Title: The Lost Heir
Summary: Hiccup goes through with his plan to run away, leaving behind no loose ends… or so he believes. After discovering the Nest and then fleeing north, Hiccup builds a utopia at the Dragon Sanctuary, working towards his ultimate goal of destroying the Queen. But no good deed goes unpunished, and ghosts from his past are destined to resurface.
Chapter Fourteen: Crossroads
Astrid lingers on the stone steps leading to the roosting commons for a few moments after class has been dismissed. She needs to catch her breath. Snotlout and the twins wish her a pleasant afternoon as they pass by (pleasantly violent, to be exact). They know she won't be joining them for an afternoon in town in favour of another clandestine meeting with Aesir's son. H.
Approval is mixed.
They all spent the morning 'helping' her brainstorm interrogation methods to get him to reveal Hiccup's current whereabouts and welfare, but she doesn't know if she's prepared to… what was it? Oh yes. Shake him by the ankles till he spills the beans. Or his lunch. You know, whichever comes first. And Ruff's was one of the nicer ideas generated. Tuffnut suggested Astrid use her feminine wiles to loosen his lips. The accompanying wink drove her over the edge, and the result was instead a loosening of several of Tuff's molars and a new bruise for his collection.
So no. Astrid will not be doing that. The whole idea makes her skin crawl. Not that there's anything wrong with H. He's witty and charming and–
But that's not relevant, Astrid reminds herself, shaking her head firmly. The idea of leading someone on like that is too slimy for her to even contemplate. Whether they were handsome or otherwise. Perhaps if he were less kind, she could square hurting him – just a little – but they're friends now. And unfortunately, that leaves her with fewer options.
She could tell him about what happened in class today. That might go a long way in earning his trust. But at what cost? Admitting that she may have warmed to a dragon would rupture her understanding of the values she grew up with. She never thought she would describe a dragon as anything less than brutal, but Stormfly was… majestic. She felt drawn to her, like iron to a lodestone. But the guilt of holding even an iota of admiration for a deadly nadder is crushing her. She mourns the loss of her honour, but wonders if by another code it might be reborn. Perhaps that's what all traitors tell themselves – even the Outcasts.
Astrid can't help but wonder what Valka Haddock told herself. Her entry mentioned a desire to return home, but a hungry Red Death hijacked her journey back. Astrid knows she managed to escape, but that's where the passage ended. It's hard to believe that what feels like a recent revelation to Astrid in truth happened twenty years ago. She would've been but a few months old at the time, a babe in arms. If the Dragon Master is to be believed, Ísfjall was only founded in the last five. Fifteen years alone with dragons. A botched and abandoned attempt to return to Berk. How do you adjust to that? How do you go from spending your whole life at war with dragons to living with them as your only company? Astrid really wants to know.
She arrives at Aurvandill's hollow in a contemplative mood, entering by the hidden gap in the curtain, not wanting to sit in soggy clothes all afternoon.
It's even more beautiful than she remembers. The walls studded with glowing mushrooms; the twinkling, mossy carpet; the taller ferns, swaying softly with the push of the waterfall. There's the fragrance of fresh morning dew and a cosy, geothermal warmth that begins to melt away her troubles.
Astrid sits on the driest place she can find – an exposed bolder too smooth to culture much – and takes it all in.
Through the silvery curtain of water, she can't make out much of the outside world, but the sudden descent of a large shadow with the distinct outline of dragon wings arrests her attention. Two shapes separate – dragon and rider – the dragon sweeping out of view on all fours, while the rider heads towards the secret entrance.
She holds her breath.
"Astrid?" H's voice echoes.
She breathes out, relieved. It was H after all. But she hadn't been sure. Abstractly, she knew he liked dragons, knew he had one of his own, even. But to see him riding one somehow took her by surprise.
"I'm here," she replies.
Finally, he comes into view. His hair is dishevelled, probably from flying, and the bandana he wore before is gone. He looks tired and stressed but smiles when he lays eyes on Astrid. Her heart flutters. She shuffles over on the rock so he can sit beside her.
"I brought lunch," he tells her, setting down a wicker basket and laying out a simple but hearty spread.
