Becoming Lífþrasir

by Midoriko-sama

People often wondered what kept Hiccup going during those early years. When that single, most-treasured thing is taken from him, there is little left to keep him on Berk. The day Stoick returns, and the day before the best recruit is finally chosen, Hiccup leaves Berk; little knowing that he would one day return under ... strange circumstances. H/A, R/F, rated for violence.

16. Day 6

Whopping huge chapter, within which many things happen.

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Berkian Eddur - 1

Becoming Lífþrasir

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Day 6

It was barely dawn, and he was stretching, yawning behind his helmet and having the little freedom of a solitary walk. Toothless had remained curled up beside the forge's hearth this morning, something he'd done both mornings they'd stayed in Gobber's forge. There was an amazing amount of things to do, still, despite the village having almost all preparations in place. He was on his way to Troll Peak now, to make the last checks on the mechanisms and especially the metal sheets they had placed there. The steel forged with a gronkle's breath was almost unbreakable and didn't rust easily, but if any wild dragon had decided to like the shine of it and nest there, or turn it into a chew toy, they would be in trouble; he didn't have time to make extras, not when he didn't know how long he had.

A well of good old panic pooled in his stomach, and he smothered it with another stretch and then clapping the last bits of his repaired armour on his shoulders as he yawned his way towards the woods. It was dawning to be a cold, overcast day, but the clouds were broken by the occasional glimpse of blue sky, and the sunrise was cool, but almost clear, and beautiful. Rising up the crest of the hill, passing beside what used to be his hall (and trying not to look at it too hard), be saw the line of golden sunlight siding the crest of the hill with him, sending his shadow boldly onto the ground. He stopped to look back at the sunrise at the top, and it took his breath away for a moment as the light twinkled on the ocean and the ice more beautifully than any precious stone or metal he'd ever seen.

It was a moment of wonder, and as he breathed in the sea air from the hill where he had lived most of his life, he felt like he'd returned home for the first time since he'd landed on Berk. It was an odd, disjoint feeling, but it was a good one, and he savoured it for the moment.

"Hi, Hiccup."

A shiver ran up his back as he whipped around, and found Astrid staring at him from the back wall of his old home, lying against the door he'd used so often to escape into the forest as a boy. She was wearing her furred clothing, her hair was down, and as the sunrise's light rose to touch her toes, the glow of it made her cheeks vibrate with colour and her hair shine gold.

Thor, she was so beautiful she made him stupid without even trying.

"Hiccup," she said again in a quiet voice that carried in the morning silence. "Take your helmet off?"

Another shudder went up his spine, and the haze of stupidity that had taken over his brain lifted like a cold bucket of snow water dumped over his head. Freya's mercy, she'd called him Hiccup.

"Hofferson, what -"

"Please," she said, pushing off the wall and stepping towards him. It took all of his willpower not to step away from her - that would be a dead giveaway. Sweat began to accumulate at the back of his neck as his heart rate increased, and it wasn't only because she stepped as close to him as she had been since they rode Toothless together on dragon island, with her breath ghosting over his chest armour.

"Just stop pretending. I know it's you, ok? I figured it out." Her hand reached out and he stiffened, grabbing her wrist when she went for the helmet's edge against his chin. Her expression turned stormy and her chin jutted out - which was a clearer sign that her patience was finishing than the hand he was holding turning into a fist. "I'm serious, Hiccup. Just stop. Just …"

Hiccup blinked as something rippled across her face and her voice broke. With a slight start, he remembered all the wistful regret she'd always had when she spoke of 'Hiccup' to someone she thought was a stranger to her, and all the things Thuggory had told him. He remembered how much he'd enjoyed spending the last few afternoons with her. More than anything, he remembered how hard she could knee you in the crotch when said bony part of her came up against the softer part of him. He let her go quickly, breathing rather more hard than her subtle threat warranted, and swallowing hard to try to get himself to focus. She didn't let him go far, however. She grabbed the edge of his armour against his neck, digging her fingers down his chest to hold him in place. Thor and Odin help him, but in that moment, she reminded him of the girl he used to play with as a child, who had been his closest friend, who knew him so well she had once tried to count his freckles. But she also reminded him of Astrid, the girl he used to look at from the forge window. It was all a jumbled mess inside him as his chest roiled and he swallowed hard. She didn't speak again, but she looked him straight in the eyes, unblinking.

With a tight chest that didn't let him sigh in defeat, he reached a slightly unsteady hand behind him and pulled the back-guards up from the back of the helmet before pulling it off his face. Astrid took it from him with her free hand, letting it drop onto the grass. Her eyes had gone wide as she traced his face, her mouth opening without words a few times. For his part, his throat was so clogged up with tension, and fear and a jumble of other emotions that were born of having her face that close to him that he hoped she wasn't counting on him to say anything, because-

Her fingers rose up and traced the scars that ran up his cheek, a continuation of the scar tissue that also ran down his chest, a pleasant memory of his encounter with the Picts. The feel of her finger-pads on his face was so incredible he realised he'd closed his eyes to it only after he'd reopened them again, swallowing hard and blinking.

"Well, at least you do have scars," she said with a half smile, her loose hair flitting around and catching the rising line of sunlight. Gods, her hair was loose, he could just reach out and run his fingers through it. Odin knew it had been a personal fantasy of his for … he didn't remember how long … he should say something … and was that his hand rising and aiming for her hair?

"That's what the Picts gave me for riding the spawn of their underworld. Also known as Toothless, the incredibly playful night fury."

Her eyes went half-lidded and her eyebrows rose.

"You still have the sense of humour, at least," she said in a sardonic tone. Then she suddenly pulled back and swung, bringing a fist hard against his lower abdomen just under the hard leather armour. The wind was knocked right out of him as she smashed his diaphragme into his ribs and he bent forward, ending up face first against her shoulder. Yes, yes; this was definitely Astrid. The noises of agony that were coming out of his mouth were high pitched and undignified, but he choked a few vocalisations that must have sounded enough like 'what in Odin's beard?!' for her to give him an answer.

"That was for all the lies," she growled. "And for hearing all I had to tell 'Hiccup' and pretending it wasn't humiliating for me, and pretending you cared as Cattongue the Quiet went all around Berk, fooling everyone into thinking they didn't know him, listening to conversations he should have heard as someone else, and not giving people an answer they deserve!"

He was gasping, still, unable to hold his aching chest because she was in the way of his arms. And then suddenly Astrid's arms were around his back, fingers climbing the back of his neck as her arms dug into his armpits, pushing him straight with a wince as she buried her face against his neck. Hiccup went rigid, what little breath he had regained left his lungs again as he suddenly found himself with a front-full of Astrid Hofferson pressed up against him, and the ache in his lower abdomen faded in comparison to the jumbled mess that erupted higher in his chest.

"And … and what's this for?" he asked lamely, lost and hopelessly confused. Her frame trembled and she snorted a second later.

"You haven't changed at all, haven't you?" she asked, her voice more unsteady than he'd ever heard Astrid Hofferson speak. "Still cracking the stupid jokes at the most uncomfortable moments to make things even more uncomfortable."

"I … er…" was that a compliment, or an insult? Why was he even asking himself that when Astrid was hugging him. She was hugging him.

"This isn't for you," she whispered against his neck before burying her face farther into his chest, and his throat clogged completely when he heard her shaky, sob-like breath.

Astrid Hofferson, the woman he'd dreamed about for what felt like most of his life, wasn't only hugging him but she was also doing something he thought her incapable of doing unless it was in the most dire circumstances; she was getting emotional - about him.

Thor almighty, Ragnarok was coming.

"Oh," was the only thing he could answer, as his arms hesitantly rose to rest on her shoulders, not quite sure it was ok for him to touch her back. Emotional or not, she had proved many times over that she was still the girl he'd known from his boyhood, both the dear friend and the distant, driven girl, and was very capable of breaking his arm if he did something she didn't like. When no further pain happened he took another deep swallow and let himself embrace her. Just as he let his face sink into her hair (how many nights had he dreamed this, how many?) he could have sworn she smelled him in herself.

"Alright, Hiccup Haddock, there are a number of things I need to tell you. Some of them I told you already, but … I need to tell Hiccup Haddock. Not Cattongue. Are … are you listening?"

"Yeah," he said, simply savouring the fact that he was holding her close, she knew it was him, and she hadn't killed him for it. Yet.

