Summary:

Stories have always been a cycle. They repeat over and over again, but sometimes errors or glitches happen, as they do in mass production, and the story ends up just a little different, just slightly lopsided, or sometimes barely noticeable. Astrid is intuitive, and doesn't understand just why she feels unbalanced, but is determined to grow sea legs and a stomach that can handle the sky, and carves her own path.

But still - Hiccup Haddock, Heir of Berk and the Dragon Master seems to be at the root of her strange feelings. Something's not right. She's supposed to be something to him, she knows, but how could she ever be what she was supposed to be with the cruel wrench thrown into the way things should have been?

Or,

That au where Astrid is born three years later than she's supposed to, and it shifts many things behind, and some things stay right on time.

.

.

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Childhood:

Astrid has always been a hard worker. It comes naturally to her. It makes the world make sense. Because if you work hard enough, you can accomplish anything. She's also practical, of course, and knows that not all work is equal, but that doesn't mean her belief is untrue. You could become rich if you worked hard enough. If you wanted to be good at handling weapons, you could spend all your free time practicing. Every problem Astrid had could be solved with some hard work and grit. Or at least, that's how it should have been.

But you couldn't control your birth. No matter how hard she worked and agonized, Astrid could never make up for the fact she was born too late.

Astrid Hofferson is born with a go-getter attitude. The grownups chuckle at the absolute determination in her fiery light eyes. She is efficient, loud, but not difficult. She throws herself first into sitting up on her own, then crawling. By the time she's learning to crawl her parents are wary. Their daughter is the most disciplined baby they've ever witnessed. It's like she's trying to breeze through all those skills as fast as possible, by why? She never bothers herself with the playmates her own age still laying around on blankets or putting things in their mouths, no. The most common place to find her was running as fast as her chubby legs could carry her with the older children, the ones two or three years older than her, already exploring Berk with sticks and hunting for trolls.

"You want to be just like them, do you, Astrid?" her father would scoop her up playfully and scold her when she ran off with them. "I know, I know. But you aren't ready yet. Someday, I promise," he smiles encouragingly.

But even then as a baby incapable of forming coherent, introspective thoughts it was clear that her father's answer was unsatisfactory. She wanted to be like them now. She always wanted to be like them. More than that, she wanted to be one of them.

"It's like she thinks she was supposed to be born with that set," Mrs. Hofferson sighs as her husband emerges from laying a passed out toddler in the other room. The remark was scarily close to the truth. It was like that moment the chief and his wife had announced themselves with child, and then automatically looked to the Hoffersons, who wouldn't conceive until at least two years later. No one understood why they had expected something, no one understood the relief the village had felt when little Astrid was born. At last, she's here, something seems to sigh and relax. Gothi draws her bones and decides that there is still hope, and so life goes on unbothered.

Astrid never discovers why, exactly, she is so drawn to the older kids, so certain of finding a kinship with them she can't find among her peers of the same age. She never leaves satisfied, always feeling like she's missing something and annoyed when the friend group a few years older than her doesn't understand or want to wait for her to catch up when they chase sheep and hide from the adults. Those instances leave her out of breath and frowning, as well as often staring across the room or field at another boy they left behind, not due to his age - he's the oldest, in fact, by a few months, courtesy of being born prematurely - but unable to keep up all the same. She knows this boy. He's Hiccup, the chief's son. It'd be crazy to believe if he didn't live on his father's shoulders at all times. It's almost as crazy as Astrid's delusion that she should be three years older than she is. They're both odd kids, and keep away from each other. She watches in bewilderment as Hiccup trips over his own feet, cries over scratches, and takes the time to worry over every squished bug he comes across. She always catches him looking away whenever she cannot contain her own bouts of temper when she's not tall or strong enough - or worse, old enough - to do everything else the other kids are doing, but she can sense his curiosity. They don't make sense to the other, and the idea of talking to each other is utterly ridiculous. He's six and she's three, so he could barely understand her still learning how to sound out words and string them together in a proper translation of her thoughts. She's still learning to think. She's not yet mastered the process of differentiating feelings from thoughts, which makes her volatile. The uncomfortable looks the kids share over her head when they don't understand her makes her want to throw her hands up in frustration.

She's seven when she understands harmful teasing for the first time. It's the time of year the Flightmare would come, although it's not due for another seven years, but all of a sudden Snotlout Jorgenson and the Thorston twins are jeering at her, calling her "Frozen Hofferson," and telling her she can't play with them; they wouldn't want her freezing in fear. She's confused at first. She can tell they aren't being nice, but it takes her a while to understand what, exactly, they are making fun of her for. Then, she screams in inhuman rage and runs at them, wooden axe at the ready, but they scatter with their longer legs and better ten year old stamina, and she's left staring after them, frozen and crying.

