Expect another round of Viking politics before Hiccup gets back. I reckon this is going to be another Astrid Hofferson multi-chapter. Not too much longer guys. You've all been very patient.

Prodigal Son 23

It was the morning after Brynjolf's death. Astrid had heard little from Stoick the Vast after their initial discussion. She had expected him to show at her family's hall that evening, but he hadn't. When she passed his house, she glanced quietly through a crack in the wall and saw him sitting alone with a mug of mead and a plate of dry mutton. Hiccup's horned helmet was on the table, beside the boy's heart-shaped sketch of Astrid. The chief had swollen red eyes. His shoulders were drooped and he was leaning on his elbows, head hanging low. She decided to let him be.

She allowed the children a day's break from Dragon Training, to help them deal with their grief. It also bought her more time to heal and adjust. She woke up early and used the pre-dawn light to navigate to Toothless' Cove. After making sure she wasn't followed, she slipped quietly through the stone crevice into the cove and sat on a stump near the pool's edge, listening to the babbling of the quiet stream.

Stormfly's footprints were everywhere in the soft turf, but there was no sign of the dragon herself. Astrid thought for a moment she may have grown bored and simply flown away. A deep sense of relief swept through her at the possibility, but also a great deal of sadness. Her public life on Berk had become a lie. A necessary evil, and something she knew was about to get a whole lot more complicated. The dragon, with her simple charm and genuine emotions held a certain comfort for Astrid, and a part of her missed it dearly.

She had brought a bag of fish for Stormfly, and some cooked chicken for herself. She was halfway through her meal when leathery wings flapped behind her, and she heard a chirruping noise which filled her with both relief and frustration. Wide, heavy, taloned feet squelched in the soft soil, and the dragon tromped up to Astrid and gently nuzzled her shoulder.

"Hey, girl…" Astrid turned and rubbed her dragon on the nose. Stormfly took the opportunity to lean down to sniff at the chicken.

"Hey, no!" Astrid snatched up her meal and leaned away. "That's mine. Eat the fish. The fish is yours!"

Stormfly quieted and settled back on her haunches so she could stare up at Astrid, her yellow eyes wide and doleful. She chirped and nuzzled Astrid's side gently as a lamb, then gave her rider another imploring look. Astrid glared down at her, resenting how quickly the dragon's begging was breaking down her defences. "Urgh. Fine. But only because you've been such a good girl."

She tore off a chicken leg and tossed it to Stormfly, who gulped it up, only to straighten and continue her puppy-like emotional assault.

"No! I gave you one, now eat your fish!" Astrid pulled a raw fish out of the bag and plopped it down on Stormfly's snout. The dragon flicked it into the air with barely a movement, and caught it in her mouth. She turned attention to the bag, which Astrid opened for her. The dragon began to slurp up the salmon, munching loudly.

"What am I going to do with you, girl? Astrid asked, running her hand along Stormfly's scales. "What am I going to do period? I don't know what's going to happen next. I didn't love Hiccup Haddock, and I don't want to be chief. I'm going to lie to everyone but Fishlegs. But I have to. Snotlout can't be in power. That bastard doesn't know what he's doing. I don't know what I'm doing either."

Having polished off the fish, Stormfly laid her head gently in Astrid's lap, letting the woman scratch behind her frill, and smooth down her scales.

"And you're just a whole other complication, aren't you?" she asked. The dragon gurgled up at her happily, and scooped the chicken off of her lap and down its gullet.

They spent the morning flying all the way around Berk, high above the village. It looked so small from that distance. Just a tiny little town nestled between a sheer cliff and the foot of an enormous mountain. Too small for the petty squabbles which seemed to forever occupy its citizens. She wondered if Hiccup had felt the same way the first time he had flown on Toothless' back.

Dawn broke while they were among the clouds, and Astrid gasped at the way the sunlight sparkled on the water, and caught her village in its golden glow. A great feeling of peace enveloped her, and she resolved to find a way to fit Stormfly into her life. She knew at that moment she didn't want to give up flight. Not for anything.