"Right, well, the first one is … I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of the things I said that day. I was tired, and sore, and in pain, and … a little scared because we'd almost been eaten by that nadder. I didn't mean it, and your dad isn't ashamed of you."

He couldn't vocalise an answer for a while, but he did manage a snort.

"I mean it, Hiccup. He's really missed you. Thinking he may have driven you away really hurt him, and … he's been working really hard so that when you came back, he'd be a better dad for you. He's really trying." He didn't answer, just put his forehead against her shoulder and nodded. The smell of her and her hair rose into his nostrils like a cloying perfume, and he couldn't make himself mind that his head got more than a little clogged.

"I …"

"Please let me finish," she said, her voice riding the razor edge between an order and a plea. He realised that this was the second time she'd said please in this conversation, and feeling slightly bold, he squeezed her to him and nodded against her head. She turned her face so that her mouth was against his ear.

"Look, I don't know if you've … heard, or realised, but - er, right. I told you myself." He felt her swallowing just as hard as he had, and his courage rose even further at her nervousness, making him feel the need to reassure her and (if she knew, she'd kill him) protect her and make her feel better. So with slightly hesitant hands, he began rubbing her back up and down, and his chest swelling with what he suspected was his rising heart-rate as she sagged against him.

"Ok … We should talk about the fact that we're …" He had never heard Astrid stutter before, and began rubbing her back in circles. Her fingers climbed higher up his back again until they well were slowly drifting through the thinner hairs at the base of his neck, making him bite his tongue to avoid making any noises he'd get kicked in the groin for. She finally took a deep breath, fisted her hands (taking a few tiny hairs with them, making him suppress a different sort of noise) and spoke on. "Look, you know there's an arrangement. Between us."

It was Hiccup's turn to go rigid now; oh, right, that. He nodded, and kept rubbing her back. He'd learned to keep quiet over his times of solitude on his island - both Toothless and he were social creatures, and they'd learned to read each other to perfection over their time together, but he's also learned the value of silence - and of shutting up to let other people hang themselves with their own rope as he dealt with the village chiefs and top generals.

In this case … in this case he was just waiting for her to say what she wanted. And maybe hoping, a little bit.

"I've put in a clause in the contract, so that if you came back married you were free of me. But since you didn't … it's official, now." She didn't sound too happy about that, and his gut went down to visit his boots. Still, he kept rubbing her back, biding his time before he answered, waiting for her to say more. "But if you want to go, Hiccup, I won't say a word. No one but me and Fishlegs know, and … we can keep it that way, if you want. If you decide to stay, I'll be happy, Hiccup. I'll be really happy." ...Gods, really? "But if you got used to life out there and don't want to come back … we'll keep going here. And I'm engaged to you, it's my duty to be by you but … only if you want to."

Duty? If he wanted to? That brought him right back down to earth. She was leaving it up to him to choose if … "I always thought you'd be a shield maiden," he said wrily, holding her closer when she tried to move away. "That's not to say I didn't look out of the forge window and gawp every time you passed - OW!"

"Still a wuss," she chuckled against neck, smoothing the hair she had pulled at his nape. The feeling made him want to shudder again, and since she couldn't see, he allowed himself to close his eyes and savour an instant of a rather more racey fantasy. He was going to have to pass by the cove and have a jump in the lake before he got to Troll Peak, unless he wanted to start fielding comments about the new enhanced belt1 he was wearing. "But I'm serious, Hiccup. If you want to go …"

With a sigh, he finally pulled back, just enough to look her in the eyes. The sun had risen enough now that all her face was bathed in it where it wasn't shadowed by his own shoulder, and he was once again hit like Mjölnir that he was hugging the woman he'd been dreaming about since he was eleven years old. It took him a moment to remember that he wanted to talk, and another to remember what he wanted to talk about.

"I don't want … I don't want to go because of all … this," one of his hands rose to wave hesitantly between them. Astrid blinked and raised a brow, and Hiccup felt himself blush. He tried to move away, but she pinned him to her with both a look and her arms around his back. He felt his cheeks grow darker, but something inside him that he'd been keeping in for 5 years was desperately trying to claw itself out of his mouth, and at last, he let it. "Astrid, what will everyone think when they find out that five years ago I couldn't stay because I couldn't kill dragons?"

Her eyes widened, and he immediately regretted saying it. Now what he always feared would happen; she'd call him a coward, denounce him to the village, and he'd be chased out. He wasn't sure if he wanted to push her away or hold her tighter to stop her from running inside his dad's hall and yelling her opinion to a world he had only just started to regain. If he could call for Toothless they could do - take her somewhere - at least until this was over, and then -

"What do you mean, you left because …" Her eyes suddenly went wide. "Of course, Toothless!" He nodded at her. "So … not because of me?" Not completely, but he didn't tell her that. The hope in her eyes vibrated somewhere in his chest like the noise of a great horn. He shook his head, and something on her face looked lighter. "You mean … of course. You shot him down during the last raid of that year, didn't you?" With a wry smile, he nodded again. "And then …?"

"And then I found him in the woods, and I couldn't kill him. He looked frightened, terrified and so lonely, lying there." He was in that clearing again, with a sigh, his best friend's eyes looking at him with terrified pleading before he gave up and lay down, hoping for a quick death. "So I let him go instead. But the damage was done. He hasn't been able to fly without me since. Well, technically he can with the emergency rigging, but … he doesn't seem to want to."

"Maybe he was lonely," Astrid whispered, and he forced himself to look down at her to find her eyes shining up at him in the new sunlight. There wasn't a trace of the judgemental expression he was expecting, or the anger and betrayal. "Is he why you got better in the ring?"

"Yeah…" he said with a chuckle of sheer relief, and feeling bold again, ran his hands once up and down her back. When she didn't stop smirking up at him, his own smile stretched a little farther. "Boy did it make you mad back then."

"It did," she said with a hushed laugh, then looked up at him sheepishly. "In fact, it made me so angry that I followed you that night, when you left me the letter. I almost caught you too. But you took off on Toothless before I could guess who you were talking to. You two actually knocked my ass over. Left me with this." He blinked as she held the silver pendent he'd often noticed while at once mourning the fact that one of her arms had come away from him. Without thinking, he touched the pendent when she put it back against her chest, and was gratified to see the resulting blush bloom around the pendent and rise up her neck to her face. He replaced his arm around her quickly, before she could move away. One arm seemed somehow unable to keep her in place, but he got a burst of gleeful butterflies in his gut to feel her rest against him as if she was not inclined to go anywhere. His eyes seemed unable to leave the pendent sparkling in the sunlight.

"Is that … a dragon scale?"

"Yes … one of Toothless', I guess." She smiled at him sheepishly again. He had never imagined Astrid's face with that expression, during all of his dreams and nights awake, thinking about her and what had become of her in the years he'd been away, he'd always seen her determined, fighting, grinding her teeth and roaring into battle axe raised. But he'd never seen her with this expression on, hair undone and teased by the wind, freckles in high relief against the golden morning sunlight. He realised that though he'd thought of her being married, he'd never really tried to visualise it. It hurt too much.

And now she was engaged, to him, and none too mad at being seen by him with her hair down and hugged like a lover in full view of the village square. Sure, she wasn't altogether convinced, perhaps, and she was leaving it up to him, possibly out of courtesy or kindness or … guilt. He remembered that emotion haunting her face at the forge.

But he could change her mind too, if they had the chance. And maybe, just maybe …

"You … you had better keep ahold of that, then," he stammered, fingering her pendant again. Her eyes went wide as she searched his face, and he could clearly feel the colour on his face rise by another notch.

"You don't … want it back?" she asked tentatively. His smile widened.

"Don't see why. Toothless won't need it anymore and it looks great where it is," he answered. He'd never imagined he could make Astrid Hofferson smile like that, not since she'd suddenly quarreled with him as a child, and never told him why.

"Ok, so I'm definitely keeping this." There was a finality in her statement, like they'd sealed a contract. It brought a smile to his face even as she stepped away. "I have to go prepare for the day but … can we speak, later?"

"After the class, like yesterday?" he asked hopefully. He almost couldn't believe it.

"Something warm to eat, in the hall after?" she replied, almost sweetly. She was smiling. She was really smiling. For him.

"Yeah, yeah, sounds great."

The sun dimmed as soon as she nodded, having gone behind one of the many cloud blankets that stopped the day from being completely beautiful. If only in the sky. For Hiccup today was fucking fantastic.

