A/N: Whacka! I have been busy with stuff; checking on the next chapter took a little longer. But for that, it IS longer too!
I wanna send you all christmasy, heart-warming cuddle-hugs for the wonderful amount of reviews you gave me last chapter! You cannot believe how elated I was; I'm glad I was capable of motivating you to respond, and I would be INFINITELY happier if you kept it up - keep reviewing each chapter, and maybe, even MORE of you will feel the motivation to drop a word or two. Just to show that you appreciate the update. KEEP IT UP M'DEARS!
I am also glad to see that many of you found the encounter between Hiccup and Astrid intriguing. I was not sure how to write it, but am very confident with it now. I do believe Hiccup would be very flustered :) Don't forget that some of these scenes will be parallel to the actual movies, seeing as it is supposed to be an "alternative canon". So, some of you guessed right as to what their reactions will be; to find out what I mean, just read on!
Enjoy~
Taming Astrid
When Astrid left the workshop with confident strides, an evident huff and an air of indignation and confusion all around her, Hiccup sighed in relief.
Never in all of his life had he felt so...agitated.
Eight years and this woman still had him wrapped around her little finger as tightly as ever; and best of all, she was not even aware of her incredible power. To her, he was just some obscene-looking young man with no ambition and even less of a future.
The only thing she would ever admire him for was the fact that he had managed to survive up until now.
Seating himself on top of a keg, Hiccup slumped his shoulders, gulping down deep breaths of scalding air. The hearth cackled and sizzled idly as he observed the maroon hues which intermingled with orange and amber, tickling the roof of the forge.
Where had this new-found courage come from? All the confidence with which he talked and held himself, as if he knew no fear, and was sure to win any challenge presented to him. Like he accepted any fate, and dealt with it in a way much more superior than that of Vikings. Next thing he knew, he would stumble into bravado that was not his.
Although, with his main goal being to show the inhabitants of Berk that dragons were anything but monsters, was he not really aiming to achieve just that? Acknowledgement? Acceptance? Happiness? Being one amongst many, considered a part of the tribe, rather than the strange, obscure outsider who had neither foot nor hand, metaphorically speaking?
Hiccup sighed some more. Despite all of it; his history, his character, Hel even his destiny, he still had hopes of somehow managing to whoo Astrid. And even if she would not like him the way he liked her in return, at least he dreamt of attaining her trust, and opening up to her; to show her what really lay underneath the thick hide of scales and scorching flames that made out a dragon.
And then, when she understood; when she tried to understand, at least, he could build up something akin to a friendship. He really did not know what it was about her that fascinated him to such a degree. Yet whenever he saw her lustrous eyes he could not stop himself from believing that, for a moment, there might be the possibility of a bond between them. That out of all the brutish, rough Vikings which trudged this world, she was the only one who could and would truthfully understand him. At least, to begin with. She was the start, and she was the end. Somehow, Hiccup was assured that once he got her trust, he had that of every other man and woman alive.
May only the Gods be able to explain how come he felt such certainty about the high-held blonde. She was cold, rejecting and held herself with such dignity and strength, walls pulled up all around her that he felt incapable of penetrating no matter what battering ram he chose to use. There were many much kinder Vikings; with hearts more open, but he chose her.
Or rather, his heart had. She was the answer, Hiccup knew it. Despite his usual demand for logic and sense, this one situation was out of the norm. He knew it because it felt right. Even Toothless agreed; at least, that was what Hiccup thought. He was about to attempt to create a bond similar to that with his black companion. Just...on a different path and level...
He hoped he would be successful. He was sure that taming a dragon was ten times easier than taming an Astrid.
She seethed as she left the forge, eyes a furious glare and hands balled into knuckle-white fists.
How dare he?
How dare he!
She, Astrid Hofferson, one of the Hooligan tribe's most outstanding warriors and dragon slayers, soon-to-be announced Fearless, was being mocked by a toothpick.
A man who had barely the muscle or the intelligence to raise a shield in such a way that he'd protect himself from a Nadder spike.
Who would fail the moment a Gronckle buzzed towards him, too frightened to dodge.
