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coneygoil · 4 years

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The Home We Built Together, part 38

Two young Vikings. An arranged marriage. Hiccup always wanted to win the girl of his dreams, but not like this. Now he and Astrid must learn to live together and maybe one day, learn to love…

“Hiccup.”

Hiccup peered down from his perch on Toothless’ back at the tiny figure on the land far below waving furiously at him. The figure called again, distant at first until the sound drifted up to meet him. Hiccup’s brow furrowed. Sound had never echoed like that up into the air before. What felt like a hand clamped down on his shoulder, dragging him off Toothless. Hiccup yelped Toothless’ name, arms reaching for his dragon as he watched helplessly as Toothless tumbled down along with him.

“HICCUP!”

He jerked out of sleep, eyes popping open and wildly flicking about. Blonde hair and bright blues eyes filled his frame of vision. He paused, staring into those eyes.

“Hey,” Astrid said, softly. The caress of her knuckles soothed across his cheek. “Where were you?”

He turned his head, nuzzling her knuckles, thankful for her presence. “In a really crazy dream.”

“Are you okay?” Astrid asked, her hand retreating into her lap.

“Yeah.”

Hiccup sat up, rubbing the sleep from his face. They’d spent the past three late nights training the other teens to become dragon riders. Hiccup wanted to ease into the training, and Fishlegs seemed to be the least likely to cause chaos. Aside from Fishlegs’ barely restrained shrieks, he did remarkably well. Hiccup had crafted a simple saddle for each rider to start off with. Fishlegs had white-knuckled the saddle so hard, he left imprints of his fingernails in the leather. He’d finally eased after several minutes of his Gronckle – which Fishlegs named Meatlug -- hovering and gently buzzing over the boundaries of the cove.

The following nights weren’t as uneventful. As soon as the twins’ rear ends planted in their saddles, they spurred their Hideous Zippleback to zoom off. Astrid and Hiccup found them zig-zagging through the sky, hooting and hollering – Hiccup’s fear hitting Fahrenheit at the thought of all the attention they were most likely attracting. They barely got the twins attention to follow them toward the cove so Hiccup could pick up Toothless. After the wild training session and one tree blown to fiery bits on a neighboring island, the twins dubbed their dragon heads Barf and Belch.

Snotlout walked into the training session as if he was the greatest dragon expert known to the Archipelago. He sauntered up to his Monstrous Nightmare and commanded the Nightmare to bow for him to mount. The Nightmare eyed Snotlout as if he was the dumbest sack of rocks on Berk. He snatched Snotlout in his pointy teeth – in which Snotlout yelped so loud it felt it echoed through the entire island (another fear-cringing moment for Hiccup) – and tossed Snotlout onto his neck. The Nightmare blew a puff of hot breath at him before following Stormfly through the tunnel. The only other incident that night was the Nightmare heating Snotlout’s butt when he got too cocky. Hiccup was right. The Nightmare would definitely keep his cousin’s ego in check. Snotlout dubbed his Nightmare – Hookfang – because his dragon needed a “kicka** name”.

Other than the few attention-drawing incidents that thankfully didn’t draw attention as far as they were aware, the training sessions went well. Every teen had bonded with their dragon and Hiccup could see the friendships growing. Slowly, very slowly, the knots in Hiccup’s stomach began to unwind.

Hiccup scanned Astrid. She wore her daily clothes. Her skin glistened from a light sweat from most likely a morning jog. “Sorry I overslept and didn’t have breakfast waiting for you.”

“It’s not like you don’t have a good excuse.”

“You were out as late as I was.”

Astrid rolled her eyes. “This isn’t a competition, Hiccup.” She grabbed his hand, giving him a hearty yank. “Now, get up. We have dragon training with Gobber.”

“Why isn’t that over with yet?” Hiccup whined as he let Astrid drag him to his feet.

“It’s over when the Chief declares it over,” she tossed a green tunic his way and a pair of pants that slapped Hiccup in the face, “and since the Chief has returned—"

Hiccup froze, clothes hanging haphazardly on his arms. His stomach bottomed out at the realization that hadn’t hit him yet. “My dad will be watching today.”

Astrid immediately appeared in front of him and cupped his shoulders. She caught his line of sight. “Focus on me, Hiccup.” His distant stare finally snapped to her. “We’ll get through this, and when your dad sees how well the training has been going, he’ll declare it over and we can move on.”

She took the clothes from him, laying them on the bed. Before Hiccup noticed what she was doing, a shiver ran over his skin as Astrid hauled his nightshirt over his head – leaving Hiccup in only his undershorts. She reached over for his tunic and offered it to him. “Get dressed.”

***

Today, they would battle the Monstrous Nightmare. The group had barely trained with the Nightmare in the ring. Their first session with him led to Snotlout flailing around the arena franticly searching for water to put out his flaming rear end. But, that was before he’d made friends with the Nightmare that he called Hookfang.

Hiccup and Astrid had trained Hookfang in a choreographed fight as they had all the other arena dragons. He knew cues that they would give him to perform certain attack moves. They’d informed the other teens of these moves. They knew what to look for, and hopefully they wouldn’t do anything dumb to counteract those silent commands.

The helmet his father bestowed to him perched heavy atop Hiccup’s head. He’d grudgingly brought it with him. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the gift, but it had been given to him under false pretenses. It felt like a beacon on top of his head of the blatant lie he carried – a lie that could easily be spilled out at any given moment.

“We’ll get through this,” Astrid reassured as they paused in the tunnel of the arena. The other teens had gone on into the ring. She tucked her fingertips under his chin for him to look her in the eyes. “We have so far.” She left a quick peck of encouragement on his lips before gliding confidently into the arena as if she owned it.