"Right, so I have to go check the stuff at Troll Peak. I'll see you in the ring!"

"Wait!" she handed him his helmet, as he'd completely forgotten he didn't have it on. He gaped at it for a moment before looking at her again. She was grinning fondly. That was another look he had never even imagined. The smile on his face got wider and stupider, and she laughed.

"Don't spring all the traps!" she said, slapping his shoulder, and he quickly put the helmet on and sprinted towards the woods before he could make more of a fool of himself. He couldn't help turning and yelling, a 'see you later!' to which she answered with a shooing gesture.

He almost fell over his feet three times as he entered the treeline, and had to stop and lean against a sturdy oak a few feet in, because his knees were suddenly shaky.

Astrid knew. Astrid knew and didn't hate him. Astrid knew and more than didn't hate him.

Thor and Odin … as soon as this was over, maybe, if he was lucky, he'd have something to come back to. Maybe if she was right, he'd have a home again.

=0=

Snotlout's day had begun horribly. There was a massive, horrible lizard in his bedroom, curled around his bed and breathing awful, putrid stench in his direction, making the room sweltering hot. What did he care if had snowed outside, he was a man, and men didn't need built-in heaters to keep their feet warm. Real men had cold feet.

Then his father had woken him up before dawn, expecting him to lug firewood for the house while his lazy brothers-in-law got a later morning because they had banged all night. Both his sisters had married in the last few years, and Snotlout often found himself hating their husbands as they tried to take his place on the table beside his father, or tried to ingratiate themselves with his mother when they stayed over. They knew he would be the next head of household once his father passed, and they were trying to take his place, as they were both second and third sons within their own homes.

Well, too bad. And once he was chief, they'd get it too. He couldn't understand why they didn't stay in their respective halls anyway. What did he care of Gunfindle's hall was so small that his three children all share one bed? What did he care if his second sister's husband had his right arm amputated recently because they'd dropped the building weights on it in an accident, and Gerda was alone in their hall, because her husband's parents had passed? If they were well enough to shag, they were well enough to get back to their own damn place.

His mood soured further when the sun began rising, glinting blearily against what seemed like everything metal the village contained. A sleepless night after a day trying to work with that damned lizard hadn't been fun, and he was going to make sure no one else had fun today. It was only fair.

And speaking of fair, he'd get Fireworm to sit on that idiotic helmeted man today if it killed him; he was going to see how much he liked it when a ten-ton lizard squashed him like a bug - then again, Snotlout could take it. He could come out from under her with all his bones intact and walk away. Cattongue would probably be buried in the first plot of land they could get rid of him in; or scraped off the ground after exploding like an over-ripe grapefruit all over the arena.

The (wussy) man himself came into view as Snotlout came into the plaza, glinting like the rest of it with his stupid armour. Which real man needed full-body armour like that, with all those shiny metal bits poking out of coloured leather! And the Bog girl kept saying he was a lady-killer, HA! Snotlout would recognise a fellow like himself, and Cattongue the ugly scar monster certainly wasn't one!

Unless… what the… Snotlout rubbed his eyes, and sure enough, a pair of arms were wound around the ugly-man's armour, fingers fiddling with the hair at his nape in a way that made Snotlout shudder and tingle all over. What the… no, no no no, that wasn't fair at all! It didn't make sense. Women dug muscles, a good pair of hammies that could bench-press their weight in yaks. Not… string bean men, in strange silly armour and a covered hideous face.

It was the dragon thing, Snotlout just knew it was the dragon thing. In he came riding a night fury like the unnatural, mad, crazy foreigner that he was, and yet somehow women seemed to dig that all of a sudden! Why, even Astrid…

Snotlout's thought process stopped short as a suspicion bloomed in his brain and he looked harder at the scene. That Cattongue bastard was standing an awful lot close to Stoick's hut. And was there a glint of yellow hair or was it just a reflection? No, it couldn't be.

Then Cattongue moved away. Snotlout gaped, watching unbelieving as Astrid - no, really, hard-as-nails-Astrid, laughed and smiled and slapped him playfully and gave him the helmet. She saw his horrid face then went and hugged him?

He wasn't stupid, he knew what that was. He'd seen both his sisters be married and courted, and he'd romanced a few of the girls himself for a good night's romp. This was not happening. She was supposed to stay available for him to nab up once Hiccup the Useless had been gone long enough to be passed over. He'd been waiting for her, strutting his stuff for years and refusing most of the offers he received, and this is how she repays him?

Snotlout saw red.

He was scaling the incline towards the house even as the other man left, and huffing like a mad bull as he shot like an arrow after the thinner man, planning to punch his head with no apologies or excuses.

"Snotlout, what …" He ignored her, fuming at the nose in the cold morning air, crunching the snow under his boots savagely. How dare she - how dare he! They were making fun of him, carrying on behind everyone's back and pretending they were just talking, or just training, or just going to the healer, or just hugging in the middle of a post-battle field … ah, true, they hadn't even had the decency to be subtle about it!

"Snotlout!" He ignored her, and that was the only warning he got. He was just about to breach the tree-line when his stronger arm was wrenched back and moving forward would mean popping his shoulder out of its socket. He growled back at her and she pulled warningly.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she hissed, coming close to his ear and being closer to him than she was in years. It only made him angrier as he remembered her fingers diving into that horrible man's hair, like a whore against a wall in the back alleys of the Capital he'd only heard of on the mainland.

The thought made him madder - what had they done? What had been the point of looking up at her and thinking she was the strongest and most beautiful when she let this … stranger do as he will with her. With a yell, he bucked her off, his arm giving a yelp of protest he barely felt in his anger. He turned and swung at her, and he swung again - she evaded every time, telling him to stop and growling at him, but he couldn't hear what she was saying, nor did he want to - she was a damned whore.

He finally got close enough to land a blow, but she ducked at the last minute. The hit still glanced her on the shoulder, and she was flung around, falling on her face with her hands shooting out catch herself as her legs stretched out in front of him. Her hair flopped in a whip of golden light over her shoulder in the newly risen sun.

That was when he realised that her hair was down, and the last of his reason fled him.

"You complete slut! You whore!" he yelled, grabbing her by the hair before she could react and beginning to drag her by it towards the plaza. Her call of pain let satisfaction bloom in his chest to mix with guilt and the feeling that he was doing something he was never going to be able to take back.

A part of him was desperate to stop. The swell of desire not to dent a relationship he'd had since he was a tiny boy bubbled in his chest as she began yelling and flailing in both anger and pain as he took her over the rocky terrain of the path that traversed the grassy knoll they were descending from Stoick's hall. But there were suddenly people around them, staring, and if he let her go now without his rightful reason being known, it would retort against him, making him seem like the wronger instead of the wronged. It spurred him on to drag her on her back, still kicking out and yelling as she clawed at his hand fisted in her golden hair. He had had so many fantasies about touching the hair she had always kept tightly braided and here she was, letting it down for a foreigner while being engaged to another man.

"Snotlout, what are you doing!" That was Brunhilda, and bile rose up to his throat. But he stood straighter and finally flung Astrid down with such strength that her head bounced against the - thankfully - soft earth. The fact that she only half-rose slowly, shoulders shaking and hair obscuring her completely, made his breath catch in his throat, but he clung on to his rightful anger.

"Your daughter is a whore!" he called out boldly. All the people present gaped at him, some of them gasped. Brunhilda looked like her daggers were going to come out to play. A rush of defiance rose in his chest; she wouldn't be so riotous and defensive once she heard. "I just saw your daughter hugging that damn foreigner Cattongue, hair full down, right under the nose of our chief! In full view of the plaza she was, just standing there with no shame with her arms around the man and her hair out! It's a miracle she's not in her skivvies!"

"Hold your tongue!" someone called - Snotlout looked around and couldn't tell who it was until they spoke again, and then he gawped as the short Goethi stepped forward. He'd been convinced she was mute. The crowd parted for her, all looking at one another in askance. She did not speak again, but began scribbling, and everyone looked around for Gobber. Snotlout didn't have the patience for it.