Who, with conviction, would even fail if he were asked to handle a Terrible Terror.
Forget his skilful hands; the way he professionally sharpened that axe, smooth and calm, without any ragged edges. Forget that, when Astrid tried the blade, she cut herself miserably.
Forget his somewhat still toned biceps, his tall complexion, broad shoulders and the powerful stance he held himself with. All the muscles hidden behind the rather alluring black and brown leather armoury he wore; as if he were up to no good, but could put on an act of utter innocence.
Stop it Hofferson.
No; that small, nimble dragon would outright murder him before he would be capable of uttering his own name-
What was his name, anyway?
Astrid had entirely forgotten to ask; and upon that realisation, she halted. She took in deep breaths of crispy air, frowning at her own ignorance. But then again; did she want to know his name? Not really, considering he would be dead the moment he encountered his first dragon raid. That boy would not know where to put himself, and the fires would most likely eat him whole; if a Monstrous Nightmare or the likes did not do so beforehand.
So to Hel with his name and his sturdy jawline and the stubble that grained across the smooth surface of his skin; the small freckles, the auburn locks, the wild bangs which contained the perfect length to be braid-
Stop now! Astrid Hofferson, what has gotten into you!?
She was cursing internally by now, grinding her teeth menacingly as she approached the Mead Hall. She was a shield-maiden, and a maiden-warrior in the making. No pathetic little lump of good looks could deter her, especially not the one currently working at the forge. So stop, treacherous heart, from disobeying! These palpitations were driving her insane; hammering inside her head too loudly to think clear.
Maybe Freyja was testing her with some cruel joke; or Frig herself had her fingers curling around the whole thing. The gods wanted to see if Astrid was carved out of the fine wood she claimed to be made of; and that was only righteous so. The blonde Viking would prove her utter strength and prowess.
Nobody would impress her in such a way; not unless they had slain so many dragons that none were left to raid. Or they were too frightened to attack, fearing that very human. Even then, it took a lot more to captivate her.
For she was Astrid Hofferson.
And Astrid Hofferons did not know the meaning of the word attraction.
He did not know what motivated him to go to the welcoming party in the Mead Hall. Gobber had declared it to be a good idea; "Meet tha people, get ta know sum of us. An' enjoy a good mug o' mead!"
Urgh.
Hiccup could not stand mead. Once, when he had been eight, his mother had taken him along to an island somewhere south of their sanctuary. There was a tavern there, boasting with the best mead in all of the archipelago. She liked to go there, sometimes, to socialize with humans from occasion to occasion. So that she did not forget what it was like to be amongst your own kind. And to hear the latest gossip; when dedicating one's life to protecting and saving dragons, you needed to know what the other Vikings were up to, what with their traditional reptile-slaughtering feasts. In case a rare breed had been found or the likes.
He had begged her to sip that funny-smelling concoction she was downing. Valka denied, so, the moment she was indulged into an eager conversation with another woman about this and that, he snuck up onto her lap, grasped the mug and carefully tasted the liquid.
It was outright devastating; the taste, the whole feeling of stinging, bitter fluids on his tongue.
Granted, he had been eight, but fact was it had tasted obscene and the memory stuck to him like a second skin. Not to mention that Hiccup knew about the after-effects of too much mead. Nothing he desired anytime soon.
Nonetheless, he found himself within the huge compound that made out their Great Hall. He had to admit; he was impressed. His former recollections of the hall had been anything but modest, of course, with its grand build, filled with colours and portraits and intriguing designs. Now, at twenty, Hiccup appreciated the art of the hall even more than before; it was breathtaking, to say the least, and so vast. In comparison to the Great Hall on the island of Looting Liars, which was a joke, really. Not half as glamorous or beautiful.
The sheer amount of people was another factor which astounded him. He had never observed as many civilians gathered on one spot, with the volume rising to a deafening extent that it surprised him a dragon would even consider attacking this place; they hated loud noises, and this was even calamitous for his ears.
He moved along, keeping to the wall of the interior and out of sight from any boisterous Viking. He dared not accidentally bump into one of them; gods know how they might react. Hiccup was anything but eager to find out. So instead, he moved to grab himself a tankard of mead, just to appear traditional, holding it within his hand as he leaned against the back wall and watched the villagers interact.
