Your Future Hasn't Been Written Yet
by K. Stonham
first released 25th January 2022

"So," Henry said, going into his nearly empty forge. "You going to sit still and let me fit some armor to you?"

Over by his drafting table, fiddling with the tools he'd left on it, Douxie laughed lowly but not happily. "Guess I've got to, don't I?"

Henry eyed him, then went over to the storage cabinet he'd stashed the pieces in. He opened it, then paused and sighed, his shoulders dropping. "I know why you don't come around anymore, you know."

"Oh?"

"It's not because you and Astrid rub each other wrong." Henry made his hands busy, fetching out piece after piece of the rough armor he'd made. "It's because of me."

"Hiccup-"

He didn't turn around. "You can't stand to lose another friend, so you push me away so it won't hurt so much when I die."

A moment of silence, then, "I'm sorry."

"You see," Henry said, brandishing the chestplate, "a lesser man would blame this on my wife. You don't."

"I'm sorry," Hisirdoux repeated himself. "I should be a better friend."

The breastplate went back between both hands. Henry's thumbs moved up and down its surface, feeling the unfinished texture. At Hisirdoux's insistence, they'd prioritized the girl. This was half-done at best. He drew a breath, his gaze catching on something else. On a sample he'd made, experimenting. It had been a wild goose chase.

It was probably something stupid.

Something crazy.

Something reckless.

He turned around. "Yeah, you should be," he admitted. "But I get why you can't." A quirk of his mouth. "There's only so much pain a man can bear before he goes mad of loss, right?"

Douxie shrugged. "Having a familiar helps with that. Somewhat."

"Mmm." Having never had a familiar, Henry didn't really understand how their bond worked. His relationship with Tannlaus was different than Douxie's with Archie. "You're pretty sure those kids are going to pick immortality, aren't you?"

"I pray they don't."

"But you think they will."

Douxie rolled Henry's X-acto knife back and forth across the table a few times. He didn't meet Henry's eyes. "People always say 'someone's got to do something' but it's amazing how few of them say 'and that someone is me'."

The way Douxie did. The man had blithely been beating back supernatural terrors for nine hundred years. "If you could go back," Henry wondered, "and change your mind about immortality, knowing what you know now about how much pain and horror you're going to see in your life... would you?"

Back and forth the knife went. Finally the motion stopped, and Douxie looked up. "No," he said. "I wouldn't. Because if not me, then who?"

"And those kids are the same?"

Douxie nodded. "Forged in fire, all of them."

And Henry woke up every morning and fell more in love with his wife. Loved the kids he'd never have had if he'd chosen immortality. Even loved the murderous demon horse that had attached itself to him and raised his blood pressure daily.

But in the end, he knew he could never face down immortality for the greater good, the way Hisirdoux did.

"I can't fight the battles you do," he said. "But I can do everything in my power to make sure you, and they, can. Consider me your official armorer and smith on retention."

"Oh, Astrid'll hate that," Douxie said, a flash of his usual sass appearing from beneath the weight of his sadness.

Henry's mouth closed. Possibilities tumbled over and over in his mind, the shape of how things were, how they might yet be...

Deciding, he put the chestplate down and pulled out his sample. "Catch," he said, and threw it.

Abandoning the X-acto knife, which rolled off onto the floor, Douxie fumbled but ultimately did not drop the sample. "What... what is this?" he asked, narrowly examining it.

"Crazy idea I had," Henry said, abandoning the cabinet and walking over to stand by him. "I was thinking about linothorax, and about armor, and layers and momentum..."

"Hiccup, this is wild," Douxie said, turning the potholder-sized square of padded metal meshes in his hand. "What is this, six layers? How fine's your wire gauge on this?"

"Spider silk," Henry told him.

"You are truly a master. I see... gold, obviously. And mithrilium?" Douxie asked, teasing the layers apart with delicate fingers.