When they landed, she gave her dragon a tight hug, and told her to stay. Stormfly obeyed, thankfully. Perhaps understanding on some level Astrid's desire to protect her. It didn't stop Astrid from feeling terribly guilty for leaving the dragon standing there in the cove.

Astrid made a stop at the Great Hall in the mid-morning. She gave Iona the Cook a nod as she passed by, and then stopped and turned to face her.

"I'm sorry about yesterday." She said. "I was being harsh. I didn't want to hurt you, and I'm glad you're concerned. Thank you."

Iona examined her sourly for a moment, and then brightened. She shrugged. "It's alright, Astrid. Want some soup?" she proffered a steaming bowl. Astrid shook her head and held up a hand. "No thanks. I ate already. I was here to see Fridleif, actually."

"I think he's doing just fine." Iona grinned and pointed across the hall. Fridleif was lying on a pile of blankets, being spoon-fed his soup by a young beautiful young Thorston girl. One of the Twins' cousins, if Astrid remembered correctly. Lifa? Was that her name? One of Goethi's apprentices. Anyway the young man looked perfectly at ease, though he groaned rather theatrically at moments, resulting in a flurry of sympathetic and very… involved activity from the young woman.

Astrid rolled her eyes and looked back at Iona, who winked. The cook's expression grew more serious. "I heard about what happened in the Ring. Poor Brynjolf. The Barrason hall is next to ours, and we could hear Brenna crying all night."

"I wasn't there." Astrid said quickly. "I got there a few seconds too late."

Iona must have picked up the strain in her voice. "No one blames you, Astrid."

Astrid grabbed the bowl Iona had set aside for her, and slurped from it anyway. It gave her something to do with her hands, and an excuse to stay near the cook. She said, "What are people saying, Iona?"

"It's… difficult." The cook shifted uncomfortably. "My husband Styr is a Sigurdson. We're allied with the Jorgensons."

"I'm not asking you to testify at a trial."

"I know." She sighed and leaned forward, glancing around the hall. Vikings were gathered in groups of two or three, chatting with one another between bites and sips of mead. "Alright, look, a lot of people are unhappy with what happened. Your name is out of it. But when Snotlout came in to eat this morning, the entire hall just soured. I think people would have said something if the brat didn't have his little gang of friends with him. Nothing's going to come of it, of course. Too many clans depend on the Jorgensons for support, and nobody wants to question Stoick the Vast."

"Trust Stoick." Astrid recommended. "He's in a difficult situation, but he's smarter than you think."

Iona shook her head and laughed quietly. "Only you could be that loyal after he tried to get you exi-"

"Don't remind me."

"Is he planning something, Astrid? There has to be some consequences for this. People are too angry to just let it go."

"I can't say anything formal, you know that."

"And off the record?"

Astrid stared down into the cauldron. She said, "He's examining his options."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

Iona opened and closed her mouth, looking for the best way to phrase her question. Eventually she gave up on subtly altogether. "I'm really sorry for bringing this up, but why Hiccup?"

Astrid blinked, surprised, "What?"

"I wasn't training in the ring with you guys when we were growing up, but I know what it was like back then. Fishlegs was too soft. Tuffnut was an idiot, but he had his charm, and everyone wanted Snotlout. All of us did. But Hiccup? I mean no offense, but why?"

"Hiccup was…different."

"Opposites attract?"

"Something like that." Astrid bit her lip and stared into the broth. "The older I grow, the more I understand about him. I've come to appreciate a whole lot more about him recently, I can tell you that much. Why did you pick Styr?"

Iona shrugged. "He's brave and strong. A little older than I was, but not gross old. He saved my whole family from a zippleback. The marriage offer was generous. His family was respectable. How could I say no?"

"Hiccup wasn't a coward either." Astrid said, feeling obliged to offer her friend some insight. "He wanted to be in the ring."

"Bit of a fishbone, though." Iona said. "Could you imagine him going up against a Gronckle?"

"He might have grown out of it." Astrid said fairly.

"Stoick was his father." Iona agreed. "He was from sturdy stock."

"Guess I'll never know."

"Sorry."

Astrid took another gulp of the piping hot broth. When she lowered the bowl, she found Iona grinning at her.