Not a single soul was not upbeat. They all cheered and laughed, talking amiably with each other, roaring and exulting, chortling and giggling. Women were whispering, men were shouting. It felt so lively and warm that Hiccup could not bite back a smile. He imagined having grown up in such an atmosphere; with humans all around him, celebrating every victory together as a large family.
It was mesmerizing to observe, that he admitted, but the thought of being the sworn enemy of dragons twisted his heart.
Toothless.
He had promised his scaly best friend to meet up sometime after sundown. He should best be on his way.
Placing the mug on a nearby table for some other lucky Viking to consume, he slithered as stealthily as a Night Fury back towards the entrance, hoping to sneak away without much fuss. It would not seem to be hard, considering that half the crowd was inebriated, the other too occupied to wonder about a simple lanky boy and his nightly plans.
"Look who we have here."
Yet fate was intriguing against him this very day.
Something bulky and broad, with crossed arms and a stinging smell cast a shadow around him; yet did not fully encase his body. The figure was a good head or two smaller than himself, so Hiccup found he had to gaze down the bridge of his nose to look into the guy's face.
Immediately recognition swooshed through his brain; the angular visage and tiny freckles, the self-appreciating, near to narcissistic glance.
"Aren't you that kid from six years ago?" The boy quirked an eyebrow near to mockingly, "You look so scrawny it rings a few bells."
"Eight years." Behind the man stood a larger personality, much broader and pudgier than his opposite; holding his arms nervously in front of himself, "It's been eight years, actually." The guy corrected meekly.
The other Viking rolled his eyes, "Eight years then, whatever. Remember me?"
It was not too hard recognizing the pain of his everyday visits around Berk, in all honesty. He had not grown much, well, at least in height. His physical power obviously had.
"Snotlout." Hiccup declared, frowning at the realisation.
"Yes. And Fishlegs, and Ruffnut and Tuffnut here." He twisted his thumb to point behind himself, where said people stood rather curiously. The twins held a tankard of mead in their hands each, grinning with devious mischief.
Hiccup grumbled, glad the noise was drowned out by the buzzing liveliness of the hall. Eight years after, and a lot of dragon riding and training, but he was still going to be teased like he were twelve again.
"I take it you have decided to learn how to kill a dragon? I'm surprised they haven't eaten you up until now. Must be some useful pair of legs, despite them looking the opposite." The Jorgenson chortled, pointing at his metal prosthetic, and his blonde companions joined him, "Of course, here, you will learn just the right skills. But do not expect to excel at all, what with your rather lousy set of muscles." another bout of laughter as Hiccup rolled his eyes.
"I don't have time for your pathetic mockery, Snotlout." He tried to dodge the group of four, turning to arch around them, but the young Viking simply stepped in his way, again.
"Really, now? After all the hospitality we are serving you with?"
What a joke.
What hospitality was he serving Hiccup with? It was simply being a show-off, in his eyes. All the hard work and proceedings came from the elder Viking members of this tribe, highlighting and punctuating the chief, who had successfully negotiated that they train here under the keen eye of the Hooligan tribe. Hiccup knew with certainty that this guy had nothing to do with the politics and friendliness the Looting Liars were currently showered in.
"If you want to survive in this world, Hiccup, you better start training and stop daydreaming. You can watch me do it – after all, you are supposed to learn from the best-"
"Which is definitely not you, Snotlout." The derogative remark was thrown in by none other than Astrid, who came sauntering over with a look of apathy, "You might be strong, but a pathetic fighter nonetheless. You know nothing about dragons."
The boy was obviously flustered, glaring daggers at his blonde counterpart, who was anything but deterred, "Yes I do! I have slain my fair share already!"
"Yeah, of Terrible Terrors, maybe." And at her jibe, the others snickered along, causing Snotlout to blush furiously.
"That's not true! I killed a Monstrous Nightmare just the other week!" He had his fists balled and eyebrows creased.
"In your dreams." Another fit of laughter, causing the short Jorgenson to grind his teeth and glare.