Hiccup watched his wife – his strong, courageous wife – and breathed in from the bottom of his lungs. He walked in, a great deal slower and uncertain as if the burden on his shoulder was weighting him down. He scanned the viewing area where a small crowd of Berkians were gathering. His gaze caught on the massive figure of his father. Even from the height above, Stoick was a pillar that could not be ignored. His eyes followed Hiccup, and Hiccup awkwardly waved to his father, who nodded back in firm greeting. Hiccup tore away from the viewing stand to peer around at his comrades -- their various weapons ready in hand.

Gobber hobbled to the crank and within a few revolutions, the cage door burst open. Hiccup jumped back not expecting such an outburst. Hookfang towered over them, fire licking upon his gelled skin. A dark cloud of smoke huffed from his nostrils, wafting through the arena. His glowing yellow eyes blazed as bright as his fire.

Hiccup’s mouth unhinged in slow motion. Hookfang resembled nothing of the dragon that melted into a chin scratch just the other day. The teens slammed their palms over their ears at the roar that reverberated off the stone walls. Hiccup nearly jumped out of his skin at the pull of his elbow.

“Hiccup,” Snotlout hissed through gritted teeth, “what’s wrong with my dragon? This isn’t part of the plan!”

Both cousins leapt out of the way as Hookfang barreled right at them -- Snotlout’s screechy yelp embarrassingly loud.

“I don’t know,” Hiccup kept his voice hushed enough that it didn’t carry, “maybe the crowd is spooking him, or maybe us holding weapons?”

It was obvious that Hookfang was extremely agitated, but he hadn’t in the past minute tried to attack any of them with flames or gnashing of teeth. He simply rushed around the arena circle, squawking and panicked.

“Hiccup, what’ll we do?” Astrid asked, having made an appearance on his other side. “If he keeps going like this, we may have to actually fight him.”

Astrid’s resolve to the problem hit like a stone in Hiccup’s stomach. Fighting Hookfang was the last resort and he wanted to give the dragon every chance before it came down to that.

“Let me try.”

Hiccup set his narrow shoulders. His chest contracted deeply as he sucked in and moved forward. Hookfang was slowing his gyration around the arena. Hiccup threw up his hands in a non-threatening fashion, catching Hookfang’s attention. The Nightmare slid to a halt, his pupils narrowed to slits.

“Hey, big guy,” Hiccup ventured, trying to keep his voice low and calm. “You know me. Hiccup. What’s wrong?”

Hookfang’s heated breath huffed over Hiccup causing an instant sweat. Hiccup chanced a step forward. He knew this whole scene was drawing attention to his ‘method of madness’ as Gobber referred to it, but he’d risk it to steer Hookfang back where they needed him to be to play out the choreographed fight.

Hiccup slid another step forward. Hookfang whined, remaining still as Hiccup reached his hand out toward him. As soon as Hiccup touched his jaw, Hookfang snarled out. Before Hiccup even knew what was going on, his back slammed to the floor, knocking the breath out of him. His helmet clattered some distance away.

“Hiccup!” he heard Astrid cry from somewhere around him. His whole view was Hookfang’s glowing eyes and pointy teeth and--

“Stay back!” Hiccup commanded. The sound of feet shuffled toward him stopped in their tracks. “Hookfang, you’re gonna have to trust me. Okay, big guy? Please don’t bite my arm off. I’d hate to lose a limb.”

Hiccup shoved his arm into Hookfang’s mouth, trying his best to not get snagged by the long, protruding teeth. He grabbed hold the loose tooth stabbing into Hookfang’s lower gums and jerked it out in one fluid motion. Hookfang reared backwards, yelping, and then suddenly stopped. He stared at Hiccup, the black slits of his eyes widening. He looked himself again. He wiggled his bottom jaw testing if the pain, he now obviously was in, was gone.

Hiccup knew they couldn’t afford any time to regroup. They had to keep up the charade or get caught. He gave the signal to Hookfang and the dragon proceeded right away into the actions he’d been taught to pretend his way through a fight. Hiccup met Astrid eyes and she knew exactly what to do. The rest of the teens – in their own ragtag way -- followed her lead. In a matter of a couple minutes, Hookfang was being cornered back into his cage. Gobber throw the crank and the cage door shut with a loud bang.

“Yeah! We did it!” Snotlout yelled in Hiccup’s ear as he came barreling against him.

Hiccup nearly lost his footing from his cousin’s impact. He elbowed Snotlout and nodded down to his hand to reveal a tooth as long as his hand and then some. “Looks like a dropped tooth was the culprit. Since he’s your dragon, this belongs to you.”

Snotlout grinned from ear to ear. He gripped the tooth as if it were the greatest prize ever bestowed on the earth. “This is totally going around my neck!” he proclaimed, and Hiccup guessed his cousin meant as a necklace.

Hiccup pitched forward at the breath knocked out of him. He glared at the smirk his wife carried on her lips. He accepted his helmet back from her that just assaulted his stomach. “Best dragon trainer in the Archipelago,” she said, proudly.

Hiccup couldn’t help but smile at her acclaim. His gaze dared to seek his father. Stoick remained planted in his seat, bent over his lap and stroking his beard --appearing more in the manner of a Norse god in contemplative thought than a mortal man of Midgard. Gobber gabbled on at him. Hiccup wondered what the blacksmith was ringing in his father’s ear. Stoick was absorbing it with the utmost seriousness.

Hiccup swallowed hard and his stomach churned uncomfortably at what criticism to expect from his father.

Tags: @martabm90 @chiefhiccstrid @drchee5e

#httyd fanfiction #hiccstrid #arranged marriage au #the home we built together

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evilwriter37 · 7 years

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My friend I also love whump so like hows about a fic wherein our dear Hiccup is being, lets say, roughly treated by, a character of your choosing, because that character wants some information or something like that from him.