"You'll never guess what Bucket was saying this morning." The cook said conspiratorially.

"What?"

"He said he saw someone riding a dragon. A dragon! Can you imagine?"

Astrid laughed, trying to keep the nervousness out of her voice. "Poor Bucket."

"Right? Mulch was shushing him all through the meal, but he wouldn't stop talking about it!"

"What kind of dragon was it?"

"He didn't say."

Astrid shot a glance back at Fridleif, who caught her eye. He was sitting up in bed and being embraced rather unprofessionally by Lifa, and his hand was slowly inching its way down past the young woman's waistline. Astrid scowled at him, and his hand returned to his nurse's shoulder.

It rained that afternoon. Light droplets which hung in the air and soaked through clothing as fast as the heaviest, hardest downpour. She actually stopped at home for a moment to oil her axe and wrap it in a thick cloth bundle. The last thing she needed was a rusty weapon. Then she paid Brenna Barrason a visit. The Barrasons hall was situated on the northern side of Berk, near the edge of the cliffs. The sea stacks near Raven point could be seen from behind their home, though the kill ring was hidden behind an enormous jutting rock formation.

Brenna was at home with her son Bard, only a few years older than Astrid. He was married to a Hofferson. One of her cousins, and the two of them were trying for a child though they hadn't succeeded yet. He answered the door with a glum look, and let her inside without a word.

"Astrid!" Astrid found herself engulfed by Brenna, whose eyes were red and puffy. "I'm so glad you stopped by!"

"I wanted to apologize."

"It wasn't you." Bard said. "We know what happened. It was Snotlout."

"He already stopped by this morning." Brenna said, her voice hoarse. "Gave us a sheep and offered his condolences."

"We're having Mutton for dinner." Bard added.

"It was that or throw it off the cliff. I couldn't stand to look at the bloody thing." Brenna explained. She offered Astrid a chair and took a seat across from her.

"Brynjolf was working as part of a team, trying to save lives." Astrid explained. "The other children told me what happened. He fought very bravely, and he fought smartly. By all accounts he gave as good as he got."

"Of course he did." Brenna managed a smile. "You taught him."

"I'm so sorry that he…" She growled in frustration and thumped the table. "I should have been there. I woke up that morning and I was just so tired-"

"It's alright." Brenna reached across the table and clasped Astrid's hand. "You Hoffersons have always been so close to our family. You're like a second daughter, Astrid. I know you. You'd never have made a mistake like that. You'd never have exposed him to… to danger…" she burst into tears, and in an instant Bard was at her side, wrapping his enormous arms around her shoulders. He held her for a moment, gently rubbing his mother's back as she sobbed into his shoulder. He gave Astrid a nod towards the back door, and met her out there a moment later.

"Snotlout has to die." He said, pacing back and forth as they stood beside the cliff. "I have a group of friends ready to move on him."

"That's not a road we want to go down."

"Do you want him as chief?" Bard asked. "Because if we don't do something, that's what's coming!"

"You touch Snotlout, and the Jorgensons will have your head."

"I don't care."

"You should. There'll be a feud. The Island will split in two."

Bard responded in a heated voice. "It'll split anyway. You think any of us are going to follow that fool, Astrid? He'll lead us all to Hel's gate! And what use has Stoick been? Just sitting in his damned hall all the time crying over his damned kid!" the man fell silent, breathing heavily. He looked shocked at his own words. "I'm sorry, Astrid. I didn't mean... I was just venting."

"It's fine."

"My brother died holding the axe I bought for him on his first day of dragon training. Gobber forged it. I had it made special for him."

"If he died holding it, then he's in Valhalla."

"Doesn't stop me from missing him." Bard said slowly. "And I'm sorry for what I said about Hiccup, Astrid. I know how you two were-"

"It's fine." She said firmly. "It's just this war."

The man let out a forlorn laugh. "Right. Ever wonder what peace feels like?"

She eyed him curiously. A thought occurred to her. "Maybe we can get there."

He gave her a sharp look. "What do you mean?"

"What if I told you I could get us to the nest?"

"Ha! You'll kill us all. This island can't stand more wasted lives. We couldn't even get past the fog last time!"

