Someone finally realises that talking may be a good idea.

Berkian Eddur - 2

Winter in Líf's Holt

Chapter 10 - Spaces Between

[F]orgiveness doesn't happen all at once. It's not an event - it's a process ... It sneaked up on you. It happened in the small spaces between thoughts and in the seconds between ideas and blinks.

― Barry Lyga

Astrid walked into the hall later that night, the sun gone down and the biting cold driving everyone in their right mind indoors.

Stoick was already there, looking worn and almost feeble despite his stocky build remaining unchanged. Astrid hazarded a smile as she closed the door behind her with some effort. There were strong winds, tonight, from North East.

Stoick didn't say anything, and with that beard she couldn't be sure if he returned her smile. With a sigh, she began to take her armour off, scowling at the damaged shoulder pad and wondering if she dared use it as an excuse to speak with him.

Him being …

Her foot hit something on the ground and her chest jolted, remembering the cruel things she'd said and done that morning. She bent down, collecting the axe and looking at it in the firelight. There were no nicks in the blade, thankfully, and she brushed off any dust that clung to the beautiful polished iron. Her face was reflected back between the blackened patterns and runes; Cami was right. She had assumed so many things about Hiccup in the last few weeks, some good, some not so good. Perhaps, it was time she put on her big-girl-britches and face him. And then maybe, the sad look in his eyes that she was seeing reflected at her would go away.

She put the axe reverently back on its hooks, feeling guilt and regret flood her again as she remembered his face just before she'd left this morning. Throwing the axe away like that had been impulsive, and angry, and an attempt to match him blow-for-blow. He'd hurt her, so she would hurt him. With a sigh she turned back towards the room, trying to gauge Stoick's mood before she spoke.

"Is Hiccup still…" she bit her lip, hating how everything she thought to ask somehow sounded accusatory. She wasn't going to ask if he was still out, not after what she had said that morning. "I want to apologise," she said, putting her best foot forward. Stoick was definitely smiling, but there was something in his eyes, a fatigue that spoke of more than the usual daily toil. He nodded towards the curtain, and a serpent of worry coiled around her innards. "Is he alright?"

"He had a long day," he replied, the same note of deep weariness on his face mirrored in his voice. Astrid nodded, moving towards the curtain with some hesitation and sparing Stoick a last glance before she ducked behind the drape into Hiccup's sleeping area.

Hiccup was lying on the bed, clothes only half removed. His long lashes fanned across his cheeks, paler than usual, and the blanket thrown only on his knees.

A feeling bloomed in her chest, stronger than usual. It had been born during the time when Cattongue had been running around the island, trying to save them from themselves. It had grown, more and more insistent, hungrily eating up more space in her mind and chest as it greedily drank in every detail of his behaviour, from the way his nose scrunched when he frowned in frustration, to how his throat bobbed when he laughed; always too hard, with his head thrown back.

She moved towards the bed as quietly as she could, picking some of his things off the ground and putting them on his shelves, then sitting on the edge of his bedding, looking at him.

He was breathing deeply, sleeping the sleep of the exhausted with his hair standing on end and getting everywhere. It was growing too long, his lighter strands a shade of red-brown that she was beginning to find enticing. And she had no problem admitting that she found him handsome; he had become a tall, thin man, where before he had been a weed of a boy. He'd never developed the bulk his father had, and yet, she couldn't hide from herself that winding her limbs around his wiry strength and clinging had been the subject of more than one … interesting dream.

Astrid sighed again, allowing herself live this moment as she let everything else melt away. Yes; she was hurt. Yes; she had every right to be. However, Cami was also right - it could be so much worse. She could have lost him during those 5 years, she could have lost him to the poison in his leg wound. If he did not want her, because he loved another, she would still let him choose, she'd promised him that, but it would be an error she would never forgive herself for if she lost him because she hadn't tried.

Because she was afraid.

She could admit it, now, after being faced with the situation Cami was in, so much worse than her own. She was afraid - afraid of being hurt, because this feeling that had grown in his chest clung to his every word, making everything he said and did seem like the most important part of her day. She was even afraid of the feeling itself; of the dependence and the need to be near him. She was used to taking an axe in hand and attacking her problems head on, yet this one seemed so large and unsolvable - and what was she going to do, take an axe to her own chest? But Cami was right, too. Astrid was a fighter, not a whiny little barmaid. If he didn't want her, she would fight for him; and looking back, all the things she had decided where clues to his distaste for her were wobbly at best.