"I know what I saw!" he yelled, frustration mounting that no one seemed to pay him any mind any more as they all tried to see what the Goethi wrote, craning their necks and looking at him dubiously. Spit gathered in his mouth as his stomach balked at the prospect of being labeled a liar after what he'd seen, clear as day; and he knew there were a few of them who were looking at Astrid's rising form with some sort of speculation. He couldn't have been the only one who saw how Cattongue tried to touch her so often. And Astrid - the stupid slut who let her hair down for a stranger, falling into his arms like a stupid brainless girl! - was rising off the ground into a crouch and looking at him murderously. A part of him had the decency to be terrified. Another simply became furious at her defiance; who did she think she was!

He snapped around, drawing his leg back before he could think, and planning full well to kick her in her stupid pretty face. He just had the time to see her eyes look at his foot and widen, too close and too rattled to react on time, before his face exploded in stars and pain. He realised he'd fallen only because his head bumped against something that smelled like grass.

"What the fuc-"

He looked up, spitting blood, to see the bastard himself, Cattongue with his fist still out and trembling. He shot to his feet and Cattongue stood straighter, making Snotlout realise that he was a good half-head shorter than the man, and making his anger rise. His fist rose, and someone grabbed him from behind.

"What the hell is wrong with you, to attack a woman like that!" Cattongue yelled.

"She's a bloody slut!" he spit, feeling himself sound like a broken record. Cattongue swelled farther, and Snotlout snapped at him with satisfaction, "Look at you, defending her and proving my point!"

"I merely did what any sane man would do in view of a mad one!" he growled back, and he turned to look at the crowd that had surrounded them by now with such contempt that it was felt through his helmet. A growl announced the night fury's arrival that bucked it's way through the people, throwing those who didn't get out its way fast enough onto the ground. The luminous green eyes traversed with angry black slits set a cold sweat down Snotlout's back, and the crowd suddenly felt like an impediment to escape instead of support to him.

"What's going on here!"

Stoick came down the hill, people parting for him too with the same alacrity as they did for the night fury. The creature growled, but subsided once the bastard put a palm on its nose. How did the bastard do that?

No time like the present. "I saw these two-" he waved a hand towards Cattongue and Astrid, who had stood behind the ugly-man and was looking at him like she wanted to skin him with a salt dagger "-behind your hut, under your nose, Sir. They were entangled, and Astrid had let her hair down for him."

"What!" she screamed.

"Dragon shit," Cattongue hissed. "What proof do you have."

"My own eyes! I'm a Jorgensen, my father is a general of his village! I wouldn't lie on this!"

The crowd murmured. Cattongue seemed to grow even angrier.

"If you must know," he hissed, and the crowd quieted instantly, as if they'd suddenly realised they were facing a venomous, angry snake. The mental analogy pleased Snotlout and he almost smirked. "We spoke of Hiccup, her promised. If anyone has the right to shame her it is either Stoick, her father or Hiccup, and he would never!"

"What do you know of him?" Snotlout sneered.

"I know him well enough, we've shared a forge, and I was assuring Astrid that he's alive and well. And that he …" he looked back at her, though her eyes were fixed on Snotlout with a promise of death three dragon-hides thick. "...he cares for her, and Berk. The last I know; he was ready to be back, soon. Though," he turned to Snotlout stonily, "I think he'd be less inclined to return if he saw all this." Now Astrid looked at Cattongue with a look that Snotlout would almost call terrified if traces of pure anger weren't mixed in healthy quantities.

"My son said that?" Stoick asked, voice stead as he came further forward. Cattongue nodded.

"When I spoke with Astrid of it, she was moved. I was merely reassuring her."

"And are you reassured?" Snotlout asked with a sneer, "with your fingers in his hair and your hair down!"

"You dragged me down the hill by it, of course it came loose!"

Oh, fuck. She'd managed to turn the tables on him, and there was no way he could prove otherwise but his word, and by the murmuring and looks he was getting, it wasn't looking good at all.

"Still, the matter needs to be sorted," Stoick said gruffly. "The accusation is a grave one, and it is an insult to me personally as well." Aha, look at him now, the brave Dragon-man! It was slight, but Cattongue had flinched, and Snotlout had seen it. "We must go to the hall, discuss the matter there."

"Sir," Cattongue replied. "I will do as you require." But Snotlout saw him glance at the forest; he was going to escape, the great hero, looking for ways to high tail it into the forest! Let him, so the people of Berk would see him for the coward he was.

"Very well, then," Stoick continued. "Let's take it to the Mead hall and see what we can conclude the-"

A call interrupted him. As one, everyone turned to look towards to sky to see a number of dragons descending. Weapons were fingered as shoulders tensed, until another call, this time a recognisably breathless ahoy, was heard from ATOP the dragon.

Within moments, two gronkles and one nadder had landed beside the crowd, and Dogsbreath was the third person who parted the circle of people, reaching for Cattongue with fatigued, breathless motions as he waved his hand behind him vehemently.

"What is it?" Cattongue asked, urgently. Dogsbreath rested an outstretched arm on Cattongue's shoulder as the thinner man held him up. Once some of his breath had been recovered, he looked up with a mask of worry on his features.

"It's coming. We spotted it on the way here, a massive stain on the ocean surface. It's barely a day behind us."

Calls erupted, then almost panic, before Stoick and Cattongue yelled for calm at the same instant. They looked at one another, and Cattongue bowed a head to their chief.

"We knew it was coming! This is an advantage we were not planning on - now we know when it will be here in advance, and can prepare. Cattongue, what is the situation at Troll's Peak!"

"I was just on my way to check before this business broke out." Cattongue turned to his dragon and mounted. "With your permission, I'd like to go there quickly to make sure everything is in order. Our defences should be ready. But when I am back, I would like to give all those who are mounted as much training as we can afford."

"We'll come with you!" Thuggory and the others were descending the hill, the Bog girl already on her dragon. Tuffnut, that traitor was walking up on his zippleback's head, and - was that Ruffnut the mum sitting right next to him on the other head?!

"You're going to need all the help you can get!" the Bog girl called out. Thuggory's wife, whatever she was called, mounted her nadder, and suddenly Astrid was mounting her own and a number of others who had acquired one quickly followed suit. Cattongue looked around at them, then turned to Stoick.

"Sir?" he asked.

Stoick nodded. "Be back as soon as you can. I want you to report to me and the council." Cattongue nodded at him. "Men! Gather at the sentry points! I want a lookout on every Thor forsaken rock jutting out into the water. Ugly-Thug, which direction was it coming from!"

"Due East, straight from the isle!" was the yelled reply as the stupid Cattongue the Idiot began to bark orders at the mounted forces, organising them into ranks - which they fell into without question. Snotlout growled when his own dragon came up to him and gave him a nudge, and turned away from her. The last time there was a battle, she had betrayed him and ridden out without him. He wouldn't trust her again. With determination, he moved towards his father and the other men about to gather into the hall.

"Dot the rocks with men and make sure to look at every inch of the horizon! Council, to the hall. Cattongue!"

"Sir!" With a salute, the bastard was off, and all the ones mounting dragons rose after him. Fireworm gave him an moan, but he ignored her and stood beside her father.

"Not going, son?"

"That thing took off on its own during the raid; it can do that again for all I care," he replied in a bored tone. Fireworm gave him a sad croon which tugged at his chest, but he ignored it. Real men didn't fall for the begging of a giant lizard's yellow eyes.

"Very well then, hush up and come in. You have to tell me what happened; and then you're going to make yourself useful with the women and children."

"What?!" he yelped. "No way, even Ruffnut's out there!"

"Yeah, and she's left her daughter with Fishleg's mother, so it's your duty to look to them, since you don't have a woman and child of your own."

Snotlout's mood darkened further as he trudged after his father, ignoring anything else he said.

=0=

Ruffnut was in heaven.

Well, she had been in heaven until Tuffnut the horribly idiot-headed opened his mouth.

"You can't be out here too! What will happen to our little girl if we both die a horrible, roasty and crispy death!"

Her idiot-headed brother who had told her husband that she was on the dragon with him.

"Fishlegs."

" ...and then they'll take her to the matron, and the matron will decide who will take care of her …"

"Fishlegs!"

" … they don't know she likes her feet tickled, and that the sound of sloshing liquid always makes her giggle, and that-"

"FISHLEGS!"

Cattongue swooped in, the night fury (how awesome was that!) turning its body like it was made of black water and then sleekly cutting the air beside their three flying dragons. Great, so her husband hadn't learned to shut up when the wife spoke yet, but did it when someone else called? She needed to train him better.

"I need you to tell me what you think of that."