"Yeah? Well...in your dreams...Shut up Astrid!" By now, the twins where roaring with glee, mead sloshing from their mugs and onto the wooden floor. Fishlegs held his round belly and Astrid chuckled lightly herself. Even Hiccup could not bite back a grin from spreading, admiring the way Astrid so fluidly jabbed at the Viking's reputation.
"Just watch out, toothpick!" Snotlout was pressing a firm finger towards said boy's chest, dark brown eyes boring into his green ones, "This is no place for fish-bones like yourself! This is the real world."
"Thanks for that revelation. I'll keep it in mind next time I see you slay a Terrible Terror so heroically." He smirked, the group laughed even more. Snotlout snapped.
With a defiant roar, he twisted on his heel and left.
"Nice one again, Astrid!" The female blonde; Ruffnut, threw in.
"Thanks. My easiest daily task." The air of smugness around her thickened, before she turned to face Hiccup herself, "Don't believe I was defending you. I just like to bully Snotlout, seeing as it's best to taste your own medicine once in a while."
Hiccup kept a neutral facial expression, eyeing her challenging stance.
"Yeah! Well, he was not bad either just now!" Tuffnut, grinned, snickering all too knowingly, "You gotta tell him about the time you rejected Snotlout's marriage proposal! His face! Priceless!"
At the words marriage proposal, Hiccup stiffened. The very thought that shot like a sharp arrow through his mind of Astrid giving her hand to anyone beside him was simply put revolting.
Especially considering Snotlout Jorgenson; a man too in love with his muscles and invented glory to heed a woman as Astrid with enough respect and honour as would be necessary. In Hiccup's eyes, she signified everything Snotlout was not. And that without minding the obvious facts of differing gender and physical attributes.
He was more than elated to hear she had declined; somehow, he could not help but feel pride, too.
"What a shame." He remarked sarcastically, smirking at the Valkyrie next to him.
Astrid grimaced, "I don't know in what fantasy world he lives in, believing us to have a thing."
"Yeah, there was only a three percent chance you had of said yes, after all" The bulkier boy by the name of Fishlegs chortled, who earned himself a withering glare from Astrid upon his words, "I mean, statistically speaking. Of course he had...zero percent chances. I mean, you want to be a maiden-warrior, right?" He was sweating by now, stumbling back a step.
Hiccup creased his brows, looking between both Vikings, "Maiden...warrior?"
"You don't know what a maiden-warrior is?" Tuffnut chimed in, giving him a funny eye as he stepped forwards, "Really, don't you have any on the island of Looting Liars?"
Hiccup gaped, not sure what to retort to that. Maybe they did, maybe they did not. What other women were up to was something he never considered much. It lacked personal importance. His mind was far too busy revolving around dragons, or a specific female Viking.
"It means you do not enter into matrimony, or generally, involve yourself with family-making of any kind." Fishlegs elaborated, raising a finger as he spoke.
"You swear off love and sex" Ruffnut made a sneer of disgust, "well, the former, not really the latter." A sudden wicked grin formed on her lips, "Nobody would know about that, after all."
"Shut up, Ruffnut." Astrid was glaring again; it seemed that was her favourite expression to wear, "I have not been announced one yet. I have my dad's consent, just not the chiefs, and anyway-"
Her words drowned out of his mind as he stared at her agitatedly explaining whatever it was to her female counterpart.
Not marry...his heart thrummed desperate beats at the thought. Once more he had to remind himself that he barely knew this woman, that there was no real connection existing between them and that he had no claim whatsoever. Despite it all, devastation seeped into his system. His heart lurched.
"Hey, I'm talkin' to you, fish-bone!" Ruffnut was snapping a finger in front of his face, frowning at him.
"W-What?" Hurled out of his reverie, he blinked several times.
"We're going to get some more drinks, wanna join?"
"I'd not bother, Ruffnut. This guy isn't going to join us during dragon training anyway. Not like he'd live to tell the tale." Astrid gave him a look that spoke volumes in itself, before she presented him with her back, wandering off deeper into the hall. The twins and Fishlegs followed, shrugging before they left.
