully, hoping for a chance to, as they put it, welcome their new brother-in-law to the family properly. Elinor didn't want to consider what kind of mischief they might have in mind for the poor lad. The shutters were flung open to a day bright despite the clouds, and she went to the window and looked out. They hadn't climbed down, and it wasn't as if they could… fly…

She pulled the shutters closed and barred them securely.

"And just where've you been, young lady?" her dad demanded as they walked into the great hall. Everyone else's dinner was already in front of them, but no one was eating; Fergus' arms were crossed over his chest, though Harris' fingers were creeping stealthily toward his bread.

"Dad." She slipped into her seat, trying not to blush. Hiccup took the only empty place left, between Merida and her mom.

Merida wasn't exactly sure what people were meant to do on their honeymoons, but speeding above the kingdom on a dragon struck her as fairly nontraditional. It suited them, though. After they'd glided away from the castle she'd demanded that Hiccup make good on his earlier promise and let her sit in front. They'd had to land to argue about it; he didn't think she had enough flying experience yet, but she countered that she wasn't asking to change gears or even steer, just to have a view that wasn't obscured by his big head. "My head is not big," he'd muttered as the dragon snickered and Merida clambered back onto Toothless' back, sitting near the front of the saddle. When Hiccup had climbed on behind her she'd reached back and taken his hands to settle them firmly around her stomach; then she'd leaned into his chest, turned her head, and kissed him on the cheek. "Your head isn't really big," she'd assured him before Toothless took off.

With her directions, Toothless had flown them to the ancient castle. The three of them spent the rest of the morning looking around the ruins, Merida relating the story of the long-ago kingdom to the others. Then they'd wandered through the forest to the river, where they competed to see who could catch the most fish—Toothless seemed to think he'd won, but Hiccup said that since he'd swallowed most of his before they had the chance to count, he had to forfeit.

They'd headed back to DunBroch in plenty of time for dinner, but upon alighting from Toothless' back Merida had discovered that her hair was a mess, far worse than usual. She'd learned that long periods of flying did her curls no favors; in the future she'd remember to plait it before she went for a ride. Even with Hiccup working on half of her head it had still taken them ages to make it anywhere near presentable; it hadn't helped that someone had locked the window to their room so she couldn't get to her combs.

And it may have delayed them somewhat when she let slip with a shivering sigh how good Hiccup's fingers felt in her hair. He'd smiled, somehow simultaneously mischievous and shy, and run his hands through the length of it until she purred like a kitten, her eyes closed in bliss. When he'd started to drop kisses lightly on her lips, still petting her hair, she was almost afraid it was all a dream, the best she'd ever had, and that she'd wake up to having to choose all over again.

Ah, well. If that were the case, at least she'd know who to pick, and she'd waste no time dithering about it.

"Sorry," he said now. "We didn't mean to make you wait."

Elinor picked up her fork. "We were just worried, dear. You did disappear with no warning, after all."

"I was with my husband, Mum," she said, though the exasperation in her tone was softened by the smile that crept onto her face on catching said husband grinning at his title. "And it is our honeymoon."

Her mum responded placidly, unmoved by Merida's assertion. "I am aware. Just let us know if you'll be joining us for meals, please."

"We will," Hiccup promised. When Merida opened her mouth to retort, he stuck a roll in it and smiled as her family laughed and she spluttered.

Despite the voice of reason urging him to give her time and space, he couldn't keep his mouth shut, though he did manage to hold it in until almost a week after the wedding. When it happened he blamed it on fatigue; he was half-asleep when it slipped out, as an addendum to wishing her good night. At first he thought she hadn't heard, but then she turned to him slowly, her expression difficult to read in the darkness.

"Do you really?" she asked quietly.

There wasn't much sense trying to deny it now. "Yeah." He smiled, suddenly wide awake as his stomach churned, hoping he hadn't crossed some line. "I was trying to wait and not throw it at you too soon. Sorry."

"It's quite all right," she said daintily. It would have been a great impression of her mother if it hadn't been followed by her snuggling her head against his shoulder. "You can say it if you like." So he said it again, and showed her as well.

It took a month and a half.

As the days after his confession passed she felt worse and worse for her failure to return his sentiments. And then, when it was obvious even to her that she did return them, it seemed too late to say it. She berated herself over her reluctance and cowardice, and woke up every day for a week telling herself that today would be the day she said it, failing each time.

It didn't stop them from enjoying their honeymoon. They went for rides, both on land and in the air, and hunted and fished; Merida tried to teach him to shoot. Some nights they slept outside, Toothless nearby snoring gently, the stars winking overhead. She saw more sunsets and sunrises that first month than in all the rest of her life combined. And, just like had happened before, their talking sometimes turned to kissing; but now the kissing sometimes turned to something more, something that seemed to get better every time.

It felt a little unfair, sometimes, touching him and being touched when she hadn't confessed her feelings, like she'd risked nothing and yet was reaping the rewards. If she stopped to think about it, that was exactly what she was doing. So she didn't think about it, but let him take her hand as they walked, or steal kisses after a ride; and she leaned into his side, wrapped her arms around him from behind and rested her forehead between his shoulder blades, kissed the scar on his chin.