There was a giant … dome-like woven thing being wheeled to the edge of the two cliffs that made up the entrance to the beach hidden at the bottom of a sheer, flat-rocked chalk drop from Troll's peak. The beach itself was a perfect crescent moon of white chalk sand, the broad side snug against the rocks of the Peak, then disappearing gradually into the emerald coloured water. The part of her that had learned the value of looking at things of nature from her dear husband was almost sad to see this almost-perfect thing about to be destroyed. The part that was pure-Ruffnut was gleefully anticipating the massive explosions and eager to see what new shape it would take.

"Is that …" Fishlegs' jaw dropped, and Ruffnut knew him well enough now to nudge her brother on the adjacent dragon head and direct their own ride to follow the other two. Her sweet little gas-monster (the fourth one; the first three were Fishlegs, her baby, and his dragon, in that order) had taken to her well, not really having bonded with her other sibling at all. Ruffnut knew she'd be more comfortable if she could share a dragon with anyone else, but then again, Tuffnut did tend to understand the more destructive side of her. And this battle was going to be the mother of all destruction. Ruffnut still had no idea what those two were talking about, however.

"Yeah," she could hear Cattongue say over the wind that always licked at you in this place. The beach below, by contrast, was almost always stagnant and windless, but as soon as you climbed to the peak, the strong air currents always threatened to swallow you up or throw you back down. "That's what I'm counting on. If it worked on the fastest dragon in creation, it can work on the largest one."

"What?" she heard Tuffnut yell.

Cattongue seemed to falter in his landing of the black dragon, who promptly glared up at him and gave him a wallop with a wing. Awesome, she had to teach the zippleback to do that to her brother.

"That thing should be big enough to trap, or at least slow the Red Death down."

Red Death. Gods, she loved her husband. He came up with such awesome names all of Berk approved of them.

Now if only he'd name their baby.

"Will it launch like the nets?" Fishlegs asked as they all dismounted, and her husband walked up to the complicated looking machinery. She grabbed a rock and promptly smashed it into her brother's head, which made him collapse momentarily. When the other two men looked back at her, she shrugged.

"He was getting the urge to come there and break it," she said. Fishlegs nodded in understanding he'd gained through habit, while Cattongue shook his head with a snorted chuckle that sounded … oddly familiar. Where in Hel's realm …

"Anyway, this will only hold it back for a while. It launches re-inforced …" Ruffnut zoned them out, stepping on her brother purposefully as she moved as close to the cliff edge as she dared to watch the rest of the preparations. She would usually be wary of her brother stalking up behind her, but since Fishlegs showed exactly how he took someone hurting his wife on Snotlout, he'd toned it down considerably. Damn it all.

Still, this was entertaining to watch without distractions. The far side was littered with stacked up leaves and bushes that were only planted there as a fake, because she'd been here many times and they'd never been there before. On the side closest to her, however, she could see exactly what was going on as vikings packed twigs of mint and lavender around various bits of equipment, pots that are being filled with yellowish tinkling crystals and other strange stuff she didn't know. Eager, fidgety dragons were nudging their humans, pretty much like her zippleback head was nudging its way into her side, and she pet it under one if its numerous chin fringes, making it rumble with its eyes falling shut.

"Oh, look at that, that's wicked!" Tuffnut snickers on her other side, and she turned to look at the direction that had him so diverted, but couldn't see anything but bushes.

"What's eaten your brain? The trees are wicked now?"

"No! It's the sharp, pointy-"

"That's perfect!" Fishlegs yelled, his voice almost squeaky with his excitement. Ruffnut slapped her forehead at her husband, putting the task of training him out of that on her list, too. How could a man of his size and girth have a voice like that? And speaking of size and girth, there were a couple of bushes that really looking private back there…

"Oi, Fishlegs," she called, interrupting whatever involved conversation the two men were having as she spotted Astrid about to fly over, her nadder hovering in tight circles as a riderless nightmare followed her dragon listlessly. Perfect, she could distract her brother and the night fury guy. Whatever his name was. She was too distracted by her good-looking-husband-who-may-be-in-Valhalla-later to care. She couldn't let the last nookie of her life pass her by after all. "I've got a cramp," she said, looking at him purposefully and feeling that now-usual sense of accomplishment when he went crimson and started looking at her in that way.

Yeah, her husband was smart, and awesome. To the bushes it was.

"Let me help you with that. I'll be back in a bit; my wife needs some help," he said to Cattongue, who seemed too awkward when he nodded and moved to let them pass not to have caught on - but she couldn't care less, not really. The only problem she was going to have is that she was going to have to be quiet.

Then again, the thrill of possibly being caught may make this the best nookie of their lives. She just prayed to Freya and her brother that it didn't have to be their last.

=0=

Astrid landed and dismounted right away, walking up to Hiccup worriedly as the nightmare flopped on the grassy head of the cliff that looked remarkably like a grouchy Troll, naming the promontory.

"I think that's Fireworm," she said quietly, irrationally glad and at once irritated at Tuffnut's presence a few steps away, flat on his belly as he looked at the opposite wall surrounding the gorge which contained the beach. He could stave the gossip her talking to Hiccup might spur, but he was also … in the way.

Why was she so desperate to drag him to a quiet spot all of a sudden? She didn't even know what she would do. She's said all she thought she wanted to say this morning already. But then Snotlout went and pulled that spectacularly stupid move, and it left her somehow … wanting to explain, and to talk. And just to have those moments in the sun she had this morning all over again.

The overcast sky rumbled, as if to mock her. Summer was drawing to a definite close. And with the massive dragon, or Red Death as Fishlegs had named it, literally looming on the horizon, everything felt breathlessly on the cusp of nothingness.

Hiccup, meanwhile, seemed to be entirely focussed on the logistics of the situation and was frowning just as thunderously at the grass while he absently petted the upset nightmare, forever ignoring social awkwardness when he needed to forge ahead with his plans. At least that hadn't changed completely in him - she clearly remembered him cracking a joke on people's weight after he'd cost them half their supplies for the Winter that year, such a long time ago.

Now, it was just a subtle change - instead of being too distractingly focussed on how to break things to care about the social uppity rules they lived in, he was too focussed on how to fix them. All in all, it was a change she could embrace in him, especially since now that she was looking, almost all of him was still the Hiccup she remembered from her childhood and the one she'd missed dearly.

"We can't afford even a single rider not being up, even if its Snotlout." He turned to the dragon. "You dropped him in the raid. I noticed that. I think he hasn't forgiven you yet." Fireworm moaned pathetically, hiding her head under her wing. Astrid felt it tug at her heart, and her nadder gently placed her bony chin on Astrid's shoulder. The girl suddenly felt awful for having delayed naming her dragon for so long, when even Snotlout had - and she suddenly understood Fishlegs perfectly. Something felt final about giving her nadder a name. Once she did, there was no going back.

Hiccup sighed, and then nodded to himself.

"Tuffnut!"

The male twin had still been lying on his belly, using a strange instrument against his eye - a spy glass! That was one of Hiccup's tool pieces, one of which she'd hoarded away from Gobber's into her pouch. But she didn't have time to be upset about the theft as Hiccup gave clear, crisp and no-nonsense orders, taking out a few small pieces of parchment and scribbling things down in charcoal, and barking at Tuffnut to get each one to the right person, ASAP, or else, and that he could keep the spy glass on condition that he would not touch anything until he returned.

Astrid suddenly had the very distinct impression that she was watching either a scene from the past with Stoick's early chiefing years, or a scene from the future. She wasn't sure which one she liked best of those two ideas.

They were up in the air again shortly, Fireworm following eagerly as they zoomed towards the village. Ever the cautious planner, Hiccup passes them through a waterfall, and Astrid only realises that it was to wash off an lingering traces of the scent mark seconds after she opens her mouth to yell at him for the freezing bath. The next second, the unfamiliar feeling in her chest was back with a vengeance at his steadfast care and thoughtfulness as she looked at him almost hovering on Toothless' back through the wind resistance, standing in his stirrups as he flattened himself against his hand controls. She spurred her dragon forward, praying to all the gods that the sudden surge of competitive spirit she felt right then would have an outlet later, when she was free to roam the skies with him and race him to places unimportant.

