The Lady Knight

by SANfangirl

Astrid Hofferson never cared about being a girl, much. But when she overhears her parents' discussion, she decides to become the son they don't have, and train as a knight. After all, how hard could it be? At Training she overcomes grueling exercises, carefully avoids suspicion, and grudgingly makes a friend - the Prince himself. But as she grows and matures, so do her feelings...

3. Chapter 3

Perverted Little Angel: OMG, yes I had! It hadn't really been intentional, but I just really wanted to see Astrid as a knight instead of a lady, and then I wanted to explore the difficulties of a young woman pretending to be a man, so I did remember the Alanna book that I had read years back. I couldn't remember the name of the author, and recently found her again, and it turns out she has a book called Lady Knight! But I found out all of that after I'd already named this fic. I had no idea I had a sort of kindred spirit. From Tamora Pierce I've read her first book, Alanna, and then the sequel series, First Test, Page, Squire, but not the Lady Knight (yet). I'm so glad to find someone who enjoys her writing too!

Chapter Three:

A full year passed in the Berk Guard, scouring almost every inch of Berk twice. Astrid's twentieth birthday was coming up, and she knew it was time to return to her parents for the celebration. Hiccup was resigning, too, for the King had only given him leave for a year, so ended their enjoyable stint with the Guard.

"I'll be sorry to see you go," Throk told her solemnly in his official office in the palace. It was practically sterile - the walls scrubbed shiny and clean with no adornments, yet with that undercurrent of steady kindness and gentility Throk bore.

"Stay a little bit?" Hiccup pleaded with her as she packed her bags, planning to sleep a night in the castle before leaving for the Hofferson estate. She felt her treacherous heart give a little thump at him asking her to stay, with him being implied. Time had passed since she'd realized the truth of her feelings for him, and they had never gone away. In fact, admitting she was in love with him had made everything so much worse for herself. How was it possible to fall more in love with every interaction, no matter how small or mundane?

"It's only till the end of the week," he persuaded. "You'll still make it home with plenty of time for your birthday, and who knows the next time I'll get you to suffer alongside me at balls?"

That put a damper on her mood. For that was the thing; with Astrid's nephew Gunnar, there was a proper heir to inherit, and Astrid's parents were keen to have Astrid resume her rightful identity and reintroduce their daughter to society. She'd probably never have conniving mothers trying to set her up with their silly daughters ever again. But Hiccup did not have that luxury, and she felt a surge of irritation.

"Fine," she snapped before her mind caught up to her mouth and realized what she had agreed to.

"Oh my gosh Hofferson thank you so much you're a lifesaver-"

"One night," Astrid stressed. Hiccup pouted, and she was momentarily riveted by the sight of his lips pushed together distractingly.

"Better than nothing," Hiccup shrugged cheerfully, and Astrid felt an affectionate smile trying to worm its way onto her face before she quashed it.

She was now more accustomed to attending balls as an eligible young man, and resolved to dance at least three times before refusing any more advances to keep suspicion off of her.

(Besides, each of those dances was keeping at least one young lady away from the extremely eligible prince - not that that mattered to her at all. Or, at least, it shouldn't matter. It was getting harder to lie to herself.)

As she danced with the second lady of the night, she spied Lady Heather making her way over to the Prince. They didn't dance, just stood there talking, but Astrid was secure in her knowledge of Heather that it didn't bother her - much. Across the ballroom, sipping his glass contentedly and nodding amicably at passers by, was Eret.

She joined him as soon as the dance ended. "Long time no see," she greeted him, punching his arm lightly. "How goes your night?"

"It goes well," he responded blithely. "A party at the palace, a promotion in the army, wonderful food, and pretty girls. What more's a man to ask for?"

"I don't know, have you danced with the elusive Lady Heather yet?" Astrid asked coyly. "She looks exceptionally lovely tonight." Eret cast her a dark, guarded look that made Astrid snigger internally. She knew their secret romance was blossoming, and Eret's reaction only proved how much more invested he was in the lady than he let on.

"Oh please," Astrid guffawed. "I have no interest in her. I'm much more interested in this promotion you mentioned, in fact. Tell me about that."

Eret's face relaxed back into a smile. "Ah, it's nothing," he said modestly.

"Such things happen every day," Astrid waved her hand in mock-dismissiveness. Eret was silent for a beat, and then:

"I've been made Captain of my own division," he gushed. Astrid nodded sedately along, but she, too, was thrilled.

"That's amazing," she threw a congratulatory elbow at him. "What do . . . the DeRange's think of this development?" Eret froze and narrowed his eyes at her.

"Why would I care what they think?" he asked stiffly. Astrid raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him.

"I was the one to fetch you for Heather, you think I didn't stay to find out why?" she asked dryly. Eret deflated.

"Why'd she send you anyway?" he asked, a little sullenly. Astrid hesitated.

"Would you have gone to meet her if you'd known she was the one who wanted to see you?" Astrid pointed our. "And, let's just say, Heather and I know each other . . . well enough, better than some, and she had something on me that convinced me to do her a favor," she concluded mysteriously.

"What?" Eret probed, eyes brightening at the chance to embarrass her.

"No," she said flatly.

"Come on, Hofferson! You know mine!"

"Whose fault is that? Your vigilance is terrible."

"Oh, shut up."

.oOo.

Hiccup didn't like balls at the best of times, but tonight felt especially painful. He tried to pay attention to all of the young ladies who were in front of him, smiling hopefully, but his mind kept straying to his friend, Hofferson. Astrid. Times were changing, and selfishly, he wanted to hang on to the support she had offered him these past few years.

What would it have been like if she had stayed a lady, he wondered. Would he have been dancing with her right now instead? He could have politely addressed her as Miss Hofferson and kissed her hand, while whispering Astrid into her ear and tucking her hair out of her face in private. But no, such a fantasy was ridiculous; surely, if she had never come to squire Training, he wouldn't have been nearly as successful or respected, just the screw up he had been five years ago. Perhaps he would have been stuck in this same situation, glumly attempting to socialize with the ladies fluttering their overlong lashes at him while he pined for another woman from afar.

He was feeling uncommonly morbid tonight.

He tried to focus on the conversation in front of him. Lady Enid was a very sweet girl, barely sixteen, with heavily applied paints on her young face to make her look more womanly, hair piled precariously on her head, and her tiny torso squeezed into a tight corset in an effort to show off her little waist. Hiccup silently prayed she didn't get a perfect marriage offer for another few years.

He managed to excuse himself and retreated to the edge of the ball room, hoping to catch Astrid and ridicule the event together - or better yet, leave it - only to find her already engaged with a lady who had finally managed to wheedle Sir Hofferson into a dance.

His eyes tracked their every movement, and not for the first time that night, he imagined what it would be like to be the one dancing with her, her hand in his, his hand on her waist, their faces too close together to be able to see anything else. He admired Hofferson greatly for her strength and determination and her will to fight; there was no one he'd trust more to have his back - either in a fight or whatever other situation they invariably found themselves in. But sometimes (oftentimes) he wished he could treat her like the lady she was alongside the warrior, and hold her with that intimate tenderness he longed to give her.

And it was ridiculous to be jealous of the lady dancing with his friend - it was clear Astrid was only dancing with her out of necessity and nothing else. But Hiccup couldn't have dancing as an excuse to hold his friend around her waist. And Astrid surely would not welcome such attention from him: she did not care about the power of the crown, being content with her own power already. She was a serious warrior, and the last thing she needed was her one supporter trying to put her back into a wifely position. She was fond of him, he knew, and sometimes he'd indulged himself at night, replaying her rare smiles at him, imagining they were of a deeper affection than close friendship.

"Oh, you're really down bad, aren't you?" a low but feminine voice chuckled near his ear. He turned, startled, to face Lady Heather smirking at him.

"I'm sorry?" he asked stupidly. Heather tilted her to the side and regarded him almost pityingly. A dark lock of curls rested on her ear.

"You aren't actually that good at lying, you know," she said casually. "And to those who know how smart you are, playing dumb is just insulting."

Hiccup rolled his eyes. "And around those who know you aren't nearly as mysterious as you'd like to act, Heather, you may drop the façade."

"Don't deflect," Heather scolded softly, white teeth gleaming in the candlelight. "Anyone could notice the ways your eyes track her." Hiccup followed her gaze to Astrid and the lady she was dancing with.

"Lady Greta?" he asked, injecting the right amount of confusion into his voice. Had she really just said he couldn't act? Heather let out a short tinkle of laughter.

"Oh, that was good," she shook her head. "But I meant the other lady."

"Other-?"

"The one Lady Greta is dancing with." Hiccup swallowed thickly. No. No one but him knew Astrid was . . . Astrid. Right? He turned to Heather, unable to mask the fear in his eyes.

"I know," Heather said, lifting her chin.

"Don't-" he pleaded with her. It was stupid. He knew Heather wouldn't do such a thing, and yet irrational panic filled him at the thought of Astrid being discovered.

"I wouldn't," she assured him, a pained note in her voice. He winced.

"I, I know, I just -"

"I get it," she said quickly. A beat passed, and then, "She cares for you too, you know."

"What?" he snapped his head round to look at her, unable to disguise his pitiful note of hope.

"You know what I mean," Heather said haughtily. "If you weren't so hellbent on disguising your own emotions you might be able to see she is just as bad at concealing her feelings as you are."

"Such language for a lady," he tutted to keep himself from focusing on what Heather could possibly mean.

"I'm hardly ladylike," she purred, a wicked gleam in her eye that made Hiccup cough delicately.

"Ah. You . . . sorted things out with Eret, have you?" he asked. There was a time he hadn't liked the man, having witnessed Heather's quiet heartbreak at his hands and then fearing Astrid had been caught in the same trap, but since then he had come to enjoy Eret's lighthearted company.