She could not help carding her hand through his hair, trying to bring it away from his face. The blanket was caught under his weight and she sighed at it, looking helplessly at his half-naked form thrown haphazardly on the bedding.

"Asta1…" he mumbled, and her breath caught, her heart picking up. Her first instinct was to frown and hide the reaction, but she stamped that down. When she saw his eyes twitch and his nose scrunch, she let herself greet him with a smile when he blinked awake.

"Sorry I woke you," she whispered. His eyes blinked up at her again, tired beyond thought for a second before he began to wake up completely. "I wanted to help you get under the covers."

He frowned at her, then, and looked away, and she bit her lip.

"Hiccup, look. I also wanted to apologise." She let her hand run through his hair again and his eyelids began descending.

"I need to apologise too," he muttered, his voice thick with sleep. When he didn't push her away, she sat more comfortably on his bed, still threading her fingers in the soft reddish hair.

"I need to apologise for more," she said decidedly. Bringing her palm down to his cheek she turned his head to face her. "I'm sorry," she said clearly. "I over-reacted. I was angry, and I was hurt, but I shouldn't have said any of that." He looked at her searchingly, his green eyes almost glowing in the muted light of the fire filtering through the curtain. "And I love that axe," she continued quickly when he didn't say anything. "I … I'm sorry I did that, too."

Hiccup looked at her for a moment more, then one of his hands threaded in her own hair, and he glanced at her in askance until she tilted her head into his touch. A corner of his mouth turned upwards, and his eyes seemed to look at her with chagrin.

"I … you were hurt?" he asked, his eyebrows coming down. "I didn't want to do that. It was the last thing I wanted to do. I really wanted to share that feast with you, Astrid. I'm sorry things turned out the way they did." She couldn't stop her eyes from looking away, a sliver of doubt still bubbling to the surface inside her. Yeah, sure, she could doubt. But she steeled herself. She'd beat him up until he stopped making her doubt, then. "May I … do you want to hear why?"

His tone was tentative, and when she looked up again, his face had changed into a mask of trepidation.

"Go on," she told him, bringing his palm down with both her hands and resting her cheek in it.

He swallowed; she couldn't help watching the movement of his throat and wishing she could kiss it. "My leg really was hurting. I had a …" he sighed, biting his lip. "I had a vague idea of just sitting there and watching you dance all night." He gave her one of his wry smirks, and she snorted, answering with a look. "I wouldn't have minded too much," he mumbled, looking away and blushing. Astrid rubbed her cheek against his palm again and his fingers twitched, brushing her ear shell and making all the skin down her neck and back warm. "Ah, er, anyway. Sleet asked me for a favour. Her father is … he is an unpleasant man, Astrid. She said he threatened to cause hell in the meeting today…" He paused, as if a sudden thought had arrested him, and then he pouted almost irresistibly. "Not that it made much difference," he mumbled rebelliously, and she had to stop herself from kissing his puckered lips. Cami knew what she was talking about; he was an idiot, in that he didn't know what he did to her.

"Your father was right about your attention span, at least," she said teasingly, and he blushed. "Is that why you're so tired? This Madfoot business?" she asked, moving closer to him to look at his face in the sparse light, the dark circles under his eyes obvious even then against his milk-white skin. "You should sleep. We can talk tomorrow."

"No, look- no." The hand in her hair stiffened as he moved his fingers to the back of her head. "Astrid, I need to say this. And if you - I mean, whatever you decide to do with us after I do, I will accept it. But please, will you listen to me?"

She nodded, twin emotions of trepidation and excitement rising in her chest

"I … You … you are important to me, Astrid," he said, swallowing and tensing underneath her. "Even without the, um, engagement. Without the contract. You would be important to me. I would- I care for you. Very, very much."

Astrid blinked down at him, her eyes attracted to the fluttering pulse on his neck oscillating frantically like a trapped bird. His eyes were wide and his lip white around his tooth.

It was her turn to swallow and she rolled her shoulders, remembering the pain in Cami's eyes and giving herself courage from it. "You've … you've grown to be important to me too," she replied, and she was too flooded in the moment to worry about how much her voice trembled. "Very important." 2

"... Seriously?" he asked, his tone unmistakably, incredulously hopeful, and it took a weight off her chest. It brought a bubble of relief up her ribcage, which burst as a chuckle through her lips before she could stop it.