When they landed in the Berk plaza, the situation they found couldn't have been more different to that of a normal late summer morning. No one was pandering their wares or cleaning their homes. On the contrary, pre-packed weapons and supplies were being hauled away, both in wagons and in carts built only yesterday to be handled by two dragons as they flew towards the safety of the hidden beach. Activity stopped for a moment as the night fury's characteristic scream cut the air, causing a few to duck down and some others to run up.

"I need to find Snotlout," Hiccup said without preamble. Astrid was down beside him in an instant, and couldn't help but notice a few of the fidgeting feet and eyes as the people gathered around glanced between them and their friends.

Dear gods, Snotlout's accusations had done more damage than she had thought possible. And they didn't have the time to fix any of it.

"We have to get Fireworm to him," Hiccup went on, again willfully ignoring all the social awkwardness happening around him in the name of the situation's logistics. "I need all the riders accounted for and in the air doing their assigned jobs. Where is he?"

"I think Spitelout had him go with the women. The council went with them to make sure the hideout is secure." Phlegma answered. That would almost be hilarious if it didn't make Hiccup growl so horribly. Astrid still wasn't used to angry Hiccup. Somehow, it was fascinating; she'd have to prod at it later.

"That is not what I told Snotlout to do!" he grumbled in a voice that was almost recognisably his own. "I need him in position!"

"I'll take you there," Astrid sighed, and murmuring erupted among the people. Phlegma gave her a startled look, and Burp the Baker looked like he was about to panic. Hiccup proved not to be as oblivious as he'd previously appeared to be when he yelled in frustration and yanked his helmet off.

"For the last time! We don't have time for this! Astrid is not breaking her contract. Especially not with me!" He slammed his helmet back on, slapping the plates in place from behind; growled again. "Let's just go!" He took off, obviously not needing directions.

Astrid looked after him for a moment, and then spared a glance at the crowd in the plaza. Some of them had expressions of shocked startlement, others of confusions, still others of anger. Phlegma had her eyes wide and suspiciously shiny, both hands pressed to her mouth. She had definitely noticed. When Astrid caught her eye, she put a finger to her lips and then pointed to the rest beseechingly. Phlegma blinked, then nodded, and with a grateful bob of her head Astrid followed after Hiccup.

Hiccup was already fielding questions at the beach when she caught up to him, and Stoick was trying to contain his fury at the island's secret hideout being breached.

"Sir, I swear on my honour and on everything I hold dear that I have no use and no reason to betray this information. But I need Snotlout to be where I told him to be; he's to switch the braziers off, and he's Thuggory's backup, and Hoark just isn't enough on his own on that end. Hoark has a family, and children; he needs the backup too!"

As soon as Astrid landed with Firworm hot on her heels, Stoick turned to her. He rolled his shoulders and waved her forward. She ran to him, and he steered her away from Hiccup for some privacy.

"Why did you bring him here?" he hissed. She stood straight, trying to ignore how strongly he was holding her shoulder, engulfing all of it with one hand.

"I can't make Snotlout get onto Fireworm; I'm lucky to know what I do about nadders, and I know nothing at all about nightmares. He's the one who knows, and we do owe him a debt. What he says about the dragons has to go! At least until the Red Death is dead."

And then maybe, Hiccup could come home. If what she'd seen now was any indication, and what he'd done for her this morning was any proof, he was slowly becoming ready to come home. Maybe Berk could have a Hiccup again, and she could finally start carving hammers for different reasons.

"And how do you believe this was your decision to make?" he hissed. "I know what went down this morning, Astrid, and we need to speak of that later; but I will let you know now that your decision here, today, has certainly made me reconsider a few things." Her blood ran cold as she looked up at him. "We do not have time for this now, but rest assured - we will talk about your … circumstances on Berk, later."

He left her reeling as he went back towards the arguing Hiccup and Snotlout, who was steadfast refusing to get anywhere close to the dragon. Bile rose to her throat, but she swallowed it, and then she rolled her shoulders and trudged forward herself, chin jutting out. Her treatorous mind still spun in the background - if he broke her contract, he may as well banish her, and just now that Hiccup -

Not the time. So many things could change today. Forever. She was not to know which ones. That was up to the gods.

"Snotlout's been clear, I think, boy," Spitelout was saying with ill-humour. "He doesn't condone your way, only the Viking way. He's needed here with the women and children anyway. He needs to guard the families of others."

"That is not what we agreed upon as a price!" Hiccup hissed, and Astrid heard a few gasps; Hiccup had not once brought the agreement up since it had been struck, even when Stoick had pushed its boundaries to the limit and made him fight for every single victory. Now Astrid knew why - but apparently Hiccup had finally reached the end of his rope, and was going to use Viking law if he had to.

"And what are you going to ask for as reparations," Spitelout asked slyly. "The girl behind you?" Astrid had to curb the urge to reach for her axe - when the weight of it rested in her hand, she realised she didn't hold her reflex strongly enough.

"I already belong to Hiccup!" she hissed, and almost clobbered Hiccup when he flinched, just a little bit. He was not denying her claim, and his reaction could be misconstrued! Idiot!

A slamming and jangling made people move aside for a rather irate Goethi, who whacked whoever she passed who didn't get out of her way fast enough. Finally, she gave Snotlout, Spitelout, Hiccup and Stoick a good twack each. It was almost satisfying to see them cowing like young boys in front of the hip-high woman. She scratched a few signs in the beach's sand, and Gobber quickly hopped in to interpret.

"She says, you're all behaving like three month old yaks. And that there's more where that came from." He snickered. And got whalloped too. "Ow, crazy old bat!" Whack. "Oi! …. She says that the dragon can have another rider if the stupid boy over there wants to be passed over, and that now is not the time to see who's curls are prettier. And that she would like to remind Stoick to milk … the windmill?" This whack made everyone wince. "OW! What! … Oh, to remind him of what you've spoken." Gobber looked towards Stoick in askance. The chief huffed in annoyance, waving his arm outwards violently.

"Fine! Be on your way with that dragon."

"There is no time to train someone else!" Hiccup replied, finally losing his patience. "If something happens to Hoark, on your head be it!"

Astrid stared at him, never having seen - not before he left, nor since he'd returned - Hiccup address his father in that manner. Sensing that this was not the time to argue, Astrid quickly moved towards the nadder as Hiccup hopped onto Toothless and began snapping his gear in place.

"Oi, I'll take 'er," Gobber suddenly said, moving forward towards the dragon.

"Gobber, you know you have another role," Hiccup said with tight patience, his self-control apparently partially restored, at least with the blacksmith.

"I will, then," Stoick said. Astrid saw Hiccup's throat bobble as he swallowed hard, and he quickly dismounted Toothless, who looked at his nervous rider in evident worry.

"Sir, you took a blow to the head two days ago," he said, and Astrid now was finally aware of how painfully raw and obvious the care in Hiccup's voice was as he spoke to his dad. He desperately wanted him to be safe, and in no way upset. And yet somehow managed to irritate him with every word he said - just as he had when he was young, thin, and looking up at the man hopefully from a much lower height. Astrid's nadder nudged her as her heart went out to him.

"You think that would be enough to stop the chief of Berk?" Stoick growled at him. Hiccup stiffened.

"Fine. But on one condition; you will wear the armour I made for you - even the head gear. Let's go back to the village. This is no place for you to train Fireworm."

Astrid was breathing hard as she watched them go, Gobber sighed and returned to his duty of helping all the non-fighters get settled. Just as she was about to turn to her nadder and follow, a tug on her hand made her look down.

The Goethi was there, looking stern.

"You can't, child," she said, and Astrid gasped and almost stumbled. The Goethi slapped her thigh with her staff to get her to focus again.

"What can't I?" she asked cautiously, wrapping her head around the fact that the old woman was speaking to her.

"You can't pay two men with the same coin," she replied, looking at her sharply. When Astrid only blinked at her, the Goethi's eyes narrowed, and she continued. "You can't marry them both."

Astrid blinked at her again. And then, she smiled.

"I may just manage," she replied, slipping her hand out of the old woman's grip and moving towards her nadder. Before she took off, she could have sworn there was a satisfied look on the healer's face.

=0=

Stoick watched the purple nightmare warily as she circled around, looking anxious and worried. The boy and his night fury were off to one side, ramaging through the equipment in the box, and Stoick tried not be annoyed by how casually he was doing it. The chief wasn't sure whether to be worried or gratified that he had finally managed to see him lose his temper, and let go of that chill detachment or patent calm that had always permeated his interactions with the young man. He'd manage to crack him, finally, to push him to the limit. But as Cattongue turned towards him with stiff impatient steps, rope in hand and evidently annoyed night fury at his heels, Stoick began to doubt how smart it had been.

