AUTHOR'S NOTE:
• This was an idea I got several months ago. I told myself I would never write anything related to it. This is just the first part that came to mind for me, so I felt like getting as much background information in as possible. The idea came back to me while I was watching HTTYD some time ago for some unholy reason. It kept coming to mind every time Astrid came on screen.
• This one has implied character death and should not be taken too seriously. Just a fair warning.
• I do not own How To Train Your Dragon. HTTYD belongs to Dreamworks and Cressida Cowell.
"Mother of Freyja . . . !"
The oath was muttered tersely under her breath as Astrid jumped over a fallen log and nearly face-planted into a large snow drift on the other side. Running usually wasn't her first option when it came to a chance encounter, but right now she didn't really have much of a say in the matter. Yes, she was the one who willingly made the choice to turn tail and get the heck out of there. But it wasn't because Astrid wasn't confident she could handle the situation. It was because the blond was, for possibly the first time in ages, having to think about somebody other than herself.
And well, she was carrying precious cargo after all.
After her momentary lapse in balance due to the added weight, Astrid took her chances and glanced behind her. Sure enough, she could hear enraged voices and what sounded like several pairs of stomping boots crushing snow. The blond had purposely chosen against following a path and ventured deeper into the woods surrounding what she at one point in her life called home. That seemed so long ago... Brushing those thoughts aside, Astrid sucked in a quick, deep breath with a sharp hiss through clenched teeth before taking off in her intended direction once again.
It was hard to peg just what had started this whole mess. One could say this little skirmish was her own damn fault because she risked being spotted because Astrid had willingly chose to hunt away from her usual grounds. Winter tended to do that to ya. Game becomes harder to find and the bitter cold and snow makes even the most hardened of warriors have aching joints. Another possible reason for her current situation was that the particular group she was fleeing from was also out of their usual hunting range. Hence why she had been surprised to find them and was currently running as fast as her long legs could carry her. The third and final potential cause for this whole thing was the "cargo" Astrid was currently running for dear life in order to protect.
By the gods . . . he owed her big time after this one.
Having traversed and memorized this half of the isle for well over a year and half now, Astrid was more than confident she could get around with her eyes closed. But she dared not to shut her blue-gray orbs as she ducked under to low hanging tree branch and nearly slipped on a particularly hard block of snow. The blond swore another oath under her breath, but never missed a beat nor stopped pumping her legs deeper and deeper in the freshly fallen white powder. Despite her abnormal height for a girl her age, Astrid was nearly up to her waist in the cursed white fluff. Whoever thought snow was pretty was out of their ever-loving minds!
A sharp whistle cut through the air just to the left of her head. Astrid somehow resisted the urge to freeze as she continued to charge on through. She had seen the red plumed arrow that had dug deep into the tree trunk she had previously been facing and she wasn't about to stand around and find out just who had gotten bored enough to learn to use a bow and lacked the balls required to use a short-range weapon. She heard a shout behind her saying something about a "Nadder-Head", but Astrid was far from willing to explain that story.
Astrid could guess this was what a rabbit being hunted by a wolf felt like. The blond looked up to see if she could recognize any of the trees, but the recent blizzard had thrown the landscape in for a new paint job. She could still navigate, but between the new white layers and her rapidly beating heart, it was hard to tell if her judgment in direction was worth putting so much faith into. Furiously shaking her head, Astrid braced herself before sliding down a snow covered hill on her feet. The river ahead of her was normally alive with raging waters, but with winter the narrow hydro highway was frozen over and potentially ten times as deadly. Still, attempting to cross it had a higher survival rate for her than turning around and facing the men chasing after her.