Toward the end of the month they began preparing to leave for Berk. Hiccup had arrangements to make for the dragon academy and the rest of his things to bring back, and Merida supposed she would have to attend to some formalities, meet with the chief and other leaders and assure them of DunBroch's friendship and support. She would gladly suffer through the duties for the opportunities that came with them: she was thrilled at the prospect of venturing outside her father's kingdom, visiting the place where Hiccup had grown up, and seeing more dragons.

She was also a little intimated by the idea of meeting the rest of the Hooligans. Not that she expected them to be hostile, but she was very aware that some of them might have a problem with the Highlander who'd seduced their best man away. When she confessed her worry one night as they lay in bed, Hiccup laughed quietly.

"Please." He stretched and then tucked one hand behind his head, looking up at the ceiling. "They'll want to keep you and send me back here."

"Don't worry, I won't let them get rid of you."

His head flopped over so he could look at her, eyes crinkled with his smile. "Why, do you like me or something?"

"Oh, no, not that," she assured him, shaking her head. "It's just that if you go back to DunBroch without me, Dad will assume the worst and attack Berk. I'd hate for our alliance to fall apart just because your people will like me better." She scooted closer, hoping he'd take the hint.

"Ha. I'll get Dad to write me a note first to explain it. That'll solve the problem." He smiled drowsily.

"Hiccup?"

"Yeah?" he asked, eyes closed.

"You know I…" She couldn't do it. Three words was all it was, three words that she'd said hundreds of times before; why did this time seem so important and so impossible? What a coward she was, and a fool. "I'm happy you said yes."

He finally rolled onto his side and dropped his arm across her waist, nuzzling into her hair. "I'm happy you asked me," he murmured, already drifting away to sleep.

Hiccup liked to think of himself as a rational person, able to think things through logically and usually pretty calmly. He knew that he couldn't expect her to reciprocate right away. They'd gotten close during the gathering, but she'd had a lot more to deal with than he had. It made sense that it would take her longer to adapt to her new situation, and to sort through all of her feelings, not just the ones about him. He should be happy that she liked him, that his declaration hadn't pushed her away, that she didn't demand that they sleep separately once their marital duties had been attended to, and he was happy for all of it. He was even fairly sure that she loved him. He just wished she'd say it so he knew for sure.

Stoick had advised him to give her time. It made Hiccup wonder what other good advice from his dad he'd brushed off or ignored outright over the years. When he went back to Berk, they were going to sit down and have a long talk. This time Hiccup would take notes.

The day before they were to leave, they spent the morning packing and preparing, bickering lightly about what things to take, Merida tossing clothes into bags and Hiccup taking them out again to fold. After a brief lunch, eaten outside in the sunshine, they returned to their work. Hiccup lifted a stack of clothes from a table and revealed a sheaf of papers covered in Master Davey's sketches. He needed to return them before they left, and turned to Merida, where she was opening a heavy chest.

"Do you mind if I go to the forge?"

He and the smith got on well—not as well as he did with Gobber, but well enough. Merida was glad he had something to keep his mind and his hands busy; he had lessons now, too, but he hadn't abandoned his hobbies. The people of DunBroch were slowly acclimating to the sight of a dragon flying overhead as well. She supposed the fact that both dragon and rider were devoted to their princess helped convince the Highlanders that the new additions to the royal family were trustworthy.

"Of course not."

"Great. I should be back soon." At her incredulous look he amended his statement. "Before dinner, at least."

"Just be careful, will you?" He'd come home (home, part of her still screamed wildly) a few days ago with a bruise running nearly the length of his forearm. She wasn't keen on having her rudimentary medical skills tested regularly, though she had to admit, he had taught her a lot about caring for minor injuries. "I know you're a daredevil and a mad genius, but the forge is no place for your experiments."

He tried to look innocent. "Me, a daredevil? Safety is my middle name." She snorted, not even bothering to look up from the chest she was knelt in front of. "Besides, the forge is the only place for my experiments. Well, most of them. Not the ones involving Toothless, of course—okay, yeah, some of the ones involving Toothless, because he's—"

She laughed, cutting him off. "Forget I said anything. Just go."

"Done." He grinned cheekily, picked up the stack of plans, and leaned down to kiss her briefly before he carried on toward the door, calling, "See you later."

Though he couldn't see her, she nodded. "Alright. I love you."

There was a moment of perfect silence, the time between when he dropped the papers and when they hit the floor. It was long enough for her to realize what she'd said, and to smile, feeling light and free, unable to understand or even remember why she'd been so scared, scared of loving him, scared of admitting it. She loved him, every inch of him, with every bit of herself. She loved him for the boy he'd been, for the king and father he would be, and for the gobsmacked man he was right this instant, mouth hanging open.

"On second thought, it can wait," he said, just before he closed the distance between them and kissed her, the way he would go on doing for the next few hours, murmuring the words with every spare breath and grinning, shivering, rejoicing each time she repeated them, every touch of her lips, her tongue, her hands all the more exhilarating now her heart was laid bare.