Especially, as the Goethi had asked him to look, he had realised that it wasn't being disobeyed that had driven Cattongue mad, it was the chance that Hoark would be hurt as a result of Snotlout bowing out.

"You're larger than Snotlout, so the saddle needs adjustment," he said by way of explaining the rope, bending down and working furiously at the buckles, placing the leather seat further back and only changing from his hissing, angry tone when he was speaking to the obviously upset dragon.

"Don't worry, girl, I'm sure Snotlout will forgive you eventually, ok? You went off without him, so it was your bad, wasn't it?" Stoick had to admit that the dragon looked glum at being rejected, and gladly took Cattongue's comfort as he scratched her chin, and even accepted the night fury's rumbling, gentle head butt. Once Cattongue thought the saddle seemed to be in the right position, rope adding an additional few inches back, he stood and beckoned to Stoick with an attitude that took no nonsense at all. Stoick suddenly felt like he'd gone back ten years, and Val was looking at him about something or other he'd done wrong, and he was sheepishly walking towards her to be cuffed.

He banished the stupid thought, walking forward as warily as he had ever approached any dragon.

"That's not going to work," Cattongue said right away, and it was a testament to how his patience had truly finished that all the usual politeness and respect was gone from his voice. Goethi's words hit him again as he realised he had been misconstruing genuine respect for manipulation, and that this young man was currently controlling his urge to send him to Hel's realm by a hair's breath.

"You have to trust a dragon in order for it to trust you. That is the main issue Snotlout had with her. He wouldn't trust her, so she got back to him by leaving him behind when the raid happened." He scratched at her chin again, giving a wry chuckle. "Nightmares are stubborn. Not as stubborn as night furies …" A high pitched noise of indignation left the black dragon, who whacked his rider with a tail. The man only snickered as he slapped the dragon's head away. "But their pride is by far the largest."

Cattongue walked up to Stoick with a firm step, his body language still screaming impatience with the human in a way it never did with the dragons. Taking Stoick's forearm, he tugged him forward, and the chief finally took umbrage.

"What do you propose I do, then?" he said, pulling his arm out of the smaller man's grip. Cattongue's body went even stiffer, and Stoick realised he'd crossed the last possible line.

"I propose you listen and you stop wasting my time and yours if you are serious about wanting Fireworm. She's already lost the first rider she's bonded with, she won't be well if she loses a second. And the Red Death is less than a day away! From one moment to the next we could hear the horns warning us that its on the horizon, and then it will be far too late! And where is Hofferson!"

Stoick blustered further. "You stay away from my daughter-in-law," he said with purpose. Cattongue whirled on him furiously. "What do you want with her now, haven't you damaged her enough!"

"I have not damaged her at all!" he yelled back, "And what I want with her is someone to inform the others that there are going to be some plans changed; because your place was supposed to be with the people operating the catapults, and now that will have to change if you're covering Hoark - and Spitelout will have to step in there, or Hacknee. And someone is going to have to replace them, and the easiest thing would be for Hofferson to replace her father at the front of the first push, because she knows what he was to be doing!"

Stoick looked at the boy, wide eyed at the sound logic of that strategy, and the fact that he had thought about it at all.

"We do not have time for this training session, frankly, Sir. Both you and I should be out there, taking care that every single detail is in place so it can all go without a hitch, and that no one gets hurt!" Cattongue walked back towards the nightmare, who tried to give the young man a comforting nose, and only received a curt petting. "Same goes for you, Fireworm. Will you be good for Stoick? He's the chief of this tribe, it's leader, and I need to know you will take care of him. The other people are counting on him, and the other dragons are counting on you to keep him safe. Will you do that now, girl?"

With some hesitation, the nightmare looked from the young man beside her to Stoick, and with a brief call and wiggle of her head as if to ask for reassurance she then turned her yellow eyes to him and assessed him briefly before beginning to crawl forward.

As she got nearer, every movement he made caused the dragon to flinch, and she was constantly looking back towards Cattongue as if she were a young lass seeking approval from a parent to approach a stranger.

In that moment, Stoick realised two things; that the dragon was as terrified of him as he was of her, and that the creatures often behaved like a small child because they had the intelligence, and the innocence, of one.

"Don't move forward, Stoick," Cattongue instructed quietly, leaning casually against his night fury in a relaxed manner belied by the dragon's taunt body. Obviously, Stoick now could see that they would spring into action should anything happen, but Cattongue seemed content to let Stoick and the nightmare sort it out between them. "Just hold out your hand. Let her come on her own."

Stoick did as was asked of him with some trepidation. He squared his shoulders, holding his arm out and Fireworm walked up, eyes moving rapidly between his hand and his face, ready to draw back at a moment's notice. Finally, when she saw Stoick simply looking back, and unmoving for a lapse of time that seemed enough for her, she gently pushed her horned muzzle into Stoicks meaty hand.

The warm scales, dry and vibrating with the creature's breath, were something Stoick never thought he'd touch without it being the last thing he did before he died. Not like this, in the loving manner of a caress, as the creature he was touching looked up at him with innocent hope.

"You feel that?" Cattongue asked gently, coming from the side and somehow managing not to startle the moment he was feeling as it built inside him. Stoick spared him a glance, and the nightmare rumbled a purr, looking at him happily when she had his attention once more; again, just like a small child, seeking the approval of a favourite adult. "That is the bond you form with your dragon. She will care for you and protect you with everything she's got. You have to promise yourself to do the same; only then will you two really be a team." The night fury came up behind Cattongue and nudged him lovingly. "Like Toothless and I."

There was a pause as Stoick looked at the boy - young man - in front of him, and both Goethi and Gobber's words ran in his mind as he caught a glimpse of green eyes looking at him eagerly, with a calm that meant his temper had been settled.

Stoick swallowed and nodded, the nightmare cautiously coming closer to him and nuzzling his side, closing her eyes and allowing him to pet her while she was completely unguarded against him. Cattongue nodded, and Stoick could see his eyes smile through his helmet.

"Why are you doing this?" Stoick finally asked, at last coming around to ask the question that he and Astrid had had the courage to pose that very first day, and that had remained unanswered since. He had almost been relieved. He hadn't wanted to face the answer, not with all the ones floating through his head. He was too afraid of Cattongue confirming some of his suspicions. Or worse, of dispelling them.

"You mean … for Berk?" Cattongue asked, his eyes suddenly covered by long, red-brown lashes as he looked down. "What kind of person would I be, if I could help but I didn't? Everyone on Berk is in danger, the whole of the tribe and the island are at stake, and I can't just stand by and do … nothing." He looked up at Stoick. "Even if Berk was my enemy, it would still make me sick if I decided not to help when I could. And Berk is … not my enemy. Not by a long shot." Cattongue seemed almost surprised by the last statement, said so quietly, almost as if to himself. It almost felt like he was telling himself something he'd believed for years was not real after all, and something echoed in Stoick's chest at the tone and the voice through the helmet; something familiar and painful. For a moment, he was reminded of his son, twelve years old and looking sadly back at him as he begged for later, and he had to swallow hard.

Before he could say anything, the fluttering of leathery wings was preceded by a gust of wind, and Astrid landed in the arena, passing through the main gate in a tight swoop. She hopped off the nadder right away, dodging the dragon's warbling snout as she walked towards them quickly.

"I've brought you food. We won't have time later." She gave them a loaf of bread each, and popped a small flask from which she poured some hot stew. She gave a tankard to each of them, then gave the dragons some fish.

"You need some too," Cattongue said after a swallow taken with the tankard under his mask revealing a strong chin, giving his own tankard back. She shook her head, taking a sip from the flask, and he drank again obediently.

"I've brought the chainmail, too," she said, turning to her dragon again and taking the tinkling metal links off her saddle. One she gave to Stoick, with an almost-shy glance, and she seemed relieved when he took it without preamble. She turned to Cattongue with another in her hand.

"This one's … for me?" she asked, this time definitely shy, and more than a little nervous. Cattongue tipped the tankard back, wiped his mouth, which Stoick unfortunately didn't get a glimpse of, and adjusted his helmet, nodding towards Astrid.