Without even bothering to slow down, Astrid bolted across the snow covered ice. She nearly lost her balance at first, but she kept on going regardless of the fact that her boots were nearly frozen and she currently lacked any form of grip on the thin ice. Astrid was barely halfway across before she heard the first of a series of cracks. The blond could not stop herself from freezing in place this time, but only for a fraction of a second. She could hear the men behind her swearing and was positive she was hearing a bow string being drawn. Panic began to rise in her but she knew if she attempted to swerve to dodge the arrow, she would likely end up face-planting and cracking the ice even more with her face. Swallowing every ounce of energy her body had left within it, Astrid pumped her legs hard and accidentally smashed her left foot through the ice. The blond swore crisply under her breath once again, but at least she had the satisfaction of knowing they had missed her thanks to the arrow embedded into the ice next to her right boot. Astrid yanked her foot out without even bothering to check for cuts thanks to the sharp ice and hauled herself along with her cargo the rest of the way across the ice.
Once she was safely on the other side, she continued to run into the thick layers of underbrush, snow drifts, and frozen vegetation. Astrid knew where she was going now after having found the river. And after ten minutes of solid running on the other side of said river, the blond was confident the men from earlier were no longer chasing her and accusing her of things she was not guilty of.
Gradually, Astrid's pace slowed. The snow was beginning to fall again, but she chose to ignore it. Her entire body felt frozen save for her back and lower arms. She shifted her weight and the weight of her cargo, causing a faint jingling sound behind her. The soft clicking drew her attention for a brief second, but she once again pushed such thoughts aside. She had a goal in mind and nothing, not even frozen feet and a numb body, was going to stop her. It seemed being stubborn had its perks.
Astrid bent her back forward in an attempt to shield herself from the coming winds as the snow continued to fall further. The only thing distinguishing her from the rest of the wilderness besides her laborious movements was the bright blues and yellows of her pelt. That of a Deadly Nadder. Hence the reason the men earlier had been claiming to have seen the beast. Adorning the top of Astrid's blond head was that of the skull of said Deadly Nadder, its bright scales and nasal horn still as vibrant and deadly as they had been in life. Traveling down her spine was the back of said beasty, still attached to its head. Trailing down behind her, and also the source of the previously jingling sound, was said Nadder's long and barbed tail. While the barbs no longer held poison within them, they were still just as nasty and painful to be struck with. The pelt held little use other than to work as a disguise and doubled as a memento to a fallen comrade at the hands of the very same men who had previously been chasing her. Astrid still hadn't received revenge for their deeds, but now was not the time when she had someone else to be thinking about.
Her attire, aside from the Deadly Nadder pelt, was fairly simple and unsuitable for the harsh winter if nothing else. Her boots had been lined with another layer of fur in the fall, but already they were falling apart due to wear and tear. Her spiked leather skirt was proving of little use in this harsh environment. She had on two pairs of pants and even that wasn't doing her lanky legs any good. Her protruding ribs due to a lack of a steady diet were poking through the layers of fabric that made up the long-sleeve, faded teal, men's tunic and ratted out coat that fell down to her ankles in the back. The jacket (if you could even call it that) had been made from discarded strips of cloth and sewn together, making it appear miss-matched and multi-colored. The fur lining of said coat had long since been torn away due to various circumstances that were not worth mentioning. Her arm wraps had been replaced with thicker strips of multi-colored stray cloth, but they were doing her little good. Astrid's leather headband had also been replaced with a wider, darker strip to keep her bangs out of her left eye despite the stronger winter winds. It was decorated with discarded cyan blue, sunny yellow, and midnight blue dragon scales and doubled as a cover for her ears against the harsh winds. Her metal shoulder pads had been left behind due to cold metal against skin raising the risks of dying by frostbite. And last but not least, a wide strip of dark brown leather was wrapped around her waist, working to hold her tunic down against the cold winds. Dangling on the left side of the leather band was a thin, leather rope of sorts with a metal ring with a diameter no bigger than her wrist hanging off of the other end of thin rope. It's functional purpose was nothing at this point. It hadn't been used in years. And with every step, the metal ring slapped against her upper thigh. The original version of the leather waistband had been a little big on her when she was younger, but she had grown into it... a little... It had been repaired and even replaced over the past year or so.
Other than that, the only thing even worth paying attention to (besides her immediate lack of a sharp blade) was her "cargo".