Well, after three months here it is! Sorry, guys, I’ve just been busy with other stuff. If you’ve seen the updates on Infernal Fascination I’m sure you’ll understand.

I’m quite proud of myself for keeping Dagur under control in this. He wanted to turn this into a Dagcup fic, but I refused to let him. There are still some implications of that, but I only allowed just as much as the show would… If the show was pg-13… Honestly, there are times he just needs to be locked in a room with caution tape that says “Censored” over the door.

Alternate ending to “The Zippleback Experience.”

Requests are closed.

“Oh, I hope you don’t.”

There was suddenly an oddly shaped sword pointed at Hiccup’s face. He glared up the length of it to defiantly meet Ryker’s gaze. He couldn’t let him know that he was scared.

Dagur grabbed at Ryker’s hand and pulled the sword away with a growl. “I told you I don’t want his face ruined.” Dagur glanced down at Hiccup, and he turned his glare on him, baring his teeth in what he hoped was a threatening gesture. “Actually, you should just let me handle this.”

Ryker rested his sword on his shoulder. “Why?”

“Because I know him and you don’t.” Dagur grinned at him as he said this rather than looking at Ryker. Hiccup did his best not to shudder.

“Fine,” Ryker said, sheathing his sword. He crossed his arms, obviously planning on staying. “Get him to talk. But if your way doesn’t work I’m doing mine.”

Hiccup didn’t know how he felt about this arrangement. He didn’t like the fact that Ryker would witness whatever Dagur was going to do to him, but at the same time, he was grateful for his presence. He had a pretty good idea of what Dagur would do to him if nobody was around, and he’d rather not have to ever face that.

If he didn’t escape in time though…

He swallowed hard as Dagur crouched down to be eye level with him. Come on, guys. Notice I’m missing. Come and get me!

“Hey, Dagur. Long time, no attack. How are you doing?”

“Excellent now that I have you.” Dagur poked him hard in the chest. “So, you gonna tell me about this Dragon Eye?”

“Well, uh, it’s pretty old, cylindrical in shape-” Hiccup was cut off by a slap in the face that swung his head to the side and stunned him for a moment.

“Something useful about the Dragon Eye,” Dagur snarled.

Hiccup looked back to him. “I thought you didn’t want my face ruined.”

Dagur chuckled. “Slapping you won’t ruin it. Now tell me something useful. Like maybe about the islands it’s led you to and the dragons you’ve found.”

Hiccup shrugged one shoulder. “Don’t really feel like it.”

This earned him a punch in the gut. He choked and doubled over, air chased away from him. Right as he was drawing in a breath, Dagur hit him again. He tried crying out at the pain, but without air, all he managed was a ridiculous squeak.

Dammit, I should have taken Toothless with me! I wouldn’t be captured right now if I had! But Hiccup had just wanted alone time. The whole thing with Barf and Belch owing him a life debt and the twins trying to find a way to make them repay it had driven him a little crazy, so he’d just wanted to go for a walk. Because of that, here he was.

I can’t have anything normal in my life, can I?

Hiccup straightened, panting. “You know, Dagur, I think you used to hit harder than that.”

“I’ll hit you harder if you don’t tell me anything!”

Hiccup knew it wasn’t good to play around with Dagur’s anger, but it was better than giving him any information.

“Fine. Hit me harder.”

Dagur hit him again, this time in the face, and he yelped, his head being knocked back against the mast. Blood began to flow from his nose.

Before he’d fully recovered, he heard a knife being drawn, and he sensed it slice into his leather armor, then his tunic. Instinct told him to struggle, but he stayed still in fear of being cut.

“Dagur, why are you even with these Dragon Hunters?” Hiccup asked as his clothing was cut away, resting his head against the mast.

“None of your business.”

“What? You can’t tell me?” Hiccup hoped distracting him would work, though he wondered how long Ryker would let it go on. He glanced at the man, found him staring down at him with a small smirk.

Awesome. I have to deal with two sadists.

Dagur took him by the shoulder - he bristled a little at his touch on his naked skin - and leaned forward till his mouth was near his ear.

“It’s because we pretty much want the same thing. They want the Dragon Eye, I want you, and you have the Dragon Eye,” Dagur explained in a whisper. He patted him on the shoulder. “That make sense to you?”

Hiccup didn’t respond, didn’t really know how to. Though, he was saved from it by Ryker.

“Dagur, quit whispering to him and get on with it.”

“I thought you were gonna let me handle this, Rykie,” Dagur said in a patronizing manner as he pulled away.

Ryker warily glanced up at the sky with his next words. “Yeah, well, you’re wasting time.”

“Fine,” Dagur huffed. “So, Hiccup, do I have to ask you the question again?”

“Maybe. I wasn’t listening.” He braced himself as soon as he said the words, knowing he was basically asking to be punched.

Dagur hit him in the ribs this time, and Hiccup figured it probably would have hurt a little less had he still had all his clothes, but only a little. The Berserker didn’t stop, hit him again in the same place, and this time there was a crack that accompanied it, one that he felt deep inside him. Before he could get his breath back or scream, Dagur’s fist connected with the now-broken rib. Hiccup arched to try to get away from it, to somehow lessen the pain, to just breathe, but the movement made it exponentially worse. Fire raced through his body, and he wanted so badly to scream, but all he could do was whimper and moan. He regained the ability to breathe, and he felt his rib press dangerously against his lung with each labored pant.

Hiccup tried to control his breathing, to find out how much he could inhale before his lung would expand against his rib. It was much less than he wanted it to be, and so his breaths were shallow and rapid. His heart pounded, a beat he felt in his head.