"For the most part," Heather nodded. "We still don't dare get publicly engaged, not yet. Perhaps if there was a way to get Father or Dagur indebted to him, he could ask for my hand, but we must still keep things quiet until we get a chance or change Father's mind."

"I wish you luck," Hiccup told her dryly. Heather fanned herself to disguise her eye roll.

"Stop it! Father is getting a little mellow in old age, it shouldn't be too hard. And if all else fails, we could always confess and elope." Hiccup's eyebrows jumped in surprise.

"I guess so," he conceded. "No one's looking at me right now: I think I'll try to retire. Good night, Heather."

"Henry," Heather called. He turned slightly to look at her. "She could be holding herself back for the same reasons you are. Maybe you should make the first move." He blinked, trying to recall the previous conversation. Ah.

"I'll consider it," he promised, before he ran smack dab into a group of gossiping mothers who paired him with their daughters for the rest of the night.

He didn't want to say goodbye to Astrid the next morning. He patted Stormfly's flank a last time and waved half heartedly as she rode away back west. He wished she'd said something. He wished he'd said something. But neither of them had, so he was left to kick at the dirt and stare after her long gone figure until his father came and took him back inside.

It was perfectly acceptable to mope, he decided. No, it was not very becoming of a prince, and no, no one sympathized. His mother shook her head gently, Duke Jorgenson picked at his slouch, and the King just looked disappointed at his son's childish display of missing his friend. Toothless thought he was rather pathetic too, as he kept biting Hiccup's fingers whenever he brushed his stallion too slowly, and at one point during their ride had tried to buck him off. Hiccup had barely managed to stay astride.

"Useless horse," he muttered darkly.

The worst part about everything was that he had no idea when he'd see her again. She was going home, probably for good, and was probably going to run her estate while he suffered with the kingdom's paperwork. Sure, she had that nephew now, and she was afraid he'd inherit her place and right to the estate, but Hiccup was certain that couldn't happen. Not when the world knew Astrid as Sir Hofferson; it would be impossible for the nephew to inherit over the son.

Maybe his moping shouldn't have lasted a month. Or two. Or however long it took for his dad to lose his patience and give him serious lectures or yell at him. But eventually he was dragged into meetings and lectures and the king's prodding at him, trying to display the Heir of Berk people were so eager to see.

But maybe he didn't want to be the Heir and Pride of Berk. Didn't everyone know he wouldn't be so public-worthy without Sir Hofferson? He would've stayed the same screw up he had been if Astrid hadn't taken it upon herself to give him extra training. He needed his friend by his side. He wanted someone he trusted to stay real and actually help him when he needed it. Sure, Toothless was also great at taking none of his crap, but Toothless also couldn't accompany him to miserable balls or talk strategy with him, or cover for him when one of his experiments ran awry again. He had made up his mind years ago that he needed Hofferson by his side, even before he had known she was Astrid.

A couple years ago, he had seen death for the first time. He had seen it a few more times since then, and while he still found it as distasteful as ever, he could stomach it, at least.

He hadn't had that sort of immunity then.

It had been awful: death was scary in itself, even if the person was going peacefully. But they were in the midst of a war, and this man was bleeding and missing body parts. His comrades were sobbing and wailing and the nurses were shouting, and all Hiccup could do was watch and feel the blood drain out of his face the same way it was draining out the dying man. It felt like he was rooted to the spot for a lifetime, and yet he had only breathed a few times. And then, in that moment where you truly know before your brain registers the fact, he gained enough control over his body to realize he was about to throw up, and the man was dead.

He had made his way quietly out of the tent. He was doing better in his training by then, and had stopped being bullied a while ago, but it also hadn't occurred to his peers yet how useful gaining his favor could be, so he had a bit of privacy to have a minor panic attack.

That man had died. He was dead from this war, which people often forgot about because it had been going on for so long that it wasn't so relevant to normal people's lives anymore. There would be people who wouldn't even care about the war while some family would receive a heartbreaking message that one of their promising young men would never come back home.

He bent over and heaved his thin breakfast out onto the dirt. And it was then he noticed him - or her, as he later found out, but a him to him then.

Hofferson knelt beside him, no judgment or pity in his gaze, just simple understanding. Hiccup closed his eyes and let the shame wash over him, but Hofferson was his friend, and maybe he genuinely wasn't like the other boys who would tease him mercilessly for this.

"He - he died," Hiccup croaked, trying to see if the concept made more sense spoken aloud. "He's dead."

"He is," Astrid had said matter of factly. Hiccup had felt a prick of anger at that, he remembered. How could one just accept the loss of a life like that?

"But what if - what if there could have been another way," he blurted out, desperate to find an alternate answer. "What if he didn't have to die? Can't there be another option?"

"People die every day," his friend had said slowly, like they were trying to accustom him to the every fact of death. "Maybe, in another world, he would have died today anyway, despite not fighting in a war. Maybe he wouldn't have." Hiccup looked stonily at the ground, as if not being able to see her would mean he couldn't hear her, too. "But that man who died today, died for a cause. He fought for something until his last breath; isn't that the best way to die?" Astrid had bent down farther so she could meet his eyes as he stared at the wet dirt.

He blew out a shaky breath and raked his hands through his hair, grabbing at the strands in an effort to stabilize himself.

"You're going to be King someday," Hofferson pressed, because apparently they couldn't leave him alone. Why pile more guilt and responsibility on him now? "You're going to be forced to make decisions that get people killed." Hiccup squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he could just make his friend leave and let him wallow in peace. He was such a screw up, a weak nobody who just happened to be born in this awful position of power he could never live up to. And yes, Hofferson was helping him with his fighting, and nobody made fun of him as often, and Mom and Dad seemed a lot more able to tolerate him with his growing success. But he wasn't as strong as his dad, he couldn't make the kind of decisions that would result in all of . . . this. A gentle hand, slim and small but strong and calloused at the same time, rested on his shoulder.

"What's important is that you make sure those decisions aren't in vain," his friend had said firmly. And for some reason, that resonated with him. He could probably never learn to not be bothered by killing, but the deaths didn't have to be meaningless. Each death could be a tribute to life, to keeping the rest of the people, and he might not be able to go to war to kill, but he could go to war to fight for the importance of life.

His eyes met hers, and he knew then, even before he knew what would later develop for her, he knew he needed a person who could pull him out of dark despair the way she had. He needed her by his side. Maybe he could make Hofferson part of his permanent council once he was forced to ascend the throne, yes. That was how he could keep his friend by his side.

There was another way now, though.

And after Spitelout - er, Duke Jorgenson and Dad snapped at him for what felt like the hundredth time that day, he picked out his second nicest riding outfit and led Toothless out the gates, setting off to the Hofferson estate.

.oOo.

The first thought Astrid had as she entered the estate was how little everything had changed, and how out of place she felt. A servant caught sight of her and bowed before turning to alert his superiors of her arrival. Those were the hills she hadn't ridden in years. She dismounted by the stables, and a stable boy rushed out to take Stormfly and she let him after a moment's hesitation, used to doing such things herself in the Guard.

"Astrid, my dear girl," Father greeted her when she entered the manor. "So good to see you again." He embraced her tightly, and Astrid hugged him back before stepping back.

"I'm so glad to see you back," Mother said happily, stepping forward to envelop her daughter in an embrace. "I worried you'd stay longer when I received your plans to stay another week, but I'm so glad you came. Come, you must be tired after three days' ride. I already have the maids drawing a bath and some nicer clothes laid out."

"Thank you," Astrid smiled gratefully, although she was slightly taken aback. It was an unspoken agreement that Astrid wore feminine clothes at home - which she was happy to do, for she missed her dresses often. Especially after a ball. But usually her family was far more interested with how she had been and she could at least get through dinner before donning a lady's garb. Hadn't she been away for nearly two years? Then again, there was far more time to hear her tales: the Hofferson's had needed an heir, and now they had a better one. And Astrid was probably returning home for good.

Admittedly, the hot bath was quite welcome, and Astrid found a lovely blue dress of fine cotton waiting for her. Oh, it had been so long since she had worn blue. The Berk Guard wore the livery colors of the Royal family, and Astrid quite enjoyed the way red and black complimented her complexion, but it wasn't blue. She combed her short, wet hair a little self consciously before making her way down to dinner.

Everyone was already sitting. Father sat at the head of the table, Mother on his right, Astoria on his left. Astrid didn't know her sister had come to visit. Cami, the last unmarried sister besides Astrid, sat next to Astoria. Astrid took her seat next to Mother, some of her hair falling into her eyes, contrasting with all the other ladies' meticulous coiffures. She quickly tucked it behind her ear, cursing herself for not at least attempting to braid her hair nicely.

The table immediately started inquiring plenty of things about her: how had she been, was the ride home easy? How lovely it was to have her back. What was it like, fighting? That was from Cami, who was quickly shushed; she acquiesced grumpily, slumping in her chair as much as she dared. Mother then quickly turned the conversation around to how healthy Astrid looked - practically glowing, even, before she had any time to regale any fun tales to her younger sister.

Ah, she knew what was going on. Hofferson's were never supposed to display anything but the epitome of manners, so clearly her parents were getting all the small talk over with to head on the topic they really wanted to discuss. It was probably going to take at least a week before they allowed themselves to get to the point, though.

"Enough about me," Astrid declared easily after they were halfway through the main course. "It is rude to only inquire after one person - Astoria, how does your son and husband?"

"They do well," Astoria answered, seeming surprised at Astrid addressing her. "Gunnar and I are here to visit awhile while my husband is at court."

"Wonderful," Astrid said amicably, even though she didn't feel like it at all. She continued to make small conversation and inquire after the rest of her family for the rest of the night, anxious to put off questions about herself.

"Mother, Father, I'm sure you have been busy in my absence, what about you?"