Astrid bit down on her dry and cracked lower lip. And not because she was trying her best not to think about the high risks of hypothermia she was taking at the moment either. The blond was trudging around through the thick blanket of snow, carrying her cargo on her back. Both of her arms were behind her, supporting her cargo's weight and thereby hindering her balancing skills while running since she couldn't pump her arms at her sides. Thankfully, it was small enough that she could carry it underneath her Deadly Nadder pelt to try and conceal it, but that didn't stop her from occasionally glanced down at either of her sides. On her right side, being held up by her arm, was a bony leg. Normally, such a sight wouldn't bother her if she knew she was carrying somebody around. What bothered her was that when she glanced down at her left side, the other leg stopped abruptly just below the knee. The metal shrapnel that had previously been attached to the stump of a leg had been removed and left behind in the snow drifts due to it being twisted and smashed behind recognition. If she had not witnessed the whole scene or know who she was carrying around, Astrid would have never know the slab of metal and splintered wood was once used as a prosthetic foot.
Her once stormy blue - gray eyes became glossy and half - lidded as she thought. A frown faintly crossed her lips, turning her usually blank expression downward. Astrid's pace slowed from a brisk, if stiff, walk to a small shuffle of sorts through the falling snow. Gradually, the blond was standing completely still in the middle of what had once been a clearing. With the snow coming down without remorse, the trees coated in a layer of fluffy white paint, and the gray sky overhead, it was near impossible for her to even know where she was. Astrid shook her head, but couldn't stop herself from thinking about the past and what had just transpired mere minutes previous to the here and now.
She thought about the quaint if violent village of Berk. The cliff - side settlement had once been home to hundreds of Vikings and nearly twice that in dragons. She thought about her Deadly Nadder, Birdbrain the Vain, whom the pelt she currently wore had once belonged too. Biting back the tears that threatened to fall, Astrid's mind wondered toward the next topic at hand. She thought about her friends, their sunny smiles, and their laughter reached her ears despite knowing they weren't with her now. She couldn't stop a small, wet laugh to escape her as her thoughts wondered further into the crevasses of her mind that Astrid had worked so hard to put behind her and never think about again. She pictured all six of them sitting around campfires, telling crazy stories, sharing body heat, and generally enjoying each others company. Astrid didn't bother suppressing the silent sob that wracked through her body as her mind brought forth the images of everyone still as young and carefree as ever. Not just because such a memory seemed more like a fantasy when compared to reality now, but because it brought forth her memories of Hic - - . . . him . . .
Astrid forced her eyes closed and took a deep, shuttering breath. It had been so long, but she could still remember it as if she was walking away from one such late - night campfire gathering at this very moment. Her protruding ribs ached from the strain and Astrid once again couldn't stop herself from doing something her mind and heart knew were just going to hurt her even more. The blond turned her head to the right, unable to stop the sad smile (likely her first smile since forever) that curled the corners of her cracked lips upward. Resting on her right shoulder, with eyes closed due to having taken a tough blow to the back of the head, was a boyish face set in hundreds of freckles, a scar on the chin, and adorned with auburn hair the color of tree bark with stray hints of fire when the light hit it just right.
She hadn't seen that freckled face in three long years.
And it looked like he hadn't aged a day since then.
And not just in the face either.
While his face looked mildly peaceful despite being unconscious, Astrid couldn't help but lean her own head toward his. She planted a quick kiss on his left cheek. When she pulled her lips back from the butterfly kiss, his head tilted and leaned against hers. Even after all of this time, Astrid couldn't help but think of that accursed "a" word at the sight of his tilted noggin and peaceful expression. Her cheeks dusted a light shade of pink and this was not due to the harsh winds pushing relentlessly against her face.