"I didn't have your measurements, Gobber helped with those. Try it on under your furs and let me know right away if it needs fixing. Fishlegs got his and it fits; his wife was lucky enough to fit in the first one I'd made for her brother and done too small. Try it on, there's barely any time. You're going to need to go to your father and tell him you're taking his place in the strategy, and have him go take over for Stoick with the catapults."

"What was my dad doing?" she asks matter of factly, quickly undoing her furs to reveal her tunic beneath and slipping the mail on top. She put her fur back onto the shining iron, shivering as it attracted the day's cold and made it cling to her chest, in the same way that the mail Stoick slipped on on top of all his clothing made him long to grab his fur lined coat.

"You don't know!" Cattongue said in dismay. "Don't you see him every night?"

"Not since I joined the Haddock clan," she replied quietly, almost gently, and Cattongue's head fell back in frustration.

"I have to admit, I was counting on you knowing," he groaned, huffing as he righted himself. "The truth is, Fishlegs and I calculated that the Red Death can't be more than ten hours away at this point. By the early hours of the morning tomorrow, it will be here, and we have to be prepared. We don't have time to get confused and go around rehashing strategies we'd already worked on and …"

He sighed in worry and frustration, rubbing the back of his head almost violently. Astrid's hand rose to his arm, grabbing his bicep beneath the shoulder pad, her thumb unconsciously rubbing an arc into his tense muscle. Stoick felt oddly out of place witnessing that gesture, even though he knew he had every right to take Astrid aside again and disciplining her even more harshly. But the girl had been loyal and sad and lonely for five years, and when it came down to it, she wasn't doing anything to act on the feeling she was obviously beginning to harbour for this boy.

And the Goethi had said …

"Calm down," she said, a smile on her voice where her face only had one lip corner upturned. "We need your head to be screwed on right to come up with something stupid when we need it most."

"I've already done that," he laughed, nudging his head towards the night fury who was happily sitting at his feet, eyes half closed in a semi-alert nap.

"Then do something crazy," she replied. He straightened, something rippling up his body as if he'd been pinched. The dragon seemed to sense it, as he snapped alert immediately and rose to his feet, almost freakishly in tune with his rider who hopped on as if he'd known the dragon could read his mind.

"You're a genius. Please stay here with Stoick; I have an idea."

He was out of the arena like a shot, whistling through the air and throwing some of the last few Hooligans not used to it yet behind their shield with a cry to get down.

"What was that about?" Stoick finally asked her, making her start out of whatever reverie she had fallen into as she stared after him. She smiled back at him, somewhat sheepishly, but not with enough shame on her face to justify any real transgression committed. And he knew Astrid to be focused, and in no way a liar, not to him or to herself. Stoick came to the uncomfortable realisation that any show of emotion she was exhibiting towards that young man was unconscious and the poor girl had not yet realised that her feelings for him and her situation had changed.

It made him feel horribly guilty about the way he'd spoken to her this morning. She seemed reluctant to bring it up, however, and was cautiously approaching the nightmare, who didn't seem to mind being petted by her at all.

"Are you serious about taking her in?" Astrid asked him cautiously. She was looking up at him through her lashes, and this time it was a step farther than sheepish. Being alone with him had probably made her slightly wary of his promised talk from this morning, and she was looking at him … almost with fear in her eyes.

Oh, Val. He had alienated one child, and was well on the way of alienating another. For the last five years Astrid had become so close to a daughter, and now she was looking at him like she was afraid of him.

"They change you," she went on slowly when he didn't speak up. The nadder Astrid had chosen came closer to her, warbling and nuzzling her hair. Astrid spared an arm to hug her around the bottom of her large, white jaw. Stoick put a hand on Fireworm's snout beside Astrid smaller one. "You start recognising their calls and their behaviours, and realising what it means when they look at you in a certain way. And that each and every one of them that you … fought, before, was like a little human who didn't know any better."

It was like she'd entered his mind, and picked the thought he was trying to keep most hidden. He rolled his shoulders uncomfortably.

"It's not … a nice place to be, Stoick," she went on, resting her forehead on the nadder's jaw as she kept looking at him. "Are you sure, about her?" She gestured towards Fireworm. "Hi- …" She stopped, and bit her lip hard enough to turn it white. "He said that she can't take losing another rider on the way to the beach."

Fireworm looked up at him with warm eyes, and almost like she could understand, she looked hopeful as her snout flared, his palm still flat on her scales.

Maybe, the poor dragon was asking for a 'later' after Snotlout had shunned her. And maybe, Stoick didn't have a later - not with that beast on the way. Maybe he only had a now. He thought of his smart, bright-eyed boy, and wondered how well he would have taken to dragons, to training them, to riding them.

Immediately, he knew that Hiccup would have been the first one on a dragon, screaming as he shot up into the sky and fell off and made disasters and got hurt.

"Yeah," he replied, bringing the nightmare's nuzzle towards him and making the dragon crow in delight as it closed its eyes and buried its face against his armpit. "I'm sure."

=0=

Hiccup couldn't help feeling exhausted as he flew around the island one last time, his right shoulder throbbing, making sure that everything was in order and the last of his plan was in place. The idea Astrid had given him was genius, but it posed its risks. Some of the people - Gobber in particular - had voiced his concern at the last minute changes and even grumbled at him putting himself in intentional danger. But it was his place to do it. He was the one who knew most about dragons, and he had to do this for Berk.

And then maybe, he could come home again.

The thought had been echoing in his mind more and more. Whereas just before Thug's wedding, merely weeks ago, he'd just been trying to plan for the Winter ahead, and hoping to be well received among the Meatheads, now it almost looked like he … was wanted, back here. It was a good feeling that was helping to balance the utter crazy that the ticking clock of doom was doing to his head.

He stopped for a second as Toothless landed, making the nasal, high-pitched noise he usually did when he was protesting something or just generally grumbling. Hiccup rolled his stiff shoulder, lying down. His entire right arm was not in top shape, having not had time to put salve on it that day since the early morning. He dismounted and sat down.

"I know you're tired, buddy," Hiccup told him, allowing the dragon to put its large head on his lap and curl up around him. There was a lull in the day, something he needed to get a breather. The sun was climbing down towards the horizon, but the cloud bank covered what could have possibly been a beautiful afternoon light.

Maybe the last.

"Gah, don't think like that!" Toothless gave him a look. "Right, too much time on my hands to think stupid things. We should totally go to-"

A horn sounded, then another. They echoed in his ears, and felt like they were passing through his skin and rattling his bones as the chill of what they meant froze all the muscles in his body. He was on his feet and racing to the closes cliff edge within seconds. Dear gods, it was early.

It was far off, still; a speck, but one that his spy glass told him had just the right shape to be their potential special guest, and gaining fast. Bile rose to his throat and he swallowed it, before new energy began to race through his body in anticipation of the fight.

"Ok bud, it's show time," he said seriously. Toothless was on his feet, waving Hiccup over with his head and vibrating with new energy. His eyes were slits of hatred as he looked at the distant shape. "Let's show this 'Red Death' who's going to bring the heat."

They shot up, even as a first wave of dragons, some in better conditions than others, were beginning to approach at great speed.

The fight was on.

=0=

1 Vikings had, perhaps, more self-consciousness in the male portion of their society than any of their contemporary cultures. Men were not only expected to be well groomed, wash at least once a week, and to know how to read, write, and compose poetry. There were also certain … expectations in their relative … size. Now this is possibly a joke on the directors' part in canon (please see below); however it was no laughing matter to the culture's actual contemporaries, so much so that the belt Hiccup has in mind here is a crotch enhancement.

Yes, a crotch enhancement. As in, sort of like a push-up bra, but for a man's package. Examples of belts like these can be found in Iceland, most famously in the penis museum (yes, that exists too).

On a sidenote, I find it very highly amusing that in nearly all of the preview scenes of the second movie we have seen to-date, Hiccup's trousers are tight enough to give him a crotch-bulge. It always makes me wonder how badly the designers and CGI artists were snickering while they were rendering those particular pixels. I, for one, find it a refreshing step forward; if Hiccup can have a metal leg, he can have evident sign of his gender. It's rather tiring to see so much blatant sexuality everywhere, and then hypocritically emasculating or defeminising characters by removing bodily evidence that simply denotes their gender. I really applaud Dreamworks for taking the risky road down the path of American censorship.

=0=

Many, many things happening as this story draws to a close.