"The fog is created by a swarm of little dragons who take the metal from our swords and armour and weld them together to make their nests. I've seen it with my own eyes. We keep the metal on our boats covered and out of sight, they'll let us pass."

"Going in without weapons?" Bard said doubtfully. "What's to stop the big dragons from carrying us all off to Hel and burning our boats?"

"I have a solution for that too, but it's going to sound crazy."

Bard folded his arms. "Try me."

"Eels."

Bard stared at her in shock. Then he burst out laughing.

"I'm serious!" Astrid stamped her foot. "Dragons hate them! They run from them! It's right in the book of dragons."

"Dragons run from nothing." Bard said, "I think you should go see Goethi. Have her examine your head." He walked back into his hall, shutting the door behind him. Astrid stared at the closed wooden door, her face burning.

"Fascinating." Said a voice by her ear. Astrid yelped, and spun around, nearly losing her balance. Fishlegs was standing there, staring at the Barrason's door.

"Fishlegs! You snuck up on me!" Astrid glared at him, caught between anger, amusement, and curiosity. She hadn't realized that a man as large as him could step so lightly.

"Sorry." Fishlegs said delicately, twiddling his fingers in a modest way. "I couldn't help but overhear."

"I bet you could if you tried."

He turned away, facing out towards the ocean and the cold grey sky beyond. "Eels, huh?"

"I'm right." Astrid said, fuming. "We hang them from the rigging, and the dragons will leave us alone. I know I'm right! You know I'm right!"

"I know. But Bard's reaction is going to be the typical one."

"How do I get them to believe me?"

"Them thinking you're crazy probably won't help you much."

"Oh, thank you so much for that assessment."

"Just trying to help." Fishlegs said, once again playing up the gentle modest giant she knew he wasn't. "I've found personally that choosing when to play your cards is just as important as the hand you're carrying."

"What does that mean?"

"Telling them all up front is just going to earn you scorn when your idea is as untraditional as that. We may need to wait for another raid before we can actually prove it to them."

"Great." Astrid growled. "So more people get to die before we put a stop to this."

"Vikings are stubborn. Minds don't change overnight. If you want to win, you have to play the long game."

She stayed silent.

"How is Stoick handling the Snotlout problem?" Fishlegs asked, changing tack.

"I told him to adopt me as heir in lieu of Hiccup."

Fishlegs nodded in satisfaction. "Good news for Berk."

Astrid glared at the back of his head. "Fishlegs?"

"Mmm?"

"You set all of this in motion." The accusation and suspicion in her tone was unmistakeable.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He said innocently. "All I wanted was to get my hands on Hiccup's journal. You stole the sketch, Astrid. I had nothing to do with Stoick's raid, or that 'raft' which you brought back with you."

Astrid glanced around, searching for any listening ears. When she was sure they were alone, she hissed, "You told them I loved Hiccup."

"It was a… possible explanation. One of many. I'm glad you chose to adopt it. It's going to mve Berk in the right direction."

"You told me to sell my name to Stoick. To get caught up in all of these politics."

"Did I? As I recall, I just… made you aware of the gravity of our situation. You made the choice yourself."

"I had to!" Astrid argued. "Brynjolf got killed. It was Snotlout's fault."

Fishlegs smiled. "It sounds to me like Snotlout has a lot more to do with all of this than I do."

"Dress it up how you like it, but I'm beginning to feel like a puppet. What do you gain from all this?"

"Besides a Berk without monthly dragon raids, you mean?" Fishlegs asked, drumming his fingers together, "One might assume the Ingerman clan will do well under the new regime." He turned back to her, his face innocent. "We've always been very close allies of the Hoffersons and the Haddocks, after all."

Astrid eyed him carefully. "That's… true..." she admitted carefully.

He nodded and strode away, though he stopped after a few paces and turned back. "Astrid, be careful of the Jorgensons. There'll be pushback if you jump ranks ahead of Snotlout, and the Jorgensons aren't to be trifled with."