Come on! Come find me! Hiccup pleaded silently to his friends.

“You want to say anything now, Hiccup?” Dagur questioned. He sounded pleased with himself, satisfied to have caused him pain. It twisted Hiccup’s stomach.

“N-not really.”

Hiccup’s eyes went big and his jaw gaped open as Dagur pressed a hand against his broken rib. The pain was terrible, a deep, burning ache that just grew worse by the second. He squeezed his eyes shut, squirmed. He felt like he was being suffocated.

“Dagur, I’d quit that unless you want to kill him,” Ryker advised.

Dagur held his hand there for a few more terrible seconds that felt like decades, before drawing it away. Hiccup groaned, let his head rest back against the mast. He was given a minute or so to try and get his breathing under control. He could faintly hear Dagur pacing over the rushing of his own blood in his ears.

“Hiccup, just talk,” Dagur said, clearly frustrated. “You’re making this harder for yourself.”

“A-and for y-you,” Hiccup responded, opening his eyes. He made himself smile at him, saw anger flare up in Dagur’s eyes when he did. That was all the warning he got before he was kicked in the groin. He jolted and yelped, attempted to double over, but then there was a hand tugging on his hair to keep him upright. He glared at Dagur through a steady onset of tears. He blinked to clear them away, but that just sent them rolling freely down his cheeks.

“Hiccup, tell me what islands the Dragon Eye has taken you to!”

“No.”

He saw Dagur raise his foot to kick him again, most likely in the same place.

“I-I didn’t think you’d g-go for there,” he got out hurriedly, which made Dagur pause. He wished he could talk without stuttering, but it was difficult to breathe. “Th-thought you wanted…” He had to pause to gather himself. “Wanted to p-preserve that part o-of me.”

“Good point, Hiccup. Thanks for reminding me.” Then, Dagur let go of his hair, straightened, and kicked him in his right shoulder. There was a popping sound and an eruption of fire that started in his shoulder and traveled into his arm and chest. He squeezed his eyes shut, and he was able to scream this time, so he did, voice loud in the clear night. He wondered if maybe his friends would hear.

There was silence for a time after his scream died away. He could feel Dagur and Ryker watching him, waiting for him to speak. It made his skin crawl.

“M-might as well keep hitting - keep hitting me,” Hiccup got out. “I’m not g-gonna say anything.”

“Really?” Ryker asked. “How do you like sharp objects? Dagur hasn’t tried that.”

Hiccup made himself open his eyes, found that Ryker had crouched down in front of him, a knife in one hand. He didn’t know why, but he glanced at Dagur. He felt slightly comforted in an odd way that he at least knew one person on this boat, even if it was him. Better to be interrogated by someone you knew than a stranger, right?

He shut his eyes as the knife pierced him just beneath his collarbone. He gave a cry, attempted to move away from it, but then there was a hand pressing on his right shoulder, which was no doubt no longer in its socket. He shrieked, ceasing his struggles, realizing that he was trapped. The knife sliced slowly downwards, and he wished that there was someway to stop this other than giving them the information they wanted. That was something he wasn’t going to do, no matter how excruciating this became.

After what seemed like ages, Ryker pulled the knife away. Hiccup focused on steadying his breathing, trying to keep his rib from piercing his lung. Each inhale and exhale made it feel like it was breaking all over again, and his tears fell a little faster. Blood trickled steadily from his newest wound, trailing hot over his skin.

“Have anything to say, Haddock?”

Hiccup wanted to respond with something sarcastic, but the pain was creating a fog in his mind and scattering his thoughts. He just shook his head.

The knife pierced him again, this time near his stomach. He tossed his head and shouted at this new agony, mentally begging for it to stop. He wouldn’t say anything to end his torment though.

The boat suddenly rocked, causing Ryker’s hand to slip and the knife to curve and cut deeper. Hiccup screamed at this, even as he wondered what had caused the movement. His friends maybe?

He yelped as the knife was torn out of him. Blood gushed from the wound, staining his lower abdomen.

“Huh, wouldn’t it be ironic if his friends just killed him?” Ryker asked, probably addressing Dagur. Then Hiccup heard him stamp away and shout for the archers to get in position.

He had enough sense to panic at Ryker’s words, to panic at the sensation of how quickly his own blood was leaving him. He didn’t feel Dagur beside him anymore, so he figured it was safe to struggle. He writhed, trying with all his might to get his hands free. His body hated him for it, nerves screaming at him to stop. He kept at it anyway.

There were shouts. Blasts of fire. Clashes of metal. Hiccup would have smiled a little had he not been in so much pain. His friends had finally arrived to save him.

He wasn’t going to wait for them to free him though. If he had at least one hand free, he’d be able to staunch the bleeding.

He moaned through his teeth as he pulled at the ropes. A new torment started in his shoulder and he cried out, pausing his movements.

This isn’t working! Hiccup thought in frustration. The bleeding hadn’t slowed at all. He realized that his movements had only sped it up. He sagged back against the mast, dread trickling like ice water into his stomach.

He felt himself slipping from consciousness when a familiar chorus of voices broke through and pulled him back from the brink. He opened his eyes, saw his friends all around him, peering at him with mixed looks of terror and concern on their faces. Then there was something pressed to his abdomen and he screamed, struggled a little, before realizing they were trying to stop the bleeding.

Though, the touch assaulted him with fresh waves of pain, and it pulled him under. He didn’t try to swim, let it drown him instead.

Hiccup was pleasantly surprised to wake up. He’d thought that he’d lost too much blood, that those moments with his friends all around him had been his last moments ever. But here he lay in his own bed, breathing, heart beating, letting Toothless lick at his face.

He opened his eyes, lifted his left hand to Toothless’ snout to let him know that he was awake. The dragon stopped licking him, made a cooing sound and gave him a concerned look.