There's a light sheen of sweat on his brow. He must've had to run to get here on time with food. Astrid's beginning to suspect H is not the best at timekeeping. On anyone else, she might've found a stunning lack of punctuality annoying. On H, it's endearing. He's busy but he cares. It's nice to have someone make time for her for once, especially when H seems to have a lot on his plate. From what he's said, Astrid believes H is doing all he can to prove himself – working late shifts at the botanical gardens, trying out enough professions that he's become a self-declared jack-of-all-trades. He's still trying to find where he belongs. Astrid wonders if maybe that's not Ísfjall at all.
"Thank you," she says. "But this better not be a bribe to get me to forgive you. Where were you yesterday?" I waited.
"About that. I got into trouble for relieving Dod and Skuf and letting them return to the house without you. I was working it off," H tells her.
"Did you get stable duty too?" Astrid asks.
The others had told her that the Dragon Master had been punished as well, by Aesir no less, but they hadn't mentioned anything about H being there. Astrid's never heard of a subordinate being able to discipline their superior, but Ísfjall is a weird place, and the Dragon Master is a weird guy. Just because she doesn't understand his and Aesir's relationship doesn't mean it doesn't make sense in the backward realm she's found herself in.
"No!" H says suddenly. He coughs. "No, I was doing – erm – something else."
His vehemence is understandable – stable duty sounds exceptionally foul.
"What did they have you doing instead?" she asks, intrigued. Instigating is less serious than participating in a brawl, so his task was probably less horrid.
"I was… sorting scrolls," he says.
"In the Archive?" she asks, narrowing her eyes.
"Yep," he says.
"That's funny because after you didn't show, I went to the Archive," Astrid tells him, watching him squirm. Why would he lie about where he was?
"You-you did?" he asks, continuing to sweat.
"Yes. And I know for a fact you weren't there. Care to explain?"
He looks uncomfortable.
"Look, H, if you just forgot about seeing me, I'd rather you be honest," Astrid tells him. "I hate liars."
There were things H wasn't telling her, Astrid knew this from the start. But she'd always thought his deliberate omissions were made in an effort not to lie to her. She'd appreciated that. Now, she's not so sure.
H looks down to his hands folded in his lap. "You're right. I… I forgot."
She's done her best to sound unaffected so far, but that… that hurts. She'd considered the possibility that he'd simply lost interest in her, sure, but until now, she hadn't believed it. Before his note this morning, she'd convinced herself he'd grown wary of associating with an outsider. After, she'd thought perhaps Aesir had interfered to stop him from coming. Until she caught him in that lie, she'd believed he'd been unavoidably detained with chores. And each one had made sense because of one simple error: she thought he liked her. She thought they'd had fun together two days ago. She thought he was looking forward to seeing her again. But she must've been wrong. It must've been one-sided. Gods, she hasn't felt this insecure since placing second in dragon training. It bites.
She folds her arms over her chest, trying not to let her disappointment show.
"I'm sorry, Astrid. What can I do to make it up to you?" he asks.
She gives him a pointed look.
"Apart from telling you about Hiccup," he amends.
She sighs. He looks exhausted and ashamed. Maybe his forgetting has less to do with her and more to do with his private life. She can't imagine having Aesir as a mother is easy, for one thing – the cruel things she must've done to earn her position as the Dragon Master's right hand. Besides, he never lied about being a screw-up. Always trying to prove himself left Hiccup a little scatterbrained too. Don't take it personally, she tells herself, deciding to cut H a little bit of slack. She still feels snubbed, but not enough to get bent out of shape over it.
And even if this had made her stop liking H – which it hasn't, somehow – Astrid couldn't afford to hold a grudge. Not when he's a well of information that sooner or later she will tap into. Especially not when he's offering her a favour. And she knows exactly what to ask for.
"Valka Haddock," she says simply.
H's jaw hangs open. "What?" he says, utterly nonplussed.
"I want to talk to her," is all she elaborates, keeping her cards close to her chest this time.
Her request seems to have broken him. His mouth closes, opens, closes again. But no sound comes out. It's much more of a severe reaction than Astrid expected. She thought he might express some surprise over her knowing the chief's wife is alive, but he couldn't have thought it would stay a secret forever. Hiccup has to know, and when they get him back, there's no way he wouldn't tell his dad. But H looks as though she asked him to unmask the Dragon Master for her.
"How do you… Wha– Why?" he settles on.
