Hands on Sunshine Chapter 2, a how to train your dragon fanfic

Hands on Sunshine

Chapter Two

Astrid was sewing a dress that she had been working on for months. Ingrid taught her daughter how to use more complex patterns and design ideas like flounces and ruffles and bodices, and Astrid was putting it to use in the dress for her sister's wedding present. It was yellow with white trim and had a pretty bodice with pink and green flowers. Astrid liked sewing because it was practical and was actually put to use, much like how she treated training. She felt smart and useful when finishing an article of clothing or mending a hole, and Astrid liked feeling useful. And often times, she was anxious at home so constantly using her hands helped her relax.

The only other person on Berk other than herself who liked to sew was Ruffnut. They often sat down under a shady tree to sew some things and to gossip with some other girls around their age that they weren't really friends with because the two thought they were all pansies. More often than not, Ruff would be sewing dresses for her younger sisters' dolls and Astrid would help draw out designs because they were always demanding more. Ruff was actually quite kind to her younger siblings, but she let them know their place and she never touched a hair on their precious heads. Except when wrestling. The Thorstons wrestled a lot.

But today Astrid was having much difficulty trying to sew the white cuff around the end of one of the sleeves. She groaned and shoved the needle through the buttery yellow fabric and pricked her pinky finger. She stuffed her finger in her mouth and took it out, groaning louder. She shoved the heavy dress into her lap and threw her head back.

"Mother!" she called, her voice echoing in the rafters. Ingrid was busying herself with making butter and huffed when she heard her daughter.

"What is it, Astrid?" Ingrid said calmly at the doorframe leading into the kitchen from the living room, but it was obvious that there was a tinge of annoyance in her voice. She used the back of her hand to wipe the beginning perspiration off her forehead through her pale yellow bangs, showing signs of grey.

"I can't get this! I've tried a million times and it's not working!" She looked over her shoulder at her mother. Ingrid and Astrid didn't look much alike; Astrid's face was more round with bigger eyes like her aunt while Ingrid had a slim face and sleek eyes, Astrid's two older sisters modeled almost exactly the same. However, Astrid took after Ingrid in just about everything else, to mannerisms, to speech, to even writing. But yet they were so different, and most of the time they butted heads like rams, neither relenting to the other. Sometimes their fights could be heard down the street.

"Astrid, dear," Ingrid said breathily as she walked behind and around her daughter in the sitting area, looking awfully tired. They must have fought last night, Astrid thought sadly. Maybe that's why dad was sleeping in the chair.

Ingrid picked up Astrid's exceptional handiwork and examined her sewing. She squinted her grey eyes, usually so full of energy, but now aging and glazing over. "I can't see it very well, just a sec," Ingrid went over to a side table and picked up a seeing glass and came back over, looking at the sleeve again. Within ten seconds, Ingrid had a diagnosis. "You forgot to tie the knot here. That's all," she turned her head to smile weakly at Astrid then kissed her cheek. "You don't need to be so frustrated, love. There's nothing to it. You just gotta keep practicing and soon you'll be able to do it with your eyes closed."

"I know... but it's just so hard," Astrid admitted shyly. Ingrid put a hand on her daughter's head and smiled before walking back towards the kitchen.

"Think of it as training," Ingrid insisted as she entered the kitchen. Astrid blinked her eyes and looked back down at the notorious sleeve, fingering the hem. She had never thought of it that way. "But, Astrid, could you come and churn this butter so I can make bread? We ran out last night, and...," Ingrid said from the kitchen, moving some things around in the cupboard.

Of course, Astrid thought with a scowl. He got angry at mom last night for not having bread. Childish. She stood up and laid her dress carefully over the back of the rocking chair she was sitting in, her favorite, and took off the thimbles from her thumb and pointer finger on her opposite hand and set them down on the small table. Astrid adjusted her tunic and then almost had a heart attack when the comfortable quiet of the house was broken by the loud slam of the front door being opened.

"I'm home!"

Astrid wasn't one to scare easily, but she almost died from heart failure, and swinging her head to the front door, she saw her bean stalk of a sister fly into the living room.

"Astrid!" Auda just about shrieked, running over to her sister and squeezing her in a tight embrace. "You've grown so much, Diddy! You're almost as tall as me!" Auda pulled back and kissed her cheeks, blue eyes glimmering with tears.