"Shame, he is quite ho-" Ruffnut's remaining words were lost in the booming ruckus of the Great Hall.
Hiccup was left behind, feeling dejected.
After the previous day and the occurrences at the Hall, Hiccup felt rather discouraged to go and join the audience currently gathered at the training academy. Of course he was curious; and knew for a fact that half of the knowledge these Vikings claimed to have about dragons was based on absolute illogical assumptions.
But Astrid's word had left him slightly charred. It was the withered way with which she had looked at him, too; as if she desired for him to die as soon as a dragon appeared, just to prove a point.
Not even when he met up with Toothless that evening, who had been patiently waiting at the edge of the forests, something hanging out of his maw, could his spirit be lifted. The dragon warbled and licked his face, regurgitating a piece of slimy aquatic animal in an attempt to comfort. Nothing enlivened his rider.
Hiccup simply sighed heavily, "I'll be back tomorrow afternoon, I promise."
So, as he stood in the forge, a hammer in his left and a dented, blunt sword in his right hand, his mind reeled with thoughts as it so easily did when he was physically occupied. He was more likely to survive a raid than she was; ignore her incredible warrior prowess and years of extended training and practice. He lived amongst them; knew their language and their ways more than she did.
One simple movement of his hands, and glance from his emerald eyes, and a Monstrous Nightmare lay helplessly at his feet. Astrid would need several bolas, an axe, too many moves and stamina and way longer to subdue it her way. One thing was for sure then: Hiccup would control the dragon. Astrid would only have it writhing and struggling to free itself and launch an offensive attack.
Simply put; Hiccup knew the art of gaining a dragon's trust in such a way that it was prepared to die protecting him, always keeping his back and approaching once he was in a desperate situation.
If Astrid turned her back, she would have to fear a scathing burst of flames to envelope her.
He was a dragon whisperer. And he would show them (her) just what he was capable of.
A cloud of heat wafted up from the cracking hearth, causing sweat to accumulate above his brow, trickling down his cheeks and tickling his tender flesh. He felt like taking his leather and tunic off, yet opted against such an open display of meager muscles.
Hiccup tossed the sword into the icy water-bucket, a determined frown plastered on his face as threw the hammer to the side and made his way towards the exit of the forge.
"Goin' sumwhere, lad?" Gobber interrupted from the back entrance of the workshop. Hiccup halted abruptly.
"I was...going to watch the training." He scratched the nape of his neck sheepishly, hoping the elder Viking would not protest.
Which he did not. In Gobber's sceptical eyes Hiccup could see the hope that, by watching the true warriors slay dragons, the boy might pick up on something to help him see the next day without another missing limb. He could only imagine too well how he had lost his left leg in first place, anyway.
"Go on then, lad. Be careful. I'll come watch me-self later." Waving his hand dismissively, Hiccup grinned, legging it out of the hot smithy and towards the academy.
The young, auburn-haired Viking had to stop several times, recalling his pictorial memory of this place to remember where the academy lay. He took several twists and turns, peeking along streets and crossing a large, clumsily-built bridge before he finally descended towards what was definitely a fighting arena.
Tall pillars scratched the sky, wooden platforms curling around the circular construction, chains and metal clanking and steeling the sturdiness of the peculiar build. Flags were draped on poles here and there, swaying lackadaisically in the wind. He could already hear the cheer of a few solemn onlookers mixed with the defiant roar of a Gronckle and blasts of seething, antagonistic fire. There were grunts and calls, commands and shouts, most definitely Astrid's, as the teachings proceeded.
Hiccup took a slanting pathway up to the area where the audience ought to stand, trudging along the wooden planks and glancing through the tight net of worn chains and clasps.
Astrid indeed stood there, hand on her hip, as several men from the island of Looting Liars fidgeted agitatedly with shields and weapons, trying to distract the Gronckle and fight it off. They were struggling quite heftily, moving at a much too slow pace; slower, even, than that of the Gronckle.
Any true connoisseur of dragons knew the Gronckle was speed-wise not the fastest. And quite sensitive to ruckus. Granted, most dragons were the latter, considering that their hearing was a lot more defined than that of a human.