"What, so you can brief her on what I'm going to ask? I don't think so," Astrid says cannily.
H recovers a little. "So you admit you'd be trying to ambush her," he says.
"With questions. It's not like I'd be interrogating her with my axe," she defends.
She appreciates that he doesn't even try to pretend that she's not here in Ísfjall. It's one thing to read that the chieftess survived, but quite another to have it confirmed and to know she's so close. Astrid has so many questions for Valka, but if she tells H the things she intends to ask, Astrid will lose the element of surprise. Any little tells or hesitancies will be covered up by prepared answers. She wants Valka's honesty, and her going blind into their conversation is the best way to get it. But that's assuming she can secure a meeting in the first place.
H considers. "I can't make her see you," he says at length. Her heart begins to sink. "But I can ask."
Astrid can't stop herself from grinning. "You better make a good case for me," she warns.
H affects a playful mein. "How's this? Hi, Mo– ma'am, Astrid Hofferson wants to talk to you. Or else," he improvises.
"Wow, so convincing," she says sarcastically.
"Well, you haven't given me much to go on," H gripes, but it's good-naturedly.
And okay, he may have a point.
"Tell her… I want her guidance," Astrid says quietly.
"Is that the truth?" H asks.
He probably suspects she only wants to grill Valka for information about Hiccup or coerce her into exposing herself. Yesterday, he would've been right. But after meeting Stormfly, Astrid genuinely wants to hear Valka's explanation. Not as some kind of moral authority thinking she can pass judgement. But as someone who's standing at a crossroads without a map, asking the only known traveller which way she went and why. Of course, she wants to ask about Hiccup too, but hopefully, this will get her foot in the door.
"Yes," she confirms. "I'm so confused, H," she confesses.
"About what?" he asks softly.
"Dragons, muttonhead. Every lesson I've ever been taught doesn't apply here. Everything I thought I knew… no longer makes sense."
She thinks of Stormfly, preening with Astrid's every softly spoken compliment. Her beautiful scales; her gentle pecks; the way she'd let Astrid smooth her tail spines. The ebb and flow of newborn trust. It had been a magical morning, but it couldn't erase twenty years of hard-earned truths.
"I can tell you about dragons," H offers.
She'd refused his offer before, even after he distinguished himself as separate from the Dragon Master. H doesn't follow him, he said. Their goals are aligned, but that's all.
"But Mrs Haddock's from Berk, like me," Astrid underscores.
"I'm from–!" H aborts his statement, looking panicked. "Uh, somewhere else," he finishes lamely.
She never thought to ask where H is from. But if Ísfjall is only five years old, it seems like the obvious question now.
"Where are you from, H?" Astrid asks.
"I'm from… uh, Hedeby," he replies, perhaps a little uncertain. How strange.
Astrid thinks she's heard of Hedeby. It's a large trading port outside of the Archipelago. That lends credence to the Dragon Master's assertion that many Ísfjallans are merchants and artisans in search of fortune – H is no fighter, that's for sure. He'd have to come from somewhere strength wasn't an imperative.
"And are there any dragons in Hedeby?" she asks knowingly.
"...No," he confirms with reluctance.
"Then you don't know what it's like to question everything you've ever known. You can't help me the way Mrs Haddock can. The way Hiccup could if you'd let me speak to him."
"What about the Dragon Master?" H asks.
"What about him?"
"He told you – I mean, he must've told you that he was raised to kill dragons too. Didn't he?"
Astrid thinks back to that morning when the Dragon Master revealed he'd once tried to kill his night fury. She hadn't realised it was because he was an Archipelagan. She thought he'd come from beyond the Meridian of Misery, a conqueror from faraway lands with his eyes on the harsh lands and its peoples. She pictured a fortunate hunting accident securing him a weapon without equal. But what if that's not the case at all? What if he's not waging this war for his own ends? Could the Dragon Master's motivations be altruistic, driven by the familiar desire to protect one's home?
"I can't trust him until he gives up Hiccup," Astrid maintains. "I'm really worried about him, H. He's not safe here. I think the Dragon Master has something against him," she says.
"What?" H sputters. "That's ridiculous."