Astrid hated that pet name the most among the others her family had in store for her, mostly because it sounded absolutely ridiculous and didn't make much sense at all, but now it sounded so familiar and made her heart ache. Through all the sibling rivalry, Astrid really did miss her sister. Four years ago she left for the Viking colony in Dublin and now she was returning home with her Celtic fiancé, Brandan, to be married and to live on Berk for their marriage. Auda had twangs of an accent and she was dressed to the nines in beautiful, flowing Celtic robes, showing off her slim curves and narrow waist reminiscent of the Hofferson women. As Auda had described in her letter to Ingrid and Astrid, Brandan was the son of a wealthy landowner so he had many luxurious things and was well respected among the Vikings and Celts settled in Dublin.

Ingrid rushed out of the kitchen in a cloud of flour, running over to her second daughter to kiss and embrace. Brandan was standing against the wall next to the front door, holding baskets of their belongings and grinning widely through his short-cut dark brown beard. Then, some other people started to walk in unexpectedly, and Ingrid almost jumped through the ceiling.

"Oh, mom, this is Brandan O'Malley and these are his parents, Bretta and Fergus. And, uhm, there are others still outside and at the docks," Auda laughed sheepishly. Ingrid flushed red, redder than either daughter could find on an apple or a beet.

"Others! Auda, why didn't you—oh, I look so messy, I'm covered in flour—!" Ingrid began ranting, looking frazzled and dusting herself off.

Bretta, about the same age as Ingrid, smiled and stepped forward. "No worries, Miss Hofferson, flour geets ev'rywhere," her accent was so strong, Astrid had to wrinkle her nose, understanding hardly a word the lady spoke.

Stoick's head popped through the open window and everyone turned with shrieks to the chief, now only realizing what he did with a flush of his cheeks. "Oh," he laughed and looked around embarrassingly. "Uhm, if you'd come outside, Ingrid…," Stoick gestured behind him with a large fist, then hit his head and almost knocked his helmet off when he pulled his head out.

Ingrid heaved a giant sigh and patted her chest as if to will her heart to slow down. She nodded. "Right," she said her greetings to the O'Malleys, for now ignoring the flour sprinkled on her skirt. Everyone but Astrid left the house, leaving her still standing by the rocking chair with Auda's wedding gift hung over the back. Everything seemed oddly quiet.

As it came to be, Brandan and Auda brought an unexpected amount of family; Brandan's very, very large one. Ingrid and Arnheim had collaborated with Stoick about the whole wedding, and before they were expecting only immediate family of Brandan's to stay at the Hofferson lodge. Now with half of the O'Malley family, Stoick decided that the mats and beds stored in the Mead Hall basement would need to be brought out, used for situations just like these.

Some Viking friends of Brandan's came along, some who happened to be from Berk. In the town square, in front of the Hofferson house, and in the Mead Hall, the villagers of Berk and the Celts from Ireland were inter-meshing unexpectedly fast and well. Men were sharing jokes and stories and the women were laughing with old acquaintances and recent gossip. And if there was anything to be expected, it was the wedding after-party. The Celts were known for their parties, most of the stories reaching to the far north island of Berk and beyond, and this one shall top them all, and everyone knew it.

Nearing dinner time, Auda, Brandan, and Ingrid returned home, surprising Astrid, who was still intently working on sewing Auda's dress. She jumped up and ran up to her room, spools and string trailing behind her like a train, before Auda would notice, yelling some things about warnings. Astrid safely stashed the dress in her wooden chest at the foot of her bed, an impromptu spot because she never had to hide it before. Running back downstairs, Astrid found everyone in the kitchen. Ingrid was talking about how the butter inside the churner had cooled and was now hard. With wide eyes, Astrid did her best to slink out of the room, but to this day, Astrid seriously believed Ingrid had eyes on the back of her head.

"Astrid Finna Hofferson, get your butt back in here!" Ingrid demanded, stomping her tiny foot. Auda and Brandan were sitting at the table, and Auda was almost squirming in her seat with the upcoming lecture session. Astrid slid back inside, face hot because she knew she was supposed to finish churning the butter but she had forgotten about it. Or at least that was how she was going to play it off as.

"The butter is hard, Astrid," Ingrid began her tirade with a disappointed gesture to the churner. "You know I told you to finish it for me."

"Yeah, but then you had to make bread, and Auda came home and everything," Astrid replied lamely, knowing it was a dumb excuse. Auda snorted from her spot at the table and Astrid threw her a dangerous look. Auda only raised a challenging brow, unfazed.

"Astrid—," Ingrid groaned and rubbed her brow. "I told you to do something and you deliberately didn't do it."

"I forgot!"

"No, you didn't! Now because you 'forgot', I have to reheat it, re-churn it, and make bread, all at once now. If we're lucky, we'll have butter tonight," Ingrid snapped, glaring hard at Astrid who didn't shrink away like she had intended.