"You have to find its blind spot, and attack then! Gronckles are anything but merciful; they kill on sight with hot lava shots." Not all wrong, not all right, Hiccup mused with a smirk.
He continued to watch, a hand digging into his pocket and wrapping around a specific little substance. A quick glance at the watchers and he realised they were all Looting Liars. Seemed like training recruits was not much of an intriguing sight here on Berk. At least something Hiccup agreed with, albeit for differing reasons.
Suddenly, the blonde Viking teacher grasped a shield, tumble-rolling around the Gronckle as she hammered her axe against the framed woodwork. Immediately the boulder class dragon became dazed, hovering around without coordination so that it was easy for her to smack her protection into his face and knock him flat to the ground. He lay there, injured and unconscious, as Astrid straightened herself.
Hiccup set his jaw firmly as he observed with keen eyes her grimace. The moment the metal of the shield came into contact with the reptile, causing its orbs to widen before they shut, he recognized a menacing, hateful glare on the female's face. Something akin to a deep-rooted loathing, which rather unnerved him.
"Despite his lack of velocity, you need to be fast. With any dragon, really." She explained, handing out pointed stares at each student. She was disapproving of their meager skills, he knew.
Dragon raids used to not be as frequent on the island of Looting Liars. If they occurred, only few reptiles ever dared to attack; Hiccup only ever recalled one Monstrous Nightmare in seven months, if at all. Mostly Terrible Terrors and Smothering Smokebreaths, the occasional Gronckle or Nadder, or a Hobblegrunt, which was too easy to shoo away, really.
Zipplebacks came by seldom and anything heftier than that even more so. Hiccup was astounded to discover that ever since a few months back, more and more frequent raids transpired. With them, larger, bolder dragons attacked; including an ample number of Deadly Nadders and Snaptrappers. Timberjacks were also no longer uncommon there.
Now that more mammoths decided to assault their minuscule home (at least, in comparison to Berk) and further dangerous kinds were around, they pleaded with the Hairy Hooligans to help them out; their tribe lived in the most disadvantageous places of all – at a spot in the archipelago that allowed for perfect reptilian habitation possibilities, and a good source of food in form of a stubborn Viking tribe. Thus, most dragons invaded here rather than anywhere else, giving the citizens all the more reasons to be prepared.
Hence, the training at the arena went on like this every day. Hiccup would come by when he could, seeing his 'people' struggle with Terrible Terrors as much as they did with Nadders. They had never been proficient fighters anyway, their peaceful nature not considered.
Gobber would occasionally join, laughing at their behaviour and pointing out the mistakes they made during battle. Hiccup believed it was the old man's way of teaching Hiccup the one or other useful thing without making it seem as such. The auburn-haired boy simply nodded, not responding in any audible form.
On the fourth day into training, where they were back to battling a teal coloured, beautiful Nadder in a makeshift maze made out of wood, Hiccup had enough.
His men were struggling, Astrid was mocking them and acting all superior, throwing knowledge at their heads that, frankly speaking, was not completely accurate. He would love to see her face when he taught her the true assets of Nadders.
Just as the being twisted around a corner, spraying magnesium fire at its victims, it swung its tail, spikes swooshing ferociously in every direction. The trainees shouted, crashing into wooden walls and tumbling over each other.
"You have to be stealthy! You-" More desperate calls and clumsy staggering.
Suddenly, the Nadder had one man cornered in a dead-end, towering with a chirr above the poor fellow as it raised its tail and prepared the venomous quills.
Astrid's eyes widened and she was just about to jolt into the arena to give the Nadder (and the student, at that) a good lecture when an uncommon sight greeted her eyes – something she would not have deemed possible to happen anytime in the future, if at all. Something so unexpected it left her pondering and questioning if she had actually been awake then as she writhed in her cot, the hours getting darker.
Hiccup beat her to it; hurdling into the arena and landing right in front of the reptilian creature. Agitated, the Nadder ducked, ready to fire her missiles. Astrid's shock ten-folded, and she screamed out, "Hiccup!" (she had overheard his name being said by Fishlegs the other day; not that she was eavesdropping).