The rest of Astrid's afternoon was taken up with chores. A pall had fallen over Berk. It was exactly the same as when Sluglout died. Quiet whispers, discouraged looks. Villagers moved like ghosts, floating from place to place with neither warmth, nor vigour. She wandered the island, collecting firewood and carrying sacks of wheat to and from the mill - another one of Hiccup's designs. Weaving cloth was not a hobby she was particularly good at, and she so eventually wandered over to Gobber's forge to help the stout blacksmith take care of his weapons. He looked up from his forge as she approached. His face was sombre; Brynjolf's death had brought back many unpleasant memories for him.

He greeted her with a sympathetic nod. "Astrid. I heard about Brynjolf. Do yeh want ta talk?"

She shook her head slowly. "Just work. Anything you need help with?"

He gave her an understanding nod and motioned with his hook towards the opposite side of the smithy. Rows of swords and axes had been stacked on a low table.

"I need those blades oiled and honed. Dragon scales wreak holy havoc on blades. Dulls them till they could be put ta use as butter knives."

Gobber himself had disassembled one of the machines in his forge, a peddle-driven grindstone. By the look of things a gear had broken inside it, and the smith was using a pair of tongs to finagle pieces of wood and wire into place, trying to repair it. Astrid took a seat, grabbed a sharpening stone and the nearest sword and set to work, rubbing the stone along the blade.

They worked in silence for a long time. Shadows slowly crawled across the floor. Gobber was silent at first, but as the hours slowly rolled past, he began to mutter to himself. He had tried four times thus far to repair the machine, and each time he had reassembled it and pumped the peddle only to hear the sound of something else crack or snap inside the confusing mess of gears and tangled wires.

"Infernal bloody machine!" the smith roared. "Steamin' pile of flea-ridden yakshit!" He planted his foot in the side of the grinder, crushing most of the internal mechanisms. "Oh Thor…" the smith sank to the ground beside the broken grinder. Astrid watched through the corner of her eye as his shoulders began to shake. He was crying, she realized. Enormous tears rolled down his cheeks and soaked into his moustache. She carefully set down the sword she was working on and rose to her feet.

"Gobber?"

The enormous Viking sniffed and rubbed his eyes. "Eight years that grinder's been running. Eight bloody years! Never broke down. Not once. Yeh had ta tighten it to keep it from shakin' itself apart, but it never broke. Not once. Never." He looked up at her, making no effort to hide his grief. "It was Hiccup's design and I got no clue how he made it work."

Astrid slid down beside him and patted him on the shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Gobber reached up to his work bench and fumbled blindly for a rag, which he used to blow his nose.

"Hiccup was special." Astrid said.

"Don't try tha' on me. I know he was." Gobber turned to her, wiping his eyes. He said, "Why are yeh doin' this, Astrid? You an' tha' boy were never close. Why are yeh sayin' it now?"

The bottom of her stomach dropped out, and Astrid quickly looked away. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"That child spent every waking hour either trying to impress his dad, or get yeh ta notice him. I know for a fact he did neither of those things while he was alive."

"We spent time together after Dragon Training." She lied. "I was teaching him what I knew."

"If yeh'd bin teachin' him he'd ha' planted an axe in tha' Gronckle's head in no time. Bu' he didn't. He put it out without any weapons at all, and left yeh in the dust doin' it. He won the tournament. I reckon Hiccup was learnin' on his own. I don't know how, but he was. He was good at tha'."

"You remember that last lesson very clearly." Astrid said, remembering the radical narrative of Hiccup's journal.

"O'course I do. It was the last time I e'er saw the boy."

Astrid stayed quiet.

"I taugh' tha' boy for fourteen years and I ne'er saw him handle a blade withou' cuttin' himself. Yer lyin'. Don't play me for a fool, Astrid. Yeh can be cold, but yer not heartless." He met her eyes, and not looking away was the hardest thing she'd ever done.

"Why re yeh doin' this? The only reason this town is buying tha' romance nonsense is because none of them knew Hiccup. But I did. Those memories are sacred. They're important. I don't know wha' yer game is, but Hiccup deserves better than a lie."