Auda sniggered again and that set the match to light the cold flame within Astrid, renewing her dislike of her older sister. "Because it's always about Auda," Astrid retorted sharply but under her breath, still loud enough to hear, however. She balled up her fists and stared at her sister. She didn't care if Brandan was here or not, she was going to prove how snotty and what a spoiled princess she really was.

"It's her wedding tomorrow!" Ingrid scolded her daughter, now actually starting to become angry.

"Yeah, it's my wedding tomorrow," Auda almost outright laughed, but tried sounding hurt. Astrid didn't take the bait at all; she had used it for years.

"And when it's my wedding, you'll still be making me churn butter," Astrid mumbled on her way out but Ingrid still picked up on it.

"Astrid! What did you say?" she shouted after her, but Astrid was already halfway up the stairs, and she effectively ended the small and heated argument by slamming her door.

Gobber didn't lie one bit when he said he left a pile of dull weapons and mangled leather saddles for Hiccup. Walking into the forge early the next morning with hardly a wink of sleep—after the failed attempt of his to apologize—he groaned upon seeing the pile messily stacked in the corner. Hiccup heavily sighed, shrugging off his vest, and upon tying the apron around his waist, he discovered he hardly had any string to tie around himself. Bewildered and surprised, he had to smirk at himself, genuinely shocked at how much he changed in such a short span of two years, or at least it seemed short. While the fire was heating up, Hiccup rifled around for a bigger apron, deciding Gobber's was far too big for him after trying it on; it hung almost like a dress, right down to his knees. Okay, he was still kind of tiny, but at least it didn't reach down to his ankles like it had two years prior.

Hiccup found an apron up in a hidden chest in the attic, and when he came trotting down the stairs, he was hit with a wave of heat. It was so hot. Tying the strings around his waist, his apron now dark brown leather, he walked over to all the windows and pushed them open. Looking outside, the sun was going to be high in the sky, he predicted, with not a cloud in sight, and it was going to be scorching. The day previously had been warm, and unknown to him, so had the days before, and today was the marking of summer.

Hiccup had exaggerated a big on the three months of hail and forever-chilly weather. Sure, winters on Berk could be deadly and were absolutely bone chilling, but summers could be just the opposite with days on end being sweltering hot and humid, but it did rain more often than most places. The rain was usually cold and swept through in sheets, but afterwards it went right back to being hot hot hot. The small watering holes around Berk would unthaw and warm up a lot in the afternoon, drawing children and adults alike to the cool spring-fed water. Rivers would defreeze and the water would run clear and cold from glacier melt water, and on Laugardagr, women would be seen all day with laundry baskets piled full at the banks.

Summer was Hiccup's favorite season because he liked the warm, but now he knew he was going to be too warm because he had to work in the forge until the pile was depleted. Hiccup jumped head first into the stack and he pounded away and worked the billow and heated up weapons all day, working at a fast, deft pace despite being gone for so long. In some places where Hiccup stayed the longest, he worked at a smith, earning a little bit of money on his travels. Now, being back at the forge, one of the places he felt most comfortable, it relaxed some of the nerves still wiry from the night before.

Hiccup stood straight after one last wham of his hammer, using the back of his gloved hand to wipe his sweaty forehead. He took the red hot sword he was re-shaping, held with thick pliers, to the bucket of water and dipped it in. There was one loud hiss when the water bubbled and the sword cooled down quickly. Hiccup pulled it out and shook it gently to get some of the water off, bringing the faintly red sword to eye level.

"That should do it," he spoke to himself, sighing heavy in the burning heat. Hiccup decided it was a good time for break since he had been working from the crack of dawn until now, about noonish, and he was just about ready to take a nap.

He took off his leather gloves and threw them onto a work table absentmindedly, reaching for a towel that hung off a hook on the wall. He ran his face through the thin cloth, surely making his sheet of bangs messy. He wiped the layer of sweat off his neck and briefly over his shoulders before stepping outside into the bright sun. There wasn't really much difference between the forge and standing outside, he realized with a furrowed brow. Hiccup scowled and squinted his eyes while he tightened his little ponytail at the nape of his neck. He held his hand over his eyes to shield them and, with a little bit of slow examination, noticed that there were a lot of people walking around.

During summers in Berk, it wasn't uncommon for the whole village to be outside with every home vacant, but there were a lot of people compared to normal, and a lot of them he didn't recognize.

"Hiccup!"

He narrowed his eyes to look around for the source of the voice calling to him, and he found Astrid's sister, Auda, waving at him with her free hand, her other occupied by Brandan. Auda was waving at him—and Brandan did too. Hiccup sheepishly waved back, grinning like a fool, and shyly, nonchalantly, held the towel in front of him because he was quite bare-chested. He didn't wear his apron much when he was only reshaping and working the billows; the few sparks flying off didn't bother him anymore, but he reasoned anyway that wearing an apron would only be stifling in this heat. Yet now he wished he had put it on because Auda was waving at him.