Oh, well enough, Mother assured her. Happier now she was home. Father jokingly related a few frustrating anecdotes from the day before and Astrid cracked a smile. Cami chimed in about baby Gunnar ruining her dress, and Astrid's smile became strained at the mention of her nephew.

It was probably rude to dislike a baby so much, especially one she was so closely related to, but Astrid couldn't help herself from wanting to scowl at the mere mention of him. It didn't help that the rest of the family were clearly so enamored with the heir.

Father cleared his throat. "As a matter of fact, Astrid," he said solemnly. "There is something we'd like to talk to you about."

Of course there is, Astrid nodded, indicating for them to go on. Lord Hofferson looked at his wife, who folded her hands in her lap as she turned to face Astrid.

"We have been waiting for you to come home for a while," Mother began. "You look nice and healthy, and, well, you aren't getting any younger dear."

Thor help her, she knew where this was going.

"We've been thinking, it is time for you to settle down, Astrid."

"Oh," she said stupidly.

"You certainly have an aura of allure," Mother said happily. "People are wondering when our beautiful elusive daughter will come out and find a husband - you've never even made a proper debut. Now, we had a list of prospective suitors-" Astrid's eyes bulged in horror.

"-But you've given us an even better one," Mother declared proudly.

"That sounds a little ominous, to be honest," Astrid said dryly. Warning bells rang in her head at the snark directed towards her parents, but a bigger part of her mind was cast fondly to Hiccup and his inability to keep his mouth shut and free from unwanted comments during serious conversation. Cami hastily took an overlarge sip from her glass and burst into a coughing fit. The attention turned to her little sister until Cami assured them she was fine and scooped a generous serving of potatoes into her mouth. Mother sighed.

"Cami, dear, you know opening your mouth so big is unladylike," Mother admonished her youngest.

"Who is the better option for me?" Astrid asked in an effort to distract her parents from her sister.

"The Crown Prince," Father said. Astrid's head whipped towards him and her jaw dropped momentarily. "It's clear that you are very close to him, and truly, there is no one better to merge our family with; we have plenty of ties through marriage and trade with our surrounding territories, and your aunts in the southeast. We should establish ourselves more often in court." Astrid focused on keeping her back perfectly straight so as to avoid curling her lip at the factual assessment of the Crown Prince's benefits to the family. Everything her father said made sense, but she felt protective over Hiccup being regarded so callously. 'They're never interested in me for anything but my position,' he had once confided in her.

Astrid felt repulsion thick in her throat. Hadn't she judged all the other ladies who had schemed for the Prince as well? This made her just as bad - worse, even. The gravy over her potatoes - one of her favorite dishes - tasted like ash. She sipped some water to wash the taste down, but the liquid felt strangely dry. The voices around her continued to talk, but it was hard to hear, like that time a robber she was fighting had stuffed her head into a barrel, and the noise had been unbearably loud but she couldn't make out the muffled shouting.

"Excuse me," she said as soon as she could. "I'd like to retire."

"Of course," Mother nodded.

"I'm sure Gunnar needs checking anyways," Astoria piped up. "I can accompany you to your rooms," she offered.

"Oh no need," Astrid assured her quickly, and left the room before her sister could protest.

Mother and Father, Astrid learned as the months merged from early spring to mid summer, had it all planned out. Astrid's thick golden locks grew longer, her braids took longer to do, and she found herself thinking of trying to add her hair comb somewhere, but eventually decided against it for now - it was special. She would certainly wear it to her debut, which was to take place at her twentieth birthday in late summer.

They were to arrange a little 'accident' for their 'son' a little before her debut, and at the funeral, while the Prince was mourning, Astrid would comfort him over the death of her brother and present herself as a suitable wife simultaneously.

"You know him better than anyone, dear," Mother exclaimed to her over dress fitting. "You'll have the upper hand over anyone else; you know what he likes!"

"That doesn't mean I want to use it against him!" Astrid cried before sucking in a sharp breath as the seamstress tugged her corset string a little harder. The air she was deprived of was replaced by a litany of foul curses and she bit her tongue to keep them from escaping. The corset didn't hurt as much as being whacked in the abdomen with a staff, but it was uncomfortable nonetheless.

"Astrid," Mother placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Darling, it's . . . quite clear to us that you feel something for the Prince. Love matches aren't ever to be expected, but they are coveted, and he would be a wonderful choice for a husband. Don't you agree?" Astrid tried to pretend the color in her cheeks weren't rising, but her mother acknowledged them with a satisfied nod. "Besides, if you like him so much, surely he can't be too far behind; anyone would be lucky to have you."

Surely her feelings for the prince weren't that obvious, Astrid prayed fervently. And it was true - Astrid probably would never be able to bring herself to marry anyone other than him. What luck her selfishness was for the benefit of the family. But how would the Prince want her? He was the Heir to Berk, and a great fighter in his own right - why would he want a knight for a wife? He'd be able to see through her immediately: he always had, and he knew her true identity, unbeknownst to her parents. Would he hate her for being so duplicitous to his face?

She slept restlessly that hot night, burning with guilt and self loathing. At last, dawn was about to break and she rose early to dress in her riding outfit. She wore dresses among her family, and her riding outfit was no different, although she did wear men's trousers underneath. Her hair had been growing out over the months, and it had nearly reached her shoulders. She quickly gathered her hair and plaited two braids - one from each temple, joined in the back. She thought fleetingly of her hair comb, but such an ornament would be ridiculous for riding. She pushed open her heavy door, peeking out into the corridor before stepping onto the soft carpet, her riding boots sinking slightly under her weight. The servants weren't yet out and about.

Stormfly was always a good listener. Astrid could rant and scream and let her mare gallop and be back in time for breakfast, temper leashed enough to be able to bear her parents' conniving. The early morning mist brushed against her face as she exited the manor for the stables. She let a smile across her face as she imagined flying through it.

She entered the stables, the placement of Stormfly's stall so familiar she could find it in her sleep. But as she rounded a corner to where the hay bales lay she came upon a most shocking sight. She let out a shrill scream and stumbled back, hand belatedly covering her eyes.

Cami, skirts up and the stable boy, pants down, whipped around at the sound and screeched. She heard the rustle of fabric as the youth fumbled with his pants and Cami hastily tried to smooth her skirts, muttering a horrific slew of curses. Where has she learned such language? The protective monster side of Astrid growled dangerously.

Astrid stood with her hand angrily on her hips as the stable boy passed her, beet red and still adjusting himself. Cami caught sight of her face and tried to run away, but Astrid had been training as a stealthy, fit fighter for the past five years and she easily grabbed a hold of her youngest sister's wrist.

"Camillia Bertha Hofferson," she seethed, levering the not-yet sixteen year old with a deadly glare. "Explain yourself!" The young lady tried to shrug out of her grip.

"Come off it, surely you know what was happening," Cami shot snidely. Astrid sputtered indignantly.

"You're not even sixteen!" she cried. "You're too young - have you any idea what you're doing? You cannot just ruin yourself like that!"

"Of course not," Cami spat, her long blonde hair a tangled mess around her face. "It would be awful for me to do anything without consideration for my unknown future husband, who surely is extending me the same courtesy." Astrid sighed. She understood Cami's frustration well, but it hadn't been pleasant to learn about Heather's anguish she had gone through after losing her maidenhood - to a noble, at least, not some lowly youth merely thinking with something other than his head.

"What, so you let yourself be tumbled by the first lad that came along?" Astrid shot. She winced internally. That had come out far harsher than it should've. Cami's face grew red with shame and anger.

"Don't act as if you wouldn't have considered something similar were you in my position."

"I am-"

"No!" Cami cut in. "No you're not. Your position is different. You don't have to be a lady like me."

"Of course I do! I must be able to conduct myself both as a lady and a gentleman, and even so I am able to uphold my honor," Astrid rebutted pointedly.

"Because creating a whole other person who doesn't even exist, lying to everyone about who you really are, that truly is the epitome of honor!" Cami cried, her voice rising louder. "You act like what you did was so hard, but you got to leave and adventure and escape corsets and the constant pressure of navigating society, avoiding older ladies' snide comments and not a single true friend among peers because you are all competing against each other for some snotty old man who'll pay our families for a pretty, obedient young wife who will bear him babies to continue his deplorable line." Her voice broke as she continued. "And you got to meet the Prince - and fall in love with him - don't try to deny it. And everyone wants you to marry him! Everyone is happy for you! How dare you try to deny me a right to myself!"

"I am PROTECTING you!" Astrid shouted at her sister, hurt. "I have shed blood for this family, worked my body until it was black and blue and sore! How ungrateful are you?" She dropped Cami's wrist to throw up her hands. "How many times did I give up the comfort of a soft warm bed for the hard ground in the middle of the battlefield for you?! There were so many nights all I wanted was to go back and yet I persevered for everyone! They may seem tedious to you but I don't get to dress up and go to balls as a lady. I can't grow my hair out or even speak in a normal voice for fear of someone suspecting me. I am one of the best knights of my generation who has given my all, and yet if everyone were to ever find out my true identity I am sure they would forsake me." Astrid blinked rapidly to calm herself down. "You're my family; you're supposed to understand," she shook her head, trying to clear the lump in her throat without being obvious. "And what is my reward? Being replaced by an infant as soon as he was born."

Cami seemed stunned, and Astrid drew a ragged breath through her nose to calm herself down, satisfied at rendering her sister speechless. It only lasted for a moment.

"You don't get to act like you're so different from us, doing what you did, and then come back and just resume your place like nothing happened," Cami said stiltedly, like she was trying to regain the upper hand but wasn't quite sure how to go about it.

"If Mother and Father have their way, that's exactly what I'm going to do," Astrid retorted contrarily.

"As if you could keep up," Cami scoffed.

"I'm a quick learner," Astrid reminded her triumphantly. "I learned all the lady etiquette you learned in less than a quarter of the time you did."