Astrid took a deep breath. She said, "I want to stop Snotlout from becoming chief. If Stoick and the Village think I was Hiccup's intended…"

Gobber leaned back until his head thunked against the edge of his work bench. "Yeh've drawn blood and broken bone for this village, an' had yers drawn and broken in turn. But yer still a young maid, Astrid."

"Not young anymore…"

"Next ta me? Yeah. Yer a young'un. Are yeh sure yeh want to give yer soul away already? Everything you'll do will be based on a terrible lie. Yeh'll be takin' advantage of a dead boy's legacy."

"If I make Chief, no more Sluglouts. No more Brynjolfs. No more Hiccups. What's that worth, Gobber? What would Hiccup say?"

Gobber snorted. "Tha's low."

"If this is going to work, I need them to buy it. You have to keep quiet, Gobber. You can't tell them I'm lying."

He ran a hand down his beard. "It's a righ' bloody mess, Lass. A righ' bloody mess… jus' do me a favour, and don't let the Jorgensons push yeh around. They're good at tha'."

Stoick was sitting in Hofferson Hall. It was the strangest sight to behold. Even while sitting he towered over Haldor and Brunhilda Hofferson. His mere kingly presence warped the environment around him, making everything else background.

"Astrid!" Brunhilda rose to her feet as her daughter entered. Haldor did as well.

"Mum. Dad. Chief." Astrid nodded to each of them in turn. She could see confusion and surprise on her parent's faces, and she knew that Stoick had just proposed the new arrangement. Her breath caught in her throat as she realized that this might be one of the last nights she spent under her own roof.

Brunhilda was rushing forward. Astrid took a few steps towards her mother, and they threw their arms around eachother.

"Astrid, Stoick… our chief… has proposed an… arrangement."

Astrid nodded. "I already know about it."

"You already…" Brunhilda's brow furrowed, and her mouth fell open.

"I already know, mum. Stoick and I talked it over already."

"But… Astrid… You have a family here. A home. You're welcome under our roof. We love you!" Brunhilda drew her daughter in and hugged her tightly. "I love you."

"I love you too, mum. But this has nothing to do with you guys."

"It has everything to do with us." Haldor said, "You're our daughter."

"And a grown woman." Astrid reminded him. "I'm bringing my own dowry. You don't have to pay a cent."

"It's not the money, Astrid!" Brunhilda explained. "I don't want to lose my daughter!"

"It's my choice, mum."

"But why? Why are you doing this?"

"Politics." Explained Stoick, who had maintained a respectful silence.

"I love you. Both of you. But we all know what will happen to Berk if Snotlout gets a hold of real power. Berk needs a different heir."

"This is because of what happened to Brynjolf, isn't it?" Brunhilda probed.

"That was the final straw." Stoick said. "But this has been a long time coming. I've chosen Astrid as my heir, and I'm willing to buy her as the bride she would have been for my son."

Brunhilda shook her head. "How am I supposed to put a price on my own daughter?"

"Farmland out near silent Sven's place, a flock of sheep, and a fishing boat bought up front for our family's immediate use." Astrid said. Her mother and father stared, shocked and helpless.

Stoick raised his eyebrows. "That's a steep price, Astrid."

"I want my family taken care of, sir. I've been told by two different people that the Jorgensons aren't going to like this. Right now my family are fishermen, and we rent our vessels from the Jorgensons. I want us protected from any fallout over this."

"Plenty of families across Berk are in our situation, Astrid." Haldor informed her. "We might not be the only ones."

Brunhilda scoffed doubtfully. "They wouldn't stoop so low as to hold the entire village hostage."

"For the throne?" Haldor asked. "Maybe. I don't know. I know they'd want a Jorgenson on the throne before a Hofferson."

"We'll have to deal with that when it comes, but I want my family protected." Astrid said, "And I'll be taking the Haddock name, actually. In honour of Hiccup."

"What…?" Haldor deflated. He ran a hand through his thick hair. "I don't understand how that's all of a sudden important. Why was that never mentioned?"

"Haldor!" Brunhilda scolded, though she fixed Astrid with a look.

"I didn't mention I was going to restart dragon training after Gobber left either." Astrid argued, "I just went and did it."

"And since when do children tell their parents of their love lives, dear?" Brunhilda asked.