"No, it isn't. The only time I've heard him say something nice about Hiccup is when he mentioned his intelligence. The rest of the time, he's off slandering him, calling him a fraud to all and sundry. He's taking advantage of Hiccup's brains to bolster his unchallengeable reputation. There are thousands of Hiccup's sketches in the archives – he's practically the architect of all of Ísfjall. But even you thought that boat was the Dragon Master's handiwork. No wonder he doesn't want Hiccup to come home, he's too valuable. But why tell Hiccup how special he is when the Dragon Master can keep belittling him and asking for more, right?"
"No, no, that's not even close to the truth," H denies, shaking his head. He sounds flustered.
"Then why?" Astrid asks. "Hiccup has to know we're here, so why hasn't he reached out? I don't understand."
"Because he's ashamed!" H bursts. He looks guilty himself as if he knows Hiccup wouldn't want him sharing this.
"Of what?"
"Of leaving. Of letting his father believe he died. Of staying away so long. All of it," H mumbles.
"But that's not his fault," Astrid says. "I was there. He didn't choose to leave – he was taken. He was trying to save us both from the night fury."
H shakes his head.
Astrid goes still. She remembers everything about that day in vivid detail. Hiccup had been going in and out of the forest most of the afternoon, preparing for his fight with the monstrous nightmare. She'd thought the flush of success had made him careless, allowing her to finally discover where he'd been sneaking off to. She'd waited for him to return to the cove, so she could confront him. But the night fury had appeared. He'd told her to get help, and stupidly, she'd listened.
She remembers the voice Hiccup used when he assured her he wouldn't die. The absolute certainty. Not even during his greatest triumphs in the arena had he appeared so confident.
He'd known he wasn't in danger. He'd already learned the secret about dragons. He'd already been shown the truth. Astrid had suspected he'd been training with someone. But she'd never imagined this.
"He was protecting them," she realises.
"Them?" H queries.
"The Dragon Master and his night fury. They were hiding in the cove, and Hiccup wanted to get rid of me. The Dragon Master had taught him about dragons and had asked him to join the cause. That's why he left, isn't it?"
H shakes his head again. "This was before Ísfjall. Hiccup didn't leave on some noble promise of helping to end the war. He ran away. He's trying to make up for it by aiding the war effort, but until we win, Hiccup can't come home."
"Can't or won't?" Astrid asks.
"Can't. Winning the war is the only way for the man he has become to be accepted by Berk. By his father."
"Says who?"
"Everyone – him, me, you! Astrid, ask yourself this. Can you forgive him for abandoning Berk?" H asks.
Astrid thinks. "I… I don't know," she admits.
She's furious that Hiccup had tricked her, letting her believe he'd traded places with her on the executioner's block. Furious that he'd kept vital knowledge about dragons from Berk. Furious that he's choosing to keep away for the sake of pride. And ending the war's hardly going to change how she feels. She's not exactly full of charity for the Hooligan heir right now.
"And even if Hiccup wasn't so full of shame," H continues, sounding defeated, "his dragon wouldn't be safe on Berk the way things are now."
Astrid gasps. Hiccup bonded with a dragon. Somehow, that's a point in his favour. She's starting to understand how deep dragon bonds are. She might even be cultivating one herself, and the thought doesn't repulse her. It thrills her. If Hiccup has formed an inseparable connection with a dragon – after a childhood of loneliness – it's no wonder his loyalties shifted. And H is right – between Stoick and the Red Death, there's no place for a dragon rider on Berk.
"This man that Hiccup has become," Astrid says, harking back to earlier in the conversation, "is he so different from the boy I used to know?"
"You wouldn't recognise him even if he were sitting right beside you," H tells her.
A/N: I was looking through my earliest notes for this story from 2018, and I found this piece of dialogue from Chapter One: The Herbalist that I was so disappointed didn't make the final cut.
"Why would you help someone who tried to steal from you?" Astrid asks.
"It's happened before, but I couldn't stop it, I didn't want to. It seems she's a repeat offender, but I don't mind. Besides, she already has everything precious to me, so now I give whatever she asks for willingly."
Ultimately, it felt like Hiccup's feelings were more intense than I pictured, but I still liked how it sounded. Maybe one day, I'll rewrite that chapter again, but I don't think I'll ever be completely happy with it.
Not much romance again, but they had a lot of catching up to do. I hope you enjoyed this chapter even half as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thanks for reading!