After that, she decides that friends and playing aren't worth it. She has to win back her family's honor so that she can never be made fun of again. So she no longer follows those older brats around. Now, she's Papa's shadow.

Again, her parents are concerned. They even take her to Gothi, to ask if there is perhaps something spiritual they are missing. The elder shakes her head contemplatively. You'll be okay right where you are, she writes in the sand and Gobber, the smith, translates for her parents. They frown, concerned, but ultimately what Gothi said is a reassurance, so they leave.

And Astrid throws herself into training. It's a single minded pursuit. Her parents aren't sure what to make of it, but hey, at least having a driven eight year old who already knew how to fight was better than having that lazy, good for nothing troublemaker of a boy Stoick had found himself dealing with. So Papa trained her, and Mother did the best she could to ensure Astrid wasn't overworking herself.

They worried for her socially, sometimes. By the time she was twelve, Gustav Larson was the only kid her age who had made it to this point alive. All the other babies had died from illnesses or by dragons. She wanted nothing to do with the kid. He was only nine months younger than her, but Thor did his slurred words and clumsiness that resembled a drunkard irritate her. He thought Snotlout was a Viking to look up to. Nevermind that Astrid used to look up to Snotlout's group of friends, too. That had been years ago, and she had since learned the proper models of Vikings: her Papa and the chief. Her words were clipped and aggressive, and when Gustav would say something he thought was funny, she'd hoist him over her shoulder and throw him to the ground. After that, well, the teenagers steered clear of her. The only one she interacted with the most now was Hiccup, and that was laughable, because they barely interacted at all. An interaction counted as his incredulously raised eyebrow at her severely scratched axehead after a long day of work, and a hard-done-by sigh while she growls at him self consciously. One day he gives her an old polishing rag after she'd seen him too many times that week. It's infuriating and condescending and she grips her axe tightly, debating the pros and cons of threatening the boy who sharpens her axe with the newly lethal weapon. She settles for polishing it ferociously instead, and is proud when she gets better at taking care of her things enough to visit the smithy markedly less.

She is self sufficient, always striving towards some far off goal in the future that no one else is privy to. She has a loathing for being late and is always mature for her age when she doesn't let her temper get in the way. She's jaded and fierce and a force to be reckoned with, and her aunt comments on her old soul being stuck in such a youthful body. Mother sighs and nods, but does not elaborate. Astrid is so ready to take on anyone's world on her shoulders, and so her family does their best not to show her their own burdens. They can see she is destined for great things, and wonder apprehensively if her practice with shouldering other's struggles will play a prominent part in her future.

13 and 16:

Astrid is thirteen when her world gets upended and she is suspended in the air to look at it with wide eyes.

Astrid doesn't worry about Hiccup as a child. She has important things to do, thank you very much, and paying attention to boys wasn't one of them. But once she reaches adolescence and begins to grasp just what kind of life lies ahead of her in facing the dragons and protecting Berk, then Hiccup and his continuous destructive escapades become more important.

Hiccup was, well, hard to understand. He is the son of the chief, and acts nothing like it. Usually when she sees him he's sulking or hunched over. He works at the forge, which was how she saw him so often; throwing her axe so much meant it had to be sharpened - and that was Hiccup's job. She never sees him smile - not that that matters; she doesn't smile much either - and his contraptions had become famous amongst the village for wrecking houses and causing more havoc than the dragons did. It's jarring to see him stand beside the vast chief, hunched over and sullen while an itch in the back of her mind seems sure he should be standing tall and proud instead.

She thinks he's stupid. Why spend so much time on inventions to do the work that he could just do himself. It's stupid because she thinks it's lazy, but he clearly works hard on his machines, so that seems contradictory. She thinks he's wasting his time, trying to make a machine wield a weapon he himself cannot handle. He's skinny, sure, so using a weapon would be hard, but so is she, and that's not stopping her. She tells him, in her own sort of way, that maybe he should learn and train to make his inventions better - but she's not sure he understood her. Maybe she called him stupid too many times.

(But he is stupid; all sixteen year old boys are by default.)

Still, there is a taste of dissatisfaction that refuses to wash from her tongue as she watches him. You can do better than that, she thinks, before frowning and wondering why exactly she thinks so. But he's the son of the chief, she reasons. It's perfectly normal to have high expectations of him. Everyone wants him to be a hero, yes, but she can see the hero in him, and she watches with baffled impatience as he does nothing to cultivate it.