Why was he here now of all times? The last time anybody had seen him, it had been right before a freak accident as a result of another one of his insane experiments gone completely wrong. Everyone had just assumed he ceased existing since not a trace of him had been found even after all but digging six feet beneath where he had been previously standing. All of Berk had been torn upside down and then some but still nothing had come up. Astrid had long accepted the thought that the whole thing had been partially her fault since she had repeatedly turned down any requests to give him a hand that day. His ebony beast, then coined as Toothless the Protector, had lost his mind far faster than Astrid or any of the others had expected. Astrid had also come to believe that she was the only reason that damned dragon hadn't sent all of Berk up in flames that night. Shortly after that fiasco, the dragons of Berk began to change. Months before, Fishlegs Ingerman had theorized that their dragons viewed Toothless as their leader after he and his Rider had felled the Red Death. And, by extension and likely also due to the Night Fury's obvious love and concern for the boy, his Rider had also earned a high rank amongst the dragons. With their leader losing his mind due to the disappearance of his Rider, the dragons had lost their whole system of order. Another dragon war would have broken out had Stoick the Vast, bless his eternally resting soul, not ordered that no dragons be harmed in honor of his son. Berk split into three factions. From there, things just spiraled out of control and the rest was history.
After Berk's Vikings split, it was nearly every man for himself. One group sided with staying with the dragons and Toothless the Crippled Guardian. Their war - cry of "Taste our Fury!" became well known and feared within the passing months shortly after. The second faction of Vikings of Berk chose to abandon dragons entirely and opted to return to war with the beasties. The third and final faction had wised up and left the isle of Berk entirely, choosing to leave behind friends, family, and their history. That group had been the smallest of the three, but everyone who had left had been branded a coward and we no longer welcome to Berk. Nobody knew where they had disappeared to and frankly, almost nobody cared to go looking for them.
A lot had happened since then. Of the original six dragon riders of Berk sans the Dragon Master, only four of them were still around. Ruffnut met her untimely end. at the hands of a rogue Skrill while attempting to secure a transport of desperately needed supplies two winter's ago. She had always said she was hoping to get some scarring out of dragon training, and Ruff got her wish just in time to meet her demise at the bottom of the ocean. During the intense battle, Fishlegs had flown into a rare fit of rage and had attempted to aide and save her. The only thing the Ingermen boy gained for his vain attempts for a nasty blow to his right ear, which had permanently blown out his hearing on that side. The only good news that came out of that was that the Skrill was also felled as well. A lot of people had respect for Ruffnut even after her passing.
Tuffnut Thorsten, despite not wanting anyone to know he deeply missed his sister, cried out her name in his sleep and often used her favorite tag - line of "I'm gonna Ruff you up!" when engaged in a spat of some shape or form. The sole surviving twin was missing his left eye after a close encounter with a Thunderdrum, which also cost the Thorsten's Zippleback it's left spark head, the head that Tuffnut always rode on. Apparently, Zipplebacks could live with only one noggin. Astrid was a firm believer that the only reason that dragon was even alive anymore was because of Tuffnut. The two depended on each other to fill the void that the loss of their other half left them with. Those two were as inseparable as Toothless and his Rider had once been.
As for Fishlegs, aside from having his hearing blown in his right ear and missing Ruffnut, the larger boy was probably the best off of the original dragon riders. Horrowcow was still alive and well and followed Fishlegs around like some lost puppy despite the fact that they'd both lost a tremendous amount of weight due to a string of bad luck during hunts and the constant fighting with the other remaining faction of Berk for supplies and land. The knowledge Fishlegs had memorized over the years was one of the leading factors in the group's survival thus far. He knew what was safe to eat and what wasn't. He knew how to tell which direction was which no matter what the weather outside was like. He knew what to look out for for just about every dragon species and then some. About the only thing Fishlegs didn't know how to do was tell Ruffnut that he loved her, but he found the guts far too late for it to matter. Even Astrid felt sorry for him, and she loathed pitying someone almost as much as she despised being pitied herself.