"Yes," she replied. She looked at him for a while, finally feeling as if they had arrived at a point where they were both speaking the same language after weeks and weeks of talking through water. His face split into an answering smile, and it was as if the sun had come up early.

"I …" he smiled helplessly, then, looking at her with naked happiness that flowed over her skin like warm water, leaving her feeling a glow of an entirely different nature to any kind of external warmth she'd felt before. Her own heart had picked up speed, hammering against her chest with more feelings of elations blooming in pockets around her lungs. She sat back, and gently punched his shoulder.

"Ow,"

"Wuss," she chuckled.

"I … your wuss," he said, his voice taking on a daring tone, and her eyes widened. Oh, Hiccup…

"Yes, my wuss," she affirmed, her heart pounding. "And don't you forget it." His smile widened.

"I wouldn't dare go against a warrior of Freya's 'd turn me to mince and feed me to the pigs," he said, his tone teasing but his eyes earnest. She then leaned down to kiss his cheek; once, twice, three times.

"The punch was for hurting me," she said in his ear. "The, um, kiss was for saying … all that."

He smiled at her, his face beaming, and he leaned forward to kiss her cheek in turn. His scratchy chin against her ear made her twitch back with a laugh, her shoulder coming up to rub against her neck. He only kept looking at her with shining eyes; he had never looked more beautiful.

"So," she said, taken aback by that last thought as her mind suddenly took a dive down the path where his skin was against hers, their sweat mingled and his body pulsed inside her. "Um, ahem, that leg. When can I see it…?"

He frowned right away, but then shook his head, and smiled again.

"Not tonight? Please. I don't want to get out of bed again," he said, his voice ending on a pleading note. She nodded, backing off right away.

"Alright. But I get to see that leg. Later. Right?" She didn't want to hide this from him, so she said it. It seemed worth it, somehow, to admit all this. "I'm worried about you. I want to keep you safe, and healthy. And with me."

Hiccup's mouth fell open. Then he frowned again, looking away and scrunching his face in thought. His mouth opened and closed a number of times, but he never said anything. It almost seemed like he was making a tough decision.

"Later," he finally said decidedly, with a nod that was evidently more to punctuate whatever decision he'd made inside that confusing, alluring mind.

"Later," she sighed, leaning in to rest her head against his chest. His heart picked up under her ear, and then settled down again into a soothing rhythm,

"Astrid?" he asked tentatively, his voice vibrating against her ear, sounding so deep and sonorous that she could feel her tension melting from her shoulders.

"May I stay?" she asked, with all the courage she could muster. She was suddenly seized by the undeniable, overwhelming desire to sleep, exactly as she was, and the fear that he would refuse.

"I … we hadn't finished? I mean I hadn't told you everything," he said in a whisper she found all too seductive all of a sudden. The skin on her neck and back puckered at the imagined brush of his breath, and she shivered. "And you're cold, ah…"

Astrid sighed; stubborn, stubborn man. She pushed off his chest to look at him with fatigued eyes. He looked worried and cringed when raised a hand, and it made her snort.

"Don't you forget it," she repeated in a fond whisper as she cupped his cheek. "Now tell me. I'm listening."

"Well… ok," he said with a tentative smile. "Ok. Sleet… that's Madfoot's daughter. He's an awful man, Astrid. He raises a hand at everyone; his wife, his children. I saw him beat his dog, once. And his dragon." He looked suddenly fiery, eyes blazing at the injustice of it, and Astrid felt that feeling in her chest bubble higher. Yes; this man was important to her. There was no shame in having admitted it. He was worth it; he was worth anything. "And when I used to go to the UglyThug clan as Cattongue…" He cringed. "Don't be angry at me. I never meant anything by it."

"Uh oh," she said breathily, steeling herself. Had this poor girl been one of his conquests, the ones she and Ruff often wondered about? "Go on," she said anyway.

"She used to hide in the forge." He still looked apologetic and chagrined. "I never really saw her as … but she kind of started to care for me. As … more than friends." He shrugged and looked away, apparently too uncomfortable to keep eye-contact. "I never encouraged her, I swear. Heck, at the time I couldn't anyway, I was just a blacksmith." He shrugged again, and something jolted inside Astrid, half-remembering something her mother had said but too distracted by the way his chin moved as he nibbled his lip to try to remember. "Anyway, her father sent her as bait. He wanted her to dance with me. If I hadn't, she would have …" he winced. "I saw what he can do to her. Her eye was swollen for a week, once."