When dragon training comes around, she finds herself drawn to the arena. It's because she needs to know what she's getting herself into, she tells herself. In a few years, those five will be her and Gustav, and she'll need to distinguish herself.

(It's not a competition; they're all supposed to work together for the rest of their lives … but Astrid's always wanted to show up the group of kids a few years older than her, probably due to residual bitterness as a kid. So she's scouting out potential rivals while getting a head start by learning what she'll be up against.)

They're all … surprisingly bad at dragon training. Gobber is a lousy teacher, barely moving around and showing them what to do. He believes in 'learning on the job' which probably wouldn't be so unhelpful if anyone deigned to train for the classes. Astrid scoffs internally. It's like they have no real drive to be a good dragon killer. She could do better than them already. She already knows how to handle a shield with an axe or a sword. She knows not to lose focus in the middle of a battle. Fishlegs struggles with geeking out instead of fighting, Snotlout's too busy boasting about how great he is he never gets around to accomplishing said feats of glory he's so sure he'll achieve, and the Thorstons are so busy trying to one up each other they have no awareness of the surroundings. Hiccup … is just Hiccup. He makes snarky remarks that only serve to make everyone roll their eyes - super dangerous when in a metal arena with a dragon! - and flails around. Gobber's had to save him twice by now; first from a Gronkle, and then when he was pinned under a Nadder. She finds herself gritting her teeth the most when she watches him. He has so much more to prove, and yet he's trying less hard than the rest of his peers. She watches him scowl at the empty arena after everyone's cleared out, and kick a shield or two before sighing and running his hand down his face. It's his own fault, she thinks superiorly. What does he expect from not trying? Hard work is everything. She watches him head towards the forest quickly, not even stopping to take lunch and frowns contemplatively. Maybe he was training? If so, doing it on an empty stomach is a dumb move, but not her concern.

She stays unconcerned with Hiccup a little while longer, until suddenly she sees a change.

It wasn't even a slow change, no. It was like one of Hiccup's contraptions blowing up a house you passed by every day, and then when you look at it again, all of a sudden it's nothing but a roofless structure. That kind of change. Her keen eyes track him, trying to find a physical difference. His muscle mass looks as pathetic as it always has, and he carries himself hunched over still, almost guilty looking or afraid. It is not the look of an oncoming warrior, and yet, she saw it with her own eyes.

(And in the back of her mind, there's a triumphant purr of recognition that says, there you are.)

Hiccup backs a Zippleback single handedly into its cage with nothing but a few stern words and shooing motions with his arms. Then, the Nadder that had pinned him down easily not even a few weeks before was downed by him, laying at his feet with its neck exposed in offering. Astrid watches incredulously as he quickly steps into the dragon's blindspot and - makes it fall over in an instant. The Nadder's crown of spikes obscured him from view, and none of the other teenagers seemed to have noticed what happened; they just stare at him disbelievingly before breaking out into cheers. Hiccup awkwardly celebrates with them before slipping off into the forest again. Astrid's eyes narrow. So he is training. But with whom? She has never heard of any of these tricks with dragons before; how would Hiccup know someone who knew them?

What's even more unbelievable is that no one else seems to come to the same conclusion as she. Now, Vikings crowd around Hiccup, patting him on the back, congratulating him and singing his praises. Has everyone forgotten the way they used to treat him? He was nothing special before, how is he now? She wonders if maybe he's bewitched the dragons somehow to be submissive to him, but that's ridiculous. But his progress is so suspicious, it is clear he has help, somewhere, somehow. Astrid decides she wants in on these secrets.

When she was eleven, Papa deemed her ready to start tracking. Tracking holds a different sort of delight to her than sparring. Fighting is more in the moment adrenaline. She can feel the rush of energy through her limbs and her mind lights up with strategies and plans and analytics, mixed with a heavy trust in her instincts, honed by practice. The end result is her standing over her opponent, breathing hard, victory pouring through her veins. Tracking is different, though. It is less in the moment and more in the future. She has to take in details that seem inconsequential and treat them as if they are as important as a footprint - because sometimes they are more so. It requires patience, which she thinks is a reason Papa was both so apprehensive yet eager to teach her. She's self aware enough to admit her temper is volatile even if it chagrins her, but she can't deny she's found it easier to stay calm since she took up tracking. Tracking doesn't allow for tempers. They must be put aside and exchanged for cool concentration, nothing more. As far as she knows, she's the only one who's truly studied tracking profusely outside of temporarily engaging in it during hunts - so why is it so Goddamned hard to follow Hiccup?