Cami tossed her head. "I hadn't been trying to master my poise," she sniffed. "Besides, just because you want to be a lady again all of a sudden doesn't mean you are one. There are many things about society that cannot be learned from books or tutors."

"I know," Astrid said tiredly, refraining from rolling her eyes at the superiority in her younger sister's voice. "I haven't been living under a rock all these years. In fact, I know what goes on behind the scenes with the men better than any of the other ladies, so we both have advantages over each other."

Still, the thought of navigating court and convincing her best friend to marry her instead of all the other young ladies coiled a heavy lead rope in her stomach. Perhaps building a proper friendship with Lady Heater instead of just a truce would be a good investment.

"What would you even do as Queen?" Cami continued, having scented Astrid's niggling fear like a bloodhound on a hunt. "Fight? Lead the armies into battle?" That tone of hers was unacceptable, Astrid thought darkly. Her little sister was treating her like a dirty vagabond whose only use was brawling, but clearly, it was her manners that were lesser. Astrid had been trained so strictly on politeness, where had that dedication gone with the youngest sister?

"Fighting a battle is not all I'm good at," Astrid retorted, barely keeping all the bite out of her tone. She wanted to settle down and have a family, have her husband smile at her the way Father smiled at Mother or the King at the Queen. She wanted someone to look at her, well, the way Hiccup did. But she wanted that on her own terms. She wanted to continue to defend her country, wanted to be seen as capable of more than just a wife. Why could she only achieve one of those things by the loss of the other? But she didn't say any of that. How could she expect Cami to understand? It wasn't as if Cami was suddenly in a space to listen to her, anyway. She stared into the distance, not noticing the smell of hay or the barn walls.

The teenager waited for Astrid to elaborate what she was good at challengingly. When no examples were forthcoming, she grinned in victory.

"You think they'd let you fight after you married?" she sneered. "Are you going to come clean about who you've really been these past five years, or will you just lie to them? You think they won't question your decisions and wonder why you know such things? Do you think the Prince will be happy to hear-" Astrid's head snapped back up to look at her sister.

"Oh what do you know about the Prince?" Astrid snapped at her, the stress of months of her parent's plans and her own guilt and Cami's infuriating attitude breaking her control. "You have no right to act as if you know him!" Astrid yelled. "He is more than stupid rumors and callous speculation - he's a person who has feelings and opinions about who he is and what he likes! Ever wonder why he's still a bachelor? He doesn't like that kind of talk about him, and that's where all the girls have gone wrong."

"Oh? Does that make you believe you'd have a chance then?" Cami curled her lip. "You're different, are you? You're so unconventional and unique. Our parents' Golden Girl?"

"I was never their Golden Girl," Astrid mimicked her. They had appreciated Astrid's naive attempts to bring honor to their family, and it had worked, but she wouldn't be recognized as a good little daughter until she married. Astoria had always been the perfect daughter - the best at everything, marrying without complaint, birthing the heir to House Hofferson, being the first born. The daughter with the overall most benefit to existing.

"Well say the Prince does like the rebellious sort like you," Cami continued patronizingly. Astrid snorted. Was Cami not aware of the ridiculous hypocrisy in calling her rebellious? And who was she to think she could speak thus to her elders? "What sort of awful example would you set, cutting your hair and wearing ugly men's clothes? Women can wield swords but they shouldn't be soldiers."

A sharp slap rang out, and Cami gasped and touched her cheek gingerly, staring at Astrid with wide eyes.

"Shut the fuck up," Astrid hissed, baring her teeth. "Be glad it wasn't a punch." She spun abruptly and walked out of the barn, horrified with the heat of her palm.

She stormed away, hand still smarting from slapping Cami. Her breathing was rapid and uneven. The mist had cleared somewhat as the sun had come out, so the air felt more clammy than cooling. She didn't watch where she was going and her boot sunk into the ground, the land grown soft with water. She growled as her hem dragged through the mud and stepped forcefully on the unstable ground the rest of the way to the house just because it felt like the wrong thing to do.

A throat cleared behind her as she stepped inside and closed the door and she whirled around, her hand helplessly searching for an unavailable weapon at her hip. It took a moment for her to relax her stand and her brain to recognize the person. A tall young man with a lean build, windswept brown hair with auburn streaks, and impassioned green eyes that were wide as he took her in, wearing a dress in front of him for the time.

"Ast-" his voice sounded rather hoarse. What on Earth was he doing here? Astrid's frazzled state grew even more agitated with her confusion, and while normally the sight of Hiccup soothed her like nothing else, she really, really didn't want to see him right now, not with everything she had just been thinking. "That is, Lady Astrid," he corrected himself. "I uh, may I speak with you for a moment, please?"

No, I can't face you right now, she thought desperately. Please go away. They stood there staring at each other, neither saying a thing. Astrid was too stunned and Hiccup seemed too flustered to break the uncomfortable silence. But, against her consent, she found herself nodding and leading him to a nearby room off the corridor.

His clothes were speckled with dirt, she noticed, and he looked like he hadn't slept in days - Astrid knew that look all too well from her experience. He ran a hair through his hair - it, too, had grown longer since she'd seen him like hers had.

"I've never-" he began, before cutting himself off. "You um, you look lovely?" Her hair had started to frizz out of its braids and the bottom five inches of her hem were caked with mud, and she was sure her face was still flushed with anger. She was very unpretty at the moment.

"Is that a surprise?" she sniped before she could stop herself. No, stop it. This was why she couldn't see him, she would say things she didn't mean or worse, things she did mean and that would complicate things. It stung a bit, the thought had perhaps he had never considered her pretty before. His face morphed into an expression of affronted surprise.

"No," he denied vehemently, and that guilty, vain part of her settled. "No, I - you always look beautiful, just, usually in a different way. You look nice like this too. Really nice. Yeah. Um. Well, I mean, not just nice, but-" he cleared his throat, looking around the room anywhere but her. "That's not - this isn't what I'm here for."

"What are you doing here?" Astrid asked. Her tone was barely polite, bordering on the edge of accusatory. Hiccup's brows furrowed confusedly. He shifted his weight, leaning more heavily on his right leg. He swallowed and inhaled slowly.

"I had to see you," he began. "I'm sorry for the abruptness of it all, but I haven't really stopped riding for the last two days coming here to really think."

"It's a three day ride from the capital to here," Astrid exclaimed softly. "Hiccup, you must be dead on your feet." What on Midgard had happened that was so important? Was he coming to warn her of something?

"Not yet," he grinned at her. "I just . . . I had to see you." He'd said that already.

"To tell me what?" she asked, eager to have him deliver the news so he could rest. He looked near dead beat, yet there was still that lively spark in his eyes as he looked at her, and even though she was certain he was running on adrenaline alone, he still looked damn beautiful. He took a deep breath.

"Berk doesn't feel the same without you, Astrid," he declared passionately. "Logically, I know it should be ridiculous, because you were only at the palace for a little while, and somehow, we've spent most of our lives without each other, but it - God, Astrid, you became a part of it so easily, and now everything feels unfinished without you. Again, not really logical, but my head has never worked normally around you." Astrid felt her heart beating, her posture relaxing against her will even as a sense of horror began to grow.

"I miss it too," she admitted. "I just, I don't know if I can go back . . ." She had never felt so free as when she was there, but would she ever be able to reach that feeling again as a lady, rather than a knight?

"You could," Hiccup stepped forward and took her hands. Oh, he was misunderstanding her - wait wait wait. He was holding her hands. Astrid's gaze snapped up to meet his. He was looking at her intensely, like she was the only thing in the room, the world. "Astrid Hofferson. Our time away from each other has forced me to realize how much of an influence you have on me - for good. I've taken you for granted these past few years because you were always there, but - please, do me the honor of marrying me, and I swear I will cherish you for the rest of my life - our lives."

Astrid blinked, as if that would ensure she had heard him correctly. He tugged on her hands, forcing her to take a step closer to him. They were face to face, so close she couldn't see anything but him. His eyes bored into hers, their gazes colliding and sending a ringing through her ears.

"I love you, Astrid. I love your smile, and the way you throw your head back when you laugh. I love the way your brow furrows in concentration when you fight. I love your steadiness next to my recklessness. I love the way you still try to tuck your hair behind your ear even when it's too short to stay."

Astrid's mouth fell open with a shaky, disbelieving laugh.

"I think you're beautiful, Astrid. When you have dirt and blood on your face, or when you're stiff in men's clothes for formal events, or right now, in this dress." He took a moment to look her up and down in appreciation. "I think it's criminal I've never seen you in a dress before."

"Hiccup-" there was a feeling clogging her throat, so she cleared it. She felt sick to her stomach.

"Yes?" he asked tenderly.

"I can't," she shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, as if that would surely make everything go away. Hiccup's hands dropped from her arms and she felt him cup her face upwards until she opened her eyes to meet his.

"Is there . . . someone else?" he whispered mournfully, a possessive gleam in his eye. "A previous engagement?"

"No," she breathed, gently taking his hand from her chin. "No, it's - not that."

"Then what?" he pleaded. "Please, Astrid, anything. Give me something."

"I can't - this isn't - we couldn't - what would people say about you marrying a girl no one has barely seen for the past five years?!"

"I don't care about that," he said ardently.

"That's not all! I'm not - I'm not cut out to be a Queen - or at least, I'm not ready for it-"

"You'd be great, but we could wait if you wanted," he assured her earnestly.

"I mean, I don't want - I don't want to stop being a knight just yet."

"I wouldn't stop you. Hell, you'd never have to stop being a knight," he spread his arms like it was the answer to everything, and Astrid felt irrational anger building up about to explode out of her throat.

"Oh, really?" she challenged him, the injustice of everything building underneath her skin, causing her fists to clench and her nails to bite into her calloused palms. "What would everyone say if they found out I was a knight?"

"Their opinions wouldn't matter," Hiccup said stoutly. Astrid let out a bitter laugh.