And outrage suddenly made her snarl. How dare he.

"Yeah," Hiccup said, face twisted in distaste and lips bundled under his scrunched nose. He was too much to resist, then. She leaned down and kissed him, lingeringly. His lips against hers opened in a gasp, but she didn't dare, though the temptation alone made her blush and warm; warmer still when he responded, his eyes falling shut as he pressed his lips against her own. The breath from his nose ghosted over her cheek, and she shivered again, suddenly very aware of the contours of his hard body against hers.

"You're cold," he said slowly against her lips. She pulled away, and he looked like he was kicking himself. She smiled and kissed his nose.

"You're forgiven," she answered, and his face lit up in a whole new way again. She was discovering that she loved being able to make his face contort in so many ways simply by kissing him and being close and speaking. "And I'm sorry."

"I … thank you. I, um, really. It means a lot."

"Yes, for me too," she said leadingly, and he looked adorably clueless for a second, and then blinked.

"Oh, oh, yes, of course you're forgiven." He shrugged. "I can't stay mad at you when you kiss me like that."

"Good weapon to know of," she replied cheekily, and then he rolled his eyes in mock resignation.

"As…" he swallowed. "Astrid?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you." She blinked at him, her turn to be confused.

"What?"

"For coming here. Giving me… giving me a chance. To explain. Giving me a chance to explain." He looked at her for a few more seconds, nailing her with his eyes as he seemed to think hard about something. "I want to er, um. Um ...ah." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I think … I …" he let the breath out, seeming to resign himself. "You can stay. I mean, I want you to - no, wait, I mean, I'd really like - no, no, not like that…" He slapped a hand across his eyes, and Astrid bit her lip to hold a giggle back.

"Good night," she said. She rose slightly, and he looked up at her in dismay before she tugged the blankets from beneath him and he helped her wiggle them free. She took off the rest of her armour, hesitated for a moment, and then undid her hair, Thuggory's words about Hiccup's attraction to it scintillating at the back of her mind. Again, she found she rather enjoyed the way his eyes widened.

She hesitantly moved forward and lay down next to him, biting her lip as he looked at her with the same wide-open look.

Then she remembered Cami, and moved forward, throwing an arm around him and her head on his chest again. Her eyes started falling closed right away as his comfort and warmth seeped into her.

"Oh, ok, wow…" he said, and she chuckled sleepily. "Good… goodnight … Asta."

"Hmm," she replied. She felt him bring the blankets up around them. And she may or may not have felt his lips on her crown, but she couldn't be sure. Comfort, warmth and lightness of heart swept her away into an easy sleep.

=0=

After the talks from the past few days, it was almost a relief to return to the arena. As Cami still refused to attend the talks, Hiccup had decided that he would begin with the lessons for those of Trollguts and Slugsnot who wanted them. A few of the adults had been given a brief overview, and information to read and memorise on dragon breeds they prefered - all the ones who had come had a very clear idea of their choice, at least. They were all sitting on one side of the arena, muttering about things they read between them and it seemed to be going fairly well without much supervision, though he was keeping half an eye on them. Spit was there too, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, together with Dartbolt, Nuthead and Gustav. Some more of the adults of the remaining two un-dragoned tribes were dotting the top of the arena, looking on and discussing things between them. Hiccup was giving practical information taken from the bonding lecture as the new student vibrated with eagerness and fear when he stared at the gronkle in front of him. Spit wasn't ready to bond with a dragon yet, but he could do with the extra tutoring on the information if he was to join the class with the children next Spring - the others were very much ahead.

The large rock dragon was asleep, snoring thunderously. Spit was looking at it wide-eyed.

"Now, Spit," Hiccup said, Tuff and Snotlout beside him as they herded all the children towards the centre. "This is a gronkle. He's an older dragon who belongs to one of the Hopperdottir clan members, and his name is Stout. He's going to help you get used to the idea that dragons aren't always going to rip your face off."