“I’m alright, bud,” he croaked out. He looked down at himself, found his right arm in a sling. “Think I’m still all in one piece.” He inhaled deeply as a test, and though it hurt, he didn’t feel his rib pressing against his lung, which meant it was back in the right place.

Gothi must have seen to me. That also meant that he’d been unconscious for a long time, three days at least based on how long it took to fly from Dragon’s Edge to Berk and back.

Hiccup slowly sat up with a groan, Toothless putting his head behind his back to help him. This felt all too much like waking up after the battle with the Red Death, so out of absolutely illogical fear, he removed his blanket and looked down. His legs were as they’d been before he’d been captured, one with the foot and one without. He heaved a sigh of relief.

“So, Toothless, wanna help me get to the clubhouse?”

Toothless gave him a disapproving look, flicked one ear. Then he picked up his blanket in his mouth, pulled it back over him.

“Fine, fine, I’ll stay in bed.” Hiccup laid back down, taking the more-than-subtle hint. He smiled a little at the fact that Toothless had tucked him in. “So, you gonna go get the others so that they can bombard me?”

#hiccup!whump #writing requests #whump #fanfiction #hiccup #dagur #ryker #toothless #the zippleback experience #rtte #Anonymous

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gameofthrawns · 7 years

Text

Heartache

A/N So, this whole tumblr thing is almost completely new to me, but I guess I’ll give this a spin because I feel like writing something. A submission for tarched’s HTTYD Art August event, Prompt #1: “Soaring through the air”. A bit of a rush job due to summer classes/finals, but I thought I’d add my own little depressing spin to it. Um, hope whoever reads this enjoys.

Meatlug is tired.The slightly-labored breathing, the tip of her tongue just barely peaking out from her mouth, the brief irregularities in the buzzing sound produced by her wings—all signs pointing to one, unpleasant conclusion.

We can’t keep up with the rest of the team. I must have miscalculated the weight of the supplies and other materials placed on her back. Judging by the skips in her wingbeat, I estimate that he’ll only be able to last for less than an hour before requiring rest if she maintains this speed, and it’ll take us another two hours of flying over choppy, gray waters to reach the Edge. There’s a few islands we could possibly land on here and there, but we wouldn’t be able to rest for too long, not while we’re being chased by heavy storm clouds.

Well, perhaps we could. I just don’t want to have to ask, so instead, I give Meatlug a solid two pats. She happily obliges my request, slowing down to a much more comfortable pace.

I look to my right and see Snotlout absent-mindedly lounging on an equally sleepy Hookfang, both rider and dragon seemingly unaware that they’re rapidly inching further and further ahead of Meatlug and I with each passing second. To our left, Barf and Belch match our speed, but it’s out of sloth, not bothering to put in any effort as the two Zippleback heads’ respective riders are busy arguing and kicking each other. Hideous Zipplebacks average a 10 in Speed. Monstrous Nightmares have a 16.

Most Gronckles are a 4. Meatlug is already rather special, being something closer to a 5 or 6.

As for Toothless and Stormfly? A 20 and an 18, respectively. They are above and below, to the left and to the right, far ahead and just behind, all around us, all at once. It’s clear that Hiccup and Astrid are too engrossed in their current conversation—and each other in general—to realize that their dragons are flying circles around the rest of us.

Every once in a while—right now, for example—I feel a twinge of jealousy while watching my friends and their dragons soar so gracefully across the sky.

I can see Hiccup’s wooden leg still occasionally shifting the pedal accordingly to match Toothless’s movements, but it’s muscle memory for Hiccup, requiring less than one percent of his focus. The other ninety-nine, of course, is no doubt hopelessly lost in Astrid’s eyes, as they talk and smile and just...stare. It’s as clear as a bright summer day that they’re in love, probably have been for the past year or three, regardless of the act thy constantly put on in front of the rest of us.

The twinge of jealousy within me has grown into envy, as I’m confronted with a deeper, even more unpleasant conclusion.

The bond Hiccup and Astrid shares is something Heather and I should’ve had as well. Could’ve had, if she hadn’t left to join...her brother, of all people.

Dagur the Deranged, Dagur the Butcher, Dagur the Father-Killer. His Berserkers had slaughtered her village, her adoptive family—her real family, as far as I’m concerned. How could she ever forgive him for such a monstrous act? Because he’s had some radical change of heart? Because he’s kin? Was a blood bond all it took for her to leave her friends?

To leave me?

Hiccup is holding some scroll in his hand, waving it in the air excitedly as he’s talking, only for Astrid to quickly lean over and rips the scroll out of his hands. Hiccup shouts in protest, and on cue, Toothless swerves and rolls himself over Astrid and Stormfly, holding himself in an inverted position just long enough for his rider to snatch the scroll back before spinning away.

If anyone else had tried that, Astrid probably would’ve pulled a knife on him. But because it’s Hiccup and Toothless, Astrid just shakes her head and laughs—giggles, almost—in amusement.

So is that what I’ve been missing? A Night Fury? Sleek, fast, elegant, beautiful—

I banish the terrible thought from my mind and rub Meatlug behind her ears, reminding her—and myself—just how much she means to me. She tilts her head up, peeking at me with worried eyes, but I re-assure her with a firm pat on the nose. She doesn’t deserve this judgment, these silly thoughts born from my own wounded heart. She’s a better Viking than I, in many ways: fiercely loyal, resilient against all hardship, skilled in combat, capable of finding enjoyment in even the simplest pleasures and meaning in the simplest work...

“Are you alright, Fishlegs?”

The sound of Astrid’s voice jolts me out of my thoughts. Hiccup and Astrid are suddenly at my side, their dragons almost pinning me and Meatlug between them. Hiccup’s eyes are more on Meatlug, but Astrid’s are solely on me.