"Leaving out the details is one thing, but we're usually aware that they have one at least." Haldor explained. "Brunhilda did you know about Hiccup and Astrid until the trial? Because I didn't have a clue. I just don't understand how this eight-year-old relationship I knew nothing about is suddenly dictating all of her decisions!"

"Dad, nothing's being dictated. I'm doing this because if Snotlout is chief, Berk falls apart. I've volunteered. This was my idea from the start, and thank Thor Stoick agreed to it." This proclamation was met with silence as both her parents were struck momentarily speechless.

"You'll make an excellent chief, Astrid." Stoick said, rising to his feet.

"Sounds like you've made your mind up." Brunhilda observed sadly, ignoring the chief. Her worried attentions were focused solely on her daughter.

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't… worried." Astrid admitted. "I don't want to give up my name, but I have to."

"This just doesn't sound like you. Political manoeuvring? Since when have you wanted to become involved in this sort of thing?"

"Since one of my students was killed by Snotlout's incompetence!" Astrid declared hotly. "I know Gobber just ran back to his forge after Sluglout died, but I'm not him. Berk has a problem, and I can solve it, mum! I can make things better! I will make things better!"

"I can put a stop to this." Haldor said, sounding as desperate as he did determined. "I'm still the man of this household-" He stopped as his wife laid a hand on his arm.

Brunhilda stepped forward and laid both of her palms against Astrid's cheeks, forcing her daughter to look up and meet her eyes.

"You really want this, don't you?" she asked quietly.

"Yes."

"This sort of change can get very ugly, Astrid."

"I know. I'm prepared for that, mum."

"I love you." Brunhilda told her.

"We both do." Haldor added.

"I love you too, but Berk needs this. Village first, mum."

Brunhilda nodded and drew a long, shaky breath. She leaned forward and kissed Astrid on the forehead. "Very well. Stoick, if you'll take our price…"

"I will." Stoick said. His voice was firm, but also carried a hint of sympathy, from one parent to another.

Brunhilda nodded silently.

"Dad, could you get a quill and paper please?" Astrid said. "We should write up a contract."

As Haldor moved away towards the back of their hall, Stoick came forward. He laid a hand on Brunhilda's shoulder. "She'll be treated well under my roof."

Brunhilda glared at him. "She had damned well better be!"

They made the formal announcement the following morning. All the heads from the major clans were there, gathered around the circular table in the great hall. Fishlegs was sitting with his grandparents, the Ingerman elders. He observed the proceedings with an air of dispassion, though he favoured Astrid with a small smile as they were sitting down. Snotlout was there as well, sitting silently with his father Spitelout, who also spent the meeting in silence, though his face grew progressively redder as time wore on and he developed the expression of a man who just swallowed a bad oyster. The door to the great hall had been left open, and plenty of people across the island had gathered there, watching and listening in silence.

Astrid sat at Stoick's side. At her other shoulder were her parents, all three of them dressed in the Hofferson's very best clothing, as threadbare as it was. Stoick himself was wearing a finely woven forest green tunic, and a bearskin cape. His beard had been trimmed and re-braided. His hair had been combed and set back in its usual ferocious braid which hung down his back.

Berk's chieftain did most of the talking. He spoke at great length about Astrid's skills in the ring, about her perseverance and discipline. He spoke of her relationship with Hiccup, and what could have been.

"My friends, no one was more surprised than I to discover what my son was doing with his time out of the ring, but no one is more pleased. Astrid Hofferson is a fine young woman. A warrior, and a hard worker. She has shown her mettle a hundred times, and a hundred times over. She's the Pride of Berk."

At this proclamation, Snotlout scoffed audibly. Stoick hesitated for but a moment, but it was long enough to let the entire room know he had heard the noise. Everyone tensed.

Stoick picked up his quill, and shooting Snotlout a glare, he said, "I have struck a bargain with the Hofferson clan. In exchange for a generous sum, she is to join my family as the daughter she would have been, and take up the Haddock name, as she would have long ago were my son still alive. This war has taken much from all of us, and it pleases me greatly that I'm finally able to set things straight. Astrid Hofferson, when she becomes a Haddock, will be my daughter. She will have access to my lands and funds as the Laws allow. She will reside in my hall, and speak with my authority. She is my heir, and you are to treat her with the same respect you would have given to my son."