Snotlout grated on Astrid's nerves. The two were constantly butting heads over what should be done and it really didn't help that Snotlout was constantly trying to upstage her to show he was "manlier" simply because of her gender. He tried to sweet talk her and, on several occasions, made it appear that he believed he was more intelligent than she was. Whether or not Snotlout knew of Astrid's feelings towards his cousin was another matter entirely. The only reason the two never actually got the point of killing themselves was because Fishlegs would intervene and, after the loss of Ruffnut, Astrid didn't wish to split the group any more than it already was. Snotlout was littered with scars and peppered from head to toe in more bruises than anyone thought was safe. It was like his skin had permanently turned shades of black and blue. This was mostly due to his tussles with Astrid and his arrogance in fighting off the occasional rogue dragon. Fireworm was just as arrogant as ever, but even she seemed to be giving into death's pull these days. She'd been sick as of late and there wasn't much anybody could do to help the Monstrous Nightmare other than pray to the gods up in Asgard that she wouldn't be joining the growing list of the deceased this winter.
Gobber the Belch, ever as eager to stay with the dragons, had finally fallen to old age last spring. Phil the sheep had died less than a month prior and his Boneknapper, dubbed "Steve" for some unholy reason (Gobber was terrible with names), still hung around. The skeleton dragon was known to take up residence near Ullac, the barely surviving "camp" that the faction of Vikings who supported keeping the dragons. Ullac was the old word for outlaw, which seemed to suit the traitors just fine. The actual Berk was where it had always been, but those who were against the dragons currently lived there. With both sides lacking in a blacksmith, it was only a matter of time before things hit their final climax. As to which side would come out on top was anybody's guess. Having dragons meant they had more resources, but it also meant that Ullac had more mouths to feed than Berk did.
Stoick the Vast had stayed true to his vow to respect and keep the dragons to the best of his abilities before rumors of the split first began to spread. He felt compelled to stay with Berk because it was where he had grown up and was the chieftain. But Ullac held true to his son's beliefs and consisted of all of the people who knew his son the best in life. The man wasn't given a chance to make a final decision after a violent fight finally broke out that was the final straw and lead to the people who now called Ullac home leaving Berk completely. As powerful as the man was in life, he was no match for the thousand foot drop off of one of the many cliffs that made up Berk. Astrid was one of many who firmly believed the man died before his time.
Sora, bless his stupid soul, remained grounded on Berk. As much as the brunette wished to go home, without any contact with the outside worlds or a way to repair his Gummi Ship, he had little choice in the matter. Despite everything, he was still as childish and optimistic as ever, which was a major blessing in everyone's lives around him. He was still never short of grins, but even Astrid could see past the veil that he desperately missed Destiny Islands and his friends Riku and Kairi. Having the Keyblade Master taking up residence in Ullac was also a major plus. He helped with raising baby dragons and was known in Ullac as the "Mr. Mom" in the sense that he couldn't say "no" to helping someone. A lot of the small village's orphans stayed in the same shack as him and was known to house no less than twenty Terrible Terrors at any given time. Spitfire seemed to have taken after Sora in the sense that he wished to take in orphaned baby Terrors and supply them with a roof over their head for as long as they needed. Sora reserved using his healing magic only on the most urgent of cases and would willingly hand over the clothes off of his back to anybody who needed them. Sora was still barely taller than Astrid and weighed at least half of what she did due to constantly giving everything he had to others. It was nothing short of a miracle he was still alive! His crazy hair had possibly become more insane over the years, he was missing a few teeth, and he was considered a member of Ullac just as much as everyone else. The two always met up at least twice a week since Astrid needed somebody sane in her life and would discuss life, their pasts, and new potential search spots for the elusive Keyhole. As much as Astrid distrusted Sora upon first meeting him, he was the only person aside from Toothless who instantly liked Berk's first dragon rider despite what others had thought of him. And, for that, Astrid had come to respect Sora a bit more than she did the others. And Astrid was fairly confident Sora needed those meetings and conversations as badly as she did.
Toothless, by some stroke of the gods, was still alive. Astrid was nowhere near a master of helping the dragon fly. And, as a result, the two had not been airborne in several months. With the constant threat of blizzards going on, neither wanted to risk one bad gear switch and spending the rest of winter holed up in some cave on the other side of the island. Toothless was as bitter, cross, and unsocial as ever. About the only people he tolerated were her, Fishlegs, Tuffnut, Sora, occasionally Snotlout, and Gobber back when he was still alive. Astrid had to all but threaten the Night Fury to get him to eat when they actually had fish to give. Toothless seemed more than capable to feeding himself, but his motivation to do so seemed to be growing smaller by the passing week. If not for Astrid, she was almost positive the Night Fury would already be up in Asgard with his Rider. Before today, she felt guilty when she thought about it like that. But now?