Spit swallowed and Astrid punched Hiccup in the shoulder. He looked back at her in askance, and she rolled her eyes and pointed at Spit, who suddenly looked utterly pale. Oh, for the love of…

"Let's start," he said without any more preamble. Thuggory would probably be joining him soon, too, as all the heirs had sort of defected as a sign of good-will to Cami. Hiccup wasn't sure if he wanted or dreaded Dogsbreath doing the same. After sort-of getting his revenge on him, Hiccup had begun to feel sorry for shafting the other heir into the affair in so cavalier a manner, and after the glowing success of last … oh gods, last night with Astrid. He felt a stupid smile spread on his face. Astrid punched him in the shoulder again, but this time, she was smiling too. The slightly pink tinge on her cheek was like a Thawfest medal.

"Spit, I want you to come here next to me, and I want you to pay attention to what I am doing; you're going to repeat every single movement I make, so stay sharp. A'right lad?"

He waited for Spit to nod hesitantly and gave a small demonstration of how to approach a dragon, what to do and what not to do, then put his hand on the boy's shoulder. He gave a tense start, and immediately looked up like a deer caught in a hunter's sights, the moment before it bolts.

"Calm down, bud," he said with a smile. He turned to Toothless, who had been a burr-dragon since the events in Snotlout's bathtub, stuck to his side and looking up at him with large worried eyes. With a gesture the black dragon bounded up, eager to please even more than usual. Spit gave an eep and buried his face in Hiccup's hip.

"Come on," he said gently, patting the boy's back. "This is Toothless, you've seen him at the meetings. You know he's a good dragon, and won't hurt you."

"He was growling, and angry, and terrible!" Spit protested in a mumble, face still pressed into Hiccup's flying armour.

"He was?" Astrid said walking up. Hiccup gave her a chagrined look.

"During the last meeting, things went a little … South," he admitted with a wince. She narrowed her eyes at him and folded her arms, cocking her hips. His eyes fell to it without his consent and when he looked up at her again there was a cat's grin on her face. He felt his cheeks heat up, but he couldn't muster any annoyance.

"You were saying," she prompted, her grin getting wider. He cleared his throat.

"Dancing with Sleet didn't stop Madfoot any," he said in a low voice. "So Toothless and the other dragons made a show of uncovering their teeth and growling at him when I cued them."

"There's more to this," she said with a tilted head. He gave her a look that promised later.

"Anyway, there really isn't anything to worry about. Toothless is not a dangerous dragon unless he feels that he is in danger, or the ones he cares for are." He looked down at Spit, who had brought his face away from Hiccup's belly enough to look up at him.

"What? You're afraid of Toothless? You're a chicken!" Gustav laughed. Snotlout hit him upside the head.

"I remember someone who ran screaming the first time he saw a night fury," Dartbolt said with nonchalance.

"Knaa."

"Settle down," Hiccup said with finality.

The rest of the session went relatively well. Hiccup allowed Spit to approach Toothless and Stormfly, both dragons sniffing him and giving him a lick or a preen after they had made friends. Now, Spit was going to try to touch the dragon with next to no assistance, and the snoozy gronkle was shaken awake for the task. Stout* was naturally a mellow dragon, and he was patient with almost all the children and new recruits he encountered. After some cajoling, Spit let himself be coaxed to coming close to the dragon, who looked at him with eager eyes and slightly wagging tail from all the attention, and the promise of a fish in Spit's hand.

"Right, now move one more step," Hiccup instructed him slowly. He was standing directly behind the boy, hands on his shoulders. As Spit stepped forward, he let them fall and crouched down beside him. "Alright, little heir, just hold your arm out and look away. No, not the one with the fish! Yes, yes, that one. Good. Now wait for him to come to you … and … there." The gronkle nuzzled the tiny boy's hand without hesitation, Spit looking at him with a mix of terrified wonder. "Now you can pet him and give him a fish."

Hiccup stepped back, letting the boy get used to handling the calm and submissive dragon who merely enjoyed the attention. With a nod to Tuff and Snotlout, the other children were convinced to move forward and make friends. Hiccup quailed Gustav with a look when he looked about to open his mouth with a stupid comment, and the boy ducked his head and was appreciatively nice to the startled Spit.

"I'll bet you were about that terrified when you met Toothless," Astrid said, coming up beside him. Toothless, coming up the other side, gave a huff in agreement, his expression clearly mocking with a 'you should have seen it' eye-roll.

"I'll have you know, mister, that you were just as scared of me. And I weighed ninety pounds and could barely lift a shield."

"Oh, to have been a fly on the wall," Astrid said with an amused lilt in her voice. "And I'll bet you two spoke to each other like this all the time, when you were away?" Her grin was like that of a terrible terror breaking into a year's stock of dried fish.