"Gold for ductility, mithril for strength," Henry agreed. "Dragon gold, to minimize heat transfer. True-samite to absorb sonic attacks and make a silent material. Adamantine to break the momentum and points of any physical weapons." All layered together and bonded into one material that was no thicker than denim.

"And..." Douxie's voice died away as he turned the sample over. "Voidstone?" he whispered. His eyes went wide. "Where did you get it?" he demanded. "That stuff's rare! I've only ever seen it twice!"

Henry smirked. "A magician never reveals his secrets."

Douxie's stare narrowed. Then he sighed. "I taught you that one, so that's fair enough, I guess." He tossed the square in his hand. "Seriously, though, what's this for?"

Henry tapped it. "Experimental armor," he said. "It should, theoretically, be able to redirect most kinetic energy while also being impenetrable to most all edges."

"And the voidstone mesh layer will absorb all magic attacks," Douxie breathed. "Bleeding balroths, Henry, have you invented magical Kevlar?"

"Ehh, not quite." Henry knew maybe a little bit too much about mundane chemistry and what Kevlar actually was. But as for the similarity to bulletproof vests, which was doubtless what Douxie was thinking of... "But it should act the same. In theory."

Douxie's eyes met his. "In theory?"

Henry shrugged. "It's untested."

"This is nuclear. You're a mad genius, and I am absolutely introducing you to Krel the minute his ship lands."

"That's... your alien friend, right?"

"My Akiridion friend, and yes," Douxie confirmed. He regarded the square of material again. "This all you got?"

"I might have enough voidstone for one set of armor."

Douxie's lips narrowed. "Pricey armor," Douxie said. The worth of the voidstone alone was worth more than Henry's ranch. Hell, worth more than all of Arcadia Oaks. That value hung in the air, unspoken, between them.

Henry wet his lips. "I wouldn't offer it to anyone else," he said. "But I owe you a life-debt."

Douxie's expression hardened. "You owe me jack. You got yourself out of that river."

"You taught me everything that saved my life," Henry argued.

Douxie shook his head. "I showed you a spell or two and helped you find your real teachers. That's nothing. Which is exactly what you owe me."

Henry just looked at him for a minute, then opened his hand, a flame dancing over it. "You taught me how to call the fire, how to direct it. You taught me to listen to my magic, and how to hear what the metal was telling me. More than that, you showed me what magic is for - and by extension, what it isn't for. Your teaching's the only reason that summer didn't end in a different tragedy, with my ass of a cousin in the hospital, covered with burns."

"Hiccup-"

"I owe you my life, Douxie," Henry repeated quietly. "Let me make you armor, to save yours. And you get the choice - hard," he said, gesturing to the roughed-out pieces of armor on the workbench, "or... soft." His gaze landed on the mesh layers in Douxie's hand.

Almost reflexively, the wizard's hand closed, scrunching and curling the sample, proving its flexibility.

When he raised his eyes to Henry's again, Henry knew which one Douxie wanted. But, "I can't accept this," was all he said.

Henry crossed his arms. "Yeah, well, too bad. You commissioned two sets of armor, I'm giving you two sets of armor."

"Henry-"

"You show me a king, a divine fucking king, Douxie, and you expect me to do anything less than my best to keep you alive to advise him? I know you, and I'm pretty sure you have to be dead certain he's our chance at saving our people. Whatever happens to me, happens to me, but I've had nightmares about finding out either of my kids have magic, Douxie! Because I don't want them to get killed or locked up and experimented on for having it."

"Hen-"

"Douxie," Henry interrupted him. "When you told me what's coming, I listened. If you think he can save the world and change it to one where magic's as commonplace as brown eyes, then take the goddamn armor and stay alive long enough to make that happen. Please."

Douxie was staring at him. "Hiccup..."

"This is me paying it back. Or forward. Whichever. Just, please, do this."

A shuddering sigh. Douxie's eyes shut. He nodded. "All right."

"Thank you."