Clumsy Hiccup, who she's seen bump into every piece of furniture in a room, can somehow keep quiet when navigating the forest. It … makes sense, she reasons with herself. Hiccup's always preferred to go hunting in solitude. His troll hunting phase was still going on by the time hers had started - and had ended around the same time hers had. Sometimes he carries baskets or tools with him, and yet, after a few twists and turns too many, the trees are suddenly empty. It's almost like he's flown away, but she knows that's crazy because no Viking can fly.

She tries to wait for him outside the forest a few times, but he stays there late and Astrid doesn't particularly feel like giving him so many hours of her time. She wants to eat and train, which can't be accomplished if she's just sitting around waiting for him to appear. So she carefully observes his schedule - and his progress in Dragon Training - and forms a plan to force him to reveal his secrets, or at least let her train with him.

She's not mad at him for doing well the same way Snotlout is when Hiccup's back is turned. She supposes he's the one who'd most likely take up the title of rival against her, but he's the chief's son, no matter how unruly, and Astrid doesn't mind the idea of her future leader being good at killing dragons. It's his job to lead the charge. But what she is mad about is how closely he guards his secrets. Shouldn't those tactics be made available to all? Or at least her, because she wants to be the best? Hiccup's always been the one to find the shortcuts in everything, and while that is not Astrid's way, it is clear whatever shortcuts he's found have proven to be effective, and she wants in. He won't be the best without her being the best, too, and she's going to make sure of it.

She's only gotten so far in her missions of stalking him. Every time she gets marginally closer, but truth be told she has no idea how far Hiccup walks every day, and is impatient to discover where he's training and further her fighting abilities as soon as possible.

He's different in the forest, she notices. He doesn't always wear his furs, but rather dons a leather vest criss-crossed over his chest. And because he isn't wearing his thick furs, she sees him stand straighter while navigating the treacherous roots. He carries heavy things easily, bouncing on the balls of his feet and making no sounds as she tries to keep up with him while remaining hidden. This would be easier if she had longer legs, she thinks darkly, but now isn't the time to dwell on such things.

She can see developing strength, finally. But when she watches him handle weapons it is still with the aggravating hesitance of a novice who doesn't know the first thing about a weapon. Okay, he's not that bad. He knows how to handle a weapon well enough to get it sharp, but she sees no improvement in his actual combat abilities. That irks her. Whoever his trainer is, don't they know how important it would be for Hiccup to defend himself? All these tricks with the dragons are good and impressive, but they were also tricks. There was no way whatever magic he worked on the creatures in the arena would work on every single dragon all the time. And when that time came, it was ridiculous to think that the 'dragon prodigy' would be able to defend himself the way he was now. Maybe she could offer him close quarters combat and weapon handling in exchange for whatever extra training he was receiving. Or maybe he was just pretending to not be able to handle weapons for whatever reason and catch people off guard? But that doesn't make any sense; the village already thinks the world of him now, why would he bother to act like he couldn't swing a sword?

But one day, she manages to get an answer. She breaks into a beautiful cove before even he does, and can't help but frown as she sees no sign of training equipment or even a trainer.

It's nothing like she expects. It's something so far out of her imagination that she never would have even thought possible in her wildest dreams. In the back of her mind, an odd tickle of that's just like Hiccup sounds before she blinks away the oddly familiar tingle - could she call it deja vu? - and focuses on the guilty wide eyes of the boy in front of her and the threatening ones of the monster beside him.

This is treason. This is unbelievable. This is blasphemy of the highest order. And yet, something inside her listens as he takes her hand and promises something extraordinary if she just trusts him.

He presses her hand to the dragon's snout. She inhales sharply, every muscle suddenly tensed. The first thing she registers is the texture. The dragon's snout is scaly and smooth, so much so that she registers the feeling as cold before she can feel the warm temperature. The dragon snorts, withdrawing its snout, and Astrid pulls her hand back to her chest, shocked.

"Whoa," she breathes.

"They're not dangerous," he says, looking at her with wide, pleading eyes. Astrid looks at the dragon again. Its eyes are big and open. It is looking at her inquisitively. She feels her heart speed up, but it's not entirely out of fear. Honestly, the dragon is … kinda cute.

"They won't hurt you if you don't aggravate them," Hiccup is telling her. "Everything we know about them is wrong!" Astrid keeps her thoughts to herself. That doesn't stop them from raiding Berk. He reads her thoughts on her face and sighs.

"Other than the raids," he concedes. "But there's something going on there. I don't know what, but it's not natural." She considers this. This is not natural. If she were older and more set in her ways, she would have ripped her hand away from him and began running away to process. But she is a little younger and a little more trusting, and so she follows him when the older boy's eyes sparkle with promise and he trusts her enough to say,

"Let me show you something."