He wasn't nervous or flustered because he had a silly crush on Auda or anything, but because he had met her in Dublin however many months ago and she healed a wound on his chest for him, one that he still had the scar to prove. She was also very pretty, but in his eyes not as pretty as her younger sister, but pretty girls for Hiccup were intimidating any way, and no matter what he did, he acted like a complete dork around each and every one of them. But in any case, it was just awkward, especially with Brandan right next to her holding her hand. He met Brandan too, but, still. It was just weird—and also because Hiccup always found something awkward to say or found the littlest things embarrassing because he was Hiccup.

He quickly turned and dipped inside, throwing the towel somewhere and picked up a red hot and deformed spike from the bed of coils and began is hammer-wailing chorus.

Hiccup worked all day until dusk, and when he got home, he ate almost half of the Haddock house reserves of salted meat; mutton, pork, cod… he ate enough for a king twice his size—then fell on his bed and was knocked out two seconds flat. He hadn't worked that hard all throughout the day like that since flying to an island a few days south from Berk. It had a population of women so muscular and big they might as well have been men, working him all day long to build up strength. They had him chopping wood, plowing fields, heaving rocks, building houses, and everything in between. It was on that island he probably spent the longest after Dublin, and where he finally filled out most of his potential, and also where he sent Astrid his first letter that he conveniently never got a reply to, along with the ten others he sent.

In this letter, he apologized profusely without much else, except for a bit of a description of what he was being forced to do to look like a 'true Viking man'. He sent a few more during his stay on the island, and traveling to the Shetlands he bought her fillet, to Scotland where he and Toothless almost got killed by kilt-clad warriors raging on their bagpipes, to Dublin where he told Astrid he met Auda and Brandan. He told her, in reassurance, that Brandan was a good guy and that Auda missed her sister dearly. He stayed in Ireland the longest, working in a smithy in Dublin while simultaneously preaching his teachings nightly in a small square. He flew to Limerick and taught there briefly, but didn't stay long because the dragons were getting more welcomes and appreciated the farther he traveled south.

In Normandy, he discovered dragons were only bred in the size of Terrible Terrors, and seeing a dragon as big as Toothless frightened many of the people. He taught there for a short time because the Terrors were working happily alongside farmers and townspeople alike. He even saw a few Terrors herding sheep like sheepdogs, nipping ankles and growling, flying place to place to corral them in.

On his round trip back home, a year already had past and then some, and he still had no reply from any letters, but he kept sending them anyway. Hiccup stopped by some Viking settlements he had missed. His teachings had gotten around and they greeted him gladly with slaps to the back and a pint of ale. Hiccup had sent Stoick many alliances with the kinder tribes, but on some islands he was lucky he wasn't killed, or, at the very least, one more limb missing.

He stopped by the Meatheads one last time before flying back to Berk, building up courage to return while Thuggory still asked him questions he had forgotten to ask two years prior. He was nervous to go home to see all the people he missed—even Snotlout—but he was frightened as well. He was afraid he would be shunned, irrationally of course, and afraid what his father might think of him despite what he had said in this letters to Hiccup, but he was most afraid of Astrid.

He knew full-well she wouldn't be pleased to see him because he knew he broke his promise to her that he couldn't forgive himself for, but he had thought she would lighten up after a bit. "What the Hel was I thinking?" he muttered to himself earlier that day at the forge. Why had he thought Astrid would be the last person to punch him in the face? He had expected Ruffnut to first before her, but evidently he was sorely mistaken. He felt even worse for forgetting what Astrid was really like; he felt incredibly stupid and he just wanted to sit in a hole forever.

Hiccup thought all day about Astrid and went through hundreds of scenarios where he apologized profusely and he got kicked around a bit before she forgave him. But it was going to be harder than that. Everything was always harder for Hiccup.

He woke up the next morning with one side of his hair flat from laying stomach down all night on his bed, and the other side flat and slobbery where Toothless licked up until he woke. Groaning and rolling over to sit up, he realized he was still wearing his prosthetic and even his boot from the day before. "What?" he muttered lazily, looking down the length of himself. "I can't believe…," Hiccup reached a hand to scratch his head, oblivious to Toothless' guttural laughing, and felt that both his ears were free of any scraggly hair.