When Douxie and Henry re-emerged from the workshop, it wasn't with armor. Instead, it was with a plastic soda bottle, and a square of material that glimmered blackly on one side, golden on the other. Douxie had a determined expression on his face. Claire watched as he set the bottle on a fence post and wrapped the fabric around it, before taking several steps back. He looked at Henry. "You tested this?"

The smith-mage nodded. "With the hottest fire I could summon. It did nothing."

"Hmm."

"Douxie?" asked Archie.

Douxie didn't answer his familiar, but instead scrolled through his charm bracelet, selecting a rune. He pulled a needle-fine length of what looked like magic thread from it. The thread separated from the bracelet and stiffened straight, forming a spearhead on one end.

He braced himself, pulled back, and hurled the spear.

Instead of piercing the bottle, the magic construct just splattered away as it hit.

Claire's eyes widened. "What the-?"

Douxie nodded. "Claire, you have a go. Hit that with shadow magic, see if you can get through."

"Um. Okay." She lined up as he shifted aside. Taking a breath to center herself, Claire focused, gathering crackling shadow energy in her palm and releasing it with a cry.

Like Douxie's magic had, it just smoked aside when it hit the bottle's wrap.

Henry was smirking, she saw.

"Jim, you're up. Try to get through that with Excalibur."

"Doux, I'll just knock it off the post." Jim rolled his eyes.

"Fair enough." Douxie thought a second, then moved forward, taking the bottle off the fence post and laying it on the ground, the weird cloth still wrapped around it. He stepped back, gesturing for Jim to take his turn.

"All right," Jim said, summoning his weapon to his hand.

"Wait, is that-" Astrid asked, coming up behind her husband.

"The Excalibur," he murmured in reply. By his side, his kids' eyes were wide too.

Face set, Jim ran forward, swinging the blade overhand.

It failed to pierce the fabric and got lodged into the ground just beyond it, overbalancing Jim, who flailed and nearly fell before he vanished the sword.

"My word." Archie's eyes were huge behind his glasses.

"Toby, warhammer," Douxie directed.

Toby grinned and summoned his armor. His warhammer, glowing heart's blood red, ghosted to life in his hand. With a war cry, he ran forward and smashed it down.

Finally, finally, something got through. The plastic bottle smashed under the blow, cap flying off at speed, soda spraying everywhere.

"Well," Douxie said. "It does seem to have limits."

Toby scoffed. "Dude, this thing's got a gravity spell on it," he said, hefting his hammer and settling it over his shoulder. "I could demolish a house with that hit. Or, like, the school."

"Don't wreck our school," Jim pleaded. "I like having a little bit of normal."

"Ugh, yeah," Claire agreed. "Remember junior year? Having health class in FEMA tents? Solid pass, Toby."

"Ugh, yeah." He shivered. "Okay, no smashing buildings."

"Heh." Douxie had walked forward and crouched down, ignoring the bottle remains and picking up the cloth. He held it out for Archie's inspection.

"It's still intact," the dragon said, ears pricked up and a note of surprise in his voice.

"Would this satisfy you, Arch?" the wizard asked. "Keeping in mind I'll be doing my best not to get hit by Toby's hammer or any Arcane Order equivalents."

"Wait," Claire said. That sounded like-

"Mmm, yes," said Archie. "It will do."

"Right." Douxie stood, balled up the fabric and tossed it to Jim. "And will armor made out of that satisfy you, Jim?"

Jim glanced down at the material, then back up at Douxie. "Will you wear it?"

"You have my word on it," Douxie promised.

Jim nodded. "Then yes."

"Nuclear."

Walt pulled out her chair for her, then pushed it back in when she sat. Unused to being treated like a lady, Barbara nervously smoothed her skirt under the table as he found his own seat.

He did look very handsome, dressed up for a night out, she admitted as she looked across the table. The flickering light of the tea candles danced on Walt's face. "Everything all right?" he asked.