As for Astrid? Aside from the death of Birdbrain, Ruffnut, and her childhood crush, she was doing decently enough. At least she liked to think she was. She was still a child, but after Berk had split and Hell had been released onto the isle, Astrid had forced herself to grow up even faster than her training as a Viking was making her. The blond was extremely wary of foreign men after hearing stories from the older women back at Ullac about what unmarried men wouldn't hesitate to do to an unwed woman of age. She avoided people in general outside of Fishlegs, Sora, and Tuffnut. Her father had remained with the faction that went against the dragons and the harsh weather Berk was known for had claimed her mother the following year. For all she knew, her father was dead. She hadn't spoken to the man after she lost Birdbrain to the man's axe. Yet another reason Astrid didn't like to think about the incident.
Honestly, the only reason Astrid thought she was even still alive these days was because she had somebody she needed to take care of. Though she likely would never be able to be a mother, Astrid had taken to raising and taking care of the occasional dragon baby in Ullac. Babies were rare and the blond found she adored them more than any human residing in Ullac. The only other thing that mattered to the blond was that of the only Night Fury anybody had ever seen. The ebony beast was still temperamental, depressed, and lonesome as ever. Astrid rarely departed from the dragon for fear of him doing something drastic and killing himself. That, and Astrid knew she depended on Toothless for her own sanity as much as he depended on her. They both had lost the one person that meant the most in their lives. They both desperately missed his crooked smiles, sarcastic remarks, crazy ideas, awkward shyness, and pacifistic actions. Honestly, out of all of her memories of the past, those were some of the things she clung to the most and hoped she would never forget.
Just thinking about the Night Fury caused Astrid to double her pace and tighten her grip on her precious cargo. When she made it Ullac, she intended to seek out the beast. Though it seemed to good to be true, Astrid had found the one thing they both desperately missed. And although it seemed he had jumped right out of the pages of her memories rather than be affected by the last three harsh years, Astrid could care less. If by some miracle the gods had finally taken pity on her and Toothless, then Astrid would grovel at the feet of Freyja, Thor, and Odin. Heck, she could gladly kiss Loki if this turned out to be for real and not some twisted dream.
Up ahead, she could see the stone arches that marked the entrance to Ullac. The snow was still coming down hard and without a sign of relenting soon, but Astrid couldn't have felt warmer or safer. Her grip on her cargo tightened once more and she bit back an outcry or whistle to let the only being who seemed to matter to her anymore know she had returned. She knew where Toothless would be waiting for her, expecting some dinner that he knew very well wasn't likely to come. They were both starving, but they both knew they would survive this winter so long as they had each other. And with Astrid's recent discovery, she was confident this whole conflict would come to an end and the three of them would survive until old age claimed them.
"We're almost home, Hiccup."
Foot Notes
• The basic concept behind this? You know how some series have one of the key characters accidentally find themselves warped a couple of years or so into the future? Sometimes it happens to teach the character a lesson that they really do matter to the world around them and sometimes it's simply a freak accident. I figured it would work out for both of those options if I went with the idea of shoving Hiccup a few years into the future after one of his crazy experiments went completely wrong. That, and Hiccup just strikes me as somebody who, after going so long with being rejected and despised, to suddenly be accepted and generally liked would take forever to get used to. I'd imagine that on some days, he might think that he's just living in a dream and that he's really dead or still in a coma. So this whole experience would prove to him just how much he mattered to those around him and how much of daily life in Berk he came to effect. Or maybe I'm just looking too far into this idea.
• I'm already in the process of writing a continuation for this. I also have plans for a third one after it. I do not think I will actually post them here though unless this one is liked by more then two or three people. If it doesn't come down to that, then I'll just share them with my RP buddy I've mentioned more times than I can count since she is the one who encouraged me to write a continuation off of this one.