Furrowing his brows, he felt both sides of his head that had hair sticking up like some sort of bat, the hair in between completely flat. He snorted and pushed Toothless' head. "Toothless! Why would you—," his friend replied with head butting him off the bed on the other side, still laughing in his strange dragon way. Hiccup fell to the floor with a few yelps and a mighty crash, ending in a lump of limbs, a metal prosthesis, and half his bed sheets.

"Ohoho, no you didn't!" Hiccup said with a dangerous, playful undertone to his voice and managed to untangle himself. He jumped up and held his hands out like claws, crouching and growling at Toothless like a human figure with bat hears and wolf instincts. Toothless crouched low too, wiggling his rear end in the air like he was about ready to pounce, but when Hiccup bounded over his bed, Toothless jumped away to induce a chase around the house, his giant serpentine eyes wide with excitement.

Hiccup made odd, un-Hiccup-like noises that went from a range resembling bears to dragon roars to eagle calls, leaping over chairs and tables as Toothless bounded around the house, leaving a mess in his wake, swinging from the rafters. When Toothless jumped off the heavy wooden table, Hiccup took the chance to dive at him, wrapping his arms around his head and hooking his knee around one of Toothless' arms, successfully knocking him onto a shaggy and torn rug.

"I got you!" Hiccup cheered, Toothless trying to slap him with one of his earflaps. Eighteen-years-old, Hiccup still wrestled Toothless with as much vigor as when he was sixteen, and it was also beneficial to him when building up his strength. But, still. What eighteen-year-old ran around his house acting like a mix of creatures with messed up hair? Hiccup could possibly never grow up.

And Stoick realized this with a sigh when he pushed open the front door to come and wake his son, only to find him wrestling his Night Fury with the house a total mess. It reminded him a lot of the times he would leave Hiccup alone for two hours when he was little and he'd come home with drawings on every available surface and food stacked in piles meant to resemble castles. Stoick blinked down at his son, who was now frozen with wide eyes, his dragon still in a somewhat head-lock.

Stoick slapped a hand to his face and rubbed his mustache before talking. "Son, yeh need ta help Gobber daown at the forge teh finish the ceremonial swords."

Hiccup stared up at his father in stone-y silence, mouth in the tight line he adopted when he was getting scolded at or looked at in a funny way, such as this instance. "Uh… right," his grip of Toothless slackened, the stare-off between son and father never breaking.

Stoick closed his eyes and shook his head as if to shake the awkwardness from memory. "Well, be ready by sundaown, the wedding will start then. And clean this up, will yeh?" Stoick tossed a beefy hand toward the kitchen and the fallen pots and pans.

"Sure, of course," Hiccup unwound himself from Toothless and stood, straight as board, watching his father who didn't seem so towering anymore.

"Righ'. See you… then," Stoick gave a quick nod before grabbing the door handle and pulling it closed as he walked out over the threshold.

Hiccup looked at the door where his father was just previously, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He let his shoulders loosen, looking down at Toothless who was in much the same position as before, his huge green eyes sparkling as if he was pleading for something or laughing.

Hiccup didn't quite understand how awkward things could get with Stoick. Just two days ago, they were talking the whole night about the other tribes and the people he met, Stoick exchanging stories with some of the people Hiccup mentioned. Hiccup actually enjoyed talking with his father well into the night without feeling completely inferior. He had a nice night. And then it went right back to being awkward just now—back to step one. He supposed it was mostly because he was caught red handed wrestling Toothless and the situation was similarly handled like he was caught whacking off.

Hiccup sighed and laughed at that thought, blushing and slapping his hands to his face. "Ohh, Gods," he turned and went to throw on a tunic to leave for the forge.

Sniping an apple from the kitchen counter, Hiccup left Toothless cozying up on the rug, hoping that awkwardness wouldn't always define the Haddock men.

Astrid worked on Auda's wedding present most of the morning, adding finishing touches and fixing any minute mistakes. Once she finished, she wrapped it carefully in parchment and tied it with twine, letting it sit on her nightstand for tomorrow and left to go get breakfast.

Ingrid had begun breakfast early in the morning, so when Astrid descended the stairs, bacon, bread, sausage and eggs wafted her way, and she hardly remembered a time when Ingrid made a big breakfast. The last time, she thought, was about five years ago when all three girls were still living at home. Walking into the kitchen, Astrid noticed everyone was present at the table, including her father Arnheim, seeming to pop out of nowhere. She didn't hear him come home last night, most likely late, busy with compromising with the O'Malleys and with work, most likely. He was a popular and extremely worked shipbuilder—not that Astrid really cared.