“Fine,” I lie.

It doesn’t work. “You’ve, uh, been like this for a few days now,” Hiccup says, still looking at Meatlug. “You know, ever since...”

“Ever since Heather left,” Astrid says bluntly.

I blush. Hard. Leave it to her to deliver the axe blow.

And suddenly Hookfang and Barf and Belch are slowing down and swooping in closer, their riders no doubt lured in by Astrid’s words. My...fondness of Heather was never much of a secret.

But to my surprise, they don’t come to tease. Both Ruff and Tuff wear a look of sympathy on their face. Even Snotlout restrains himself for once, though that might have something to do with the glare both Hiccup and Astrid give him as he draws near.

“Heather leaving was her own choice,” Hiccup says solemnly.

As if I don’t know that, I argue back in my head, but my mouth never musters the courage to articulate my thoughts, as usual.

“None of us could have stopped her. But if it makes you feel any better, Fishlegs, I don’t like her choice, either.”

“Same here,” Astrid says.

“Yeah,” Snotlout agrees absentmindedly.

Tuffnut simply nods, but Ruffnut makes up for her brother’s silence. “What a bitch!”

Both Hiccup and Astrid glare at the Thorston girl a glare. I feel like I should too, but right now...

Hiccup is right; I do feel better. It’s comforting to be reminded that, while Heather may still be gone, I still have more than just Meatlug to count as a friend.

But all that warm fuzziness quickly gives way to awkwardness instead, as i notice my friends both staring at me and pretending not to. The twins have stopped fighting. Hiccup and Astrid are no longer talking as well, Toothless and Stormfly no longer soaring. Perhaps all this talk about Heather has killed the mood. Or I have. Who knows?

I wonder if they’re just waiting for me to say something, to reply to their words of encouragement in some meaningful way.

Together, we all slowly glide the rest of the way back to Berk in silence.

#HTTYDArtAugust #HTTYD #fanfiction

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a-l-ias · 7 years

Text

Learning To Fly: HTTYD

I’ve always wondered how Astrid knew how to fly Toothless in HTTYD 2. Rated T for language. Enjoy!

As with all things Hiccup Horrendous Haddock did, tinkering involved a distinctly scrupulous process. Of all people to know that being precise could mean the difference between life and death, it was him. No longer could he remember how many times broken bones, fractured joints, singed hair, seared eyebrows, or any other obscure and frankly very painful injury had been the result of negligent fiddling. With barely eighteen years of experience under his belt, Hiccup almost had it down to a science.

Rough sketches came first; aimless doodling in his trusty weather-worn notebook that weeded out the ridiculous ideas from the ones that sparked a small flame of excitement within him. When he could not ignore the nagging fizzle of fervor, he’d then draw up a blueprint on a larger piece of parchment, paying extra attention to the minute calculations of the length and width of adjuncts. He’d hang the yellowed paper on the wooden wall decorated with all of his other lunatic inventions eagerly awaiting trial, sequestering old prints behind newer ones, and desperately trying to find just enough space to pin it while simultaneously struggling with not falling off Toothless’s head. Then came his favorite part: the actual building. So often while he locked himself in the forge did he discover small errors in his blueprint or new and better ways to make a part fit, that he’d have to mentally scold himself until he felt responsible enough to edit the print. It was this stipulation where he found things tended to go awry.

Almost anyone who has experienced intense bouts of inspiration is privy to the knowledge of just how hard it is to pry oneself away from the source and complete trivial tasks - like, oh, changing that four to a five because godsdamnit, if you don’t you’ll come back to make modifications and mold a piece to fit a four inch rod not a five inch rod and you’ll end up with no eyebrows again!

Again, Hiccup almost had it down to a science.

No matter how many times he chased away his facial hair, no matter how many times he practically killed himself, he just couldn’t seem to remember to make those corrections.

And that’s how he ended up swinging lazily upside-down, suspended by the strings detached from his riding harness on the figurehead at the top of the dome.

“You have got to be kidding me!” Snotlout’s muffled cry came from underneath a rather large, rather scaly, dark blue lump. “Ger-off!”

Toothless, just as disgruntled as the viking beneath him, slowly heaved himself to his feet with a dragon-sized grunt, staggering wildly as he attempted to regain his footing. His luminescent eyes rolled haphazardly in their sockets.

Snotlout moaned from his position supine on the ground. His helmet lay askew on his forehead, covering one eye and shoving his black hair into a porcupine style.

Ruff and Tuff came sprinting into the arena, presumably from the clubhouse having lunch, for the latter had a piece of bread and melted cheese in his hand. The twins took in the whirlwind state of the ring.

“Woah,” Ruff remarked in her usual discordant tone. “What happened here?”

Hiccup’s cousin roughly picked himself up from the dirt, brushing off his leggings. “What happened? What happened?” He ranted. “I’ll tell you what happened! I just got mowed over by a maniac and his five-ton salamander! And just after I’d gotten the arrow crates restacked!” He gestured angrily at the splintered pile of wood and fletching that littered the arena.

Toothless wandered curiously over to the heap, his ears perked, and sniffed it speculatively. His brows lifted in alarm and he snorted, a motion that shook its way down to the tip of his tail. He backed up quickly, nearly running over Snotlout again, and eyed the jumble.

Hiccup, who was still dangling from the ceiling, cleared his throat with some difficulty. “Um, guys…” He pointed to himself sloppily, feeling as if his head was about to explode.

“Oh, right,” Ruff snickered. “Barf, Belch! Get over here and help us cut the fishbone down!”

Hiccup was only able to ignore the comment due to his heaving stomach.