"They do, Hiccup. Trust me."

"No they don't, Astrid-"

"You don't understand-"

"Since when have you let what people thought stop you?" Hiccup interrupted indignantly. "You wanted to become a knight, despite your parents not wanting you to, and you became the best damn knight in the country." He was - that was wrong. She wasn't the best in the country. Yet, a treacherous voice inside her whispered, but she quashed it down with logic: when would she be able to get better after this? "People wouldn't think our ideas wouldn't work, but you weren't afraid to try them and show people they were wrong. You didn't try to fit in with the other knights if you disagreed with what they were doing. You weren't afraid to be unpopular or work hard. What's stopping you now?"

"It's not that easy," Astrid whispered. She wanted to throw her arms around him and do something crazy like - like kiss him - for having so much faith in her. Did he not realize what an uproar it would cause for her to be both a knight and his wife? She didn't want to kill off her alternate self, but she had also resigned herself to her parent's plan. He didn't know the cowardly strategy to resume her place in society, and how much she hated it. She had been so dreading the chance to try to win his heart, and now that she already had it, and he wanted her to continue as a knight if she wished? She didn't deserve it, surely. Astrid was used to working so hard for everything she wanted in life, something she desired so avidly shouldn't be so easy. She bit her lip and averted her eyes.

Hiccup lifted her chin to force her to meet his eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut so she wouldn't have to meet his gaze. She had never done that. Even when eye contact had made her heart beat so erratically she had thought she would combust, or when she thought it was a terrible timing, even if she had to look away soon after, she had always met his eye. Hiccup knew this too.

"Wow," he said softly. "I'd never take you for a coward, Astrid Hofferson."

Her eyes snapped open and she shoved him away from her, hard, her internal despair giving way to welcome aggression.

"Shut up!" she hissed. He had struck a nerve there. "I am not-"

"You can't even meet my eye," he accused her, hurt that she refused to fight for something he hadn't slept for in two days in an attempt to get to her faster. She stalked towards him. They stood face to face, chests heaving, noses almost touching as she leaned up on her toes to better meet his eyes in challenge. Her face was flushed pink, eyes brimming with anger and hurt and longing, blonde hair now just past her shoulders in wild disarray. He could feel the anger rolling off of her in waves of heat, and his own temperature rose to meet hers. Buried deep below the surface was his father's substantial rage, and Astrid had always awakened things no one else had. Hiccup's eyes flickered down to her lips, pulled back into a defensive snarl. He wanted nothing more than to close that distance between them and ravage her mouth until she was whimpering sweet nothings, but he somehow managed to hold himself back.

"You think you can just - waltz into here and propose marriage and I'll just suddenly drop everything to say yes?" she spat disgustedly. Hiccup hesitated. Truthfully, he hadn't thought ahead. He'd just finally realized what a muttonhead he was, keeping his feelings from her when she probably felt the same. Truthfully, he had kind of assumed her love for him would affect her similarly as it had him.

She had feelings for him, that he could tell, but it didn't seem as if she had accepted the fact.

"You want this so bad?" she challenged, her volume rising with the color in her cheeks. "You're the Crown Prince who can do anything?! Where is the change in law to allow females to inherit, huh?" Hiccup said nothing.

"None of this would be happening if not for the simple fact women are not trusted with men's belongings after they are deceased - even if they should belong to us." She poked his chest hard enough for him to take a step back. "How can you promise me support if I ever came clean? Where is the support now?"

"I-" Hiccup began.

"NO! Uh-uh, I'm talking. You could do so much, why are you waiting until you're king to start change? Let women inherit! Stop the war!"

"I'm going to stop you there," he cried indignantly. "One person cannot just stop a war."

"Have you tried?" she shot. "What have you done at all to try to help us finish this ongoing battle, huh? Sure, you served on the frontlines with all of us, but your strengths have always been in doing things the way they've never been done before."

"I can't-"

"YOU COULD!" Astrid screamed. She didn't care if she woke up the whole house. Everything was slipping out of control; Cami, Hiccup, herself. What were a few more people tangled up in this disaster? "You could but you won't. Because you don't actually want to put in the effort and change things. You want things to be the way they've been for the past few years but those times are over. You can't have them again. Grow up, Hiccup. I'm not just someone who will hold your hand and relive the past."

"That's not true," he denied hotly

Hiccup's eyes were wide, like the bright green grass in the early spring that had been frosted: bright green like nothing else, but about to die as soon as the frost melted. He blinked a few times, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing, his head shaking as if he was trying to deny to himself who had just said such hurtful words to him.

They knew each other better than anyone else. She had been the only one who could see how affected he had been by others' malicious words, and then had taken it to a new level. She wanted to apologize, say she didn't mean it, but deep down, she knew she had hit the truth, and that's why it hurt so much.

"That's not fair," he croaked. He was looking at her like maybe he didn't know her, like this wasn't real. And maybe it wasn't. How could life go from miserable to him confessing his love for her to this? Or maybe that was exactly the kind of havoc life wrought.

Astrid chose her next words carefully. She needed to put the final nail in the coffin. This encounter wasn't salvageable, the least she could do was finish off the damage. "You're all words and no action," she said shakily, a note of hate in her voice to drown out the sorrow. "And I don't want your empty promises."

He let out a strangled breath that sounded suspiciously like a sob. Astrid stared at his boots. "If that's what you think of me," Hiccup said slowly, like every word cost him. "Maybe we weren't the match I thought we were." He brushed past her to the door and Astrid let him go, a hollow feeling in her chest as she absorbed his words. "Good day, Lady Hofferson." He closed the door behind him.

Astrid made it to a chair before her knees gave out from under her. And for the first time in ten years, Astrid Hofferson burst into tears.

.oOo.

By late evening Hiccup had to admit it was time to take a break. It had been easy enough to ride nonstop for two days straight fueled by love and the ridiculous hope everything would go perfectly and he'd return home a betrothed man. Now, his sleeplessness weighed down upon him, made heavier by the simmering bitter disappointment.

A dingy tavern's rotting wooden sign swaying in the slight breeze. Raucous laughter squeezed out from under the rickety door. Hiccup studied the building blearily. It was the largest establishment around, it surely had hot food and a room to sleep. He would have preferred a kind farmer's hospitality, but they could be hard to find and at this hour, most of them would be drunk and mean, and their wives scared and wary.

He dug into his saddlebag to take out a pouch of coins and a hood. A couple years ago, before he'd joined the Berk Guard, he would have had all his money in one pouch, but Sir Alvin and him had once been sent by Captain Throk on a mission to extract information, and his older comrade had given him some tips.

"Never keep yer money all in one place," Alvin had cautioned him. "Just like you know not to show all yer money at once, you separate it against any pickpockets or the like. Plus, it's good to be able to conjure a coin without getting into the pouch and exposing yer money."

It had been thrilling, filtrating a bar that night. Alvin had cut quite the imposing figure, and while Hiccup didn't have that intimidating build, he managed a warning aura just fine.

He made sure his pouch was only one third full: enough to show he had money to pay, but not enough to make himself a target. A couple coins concealed in fingerless gloves - he hadn't mastered many tricks or sleight of hand, but he could reach them easily.

He led Toothless to the stables and brushed him down quickly before he donned his heavy hood.

He kept his head down, but his strides were purposeful. Heads turned as he walked through the door but quickly returned back to their businesses as they determined the mysterious slim man with mud spattered clothes and face concealed, but a well made dirk at his hip, didn't pose a threat unless approached.

The tavern keeper eyed him, weighing the stranger's possibly for bringing trouble against the allure of new coin. Strangers so rarely passed through. Hiccup leaned over the bar.

"A room and meal for the night, please." His voice was hoarse. "And a drink." He rarely drank, not having a taste for liquor or the effects it wrought, but tonight he could find a welcome use for it. He flipped a coin onto the bar. The owner grabbed it and pocketed it deftly.

"Yessir," the keeper bowed his head in understanding and bustled off. Hiccup wearily cast around for a table least likely to be interrupted. He sighed in relief as his rump met the hard welcome of the old wooden chair. He huffed to himself. He felt about as old as the middle aged men he fought alongside. Actually, his father and Alvin were more spritely than him at this moment, for he felt sluggish with Astrid's rejection.

Where had he gone wrong? He loved her - he had made it clear, hadn't he? He hadn't cared about all the obstacles she had cited for her rejection - was she simply trying to find an excuse instead of telling him she didn't want him?

What he needed was a good night's rest to lick his wounds and clear his head - maybe a drink to forget his troubles wouldn't hurt either.

He should have known, inevitably, that nothing was that easy. He had no sooner sat down and settled, everyone's attention off of him, for it to be transferred to two instigators.

Two hulking men, bold bald, the first with dark eyebrows, the second of the pair with blonde eyebrows and a hook instead of his left hand, made their way over to Hiccup's side of the room. Hook-for-hand roughly pushed a few men sitting at a table off their chairs, not far from where Hiccup was sitting. The men at the table had clearly been drinking for quite some time, and one of them complained loudly as his mug emptied its contents down his shirt. Another man's head hid the floor painfully and didn't move, but the rise and fall of his chest told spectators he was simply unconscious, not dead.

"I should kill ya," the first bald man with the dark eyebrows, growled. The threat was directed to a small man with a dark beard and extensive mustache. A burlap sack hat perched atop his head. He wore a bawdy red tunic over faded blue sleeves. Hiccup's eyes widened under his hood - he knew that face: beady blue eyes, unflatteringly large nose, that too-wide obsequious smile.

What had Trader Johann gotten himself into now? Hiccup suspected this was about to become one of the impossible tales Johann was so fond of telling to his customers until bought whatever he was selling just to shut him up.