Brandan and Arnheim were having a jovial and laughter-filled conversation about something, Brandan sitting at his left around the corner of the table while Arnheim sat at the head. Auda was leaning on the thick wooden table on her elbow, chin in palm, looking at Brandan with 'goo-goo eyes' (as Astrid saw them as), looking as if he painted the sun and sky. Rolling her eyes, and with a bit of scorn for Auda was taking her spot at the table, Astrid sat where Aislin usually would. Nobody really seemed to notice she had just walked in, except she may have caught a glance from Arnheim, but nothing else.

Astrid sat, letting her anger boil. Ingrid set the table with all the breakfast food and they dug in, but Astrid seemed to add some extra fervor unintentionally; slamming eggs onto her plate, ripping off hunks of bread and mauling it, shoving dishes Ingrid's way in her definition of passing. Ingrid furrowed her brows at her daughter's behavior, sitting right next to her, but she didn't rise up to her attitude. Instead, she listened and joined in on the conversation that-didn't-include-Astrid.

Once breakfast was done, Auda, being her usual chirpy self, piped up and offered to help Ingrid clean up, but this was pointless because she would have to anyway. Astrid tossed her sister a sinister look, going unnoticed by Auda, and stood so quickly from her chair the wooden legs made loud screeches on the wooden floor. She took her plate over to the washing bin with a few stares on her back.

"What's your problem?" Auda asked snidely, taking the half-empty bread basket and both hers and Brandan's plates to the counter to set them down.

"I don't have a problem," Astrid mumbled into the sink, scrubbing plates hard with a rag.

Auda scoffed, taking a plate from Ingrid and bringing it over to set next to Astrid for her to wash. "Right. Like I didn't see you eating like an immature bear cub at the table like you do when you're pissed off," Auda waved her off and continued clearing the table with her mother. There was a tense silence in the room. Even Arnheim was shut up, and he's usually got something snarky to say about his daughter and step-daughter's petty arguments.

"Oh, bear cub? Really? Wow," Astrid let out a huff of laughter. "You still haven't changed," she said awful coldly.

Auda rolled her eyes. "Oh, yep, and I see you haven't either, little sister," she always has to go and point out the age difference. "Because I see you're still trying to get the attention, baby sister."

Astrid clenched her teeth, squeezing the rag tight; she almost wanted to throw it at her. Anger unfurled within Astrid, spreading like wildfire through her veins, and then she let out an empty laugh. "You honestly think I want the attention? Look at you, jumping at every chance to help mom, dawdling all over Brandan, all bright and smiley like Auda always is. You always seek attention, and you thrive off it," Astrid had turned to stare at her sister vehemently, eyes narrowed, finger pointed accusingly. She was animated, and she found herself rambling which was something rare of Astrid.

"Precious, perfect Auda, defying tradition and sailing off to Dublin! Defying tradition again by marrying a Celt, a rich landowner's son, after Aislin gets shipped off to the Meatheads," Brandan flushed, looking entirely uncomfortable. "Surely, Auda's gotta be the center of attention otherwise she'll whine and moan about her baby sister taking it. Typical Auda, blaming everything on others."

"Enough!" Arnheim bellowed, standing up from his seat. "Astrid, you shut your mouth."

"Oh—and Auda's always got to be right, too," Astrid threw an arm in the air, going back to scrubbing dishes.

"Astrid!" Ingrid almost shrieked. "Arnheim—!"

"Go. Get out," Arnheim said in an angry, red-faced voice, thick brown brows set close together. "You've ran your mouth too far."

Gladly, Astrid threw down the rag and stormed out of the kitchen, relieved to be free of her forever-hypocritical family. She pounded up the stairs and slammed her door for the umpteenth time in the last three days, more than she had in a week. Without hesitating or missing a beat, she picked up her axe leaning against the wall and climbed out of the window. Astrid leapt down and tore her way through the streets, the hand not holding the axe that was resting on her shoulder clenched tight with white knuckles.

Everyone noticed Astrid Hofferson when she was beating up boys, but especially when she was tearing through the village. She had a reputation very much unlike her sisters; they were adored and favorite without even seeming to try, the islands best two young female warriors, the dynamic duo of Berk, and Astrid held almost the complete opposite. She was known for her fierce axe skills, yes, but better known for her tempter that flared up every now and then, only to release it on a poor tree somewhere.

Ruffnut was no stranger to Astrid's temper and she often avoided her whenever possible to keep herself from bearing the blunt of her attacks, but Hilda obviously didn't see the imminent danger in Astrid's stride. She pushed her lanky, protesting daughter toward her friend to figure out plans for the night.

"Agh! But, mooom!" Ruffnut complained, adjusting her helmet. Hilda grew up with all boys, and often times Ruffnut believed she got her beat-up-Tuff-constantly mindset from her, her only closest brother, and just all-around beating up the opposite sex.

