So today I had to go on my 'playtime' e-mail (the non-professional one, which I tend to avoid when I'm swamped) and noticed the folder had new messages... some were notifications, others were reviews, and there was actually a prompt! How very nice! It's been a crummy day (crummy week... month) and it helped lift my spirits.

So, why not upload something?

It was supposed to be a much bigger ficlet but... didn't happen yet. So I'm planning on making this one the continuation of Braids, which is chapter 1. It'll probably have another follow-up, or maybe two, where it builds up and then... eh, I just have a funny idea for this. I'll wing it. XD

Summary: it is almost inevitable - to become so captivated that we slip, and gradually fall...

Allure

"Alright lass, out with it."

The Hofferson matron had just about had it with her daughter's ill temper. For the last couple of weeks Astrid had become somewhat sour and snarky and spent most of her time flying about for the dragon races, checking up on the AirMail Terrors and skipping her duties.

Well, she'd only skipped about four so far, but that was troublesome enough as it were. Astrid never skipped chores.

Upon her daughter's mute stare, she pressed on. "Ya miss Hiccup, innit true?"

There wasn't even the need for a reply; Astrid's upset look was enough of an answer. The girl sighed warily, gazing outside the open window of her house, halfway through peeling – more like mutilating – potatoes.

"He said he'd be gone a fortnight," Astrid groaned, "but it's been six weeks."

The older woman clicked her tongue. "He has written to you, hasn't he?"

"No. I mean… Well. Yes, but…"

"And he's well and alive isn't he?"

"He wrote to me through the ONE letter he sent to his dad," Astrid spoke up, fiddling with the blade of the cutting knife. "It's completely different."

"So you needn't worry about it, he'll be back soon enough."

"He didn't write a letter directly to me," Astrid insisted, irked that her mother was not paying attention to that one huge detail.

"An' that means you can just go do your tasks to keep yourself busy."

Astrid merely groaned but nodded regardless, her shoulders sagging with the weight of her bitterness. She continued hacking away at the tuberous vegetables until she noticed her mother gaping at her with a smirk on her faintly-freckled face.

"What?" Astrid demanded, not even bothering to keep the bite from her tone.

Her mother waved her hand about in the air dismissively. "Nothing," she told her daughter soothingly, "just… I never thought you'd be actin' all lovesick, is all."

Upon Astrid's outraged look, the elder woman picked up the basket of laundry and crept out the front door in a rush.

"Ugh! Mother, I am not acting like that!"Astrid called out, but the door had already been closed shut. If a stare could burn, the door would have burst aflame by now. Astrid slammed her fists on the table and returned to the potatoes, slashing at them with misdirected indignation.

Hiccup had done something to her. Most of the changes she'd gone throughin the past years were good changes. She is still the same dedicated person with as much respect for hard work as ever – yet she found herself acting with more sensitivity, not caring so much about appearing tough, being more relaxed when it came to most things, in general. She matured and became more comfortable with her femininity, her softer side. The desire to prove herself - and her family's honor -, now quenched, allowed for a slightly less austere look at life. She was happier.

But she hated this one change. She hated realizing she missed him. No; that she longed for him. It left her with a dwindling feeling of nostalgia about all the little things he did and said…

It also made her feel absolutely ridiculous.

She would often find herself thinking "I need to tell Hiccup about this!" only to realize, a split-moment later, that he was not even on the same island. Every now and then she would hold her hands together, absent-mindedly trying to replicate the way his hands felt on hers. She missed the stolen good-night kisses when they parted for the evening, and the way his voice pitched with content as he greeted her in the morrow.

A grown up Viking woman should never feel this way. Astrid thought back to the day Hiccup left on his trip – strike one on her feelings. She also recalled telling herself she needed to make him not want to leave again so soon. Or at least, not for so long… The thought grew in her mind as the weeks went by, along with her restlessness.

Astrid mapped out a plan-of-sorts for their reunion in her mind; she would keep her composure and greet him like he'd never even left, maybe just punch him softly on those shoulder pads or something. And then she'd pretend she was really not that curious about what he'd been through. Where he'd been through. Whom he'd met.

Yes. Astrid Hofferson knew how to keep her cool.

She always did.

That very same day – later on, during māl – , as soon as someone called into the Great Hall, "Night Fury sighted! Hiccup is back!" Astrid immediately sprang from her seat, knocking her mug over and spilling its contents on her food. Oh, smooth.

Way to keep cool.

She ignored everyone else's knowing glances - even a snigger from Snotlout - and walked towards the exterior as calmly as possible. There he was against the grey skyline, closing in on the island with vertiginous speed.

Astrid was helpless to stifle the tightness in her chest, but she gave it her best shot. It didn't work; her heart might as well have been a drum, played by an overly-excited musician who had drank one too many tankards of hydromel.

Within mere seconds the black figure of Toothless was over the village square, slowly circling high above while Hiccup waved around and about at everyone. They landed gracefully in the centre of the plaza, surrounded by a gathering circle of welcoming Vikings.

Hiccup climbed off his ride, his movements langorous and heavy. He stretched his limbs and removed his helmet, fixing his hair before he looked up and beamed at everyone who greeted him. There was something slightly different about him; the shadow of a beard, more prominent than Astrid ever remembered seeing, gave him some sort of... edge, she couldn't put her finger on.

An angry storm of fluttering butterflies erupted in the pit of her stomach. It shook her so violently that the tremors seemed to spread all over the place, forcing her legs into an overdrive of muscle spasms that threatened to carry her all the way down the stony stairway in less than a heartbeat.

Astrid had to stop herself from running down the uneven steps – she didn't want to seem too eager, after all.