"Yes." She reached for her water glass, just to steady her nerves. "It's just been a very long time since I've been taken to a place like this."

His smile was small, knowing. "Courted, you mean."

"That too." She spent her life in scrubs, not dresses. The one she had on barely seemed fancy enough for this place, and she was thanking god that there were fewer than six utensils per setting. More than that and she would have been at a loss.

"You deserve this much and more," he told her.

Barbara swallowed. "My son said something similar."

Walt's eyebrows raised. "Jim did?"

She met his eyes. "Douxie did."

That set him slightly aback, she could see, that she was claiming a 917-year-old as her son. But then his shock smoothed away. "I find I am less than completely surprised, my dear. From my encounters with him, he does seem to need a family. And yours is a large heart."

Barbara smiled and raised her menu. "Age is just a number," she said. And if that made him still, and his smile broaden as she studied the entrees... well, maybe that had been her goal.

They talked of nothing of importance as the waiter approached, ordering appetizers, a pasta dish with lemon and shrimp for her, quail for him, and a half-bottle of Chardonnay to split between them. She absolutely did not want to get even slightly tipsy in Walt's company. It wasn't that she didn't trust him; rather, that the conversation was sparkling enough to set the world glowing around her regardless. And that was maybe a little dangerous.

Maybe she wanted to be a little dangerous, she thought.

She hadn't been a reckless person ever; the closest she had ever come was skinny-dipping in the moonlit Pacific Ocean with her girlfriends in college. Then had come James, and what she thought was a happy stability. The challenge of medical school. The happy homemaking of having a child.

All her life, Barbara Sturges Lake had been a good girl, and on the surface of it, dating her son's high school history teacher fit right in with that pattern.

The fact that underneath Walter Strickler's genteel, educated demeanor lay something else, something with fangs and claws and wings that she'd seen only once...

Well, a girl got to be curious sometimes. She was a mom, not dead.

The Nuñezes showed up at five on the dot to collect Claire and NotEnrique.

"Awww, does he havta go?" Nuffink whined.

NotEnrique chuckled and patted the boy, who was taller than him, on top of the head. "I'll be around," he promised, and looked at Nuffink's dad. "I ain't even bettin' that this is the last time we'll be out here."

Ophelia frowned at him. "You've ruined your clothing."

NotEnrique narrowed his eyes at her. "Well, if you'd prefer me running around starkers..." Her appalled expression said it all, and he broke off snickering.

"So, this armor, let me see it!" Javier told his daughter.

Claire rolled her eyes. "Sí, sí, Papá." She pulled her shadow ring out from where it hung on a chain around her neck, wrapped her hand around it, and closed her eyes.

In a flash of purple light, she was armored.

"Dios mío." Javier's eyes were open wide. He prowled around his daughter, examining the shining purple of her armor. His fingers ran feather-light over her helmet as he came back around in front of her and she looked up at him. "It is very..."

"Very impressive-looking," his wife said. "But will it protect you, Claire?"

"If I may?" Douxie grabbed a rake that leaned against the side of the workshop. "Claire, you all right with this?"

She shrugged. "Sure."

Douxie readied himself as Javier backed up out of range. Once the man was clear, Douxie swung and Claire did not dodge.

The rake's wood handle bounced off the armor without leaving dent or nick. Claire laughed. "I barely felt that."

"Good," Douxie said.

Ophelia sniffed. "And against a real weapon?"

Team Trollhunters exchanged uneasy glances. "Uh, do you really want us to attack Claire with a real weapon...?" Toby asked.

"I want to be assured my daughter will be unharmed in this battle you're planning," Ophelia snapped, her eyes flashing.

"Uh, okay." Toby looked at Jim. "Flip a coin for it, Jimbo?"

A scoff. "Boys," Astrid said impatiently. "I'll do it. Sweetie," she told her daughter, "go fetch Mommy's war axe, okay?"

"Yes!" Zephyr's eyes lit up and she took off running for the house at speed.