Flight is scary, but the dragon is gentle and Hiccup waits for her to wrap her arms around him carefully. She screams as she feels the dragon's wings catch the draft and swerve but as she gets used to the unsteady feeling of being in the air she looks around herself with wide eyes. They stay up in the air for a while, as the sun sinks in the sky and a curtain of lights sway gently above her head. She can feel his back shake with delighted laughs and can't help but join him giddily. Maybe the thin air is getting to her.

(Part of her feels like this - riding a dragon - is familiar, like coming home at long last to her parent's welcoming arms at the end of a tiring day.)

Looking at him, she sees Hiccup in a new light. He has always been different, and it was because of this. He holds himself to a different standard than Berk does. Glory and honor and violence don't appeal to him, and maybe others would fight against it but she's always known he would be the next leader, it was why his incompetence always irked her. But this - dragons, maybe this was the new sort of glory come to defeat the old.

Maybe spilling the warm, bloody guts of a dragon wasn't glory anymore. Maybe this could be glory, the feeling of wind through her hair and the triumphant sensation of flight.

This feels right with him. The way he leans seamlessly into Toothless' next move, the quiet tink of the metal pedal as he switches gears. Him being up in the sky feels right, the itch in the back of her mind regarding him has been settled. This is the new definition of heroism, she decides. She'll make sure of it. Because she knows Hiccup's going to change the world, and she resolves to be there to see it.

It's a rather quick change of heart for her, but she's still an impressionable child, easily swayed by great feats and a healthy amount of secret hero worship. And so by the time they return to the ground, Astrid's hair windswept and adrenaline pumping, she's ready to do just about anything he asks.

"You have to keep it a secret," Hiccup presses. She nods fervently.

"Okay," she promises. "But what'll you do?" His face turns pained.

"I'll figure something out," he says mysteriously. And Astrid believes him.

She's young and idealistic and naive. She had captured the stars in her eyes when he'd flown her up in the sky to touch them, and now she shines their light on him. Her world's been changed, her views have been switched without a second thought, caught up by the giddiness of attaining the sky, so she agrees to keep things a secret a little longer - but he definitely has to train her now.

It's a blissful few weeks. Hiccup's lonely and eager to have a new friend, especially a human one, and she's grateful to be treated seriously for once.

She feels important, knowing the secret behind his success, waiting for Berk to be surprised with the truth to be able to puff out her chest and say she knew all along. She keeps his secret, and is unbelievably smug about the attention she gets from all the other kids when Hiccup greets her awkwardly yet cheerfully and accepts her compliments on his work.

When it comes time to choose the contestants for the Monstrous Nightmare, she cheers loudly along with the other Berkians because she knows without a doubt it'll be him. She frowns as she notices his hesitancy. When the Gronkle comes up to him, she stiffens as the crowd cheers even louder. Most of the class has already given up on trying to secure the Gronkle, instead trying to show off against each other while Hiccup turns around carefully and relaxes the dragon with dragon nip. She feels a shiver run down her spine. Even though she knows he has everything under control, she marvels at the bravery of facing off with a dragon with only a few clippings of grass and goodwill. That is the type of bravery she wants to emulate, she decides. A little reckless, yet calculated and considered. Her smile of admiration falls as she sees Hiccup blanch at the cheering and look at the downed dragon in front of him in despair.

She isn't able to catch him before he flies off on Toothless, and it isn't until she creeps into the cove late at night she sees him stumble off of his dragon and almost fall at her feet, tales of an impossible monster that is the reason behind the plague of the dragon raids.

"She's making them steal food for her," he explains to a shell-shocked Astrid. "She's making them raid us! Dragons aren't bad; they're being forced to do this."

"So what are you going to do?" she asks. He turns to her.

"About what?" he asks.

"Everything. The dragons, the queen … tomorrow."

"I," he hesitates and opens his mouth to say something but catches sight of her face, scared but still trusting, and his expression smooths. "I'll figure something out," he promises. She doesn't ask what his plan was, only nods, satisfied.

The next morning, she wakes up already energized, positively vibrating with Berk's undercurrent of expectation. They are preparing to be wowed by a dragon slaying. Astrid is waiting for them to be surprised by something else - unless he kills the dragon to keep his cover, which he'll probably do magnificently.

But Loki chose the worst moment to grace them with his attention as things exploded into utter chaos. Berk did not gasp in awe of Hiccup's skills, but rather raged against him, screaming at him like he was a traitor and worse than a dragon himself. Things only got worse when Toothless blasted through. Astrid screamed - in worry, in fear, in upset - and cried out against the horde pressing her into the hot metal chains above Hiccup.