“You know,” Tuff pointed out, “We could just leave him there. I’ve never seen anyone’s face turn purple like that.”

It was too late, though, for Ruff to reconsider her options; Barf and Belch had already bit down on the string. Before Hiccup could comprehend what was happening, his face was planted firmly into the ground like it was attempting a head-first journey to the center of the earth.

“Owwww…” he whined pitifully as he clutched his nose.

“You know, that almost makes up for it,” Tuff conceded.

“Yeah, just look at the way his face is flashing colors! It’s like a Snoggletog lantern!”

Snotlout crowed loudly. “It’s karma Haddock.”

Hiccup shot his cousin his best withering glare, which only proved to exacerbate the gaudy boy’s laughing.

“Shu’ up ‘n’ ge’ me some ice.” Blood poured out of Hiccup’s nostrils, and from the numb throbbing issuing from the bridge of his nose, the male was able to surmise he had broken it. Again.

“Yes, your majesty,” Snotlout cackled. “Oh, and for the record, you’re cleaning this mess up.”

The three boisterous teens sauntered out of the arena, clutching their stomachs in mirth.

Hiccup sighed and removed his left hand from his face. Overlooking the still steady flow of sticky liquid, he held his hands out to the dragon. “Come ‘ere, Toothle’. I wanna che’ your shaddle.”

The entire reason Hiccup was in this predicament in first place drooped shamefully in shambles off of the reptile’s back.

“Shid,” he cursed under his breath. He held up a tough leather strap that, until recently, had been a holster for the stirrup. Not having the heart to stand up and assess the damage, Hiccup scooched along the ground on his butt until he reached the tail, only to be meet with a less than disappointing sight.

“Shid, shid, shid, shid.” No amount of curse words could reel in his slowly sinking hopes. The tailfin he had so fondly and artfully crafted for the amputated lizard sat in an even worse condition than the saddle. Limply held on by a fraying piece of wire, it was twisted and mangled beyond repair. “Frigga, I’m goingah ta have ta start ofer.”

He miserably wiped away a trail of blood that had snaked its way down to his chin. “Dis is not goot.”

Mentally, he ran through a list of what could have gone wrong. While they were still in the air, Hiccup had felt a wire snap out of place - slip, or possibly one of the pulleys broke. Spontaneously, a thought occurred to him. He remembered having an epiphany over dinner one night about the extension he’d added to the shift system. He’d - big surprise - forgotten to write it down, and when he fitted a slide shifter for his prosthetic over top of the train, he didn’t have the correct measurements. “Stupid, stupid, stupid!”

“I’ll say.”

He whipped around at the voice. Of all the people on the island…

Astrid stood at the entrance to the dome with her arms crossed and her hip jutted out, staring determinedly at him.

Knowing he couldn’t escape reprimand, he offered her an awkward nervous smile. “Heh, yeah…”

Stormfly bounded out from behind her, wings spread and head bent, and lumbered over to sniff him concernedly.

She rolled her eyes at him. “When are you ever going to stop...this!?” She held her hands out, indicating both him and Toothless.

“Oh, oh, dank you,” he stammered sarcastically, “I really thoud we were ofer dat.”

“You’re going to kill yourself one day!”

Hiccup opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by the re-entrance of the twins and Snotlout, followed closely by an anxious Fishlegs. Snotlout held out a cloth bag soaked with condensation and filled with ice.

“Here you go.”

Hiccup took it gratefully, placing it tenderly on his aching nose.

“If I could, I’d lock you up,” Astrid continued as if the others had not entered. “But I fear you’ll just find a way to set the pen on fire.”

“I’m nod dat prone.”

She stared at him disbelievingly.

“Fide.”

Fishlegs was still gazing around in wonderment, his mouth forming a comic ‘o’. “How -”

“Don’t ask,” Snotlout interjected. “Now come on, Fish-face. The sooner we get cleaning, the sooner we can not be here.”

In a rare display of kindness, Snotlout marched towards the wreckage and started hauling away the scraps.

Astrid, who had never let her gaze deviate from the bloody boy in front of her, dropped to one knee beside him. She gently slugged him in the shoulder - an action that communicated enough to Hiccup - before tentatively removing the ice bag from his hand. Hiccup snorted in protest, but she shushed him.

Taking one damp corner, she softly rubbed clear the dried blood from his lips and chin. The russet-haired boy seized that moment to study her face. Her cheeks were slightly reddened from frustration, but still so radiant. She bit her lip slightly in concentration, just like she always did, a gesture Hiccup found absolutely adorable.

When she finished washing his face, she harshly shoved the bag back into his palm.

“Don’t think I’m not mad at you.”

Hiccup frantically shook his head.

“Good. Now get up. The first aid supplies are in the clubhouse and I’m not letting you walk around with a broken nose.”

She grabbed his wrist, hauling him to his foot. As he tried to take a step forward, his metal leg skidded out from under him and he pitched to the side, landing in Astrid’s shocked but ready arms.

He growled in annoyance: the flattened tip had bent downward during the crash. He kicked his foot against the ground a few times, as if that would soothe his anger.

Astrid smiled wanly, reaching for his arm and swinging it over her shoulder.

“Come on, Dragon-Boy. We need to get you fixed up.”

***

Several hours later found Hiccup hobbling around the forge on his crutches, desperately trying to locate some morsel of the metal he needed.

After knocking himself into one of the workbenches for the third time in as many minutes, he grumpily confessed that he was completely out, and there was no possible way he would be able to fashion another prosthetic until he ordered some from Trader Johann. What was more, he had idiotically decided that his two back-up legs needed upgrades, and had scrapped them both weeks ago.

Hiccup amazed himself sometimes.

Toothless crooned sympathetically from his position at the entrance, leaning back on his hindquarters with his front feet resting on the rock partition. The Night Fury looked oddly naked devoid of his usual saddle and harness.