"I - I - well - I'm sure I didn't know what you're talking about," Joahnn gave a false laugh, his small, sharp eyes darting nervously around the bar. Hiccup averted his eyes before the trader could recognize him. He didn't particularly like Trader Johann and while the man sometimes brough useful information, Hiccup wasn't sure he trusted the businessman to be discreet about the Crown Prince's presence if it saved his own skin.

"H-How man I be of service, gentlemen?" Johann stuttered.

"Ye dirty cheat," the first man continued to sneer. "We've come to collect a debt. And yer the one who'll be paying for it."

"Oh my," the trader swallowed. "That truly is an honor, my boys, really. Drinks on me, certainly."

"Not like tha'," Hook-Man spoke up after draining Johann's pint. He wiped the back of his left hand across his mouth and grinned menacingly.

Hiccup let out a huff no one noticed. He had told himself he wouldn't get involved, but no one else was doing anything. The rest of the pub tried to act as if they weren't watching the happenings like a sick form of entertainment. Some of the table's neighbors subtly declared themselves finished for the night, leaving most of the surrounding area empty.

Fear entered Johann's pale blue eyes as no one made a move to help him. For all the contacts the man had, he had no friends willing to help.

Johann is useful, Hiccup told himself as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Bald man with dark eyebrows reached for the trader's throat, but his hand halted as a nasally but dangerous voice rang out.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the hooded man shook his head dramatically, so they could recognize the movement even with his hood.

"Why not?" the first man asked. His companion nodded in affirmation of the question.

"I still have use for Trader Johann, you see. Alive."

"Get lost," the man with blonde eyebrows and a hook for his right hand growled. "He's gotta die."

The slim stranger held his hands up easily, a sure sign of surrender.

"Hey now," he said placatingly. "Did I say you couldn't have him after I'm done? No, kill him to your heart's content after my turn."

"This is nunya business," the first man spat.

"Ah," Hiccup pointed a finger at him. "But it is my business when you're impeding my business, so how about you leave him alone? This is your last warning."

The pair of agitators scoffed. "You think a talking fishbone like yerself would be able to take us?" They flexed their muscles, to some applause around the bar. "Bring it on."

Hiccup shrugged. "Okay," he agreed casually, but made no move to approach them. A beat passed, then a second. The men began to laugh at his supposed cowardice, and then he struck.

His long legs brought him to them in barely more than a stride. He punched the blonde eyebrowed man hard with a swift uppercut and doubled over the dark eyebrowed with an efficient knee to the groin. The two staggered back up, nasty grimaces on their faces.

They can take a hit, Hiccup thought, minutely impressed.

His respect for them diminished as he saw how badly they threw their fists.

He dodged each of their uncoordinated swings insultingly smoothly before stepping around and clapping their heads together with a nauseating bang.

Everyone suddenly found their own plates and tables a lot more interesting as Hiccup looked up at the room. The tavern owner rolled his eyes and muttered underneath his breath.

"Oh thank you so much Master-" Hiccup held up his hand.

"No need to address me by name, Johann," he said firmly. He sighed. "Why don't you give me a reason to be glad I just saved you."

"My offer for drinks on me still stands," Johann suggested. Hiccup pushed his hood back so the trader could see his unimpressed expression. "A-as a matter of fact, I do have some information that you wouldn't be able to acquire anywhere else."

"Good," Hiccup replied curtly, eager to think of something other than Astrid. Perhaps he hadn't needed to be that aggressive with the instigators. He would have been able to knock them out before he punched them, but, well, it wasn't as if one threw punches at the person who rejected one's proposal of marriage, even if one wanted to, so the two unsuspecting men were fair game. Even Trader Johann, annoying as he was, was a distraction. The merchant waved the owner over for more drinks and Hiccup settled himself in the chair with the least sticky ale on the seat.

Johann rambled on a bit about how he had come across the inn, but Hiccup knew such talk was simply to distract Hiccup from retrieving the information he had promised.

"Johann," he interrupted sharply. "What else?"

"Oh, well you see, a while back, as I was traveling with Olav - who likes to cheat his customers by mixing water with his milk! I mean who ever-"

"I really hope this wasn't the crucial information you were so eager to share."

Johann's shoulders sagged as he gave in.

"Alright," he conceded. "Well, as I was trading my precious, one of a kind wares across the country, I overheard something interesting from one of my clients."

"Who?" probed the prince.

"Oh, just a Captain to one of Bludvist's small troops." Hiccup sucked in an eager breath.

"What'd he say?" the Heir demanded.

"Oh, many things," the trader said airily. Hiccup slammed his hand on the table, making the other man jump, but he quickly regained his composure.

"Do you know of the Red Death?" the merchant asked mysteriously.

The Red Death was the leader of the largest band of thieves and mercenaries across the Archipelago, known as the Dragons. No one knew their true identity, but sightings of the Dragons had grown fewer over the years. King Stoick had once speculated the Red Death leadership had changed, and the new one did not have as much control over their members.

"Of course, although they have rather been declining, haven't they?"

"Ah-ah-ah," Johann wagged his finger, nails grown over-long and crusted with dirt. "You see, according to this captain, Drago's made a deal with the Red Death - he's hiring all of the Dragons."

"No," Hiccup breathed. Was this the potential second army Bludvist could be building? Any army was formidable and unwelcome, but thousands of highly trained, near feral mercenaries? Berk - Hell, the entire Archipelago, was in grave danger. No where would be safe.

"Yes," assured the merchant, and shuddered.

"How are they communicating? Drago and the Red Death?" Hiccup pressed.

"Through Krogan, Bludvist's General," answered Johann. "In fact, he's going to meet them at an undisclosed location for business in three weeks' time."

"Johann, you're brilliant!" Hiccup praised him. "Do you think you could find out where this 'undisclosed location' is?"

"Oh, I already have it," replied the trader.

"Great!"

"For a price," he tutted. Hiccup's face fell into a threatening scowl. Johann was unmoved. Hiccup sighed and brought out a pouch.

.oOo.

Four days later found the Prince back at the palace, rubbing down Toothless thoroughly and praising him for waiting in the stable while Hiccup had slept for nearly a day straight. Indeed, the inn keeper had sent his stern looking wife to check if he hadn't died, and had seemed mildly displeased to find him just waking up and hungry.

"I need to see my Dad," Hiccup insisted as Duke Spitelout came to greet him.

"-ve been wondering where you were this last week! Yew cannot just disappear on us like that,"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm sorry," Hiccup raised his hands placatingly. "I just - I had something I needed to do, and this is important." The Duke crossed his arms.

"I will inform His Majesty of your return," he said stiffly. Hiccup groaned.

"Oh, come on! I can tell him myself if I see him now!"

"No."

"Please!"

"He's busy." Hiccup pushed past his annoying uncle (why had Mom's sister married him anyway?) and marched to the North Wing, presumably to change.

"Dad," Hiccup entered his father's study, still in his riding clothes, the big oak door swinging shut behind him. "I'd like to talk to you about something. It's urgent."

The King raised his eyebrows in shock at his son and set his drink down, the ice clinking faintly. "Oh really? I see you're back now. Can you imagine how worried your mother has been?"

"Uh," Hiccup paused, chagrined. "I - I'm really sorry, I wasn't in the best headspace and all but - look, I - I've been . . . thinking . . . about things, and I've realized something important."

His father sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Well, out with it, then," Stoick prompted. Hiccup took a breath.

"Dad, I want to change the laws surrounding a lady's right to inherit." The King felt internally grateful he hadn't been drinking anything.

"You . . . what?" he asked incredulously.

"I want-"

"Now hold on, son," Stoick interrupted.

"What?" the young man asked impatiently. Stoick chose to ignore the insubordinate tone of voice.

"Henry," he said gently. "You can't just - decide to change that law! There are protocols-"

"Why not?" his son asked petulantly. "You're the King! Can't you just override them?"

"It's not that easy," Stoick countered tiredly. "Especially for such old laws. We'd need to gather a council and that would require summoning nearly all our nobles to court, which is a terrible idea due to the war-"

"Oh!" Hiccup interrupted excitedly. "I have news about that too, actually." Stoick cast his eyes to the heavens and prayed to be given patience. His little son had been doing so well, becoming a knight easily and getting glowing reports from Captain Throk about his time in the Berk Guard, but the King struggled to see the disciplined man from the reports in the sulking son in front of him. What had he done wrong? All his manners had disappeared along with his friend, that Astor. Maybe he should look into finding a way to station that boy in court permanently, if only for his own peace of mind regarding the Heir.

"You know of the Red Death?" Hiccup questioned.

"The bandit leader, yes," the King said with an impressive deadpan. His son let out a nervous chuckle.

"Ahem. Yeah. So-"

"I don't see how they would pose a threat, Hiccup," the King pointed out sternly. "We have the Berk Guard to deal with bandits, and the Red Death's appearances have been steadily declining, both in frequency and damage caused."

"Uh-huh. Yes. That's true. But, you see, that's just to keep us distracted, Dad," Hiccup pointed at him. "I happened upon Trader Johann-"

"What on Midgard were you doing with Trader Johann, Henry?" the King boomed, exasperated.

"Er, nothing! I wasn't trying to find him, but I did, and the point is -"

"What were you doing if you weren't trying to find him then?" Stoick said sharply. Hiccup let out a huge sigh and his shoulders sagged.

"Do you want to hear what I have to say or not?" he scowled. His father leaned back in his chair.

It wasn't often that Henry came into the office or shared ideas of his own free will, Stoick reasoned. Maybe it was something worth listening to. And he could say he tried when Valka got on his case again about interacting with their son. He gestured for the Prince to go on.

Hiccup squared his shoulders.

"Dad, there are things we need to change." Hiccup spread his hands out in front of him, looking at his empty palms before dropping them to his side again. "We aren't being torn apart by war, but it is getting in the way of our country's progress. And what are we actively doing to try to end this war? Sure, we're fighting, but that's really just keeping us at a stalemate. A stalemate where people are dying." He walked over to his father's desk and started carefully moving things out of the way to better display the map underneath. "This," his finger tapped the territory where Berk was fighting against the Wilderwest, "this is just the beginning of a bigger plan, Dad. Why are we still fighting when we know Drago isn't even there?"