"Why in the nine realms would she go for Hiccup the Useless?" Snotlout whispered in that special sort of whisper which carries all around the room. The Thorston's faces remained blank, though many of the other clans shot him deadly glares. There was a dull thump beneath the table and he let in a sharp breath. "Ow! My foot. What was that for?"

Spitelout glared at him. "Do not interrupt your chief, Snotlout. And show respect." He leaned forward, lacing his fingers together and resting his hands on the table. "You're a very wise young woman, Astrid. May I commend you for your taste? Hiccup Haddock was an intelligent, promising young lad. The Jorgenson clan mourns with you for his loss."

"Thank you." Astrid said respectfully.

"I hope you bring that same wisdom to bear in the choices you make as you lead us into the future." Spitelout added. A few of Astrid's supporters on the far side of the table applauded.

"I will."

"Is there anyone who wants to dispute this? Any concerns which you wish to bring to light?" Stoick looked directly at Spitelout. Clans around the table shook their heads quickly. Many of the Patrons and Matrons were looking particularly pleased, offering Astrid encouraging smiles, and a few winks. Spitelout waited a moment, examining the reactions around the table. Nearly three-quarters of those present showed open support for Astrid Hofferson. A few people, including Fishlegs, stayed publicly neutral. A few more, like the Thorstons, were waiting for his judgment before they made their own. Aware that the majority supported Stoick's decision, Spitelout shook his head and smiled at Astrid. "My beloved Brother, You've made an excellent choice. Our congratulations to both of you."

"Thank you." Stoick said. "Anyone else?"

No one spoke, and the Jorgenson allies offered their own smiles and pledges of support.

"Thank you." Astrid said. The contract was signed by Stoick and Haldor, and witnessed by the Ingermans, the Barrasons, and the Thorstons. Applause broke out across the table, and out in the crowds beyond the doorway.

A feeling of numbness engulfed her as the meeting was adjourned, and the clan heads gathered around to offer their congratulations. They all seemed to meld together so that she could not tell one clan from the next, all she knew was that her wrist was getting sore from shaking so many hands. He mother watched tearfully from a short distance away, Haldor's arms around her, and he was weeping too.

Stoick's hand landed on her shoulder, a heavy, jarring and uncomfortable gesture, though his smile was bursting with genuine pride and happiness. An expression no one had seen on him in over eight years. He pulled her into his side in a crushing embrace, and she smiled as best she could. She caught sight of Spitelout and Snotlout exiting the Hall in a hurry. Both of them had been amongst the first to offer their congratulations and shake her hand. Spitelout had been cordial, Snotlout on the other hand, had smiled through his teeth. As she watched them exit, she remembered Gobber's warning, and Fishlegs' as well. She wondered when and where the hammer was going to fall.

"Astrid, are you alright?"

Stoick, her new father, was looking down at her in concern.

"I'm alright. It's just a lot to take in." she said. "It's overwhelming."

He laughed. It was a deep, booming sound which filled the hall, and warmed everyone's hearts. "I know the feeling. Go kill some trees." He advised. "We'll open Haddock Hall tomorrow and have a proper reception."

Astrid obeyed, stopping with her parents first, both of whom embraced her. "You're still my daughter!" Brunhilda whispered into her ear as they shared a tearful hug. "You're still my daughter."

"I love you, mum."

"You're always welcome in our hall." Haldor said. "Come and see us! Don't forget that we love you."

"I will." Astrid promised. "I will!"

From there it was a frantic, mad rush to get out of town. Villagers left right and centre all greeted her with applause, and well-wishes. It was all she could do to escape into the woods. She managed to escape the crowd and snag a basket of fish. From there she headed straight to Raven Point, doing several wide loops through the woods to prevent anyone from following her.

She found Stormfly and practically leapt onto the dragon's back. They flew all around the far side of the island, and did laps around the sea stacks until her head stopped spinning, and she no longer felt the urge to vomit.