"Go! Hurry, she's walking away," Hilda turned and started talking to the vendor about bargaining prices, signaling the end of the conversation. With a heavy groan that morphed into a sigh, Ruffnut went to catching up with Astrid.

"Hey, Astrid! I need to talk to you," Ruffnut called before reaching her, running behind the blonde covered with a dark and smoky rain cloud. She caught up and started walking next to Astrid, but it was more like a power-walk rather than a leisurely stroll. Astrid Hofferson did not take 'strolls'.

"So, uhm, don't you have to go to your sister's bath thing? For the wedding?" Ruff asked, and she thought she did a pretty good job for the bit of fear welling up to rattle her voice.

"I uninvited myself," Astrid snapped coldly, her eyes pinpointed forward. Her strides got heavier and Ruffnut had to almost jog to keep up.

"Oh—okay. Well, you're still spending the night at my place, right?"

"Yeah," Astrid hated how Auda had to complain about her and Brandan not having enough privacy for the consummation and asked their family to leave the house after the required witnessing. Ingrid had to melt to her and agree, but was only able to find Astrid a place for the night. She hated how it was always about Auda. Auda, Auda, Auda.

"Okay! Cool! I'll see you… tonight, I guess," Ruff stopped running after Astrid just as she disappeared around a giant boulder leading into the forest. She groaned. Hofferson moodiness.

The rest of the morning, Astrid threw her axe mercilessly into her favorite tree, always having to find a flaw somewhere. Either the crisp thud didn't sound right or she found an imperfection in her stance or throwing; it wasn't ever good enough. Everything could always be better, be improved, be the best. She had to be the best; the best warrior, the best daughter, the best cook, the best sewing machine. Of course being 'best daughter' wasn't exactly her first choice—actually, the last—considering how her sister was now living with her family, and it was clear that she was better favored. Astrid didn't mind this much at all, though, because she could be the best seamstress Ingrid has ever seen because both Aislin and Auda were horrible. Ah. The motivation.

To be the best seamstress. Yes! Astrid grinned as she threw her axe one last time before taking a short cut to her backyard.

Astrid hopped over the short chicken wire fence, startling all the chickens and hens and making them squawk, squabble, and flap their wings. They parted as she jogged past them in a slow pace, the dry dirt kicking up loose feathers and dust behind her. Slamming open the back door leading into the kitchen, she almost made Arnheim choke on his bread.

"Astrid!" Arnheim gasped, pounding a fist into his broad chest a few times as she hacked. Astrid laughed once and watched her father blink his dark eyes rimmed with watery tears and throw back a bit of flat wine to wash it down. "Astrid, your mother's bin a-lookin' ev'rywhere for you," he spoke at last, still blinking a bit fast, breath a little shallow behind his fuzzy brown beard.

"I've been throwing my axe," she lifted it a bit for him to see it above the table. Panting, she realized how disgusting she must have looked. Her bright blue shirt was soaked with sweat and being blue, it was probably noticeable, and her hair was mangled and displaced from her fillet and pieces were coming out of her braid, and she was also rolling around in dirt that hadn't been wet for a week. She crinkled her nose as she looked down herself but there was time to clean up.

"I see tha' naow, but the way you talked today was unacceptable, with Brandan here—," Oh, so he was trying to be a cool, calm father now, huh?

No, he better not be. "Auda's always got to be the best, obedient daughter and she rubs it all over my face that I'm not getting married—,"

"She's your older sister, Astrid. Show some respect," Arnheim replied in a level voice.

Astrid scoffed and tossed her head to the side. "Respect. She had no respect for me!" She started stomping to the door.

Arnheim began reaching and grabbing any words that came to him to say, never understanding how women worked. "She's older than you!"

"So!" Up the stairs. Slam the door.

Living in a house full of women now was a big change from a house full of boys from his previous marriage, and though he had been married to Ingrid for seventeen years now, he would never be able to fully comprehend the complexities of women, and what to say and what not to say.

On her way to the hot springs to take a bath, Astrid was caught by her mother and her aunts and her friends and carted off to the bath house for Auda's ritual bath despite her adamant protests.

"You have to go to your sister's bath, Diddy. It's tradition!" One of her aunts exclaimed, smiling brightly while carrying a basket of herbs for the bath.

"I didn't go to Aislin's," Astrid muttered defiantly, keeping her gaze down at her feet to avoid the glances they were receiving form the village, watching the gaggle of mostly blonde-haired women strut through.

"Because she got married to Kollr on Meathead Island. We just did everything there. But you were much too young to attend," Ingrid replied with a gentle smile, carrying a few sheets for Auda.