She could see Hiccup was looking around – for someone - and, absurdly, hoped it was for her. But no. He must be looking for his father. That must be it. Yes. Keep cool. Focus on the steps. Climb down with style. Don't trip, for Thor's sake.

Astrid scolded her inner drunken musician and figuratively removed the alcohol-filled mug from his hand. She swatted at the butterflies within and warned her stomach against continuing with the flipping and the flittering because it was all very distracting. She needed to focus on important things like her balance and breathing and placing one foot after the other without looking like a drunken penguin.

Yes. She had this under control. Deep breath. Almost done with the stairs. Feet, fail me not.

"Ah, there she is!" Someone said, effectively breaking her concentration. Astrid couldn't help but look up, and it was only by divine providence that she did not fall flat on her face right there because, all of a sudden, she couldn't quite feel her legs.

Maybe she was just floating in mid-air and didn't even realize it.

Hiccup pushed through the crowd in his typical strut, arms fanning open for a long-awaited embrace. His eyes were smiling just about as much as his lips, those very inviting, chapped lips... she felt an urge to moisten them.

A magnet. That was it. He probably had a magnet on him, or something, and it pulled at her shoulder pads and at her skirt studs, because Astrid couldn't remember telling her body to hurdle forward like that and she was pretty sure people couldn't jump that far without some sort of exterior force playing its part.

But she did – Astrid leapt directly into Hiccup's arms and was now effectively crushing him into a hug. The buckles of his outfit dug into her skin even through the fabric, but she didn't care; the hairs on his chin tickled her forehead and the warm moist of his breath crept down her neck, and this was all she needed.

"You nearly made me fall over!" Hiccup exclaimed happily, spinning her around as he hugged her back with unmasked affection, "So… I take it that you missed me?"

She pulled her head back from her chest, trying her damndest not to smile so much; but her cheeks and lips seemed to want to completely ignore her wishes. "Of course not," Astrid lied unconvincingly, wriggling out of his grasp (or was she wriggling him out of her grasp?) and placing her hands securely on her hips to prevent her fingers from reaching over and stroking the fuzz across his shaped jaw.

Hiccup chuckled and gave her his typical, lop-sided smirk, unaware of what he had just unleashed. The sound - and somehow, the look - travelled straight from her ears and into her chest, where it stayed and played in a loop, adding a much unnecessary pressure on her chest and all of the surrounding area. She felt her extremities tingle - all of them - and immediately crossed her arms awkwardly across her chest, as if to shield the evidence of his effects on her.

Still, whatever small distance she now put between them seemed insufficient to stifle this... this allure he exuded.

"… Maybe just a little," Astrid then added; for whichever Gods-ridden reason, right now he made her feel all sorts of inappropriate things that were not at all welcome out here in public. She tried playing it down with an overstated eye roll, but it proved inefficient - why didn't her eyes want to roll off his face, the way she wanted them to?

She noticed it, then; he still sported the braids she'd woven into his hair the day he left. Astrid smiled warmly, elated, and whatever remnants of her pretense detachment immediately evaporated.

Hiccup seized the moment without a hint of hesitation. He bent over toward her with deliberate serenity, his left hand finding its perch on her hip as he took her lower lip between his, ever so gently – and the over-sensitive Astrid was caught very, very much unaware.

The musician and the butterflies kicked back in full force, and in all honesty Astrid didn't even feel like shutting them down this time. She let them run rampant and carry her off to whichever direction they were headed to – and that direction just happened to be the general vicinity of her much-missed boyfriend.

A mere coincidence.

In any case, why bother turning those feelings off if they were just going to pounce on her whenever Hiccup so much as breathed her way? The Gods mocked her. It was no mere coincidence that Hiccup's return home coincided with the week before her Moon's Blood; when her skin had a tendency to enkindle with every touch and her mind played tricks on her, slipping Hiccup into her thoughts unbidden... and in those dreams, more often than not, her whimsical boyfriend slipped into her.

Yet another thought, best suited for the privacy of her bedroom, casually made its way across her mind and insisted in staying and enjoying the view. For a moment she grabbed onto it, leaned onto hit, snaked her hands around it, felt it press against her -

"Get a room, you two!" Perfect timing - Gobber bellowed from the top of the Mead Hall's entrance; the surrounding Vikings tumbled into a roar of laughter. The couple danced apart, startled, as they couldn't recall when exactly they'd locked their arms around each other.

"Maybe we will!" Hiccup called back, unabashed, effectively catching everyone unaware. The rosy hue of his cheeks and ears gave him away, but did very little to lessen his amusingly defiant air, the uncharacteristic evocatory tone ringing all too clear across the village square.

When all the others started wolf-whistling and whooping suggestively – after a small, shocked pause – Astrid just wished the Gods would take pity on her and have the ground open up beneath her feet.

Hiccup, strike two. Good grief, she REALLY needed to get him back; Astrid hated not paying her debts.

She settled for elbowing him on the ribs and walking away as courtly as possible… for the time being.

END

Note: " māl " is old Norse for meal, AKA lunch. :)

Anyway, think I should continue this particular 'thread'? Of Astrid getting back at Hiccup - I mean, what RIGHT does he have to make her feel so... captivated? ;)

Also, I wanted to put an emphasis on this excitment she feels, maybe overly-romancing it; but it's on purpose. I was feeling very particular when I wrote this, thee hee.

Shoutout to my reviewers; thank you so very much. As a writer, managing both time and inspiration is sometimes a gruelling task, and it takes time and effort. Especially given the situation I'm currently in. It's good to know you value this effort enough to click on the review button and drop me some words of encouragement.

As for Inn Mátik Munr, as some have asked: don't worry, I'll update it! I just haven't had time to get things right, and as you can imagine it's much easier to upload something that's already finished than to finish a chapter of a more complex story. And I really am trying to write it without any hiccups... no pun intended!