"How do you know-" Stoick scowled threateningly. He would have to invest in some better doors and guard rotations.

"If he isn't there, that stands to reason Drago's somewhere else," Hiccup continued, pretending not to hear his father's accusatory question. "He's always coveted our land, we know, so did we withdraw any troops to try to cover our bases back here?"

"There is no need to inform you of all of our movements, Henry," Stoick said stiffly. Hiccup drew himself up to look his father in the eye. He had grown, the King realized. He had grown so tall that when he was sitting and his son was standing, he had to look up, just slightly.

"I'm the Heir of Berk," the Prince said grimly. "I should know what I'm getting into. And I've been avoiding my responsibilities, but, well, let's just say someone knocked some sense into me."

"Johann?" Stoick asked incredulously. Hiccup gave a weak chuckle.

"No," he said softly. "Someone else." He clenched his jaw to keep himself from saying anything more about it, and Stoick refrained from probing. He blinked a few times to clear his head and continued.

"The point is," he went on, "Are we employing anyone to try to locate where Drago is?"

"We deployed nearly a third of the Berk Guard to the army, actually," Stoick admitted, a little impressed with his son's decisiveness. This was the man who coincided with Throk's glowing reports after Henry had resigned from his position in the Berk Guard. "The fighting has picked up with renewed vigor, and Drago's infantry is fighting differently to ours, which took us by surprise. So we are a little spread thin as it is."

Hiccup let out a puff of air. "Okay," he nodded absently, calculating to himself. "Johann has given me a lead. According to him, Drago is hiring out the Red Death's Dragons. Has been for years." Stoick paled.

"That's right. Thousands of bandits who gave us plenty of trouble when we only had to deal with a dozen of them at a time. We thought Drago's resources were running thin - and maybe they were, but I'm afraid that's only pushing him to win this war faster. And he's been planning this for years; the Dragons haven't died out, they've simply been leaving to go to Drago. But we still thought we knew where Drago's army was, and haven't seen much of an increase of soldiers where they are fighting, which makes me think maybe Drago's planning to attack us somewhere else, somewhere our guard is down." Stoick stayed silent. Such thoughts had been bugging him in the back of his mind and he had refused to hear them, but now his son laying out the facts in front of him made him convinced that Henry was right.

"How did we not know this?" He asked despairingly. "Have we not tried to get information from Johann before? Why tell us now? How did you even extract this information?" He didn't think of his son as able to potentially torture information out of someone, but what did he know?

"I saved his life. Again," the Crown Prince shrugged his shoulders casually. "But," he frowned. "I don't think we should trust Johann as often as we do. He trades with Drago's armies too." Stoick growled.

"When this war is over, he shall be banished," he vowed.

"But he has given us valuable information," Hiccup reminded his father. "He said that apparently Drago's General Krogan is meeting with the Red Death - he doesn't know why, but I suspect it's probably to get a move on. Dad, I think we're on the cusp of something dangerous here."

"Aye, I'd say so too," Stoick agreed. "When and where is this . . . meeting . . . happening?"

"In about three weeks time," Hiccup reported, "But I'd go earlier, scout the land out first and all."

"And where is this?" the King prompted.

"I, uh - oh!" Hiccup patted himself down. "It's uh - it's in my bags but it's right around here." He took a pencil and drew a circle a little to the north of Raven's Point.

"That's about a fortnight's ride from here in a group," Stoick shook his head. "And we'd need another two weeks to gather enough forces here . . ." he trailed off in frustration.

"Well Toothless and I could reach there in ten days," Hiccup said contemplatively. "And we'd probably only need a few days of rest before we go. I um, I rode him pretty hard this week and he deserves a rest." Stoick hesitated at the thought of letting his son ride into such danger. Hiccup's mouth pulled into a wry smile.

"Let me do it. It'll be a stealth mission; I'll recon and find out what's happening and report back to you. Please. Let me do something," he pleaded with his father. The King sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. His son was trying to step up, despite his previous reluctance in taking on the kingdom's tasks. Something had happened, clearly, for his heir to suddenly be barging into his office and offering to participate in changing old laws probably in need of being reviewed and helping with the war he had always found distasteful.

"Do it, then," Stoick acquiesced, suddenly desperate for a nap or a brick of ice to hold to his head. "By all means, go. I'll get preparations started while you go tell your mother." Hiccup winced but nodded and turned to leave.

"And Henry," he called. The prince stopped short of the door and tilted his head back to look at his father.

"Yeah?" Hiccup asked.

"I'll start drafting the letters to summon a council," the King promised. "You're right; it's time to change some things around here."

"Really?" Hiccup checked, a strange feeling in his throat. Stoick nodded encouragingly.

"Thanks, Dad." He slipped through the office door and stood there for a minute, just staring down the hallway. There was a lightness to him despite the lump in his throat that hadn't left in the past few days. It felt like a happy melancholy. He was doing something, he was initiating the change that needed to happen, and if there was one thing to come out of his failed proposal, maybe it was that. And maybe once he'd accomplished this task he could go back to Astrid and just - and just tell her thank you one more time. For being her. For being honest and unafraid to smack some sense into his head. For making him a better person even when he didn't want to be. And maybe - maybe he'd finally be worthy of her.

.oOo.

Astrid gulped as she entered the palace grounds. The guards at the gate called greetings to her and she nodded sedately at them but didn't remove her helmet. She was here on a mission, but it hadn't been worth cutting the hair she had spent so long growing out. And the wigs were so itchy.

Not that that mattered. It had been a week since she had last seen Hiccup. They had gone longer without seeing each other, of course, but never on such bad terms. Even when she had been mad at him for not telling her his identity (the irony was not lost on her) before they became friends (but even then, she had been shocked at how hurt she had felt from his not trusting her with who he was. She had already been walking along the path that led her heart to him, even if she hadn't realized it then.) it had been she who was mad at him, and that had made forgiving so much easier.

It was harder to forgive him when he was the one with more of a right to be mad at her.

There was no hearty greeting from any of the Royal family. The palace seemed rather quiet, but Astrid could sense a silent hum and bustle as if everyone was scurrying around quietly to prepare for something. She knew that feeling well; it had been her favorite feeling as a young teenager during the preparations for her surprise birthday parties. If she had had a goal any less important than finding Hiccup immediately, she might have stopped to try to figure out what the castle was preparing for.

"Hullo, Sir Hofferson!" Bucket greeted Astrid as she located him by the kitchens.

"Good day, Bucket," she greeted him in return. "Is . . . the Prince available to see me?" The servant made a face.

"Oh. Uh, well, y'see, he's kinda busy, His Highness is." A heaviness settled in Astrid's stomach, like a ship filling with water before it sank.

"Busy with what?" she asked lightly, hoping there was a plausible reason he was avoiding her. Bucket frowned.

"I, err, I can't say, Sir. 'S classified, you see."

"Ah." Yes she did. She was glad the helmet she was wearing obscured part of her face. Oh dear Thor, she had messed everything up, hadn't she? Hiccup didn't want to see her. She nodded her thanks to Bucket and began to make her way back to the stables.

But wait! Hiccup may not want to see her, but she did, dammit. And she would. She marched to the stables, but not to get Stormfly; just because the Prince was trying to avoid her didn't mean she couldn't find him herself. And if Hiccup was anywhere - besides the forge - he was with Toothless, who was commonly found in the stables. And if Hiccup and Toothless were already out of the stables, well, Stormfly and her knew where their friends liked to ride.

She had never really fought with Hiccup before. They had their differences, yes, but it was rare they turned to disputes. They had a higher tolerance of each other's snappiness than anyone else, but on the few occasions words had risen to flared tempers and sullen faces, after stalking off and employing the cold shoulder for a couple of hours, they inevitably found each other and resumed their easy comradery, dispute forgotten, or at least, firmly in the past.

Which made Astrid realize the fact that she had never truly apologized to Hiccup before. She didn't think of herself as narrow-minded or averse to trying new things - surely her history of experiments with the Prince could attest to that - and yet. It was going to be very hard to apologize to him.

Not because she would have to admit she was wrong. Well, she didn't like being incorrect, but if there was anyone she didn't mind admitting her imperfections to, it was Hiccup. She had trusted him with her greatest secret, and they had never lost their closeness - what were a few mistakes after that to him?

So why was she anxious about owning up to this mistake?

Because she had hurt him this time. And not the kind of hurt like when she'd accidentally punched a painful bruise, or given him that bruise to begin with during sparring. She had hurt him. The part of him she so treasured, that unique person who she had fallen in love with so thoroughly and scrambled her mind and altered her heart so it wasn't hers, but his, and it was only residing in her chest for safekeeping..

She had seen it in his face, that flash of hurt as shields had slid over his eyes, defending his display of vulnerability. She had seen that expression so many times over the years, but never before had she been the cause of it. His defensive barbs had simultaneously affected her less and yet hurt her more, because he was hurting. And she had noted the way he had been her goodbye at last, holding himself stiffly, but with that raw note of pain in his voice. His fists that had been clenched to hold in his anger, were now clenched to hold in his tears.

The basis of every apology was 'I'm sorry,' Astrid knew. But how could two measly words ever repair the damage she had wrought?

The Prince was indeed in the stables, securing a rather heavy looking sack to Toothless's saddle.

"I was hoping I'd find you here," she said, grateful for the steadiness of her voice. She leaned against a stall nonchalantly, her heart beating a nervous rhythm. She hadn't flipped the visor of her helmet, which meant he couldn't see her face. Hiccup swung towards her with wide eyes.