"Pretty much. I regret nothing," Hiccup replied, and she punched him in the shoulder for it. Toothless snorted at him, satisfied grin on the dragon's scaly lips as he went across to the children and then threw himself belly-up without preamble. All of them made a beeline for him, the gronkle following suit, and within minutes all of them, Spit included, were shrieking with laughter as they tried to make the dragons' legs kick in time with one another. Stormfly simply sat down and cackled at them in obvious dragonesque amusement.

"Say," Astrid said, after she finished laughing. "Will you ever tell me what else you did?" She looked at him with open earnestness. "You've told me some things, but … could I know more? Of those years, I mean."

"I … um," Hiccup swallowed, looking at her. He could never deny her anything, he knew that. But there were parts of his life out there that he was not proud of, and others that he was downright ashamed of. Especially with her.

He looked at her with slight worry, chewing his lip. "I … don't think you want to hear it."

"Yes I do, I just asked," she replied defiantly, her brow furrowing.

"Look, I don't know, ok. I don't think I can talk about it with you. It's, some of it is …"

"Can't talk about it … with me. So you don't trust me, is that it?" she said, voice sounding hurt as she looked away, folding her arms against her chest tighter.

"No! No- I mean yes- Yes, I trust you." He scratched his chin, thinking frantically about a way to say this without sounding like an oaf and coming up blank. "I don't think I want to talk about it with anyone."

"Hiccup, I'm your future wife," she said. And then suddenly she swallowed and went as red as he'd ever seen her go. But she didn't stop, shaking herself and continuing. "I just mean, if we're … if we're going to spend our life together, then …" she seemed to choke up, and he knew he could feel his own cheeks heat. The awkwardly hopeful embarrassment was choking.

"Oh, yeah, unless you ask for a divorce after a week," he said wryly. And as soon as it fell out of his mouth, he knew he'd failed miserably at trying to lighten the mood.

"So you really don't trust me," she hissed. "Did nothing I said yesterday mean anything to you?" Rigid as a post she spun on her heels, heading for the arena gate.

"Shit," he ran after her. "It was a joke, Astrid, a stupid joke, I'm sorry, I just-"

"Leave me alone, Haddock," she said as she unholstered her axe, and for a terrifying moment he thought he was going to be cut in half by his own creation, but she only swung it at him menacingly. "I'm going to kill trees."

"Oh boy, Astrid, please," he said insistently, running after her. "Look, I'm me, I say stupid things. Astrid, wait, Astrid. Damnit, Hofferson! Listen-"

She spun around and slapped him. He blinked for a moment, looking at the wall where his face had been turned with the blow.

"That's my name, but I haven't been part of that clan for a long, long time, Cattongue," She hissed. He turned around to look at her, blinking and still slightly dazed. "And I … I … oh, Hiccup." Astrid looked at her hand, seeming to realise what she'd done. She seemed to be stuck between the explosive anger and dismay at her slap - huh, dismay at hitting him. That was a new one.

She quickly spun, and would have rushed out had he not lunged and grabbed her.

"Astrid -oof- please don't go like this. I don't want to quarrel with you any - ow! Woman, will you please stop injuring me."

Astrid slumped against him. After a moment, she hid her face in his chest. If her ears were any indication, her face must be crimson.

"I'm sorry," she said in a thin voice he didn't like at all. "That's all I seem to be able to do."

"Yeah, but then you kiss it better," he replied, knowing full well that - ow! Yeah, right in the gut. "Woman…"

"I'm sorry," she said, and her face rubbing against his upper chest and shoulder, seeking comfort, instantly sent his heart thundering. "I should know not to hit my wuss too hard. I may break him."

"Thank you, Astrid. Your vote of confidence in my strength is a boost to the ol' self-esteem."

"But really; sorry. I'm a bit … high strung, after our fight and … yeah. I think. I just … I wanted to know who Sepha was."

It almost felt like he was thrown in the sea, freezing so cold that his blood crystalised in his veins and his lungs couldn't expand if they wanted to.

"How do you … how do you know her name?" he asked, his voice thankfully toneless. His mind was buzzing, chasing itself in panic; how did she know? Who had told her? He had never told anyone, no one at all, and yet she knew that name.

"You used to call her, when … you had the fever. From your foot."

Hiccup swallowed. He felt terrified and cornered. His mind wouldn't work, and his legs were too jellified to flee like he wanted to.