He looked like he might bolt, and a jolt of fear stabbed through her at the thought of him leaving and never coming back. Toothless looked scary, like a monster about to kill and she couldn't stop the sob that left her throat as her mother dashed into the arena.

"Mother! Stop!"

"Toothless! NOOOOO!" Hiccup screams in the chaos and the sinister dragon pauses for just a second, docile under Hiccup's pleading gaze.

A moment is all they need. Astrid cries as they tie down the dragon and drag Hiccup away roughly, both of them howling in agonizing fear and pain.

She doesn't know where either of them go. She is swept into a tight embrace by her parents while she hears Berk mutter around her.

"I always knew he'd turn to treachery," Mildew announces sagely. The Thorston twins look confused at the idea that an idol of theirs could ever do something wrong. Snotlout fluctuates between saying he always knew it and staring nervously around him as he considers how quickly Berk's prodigy had fallen from grace.

Hiccup is a traitor, but he was good at dragon training. Why would he be a traitor when he was so good at killing dragons? People around her are confused and she angrily dries her tears because Hiccup's supposed to be a hero, they're just looking at things wrong.

Her father holds her close and comforts her, thinking she's upset about the Night Fury attacking them, not that her friend was who knows where with angry Vikings.

She waits for hours as the rumors swirl around her head, voices raised and argumentative.

"We need to kill it!" they shout about Toothless.

"We're cursed!" others proclaim.

"Did you see how he talked to the Night Fury?" others speculate.

Chief Stoick bursts through the crowd and orders for the ships to be prepared.

"It's time to put a stop to this, once and for all!" he announces darkly. There are a few ragged cheers, but mostly the air is grim. Everyone is uncertain about what's to happen with the Heir, and the chief is not forthcoming with any of his plans.

She hadn't realized how serious it all was. She's been raised knowing dragons were bad, and that she'd have to fight them one day. Dragons steal food, burn the crops and destroy houses, and take family members away. But she was barely allowed to participate in the fire brigade during raids, not yet accustomed to the full monstrosity of charred corpses and the wet and heavy carcasses that fell in battle. She has not built up the terrified hatred of life that comes with experiencing war.

But she sees the desperation now in the grim faces of the Vikings around her as they pack the ships so soon after returning from a fruitless journey. She sees them chain the Night Fury down - roughly, cruelly - as Toothless cries out in frightened pain and snarls at them. The Berkians jeer as the animal is lowered onto the platform, the weapons stacked as high as possible on the ships, and the warriors begin to board.

"Goodbye," Astrid's mother and father kiss her quickly on the forehead and give her a brief hug.

"We'll be back," Papa says reassuringly. Her mother gives her a tight smile, unwilling to promise something she may not be able to keep.

"Be safe," Astrid says quietly. Her parents have left on voyages before, but none of them toward the scary monster that has had Hiccup shaking so badly. "Please," she adds.

They leave sorrowfully and Astrid stands with a thick feeling in her throat. She spins around on her heel and leaves the dock, unable to be so close to them where they might see her shed a tear. She turns her gaze up to the sky, her eyes wide open as she silently pleads with the wind to dry her tears before they fall. Her gaze snags on a lone figure. She squints. Yes, she recognizes that fur vest. What is he doing there? She wonders.

She makes her way up, the island abandoned and echoey until she reaches the broken off edge of the platform. Hiccup is standing close to the edge, hands clenched into fists by his sides, unnervingly quiet.

She walks forward hesitantly, prepared for him to push her away and make her leave, but he doesn't even acknowledge her presence even though her footfalls are slow and loud.

He's staring at the horizon the ships had disappeared over, towards the Dragon Nest he'd told her about. Everything is a right mess. Nothing had gone the way it was supposed to, and she lets out a shaky sigh as she wonders how everything had gone wrong so quickly.

"I'm sorry," Hiccup says brokenly, breaking the silence. "I'm …" he gestures limply to Berk, grim and serious as they contemplate the coming battle. She turns to look at him, taking in the furrow between his brows and the desolate look in his eyes. "I thought I could show them," he said quietly. "Why couldn't I have killed that dragon when I found him in the woods?"

Astrid shrugs automatically. "I don't know. Why didn't you? Why did you befriend it?" He huffs and looks away from her. Something rises in Astrid's throat. It seems brave and reckless and she spits it out before the thought chokes her. "What made you think that dragons could be different and take that chance?" She leans forward a bit to meet Hiccup's gaze.

"Hiccup, I don't think anyone would have ever thought to look at things the way you did." She let out an incredulous laugh. "Hel, I don't even know if anyone would have been able to do what you accomplished."