"As - um, Hofferson! What ah, what a . . . surprise?! I - what are, um. You doing here?" He frowned confusedly, and Astrid noted bitterly that the usual light in his eyes when he beheld her was gone. Why, oh why, had she not noticed how in love with her he was? Or had been, now. Why had she pushed him away and lost him?

"I came to see you," she said frankly. She opened her mouth to say something only to find her mind blank.

Hiccup looked at her impassively. "Go on."

She had always laughed when Hiccup used to complain to her about his father putting him on the spot and forcing him to make speeches. Hiccup was surprisingly good at impromptu speeches, so she never let him sulk for too long about something he thought he could have done better but which everyone else was impressed with the result. She had been put on the spot before for strategy, on the occasional chance that a superior was out of commission, and she had always handled it calmly, for the most part. But people's lives weren't in the balance, only the remnants of whatever she and the Prince had. Even when she had confessed to being a girl, he had finished her sentence for her, completing her like only he could. She had a feeling he wouldn't try to make it easier on her by guessing what she was saying.

"Hic- um, Henry," the name felt foreign on her tongue. She had never called him by his actual name before. She could recognize it when someone else called him that; it was like her name, or not-name. Everyone knew her as Astor and him as Henry, but to each other, they were Hiccup and Astrid, and those had been the names that mattered. The Prince looked pained at her use of his proper name, too.

"I wanted to see you," she said honestly. "I -" she let out a heavy breath and shook her head. "I hate the way we left things." Hiccup opened his mouth as if he wanted to interject, but thought better of it.

"The truth is, I - you caught me at a bad moment, and things came to the surface that probably shouldn't have. A lot . . . changed . . . during the time I was away and your arrival triggered some - issues." Hiccup crossed his arms and leaned against Toothless, who was looking at her impassively. Great. His horse was mad at her too.

This was stupid. There was no way she could explain things to him without delving deep into her feelings, and she wasn't ready for that. Maybe she'd never be. And Hiccup had every right to be mad at her, and she was mad at him, she'd realized. Yelling those things at him had made her realize frustrations she hadn't known existed, and she was angry at Hiccup for not seeing what she needed before she did, but she also knew that was unfair. She had no right to be mad at him for not doing anything when it had never occurred to her to try to bring about those changes herself. She had thought that maybe she could convince Mother and Father to let her be a knight a little while longer so she could try to change the law. Maybe she could eventually find a way to reconcile with Hiccup, so he could be Hiccup to her again. Maybe she could even get him to fall in love with her again. She had thought all of those things were possible, but now, standing in front of him with a helmet masking her face, she couldn't even manage to apologize. She had only muttered excuses. She turned away, shame coursing through her body and flushing her face inside the metal. She hoped her breathing stayed quiet, for the metal magnified each sound and she didn't want Hiccup to think she was crying.

Hiccup let out a breath, more disappointed than anything, and started to take a step toward her turned back. Astrid interpreted the noise differently, however, and stiffened.

"I'm sorry," she blurted and whirled around, starting as she saw Hiccup closer than she expected. He stumbled back a step in surprise and flung his hands up in the air in surrender but she continued. "I'm sorry for hurting you but I'm not sorry for the things I said."

Hiccup regained his balance and Astrid took another step closer. "I'm sorry I never said anything," she went on. "I'm sorry you never did anything! I'm sorry for not telling you to leave. I'm sorry I didn't make you come back. I'm sorry for yelling at you instead of just telling you what was troubling me. I'm sorry I kept trying to push you away," the last word was hard to say as her throat was clogging up. No. She did not want to sound like she was crying, dammit. She wasn't crying, for Thor's sake! She was just emotional, and she didn't want to be, so she took another step towards Hiccup and shoved his chest. It wasn't forceful, and he caught her arm with a gentleness that made her want to collapse into him and just let him hold her up for her.

"I'm sorry I fell in love with you," she said angrily, her voice rising. She sniffled a little bit. "I'm sorry I never told you I love you back," she said thickly. "I'm sorry for all the times I didn't realize you loved me too, and I'm sorry for leaving, and I'm sorry for losing you right after I had you. I'm sorry this world isn't perfect yet, and I'm sorry for what people say about you, and I'm sorry for thinking badly of them for saying those things, and I'm sorry 'sorry' doesn't sound nearly sorry enough because I don't know how to apologize properly and -" She cut off as she felt a tear roll down her cheek so she raised her hand on instinct in hopes of wiping it away quickly enough to Hiccup not to notice, only to realize that she still had that metal helmet on, and she had just given herself away.

Hiccup noticed because, drat him, he always did, and he began to raise the visor of her armor. Fuck. "No," she whimpered brokenly but made no move to stop him, so he continued until she felt the kiss of fresh air on her face.

"I dunno," he said softly as he wiped the tear from her red face. "That was probably the best damn apology I've ever heard." She didn't look up at his face, choosing to watch the rise and fall of her hand on his chest - she hadn't stopped touching him since she'd shoved him - because what kind of Hofferson cried during an apology?

"Hey," he said, cupping her face, not an ounce of disgust for her sniffling and crying or even pity for how pathetic she was, just pure compassion. "Hey, it's okay to cry." He handed her a handkerchief and waited for her to finally meet his gaze. "I have an apology for you too, you know." Astrid smiled wetly and resisted the urge to bury her face in his shoulder.

"You had a right to say all those things, and you were right. I'll admit I was angry and hurt but you made me think about everything, Astrid. And I'm sorry for not doing anything sooner."

"What did you do?" she asked him, half warily, half scoldingly.

"Well, for starters, I talked to Dad." He made a pained expression. "Unfortunately, such important laws based on generations of prejudice will take a while to undo - years, he said. But, I've convinced him to summon a council as soon as possible so we can propose an Amendment." Astrid blinked rapidly, trying to process that. She had been expecting to have to publicly advocate and eventually find a sponsor to be able to bring the matter up to the King, so then summon a council, but Hiccup had just skipped those steps.

"I know it's not much," he defended himself in a rush, "but at least we've started, right?" He shrugged his shoulders in that over-exaggerated way of his. Astrid's mouth parted in stunned surprise.

That perfect, irritating genius.

"You didn't," she breathed incredulously, searching his eyes to see if it was all a joke. "You . . . you did all that?"

"Yeah," Hiccup said, like it was obvious. "Of course."

Astrid hesitated. "For . . . me?" she whispered tentatively. She bit her lip immediately, cursing herself for such a foolish question.

Hiccup broke into a beautiful toothy grin. "Who else?" he asked her, like she had the answer to that question. "Well," he amended. "There was a selfish component too, but . . . mostly for you. Yeah."

She wanted to cry, but she wasn't going to. This idiot wasn't going to make her cry three times in a week, or so help her Odin. "Even though . . . even after . . ."

Hiccup gave her a soft smile. "You apologized for that," he waved his hand as if that was the end of it. "And, I was sorry too, you know? I just - wanted something to show for before I came back to apologize, and then you came and did it first." Astrid shook her head in disbelief.

"So, are we . . . okay?" Hiccup asked hopefully. Astrid couldn't help herself: she hugged him fiercely, burying his face into his firm shoulder and inhaling deeply. His arms wrapped around her tightly and didn't let go until she loosened her arms around him first.

"We're good," Astrid agreed, wanting to tuck her hair behind her ear as she pulled away but her helmet was still on. Her eyes drifted towards Toothless, watching them with wary approval, and she frowned as she noticed the saddle bags. Why did he have saddle bags? Hadn't he just got back to Berk Palace? He wasn't the type of man who was constantly hungry, at least, not when she offered to cook. Hiccup's eyes followed hers to Toothless and his gear.

"Ah," he said, understanding her thoughts before she did.

"What are those for?" she asked, a little accusingly. "Are you going somewhere?"

"Oh, haha, yeah, that . . ." Hiccup scratched the back of his head. "Um, well, if you'll remember, changing laws wasn't the only thing you yelled at me about." Astrid's brain took a moment to compute.

"Hiccup!" she cried, outraged. "You can't just - stop the war!"

"I know," he placated her. "I can't do it myself. But I can be one of the people who help stop this war."

"You- ugh!" she rolled her eyes. "What are you doing then?"

"Trying to intercept one of Drago's Generals," Hiccup said seriously. "Krogan. We think he's hiring the Red Death's Dragons." Astrid's jaw dropped.

"Where is this taking place?" she asked.

"Ah, I can't tell you that," he tsked. "It's classified." Astrid scoffed.

"Well, who's going with you?" she demanded. Hiccup didn't answer.

"You're going alone?" she exclaimed angrily. Hiccup shrugged and nodded at the same time.

"Yeah. The meeting's in less than three weeks' time, and that's not long enough to gather a proper squad."

"No," Astrid said firmly.

"What?"

"You're not going alone."

"I can't just wait around for - oh," his face lit up as he understood.

"I can't let you just risk your life like that on your own," Astrid said haughtily.

"Could Stormfly take the journey? We're going to Raven's Point."

"Oh, so now the location isn't classified," Astrid said saucily. "And she'll be fine; I rode her pretty gently on the way here."

"I'll go get you some food and meet you back here then," Hiccup said excitedly.

"Half an hour," Astrid promised. She practically ran to her mare, buzzing with a happy thrill. Stormfly seemed pleased at the prospect of leaving, too. Astrid exercised her enough to keep her in good shape, but it had been a while since she'd raced with her old friend Toothless.

Hiccup met her at the stables with a huge pack of supplies and more coins, and showed her the map he'd acquired from Trader Johann while he explained their route.

"Are you ready?" he asked her as she mounted Stormfly, who tossed her head regally.

"Of course," Astrid assured him. He swung up onto Toothless, checking his bags a last time before clicking softly to the horse to start moving. She felt better than she had in months, in fact. The alluring promise of the end of the war called to her, and with Hiccup by her side, there was nowhere else she'd rather be.

The evening bell began to ring as they passed the gates, and they set off in a steady trot northwest, into the setting sun.