Oh, she was loving this. Ingrid loved having daughters; she was almost dancing in her step, basking in the pure excitement and happiness that her second daughter was finally getting married. Before she was married to Arnheim and before Astrid was born, she was told far and wide Auda would be a difficult girl to marry off. She was so tough and strong as a five-year-old, and she was certainly showing signs of being a heartbreaker. Then Astrid was born and the only time Ingrid had seen Auda being overly-affectionate with her younger sister was when she kissed Astrid's cheek as a newborn. And from then on the house was never quiet.

There was always something for the two youngest Hofferson girls to bicker and fight about, more often than not leading to hair pulling and biting. They were both very much alike, very much like Ingrid was, and they butted heads constantly. Aislin was usually the mediator between the two, but she had a rough-and-tumble side behind her calm face and then everything got into a big mess.

But Ingrid did love her girls. She started bawling the day Aislin got married and both Auda and Astrid teamed up for once to comfort their mother. They were all tough and brash girls, but each one of them had a deep affectionate side that they all liked to hide from view, and Ingrid did once too, but now as a mother she let it pull through most of the time. They were all so lovely in Ingrid's eyes and even though sometimes she wanted to slap them across the face, she still loved them to death.

She sighed and smiled, wrapping a free arm around Astrid's shoulders, now only a few inches shorter than her now. She remembered when Astrid was short and tiny, more resembling a pole rather than a real girl, with two thick braids sticking out of her head on either side. She was so precious. She still is, of course, but she kissed her daughter's temple and continued walking, slowly fading into real life again.

"…and one day, Astrid, you're going to have to do the same thing," Ingrid's friend Snotra said, making Astrid groan and roll her eyes. She had known Snotra since the day she was born, and she always had to point out the annoyingly obvious.

"Aren't we supposed to be meeting Auda at the bath house? And not giving me advice?" Astrid didn't mind her mother's arm around her shoulders, but just not in public… It was so uncomfortable. Ingrid could be too affectionate sometimes.

"We're meeting her there. She was with some of her friends catching up, dear," Ingrid replied, rubbing Astrid's arm and then letting her go to pull open the thick doors to the bath house.

"No! I swear to the Gods, mother, if you make me wear pink, I will… I will explode! No! I'm not wearing pink," Astrid vehemently protested, adamant and determined not to wear the girliest color of all girly colors. Ingrid slouched a bit, already looking frazzled an hour into the wedding preparations. She insisted Astrid dress up as well because she was representing the Hofferson family, and also displayed she was still a maiden. Ingrid sighed and tossed the dress on the bed, hurriedly swiping through Astrid's closet full of hand-me-downs.

"Okay, if you won't wear pink, Astrid Finna," Ingrid said through bitten teeth, ready to give her daughter an earful because she had so many other things to do. "You will wear this," she pulled out an equally girly-colored dress: lavender.

Astrid's mouth dropped. "Ohh, no, mother—,"

"Yes! You will wear this dress, and I won't hear you whining about it. Put it on right now," Ingrid's fuse was becoming short and Astrid knew it, but lavender?

"Some privacy?" Astrid barked in a snarky tone, becoming increasingly annoyed with her busy-body mother.

"I want to see you put it on. You're going to wear this dress and I won't let you soil the family name by looking like a wretch," Ingrid crossed her arms, her words sharp as knives. In this mood, her words morphed from kindness to that of harshness, very much resembling a double sided coin. Ingrid was certainly no woman to mess with, so Astrid just rolled her eyes and pulled her tunic over her head.

She has been in her undergarments many times in front of her mother so she wasn't at all embarrassed, but with the door wide open and women darting past wasn't helping. Astrid pulled the dress over her head and adjusted it around her chest. Once she got it fitted, the hem reached to the floor to cover her feet, and the fabric was so incredibly flowy and soft it felt like she wasn't wearing anything at all. It was tight around her upper half, surprisingly, because Astrid didn't have much to brag about, but the scooping neckline really did look nice for her build.

"Okay. Better?" Astrid held out her arms, feeling the fabric of the short sleeves with a white decorated trim pull at her and resist a bit. This dress used to be Aislin's and now it was hers, another hand-me-down like much of her wardrobe.

"Yes. Now go downstairs and Nailbite will do your hair," Ingrid said as she strutted to the door with heavy steps.

"I can do my own hair!"

"Fine! Fine, Astrid, do your own hair for Odin's sake. Be that way," Ingrid sneered before leaving Astrid in her room. She rolled her eyes, again, and picked up her horsehair brush and started to pull it through her damp hair, smelling like rosemary and sage with hints of strawberry, in front of her looking-glass atop her dresser.