"What I accomplished?" Hiccup scoffs.

"Yes," she insists. "You've tried. You could back a Zippleback into its cage single handedly and have dragons fall at your feet with a sniff! You have Gronckles and Nadders collapse at your feet! You can ride a Night Fury. Hiccup, you're amazing." He turns to face her properly, incredulous confusion adorning his face.

"Anyone could've done it -"

"No, they couldn't," Astrid interrupts him, jutting her chin out haughtily. "Because no one knew to do any of that. You were the only one who found out. And maybe nobody understands yet," she lets a hand gesture to the empty sea in front of them. "But no matter what you've done, we all know you can make breakthroughs in how we deal with dragons. Did Toothless accept you immediately?" she asks.

"No," Hiccup admits. She nods. She likes being right.

"So I guess you have to keep trying." She looks out toward the nest, where her parents are going to fight a giant monster. It's hopeless, and some dull part of her has already accepted them as dead. The other part rebels and turns to her greatests hope. "What made you try to befriend Toothless?" she prods. Hiccup draws in a breath.

"I don't know," he said. "I just … I saw Toothless was scared, too, and all the other dragons are just normal animals who eat and fight and hurt. Like us."

"And when he didn't immediately like you?

"Toothless wasn't an exception?" she checks. He shakes his head. "So you could do the same with other dragons, too?"

"I -" he trails off, his eyes unfocused. "...yeah. I mean, possibly. I - I could. Wait," he turns to Astrid, a smile starting to spread on his face. "Astrid, that's -" he runs a hand through his hair. "You just gave me an idea. A crazy one."

"Well, you are crazy," Astrid shrugs nonchalantly but she can't stop the giddy grin that grows in answer to his. "If anyone can pull off crazy it's you." He takes off down the pier.

"Hey! Where are you going?!" Astrid calls out after him, her legs automatically running after him but losing ground gradually.

"The arena!" He replies. "I'll see you there, okay?" he calls as he veers towards his house quickly. Astrid can't stop herself from beaming at being included. An idea makes its way into her brain, and she stops to head towards the Great Hall, where she knew the other teenagers would be.

She's chosen Hiccup as her hero, and she'll be damned if she doesn't show everyone she was right to choose him.

When he defeats the Red Death, the cheers fade quickly. There is relief at the obvious end to the monster in front of them, followed by the awkward silence that followed the loss of a hero no one had believed in.

Astrid's knees are shaky as they wait for the flames to die down. They were too far away to hear any screams of agony as Hiccup fell, for which she is grateful, but it also increases the probability that he's dead.

"Hiccup! SON!" Chief Stoick bellows, desperate dread coating his voice. The smoke stings Astrid's eyes and she blinks away the automatic tears determinedly. She hates crying, even if it is caused by pesky smoke. The rest of the Vikings hesitantly begin to comb the charred rubble for any sign of the heir, but even as their feet gain speed and their voices volume, molten hot blame rises up Astrid's throat like bile.

She pushes to the front of the crowd to see the chief cradling his son's corpse to his chest. Her heart drops into her stomach and the only word she can think of is no.

This is all their fault, she thinks bitterly. They chained Toothless and made him guide them there after he saved Hiccup. They didn't even give Hiccup a chance to explain himself and show them the truth about dragons. They didn't see what she saw in Hiccup, and now he is undisputedly a hero, but it's cruel that he might die not seeing everyone recognize him as such.

The dragons bow their heads in respect and Berk stares in silent shock at the young boy - the outcast they had declared traitor, the celebrity they had idolized and congratulated, the reckless outcast who blew up the forge, the greatest martyr who had sacrificed himself for his unworthy island. Gobber carefully makes his way towards the chief and the silence builds up to a tangible breath the island holds. Astrid can feel something buzzing, setting off the hairs along her arms. This is a moment to be sung in Great Halls for years to come. She can hear the lyres and flutes recede in delicate mourning as they dwell on the great sacrifice given to them. The chief begins to sob and her heart drops into her stomach before she registers the words,

"He's alive! You've brought him back alive!"

The phantom music springs back into glorious gaiety with the triumphant addition of a drum, singing the gratitude of the miraculous preservation of their hero's life. Vikings turn to each other and shout for joy even as the medics rush forward to tend to the severe injuries of the heir. Astrid is no longer worried about losing him. If Hiccup isn't dead yet, then that would mean he would live to see another day - to see her and his success. She isn't overly superstitious, but this is an obvious omen she cannot ignore and so she allows tears to fall freely this time down her cheeks.