"If you don't want to tell me, I mean … I don't have the right to pry, but I thought, since we were talking and …"

"I no, no, you have every right. I just, I … it's hard." Harder than leaving. Harder than even coming back. Certainly harder than forgiving them all. But only slightly harder than what he'd said last night. He shifted, holding her tighter. "Astrid, I will tell you. I promise, I will. Only, can you … After the Thing." He nodded to himself. "I already promised you could see my leg, and- yeah, this. I'll tell you everything." His voice broke on the last word.

"You sound …"

He could mention a dozen ways he had probably sounded; scared beyond reason, choked. Possibly constipated. None of them good.

"You may not like me very much when I'm finished," he said in a small voice. Astrid hit him again. "Ow!"

"Wuss," she hissed. "My wuss. Don't you forget it." They looked at one another, both with worried looks on their faces. "So, later. After the Thing?" He nodded tensely, worry rising to his mind. But he owed her this. He owed her all the truth, about the battles and everything else; and then he would take her judgement, whatever it was.

He prayed to Freya, Frigga and Lofn with fervor in that moment - please, let this not be how I lose her, after all.

"I will. I also want to know why you were quarrelling with me… before. You know, before the dance. Because we were quarrelling, right?"

"Oh, that? I ...er…" she went a solid red, looking at anything but him. He wasn't sure what to make of that reaction, but it sent his eyebrows towards his hair. "After the Thing. I'll hold you to it," she said with finality. "And I'll … tell you the other thing. Too. I promise, also." Then she rolled her shoulders, pushed onto her tiptoes and kissed him, full on the mouth. "I'm off to change the hay in the beddings, like a good … future wife." She laughed, shaking her head. He held fast onto her and she gave him a questioning look.

"You don't have to do that," he said with finality. "If you don't want to do that, you don't have to. If you'd rather go out and train, or go on patrol, or spar, or do … do anything, you know, Astrid, then you do that. And I can cover for you."

She blinked up at him, and then a smile he'd never seen before spread on her face, one he'd never really dreamt he'd see. It was mellow and sort of fond, if a little cheeky around the corner of her mouth.

"So that's what it was all about, all the offers to do chores for me. You thought I was unhappy to do them."

"Um, well," he stammered with a sheepish shrug. "I remember how you hated them. I didn't, don't, want you to be unhappy."

"I'm not unhappy," she said, her fondly cheeky smile still there. "I've come to realise that doing chores and housework for the sake of doing it is one thing. Doing it for people you care about is a completely different thing." He couldn't help blushing, and she sniggered at him. "But now you're doomed. Now you offered to help me, and you can never take it back."

"Never?" he asked in mock trepidation.

"Not ever," she replied. She kissed him again, this time she lingered longer, drawing him down after her when she moved away. "And don't tell my mother this, but she's always right. I'll see you later!"

He sighed as he watched her go, his chest a great deal lighter than it was before, despite the looming terror of the promised talk. Still, he had work to do, and …

He turned around to find the kids looking at him with a range of expressions; from disgust and mild intrigue on Gustav's face to sheer starry-eyes from Dartbolt. Spit was looking at him like he'd seen it all before.

Tuff and Snotlout were rapidly jotting down notes on a piece of parchment.

"Did you promise to help her with the chores before or after she kissed you?" Snotlout asked, and Hiccup had the urge to slap his face. Toothless, on the side, was giving him his usual dragon laugh, accompanied by a jeering look that was utterly familiar and disgusting. Stupid dirty minded dragon…

"Nothing to look at," he said sternly. ("Now" Tuffnut said, getting cuffed in the head). "Let's get back to dragon training."

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1 It was only after writing this scene and editing it several times that I realised it had been unconsciously influenced by reens' 'The Choice'. This time, the reference is not intentional, but I suppose that makes it more special.

2 Asta, according to The Viking Answer Lady, is a diminutive for Astrid, as is Ætta. In this case, Hiccup is also using it as an endearment; Ast- means 'god, one of the Æsir' and therefore Hiccup is calling her a goddess in so many words. Our boy is corny, but truly endearing.

3 Stout is based on Daddy, the dog Mr Millan takes with him almost everywhere on the Dog Whisperer series. Daddy is a pitbull who should be used as an example to show how beautiful and adorable the breed is. Only bad owners make bad dogs.

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Many different kinds of talking going on in this chapter; again, watch that epithet.