"And you are...?"

"Astrid Haddock," she introduced herself to Ophelia. "His wife," she said, thumbing at Henry. "Knight of the Tourney at the Faire, and also in the local SCA group. Rest assured, I know my way around a weapon."

"And you leave them within the reach of your children, I see," Javier murmured as the screen door of the house banged against the wall again and Zephyr came out, arms bundled around a double-headed axe nearly as big as she was.

Astrid grinned. "We learn weapons safety very early in this family. And an axe is a bit harder to accidentally shoot off than a gun."

"No guns," Henry said. "Or crossbows," he reminded his wife, who pouted only a little.

"All right, rules?" Claire asked as Astrid's daughter came running up to her and gave her the axe.

"Three hits," Astrid said, inspecting the gleaming weapon. "On you. I'm not wearing armor," she said. "Any preferred spots you want me to test?"

Claire shrugged and looked at Hiccup.

"Go for the flanges on the back," he said. "I'm not sure how well those are supposed to hold up, but they were on the commission design."

"All right," Astrid said to Claire's nod. "One - the legs." She checked as everyone backed up, holding silent, warning eye contact with both her offspring before she pulled her arms back like a baseball pitcher preparing to throw. With a cry, she loosed her blow.

The axe's edge struck Claire's calf, driving her sideways. She wobbled and flailed a little, but managed to regain her balance.

"Two," said Astrid, "the arms." Which were guarded by a chainmail mesh from the elbow up to the shoulder pauldrons. She checked again on her offspring and the clear circle around herself and Claire before she swung. Her weapon skittered up the black chainmail and glanced off, redirected by the curve of the shoulder guard.

"Okay, that did hurt a little," Claire said, rubbing at her arm. "Pretty sure it's going to bruise."

Astrid grinned. "It's only fun if you get a scar out of it."

"You see, that's why she worries me," Douxie said to Hiccup. Who just shrugged.

"And three." Astrid shouldered her axe and walked around behind Claire. One more time, she checked her swing radius. "Ready?"

"Ready," Claire confirmed, a smirk on her face as she braced herself.

The axe came down, and Claire jumped, twisting-

The axehead caught between the spines jutting out from her back and was ripped out of Astrid's hand.

It went flying. A blue bubble of magic caught it at the height of its arc as Douxie stood there, hand extended.

Astrid was gaping. "What-"

"Ha!" Henry smacked his fist into his palm. "So that's what those are for!"

Claire grinned. "Yup." She looked at her parents, who stood shocked and open-mouthed. "So. Mamá, Papá. Is my armor good enough for you?"

A matching pair of wide-eyed nods. "Yes, I think it is," her mother said weakly.

"Would you..." Barbara tucked her hair behind her ear. "Would you like to come inside for some coffee?" she asked.

On the driver's seat, Walt went very still, and she wondered if she was making a mistake.

But, "Coffee?" he asked softly. As if he was nervous too.

Barbara smiled, full of exhilaration and hope and butterflies and too many other things to name. "Coffee," she said.

His expressions were seldom blatant, but looking at him, Barbara would have sworn he'd won the lottery, the Nobel Peace Prize, and a trip to the moon all on one day. "I would love to, my dear," he said, his hand covering her own.

And, oh, it had been so long...

But maybe it was time to give crazy a chance.

Smiling, Barbara led him to her door. And let him inside.

Author's Note: In this story, voidstone is an incredibly rare magical element (remember when in Hero of a Thousand Faces, Vendel introduced Jim to the magical version of the periodic table?). It also happens to be the stuff that flaked off Excalibur at the end of Wizards. IE, the stuff that made Arthur immune to magic. Krel and Douxie found those flakes when they were getting Camelot back up in the air, and that's what formed the basis of the anti-magic ray in Rise of the Titans. Mithrilium, on the other hand, I shamelessly stole from mithril in J.R.R. Tolkein's Lord of the Rings books.