With Hiccup unconscious for weeks and mostly docile dragons flooding Berk, Astrid finds herself employing some of Hiccup's tactics on them. Her parents are shocked and a little furious to hear their daughter had been actively engaging in treason, but Chief Stoick is lenient with her in wake of his guilt and relief, so he pardons the young girl with a wave of his hand. The other teenagers are jealous of her recognition and she smirks at them superiorly at being in on the biggest twist in history Berk has ever experienced.

She waits impatiently for Hiccup to wake up. She's aware of his injuries and the loss of his leg already. She is heartbroken, but as Gobber pours frustratedly over his journals to reconstruct the Night Fury's tail to work with Hiccup's new foot she waits for him to awaken and claim his rightful honor. Berk is still waiting for the final omen, the sight of their hero walking amongst them again as proof that his efforts weren't in vain, and Astrid does the best she can to keep the Vikings expectant and eager for him.

Hiccup makes his way outside with nobody accompanying him, but Berkians spot him quickly enough and the joyous outcry makes its way across the island faster than an attacking Night Fury.

Astrid buries her face into Hiccup's middle, wrapping strong arms tight around him until he wheezes.

"Don't ever do that again," falls from her lips before she can stop them. She doesn't want to watch from the sidelines ever again as he takes on all the hurt by himself. It isn't fair to him, and part of her is protective of her friend. The village was all in wonderment of Hiccup's accomplishment.

"Shouldn't have expected anything less from the Chief's son," one Viking had commented.

No, Astrid thinks, You shouldn't have expected anything less from Hiccup. Hiccup, whose leg she'd watched be amputated and treated. It was unbecoming to cry; Astrid was almost fourteen, for Thor's sake! But then Hiccup hesitantly wraps his arms around her, too.

"I couldn't have done it without you," he says sincerely, and Astrid - Astrid is glad Toothless barges in, or she really would have burst into tears.

Later that evening, he finds her amidst the celebrations and the feasting. The dragons are mingling and the Vikings are hesitantly trying to share their food and not whip out their axes and swords every time a beast breathes. Astrid is hanging by the edges, looking on at the proud chief and relieved Berkians when Hiccup hobbles his way up to her unevenly. She takes a minute to look at his new prosthetic foot. He notices her gaze and shifts sheepishly, and she quickly turns her expression into a welcoming smile in apology for staring.

"Aren't you supposed to be the star of the show?" she asks. "What are you doing here?"

"Needed to get away," he admits, chuckling a little. "I'm still not used to … all this." She huffed in understanding the way she'd seen her mother do; it always looked very sophisticated and adult. He grinned at her and she let herself bask in the proud feeling of understanding.

"I also wanted to thank you," he adds. She looks up at him, frowning in confusion. "For … what you said." It takes her a moment to run through the possible things she's said to him over the last month before she realizes he's talking about before he went to save Toothless.

"Oh," she says stupidly because she hadn't necessarily meant to help him so much as explain to him the way she saw things.

"I've never had someone believe in me before like that," he says quietly. Astrid's breath catches and she stares at him.

"Well, I'm happy to be the first," she admits. Because she does believe in him. And she is sure that others will, too, if they don't already. "I'm not surprised you're a hero." He blushes and looks at his foot. Astrid leans against the wall, nursing her cup of cider. This - the warmth, the quiet, even the dragons - feels oddly right, and she allows herself to enjoy it while it lasts.

Notes:

I read a wonderful fic from a different fandom that is no longer available, but the premise of that story was if the love interest was three years younger, how does that change the main character's journey without her influence, and how does she rewrite her own story line since she is no longer as connected with the original plot?

Anyways I'm really, really excited because I've been stewing this idea since last summer and it's finally coming to fruition!

It's not a large age difference that I've given Hiccup and Astrid, but it can seem like an insurmountable one when you're young. Think of the difference between a freshman and a senior in high school. How will two people with separate but intersecting storylines still connect? And how would their development change without the other to spur them on?

Titles and summaries come from This Love (Taylor's Version)

And I must absolutely thank my delightful beta Anakin for sticking with me and cheering me on because I am a flighty reader and without him there would have been no story.

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Here, because Astrid is younger, she sees him a little differently. In canon, she's more mature and has seen him develop. For this Astrid, there is a certain glamorous aspect of an older boy, and so she sees his accomplishments and deems him more of a hero. To canon Astrid, he is a boy who was far from perfect but could accomplish great things, but to this Astrid, he seems like something separate. She has a lot more blind faith in him. This makes it a little harder to connect in some ways because Hiccup doesn't exactly want to burst her perception of him as a perfect hero, but she's also a lot more forthcoming in her praises and belief in him.

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Chapter 2 should be out soon!