By Odin, she did not know what possessed her to call his name so miserably, as if she were worried for his well-being when, in reality, it was obvious this day would come. She just could not believe that he was actually as idiotic to ignite the fire of his death so naively himself.
Yet everything became silent, and stunning eyes were fixated on the boy. Spikes flew, wheezing through the air, punctuating whatever target their reached, but Hiccup stayed unharmed. He stood directly in front of the Deadly Nadder, watching amber eyes which bore into his, only meeting a steely determination. His hand flew into his pocket once more that week and he grasped a bout of stringy plant which he blew into the dragon's face.
Immediately, the reptile became dazed, wobbling on its two claws before it stumbled and crashed to the ground, immobile, yet unharmed still.
Everyone gaped. The few onlookers had muted, the man behind Hiccup was frozen stiff, the others were listening to the silence, waiting for something to happen that would inform them of what the Nadder was currently up to.
Astrid's heart jolted in shock, her eyes expanded even more. She forgot to breathe, paralysed to the spot, as her eyes focused onto the back of Hiccup's head.
Meanwhile said boy leaned forward, patting the dragon's snout, "Sorry, girl. You must have been quite scared with these imbeciles attacking you like infant Scuttleclaws." He shook his head in sympathy before he righted himself.
"What was that?" It was the Looting Liar Hiccup had just rescued that spoke up, oculars as ridiculously large as everyone else's.
"Ah, you know, Nadder's can't see you if you stand right in front of them. So they can't hit you. But of course, your teacher knows that." He nodded with a smug smirk towards Astrid, whose mouth shut and opened several times like that of a fish. She was still gawking incredulously at him.
Deciding he had stolen the show for enough time, Hiccup kicked the nearby wooden wall, causing a domino effect as the entire labyrinth crashed into itself. Finally viewing the exit, he climbed above the constructions and left, returning to the safety of his burning forge.
Dragon training ended a good hour ago, just as the sun met the horizon in a sweet kiss which burst into hundred shades of vermilion and amber.
Hiccup devoured the sight with his eyes, feeling the all-too-familiar tingle of need in his stomach; need to feel blasting winds and piercing cold air on his skin, as well as the sensation of a dragon plummeting full speed towards the oceans like he were dying, just to spread his bat-like wings in the last second and catch the drift. More specifically, that of a Night Fury.
"He's waited long enough, and Gobber went to the hall, anyway." Hiccup doused the furnace, leaving embers to smoke defiantly as he left the forge and began his pathway up towards the forests.
The trek up Berk, with all its inhabitants preparing for the night and the beautiful colours the houses were now dipped in filled Hiccup with a strange sense of nostalgia he was not familiar with in the slightest. Not like he had really been home here...But something about the crunching grass beneath his feet as houses lit up with embracing flames and the outstretching oceans churned at their backs ignited a desire within him, as if it had been dormant, not inexistent, all these years.
Soon, he reached his rendezvous point, passing a few trees and halting at a tiny clearing which lay in the shadows at this time of day.
"Toothless?" He called out, trying to detect his scaly friend within the obscurity which currently presented itself to him, "Where are you, bud?"
There was a soft chunter somewhere to his left, and before he knew it, Toothless' large tongue glided across his upper torso and face, drenching him in sticky, gooey drool. Hiccup chortled, stepping back, "T-Toothless! Stop! You know that does not wash out!"
A deep whine and he lowered his head, chartreuse eyes gleaming into Hiccup's own orbs. He held his jaw, pressing his forehead to that of the Night Fury, "Glad to see you too, bud. Let's head a bit deeper and then take flight."
He was about to climb onto the saddle on Toothless' back, setting the prosthetic and have his dragon continue before he sprang into the air when a sharp voice interrupted him.
"What are you doing?"
A/N: Uh oh...who is THAT? Has someone now discovered Toothless? Yelp, what do you guys think will happen next chapter? Hiccup's reaction? How will it go? REVIEW AND GUESS! How do you feel? I'd love to hear, honestly, your reviews are the cherry on top of the cream on top of the ice-cream of writing. Honestly. I need it. At least a word or two, won't take long, promise!