Hiccup sniffed, his nose still a bit tender from his unceremonious landing that morning.

“How are we going to do this?” He asked his best friend rhetorically.

Toothless cocked his head to one side, raising an eyebrow as if to say you got us into this mess, you get us out.

Hiccup scoffed. “You’re so helpful.”

Toothless grinned sardonically.

Sticking his lip out and resting his chin on the padded end of the crutch, Hiccup studied his workshop.

“Well, we don’t have to worry about you not being able to fly; the first prototype of your saddle is in the stables. I can lengthen the pull-wire - since you’re longer - but I do have to teach someone how to fly with it, considering I have no leg…”

Toothless perked up at the mention of flying, but realizing Hiccup was only talking to himself, he disinterestedly turned and flopped himself into a ball, pulling his one tailfin up to cover his eyes.

“I’ll have to redraw that cheat-sheet (I should remember everything),” Hiccup continued, oblivious to the dragon’s lack of attention, “and maybe we could start at a place with less sea stacks,” he grinned at his own joke. “Now the real question is, who will fly? Fishlegs is too big for you in that harness. Tuff won’t listen to anything I have to say - he’ll be worse than dad - and neither will Ruff. Snot probably won’t give you back…”

A merry whistle caught his attention and for the second time that day, Hiccup marveled at the impeccable timing.

Astrid strode down the boardwalk leading to her hut, carrying a box full of balliste ammunition.

A slow smile danced on Hiccup’s lips, with an undertone that was decidedly devious.

“What’d ya say bud,” Hiccup directed at the slumbering dragon, “She looks about the right size.”

***

Astrid could not be described as distinctly intrepid. She liked things safe, and secure. Why else did she have the most fortified and armed house in the whole archipelago? Growing up in a world constantly ravaged by dangerous fire breathing beasts cultivated that mindset. Add on the pain of losing a loved one to the cause of not being well-prepared, Astrid’s biggest fear seemed to be that of unreadiness. It’s not to say that she wasn’t adventurous or brave - no, quite the contrary: she loved seeing new sights and meeting new people, and during a fight she was the last person you’d expect to find on the sidelines. She was loud and bold and proud and a teenager - it only fit. But that didn’t mean that she was reckless.

She did not pride herself on discerning the most dramatic and asinine way to get herself killed like some people.

She did not enjoy the hearty thrill of the chase and electrifying buzz of insurrection like someone she could mention.

And she most definitely did not savor the floundering feeling of not being in control six kilometers in the air like Hiccup.

“Please, Astrid!” His tone was getting higher and whinier, an indication that he was becoming frustrated.

“For the eighth time, NO.”

In the past two days since Hiccup and Toothless had crashed out of the sky, the population of the Edge had gotten used to the foreign sounds of Hiccup’s slightly nasally-er drawl that came from his now somewhat crooked nose and the hard clack, shuffle of his crutches and boot.

Astrid more than most.

Hiccup had apparently made it his mission to get her in the air on Toothless. He’d tried everything to make her say yes, from promising a favor in return to kidnapping her from her chores and sticking her in a tree (he’d probably asked for the new bruises that adorned his arms) to kissing her senseless in the alley between Fishlegs’ and the twin’s huts.

None of them had made her even think about budging - except maybe the kiss: she’d been so delirious that she’d had to stop herself in the middle of saying “yes.”

“Look at him!” He pointed at the dragon, who sat on the open wrap-around porch, his front paws drawn in close to his body and his glowing eyes wide and pitiful. “Someone needs to take him out for a romp before he explodes!”

Toothless looked down at the floor for a second before fixing her with his most pathetic expression.

“I will never understand how you two conspire so well together.” She picked up her plate from the table and dodged around him to walk over to the washing bin filled with the rest of the gang’s dishes. He didn’t miss a beat, spinning on his good foot and following her.

She picked up an awaiting bucket of water from the floor and heaved it over to Stormfly. The Nadder was curled up in the sun, her silvery-blue wings folded against her body, watching her human carefully. As soon as the bucket hit the planking, Stormfly let loose a stream of white-orange fire into the liquid, making it bubble and steam welcomely. Astrid hauled the bucket back to the washing bin and dumped its contents over the ceramics. Hiccup limped over and handed her the soap bar from the adjoining table. She took it without question, dipping it into the scalding water and trying to ignore the melting of her hands. Bubbles floated cheerfully to the top, creating a thin layer of foam over the surface.

He leaned against the wall as she started scrubbing the plates. “You’d make him so happy.”

“I’m not going to engage in some half-assed invention of yours that nearly failed the first time!” She dropped the dripping plate onto the counter harder than she meant to, but she went along with it since the noise made Hiccup flinch.

“It really didn’t,” he said, propping his crutches under one arm to keep him steady and gathering the drying towel and finished plate. “It worked fine until we got hit with a club for a tail.”

Astrid couldn’t help the snort that escaped her. The way he so casually talked about his near-death experiences either had her so annoyed she wanted to punch him, or so amused she wanted to cackle.

She probably wasn’t helping her cause too much.

“I don’t even know how to work the dumb thing.”

“Ah, see, that’s the beauty of teaching.”

“I’m not getting on him knowing that if we fall, it will be my fault.”

“Control freak.” He set another dish in the cabinet above their heads.

“I am not!”

“Are too! You won’t get on him because you don’t like feeling as if you can’t control him.”

“I can control him more than I can Stormfly.”

“Yes, but all you do on Stormfly is sit. On Toothless, you know you need to have some control, and not knowing how to have that control is disorienting to you.”

“Who’s side are you even on?”

He froze in the middle of stacking cups, contemplating the accusation. “You’re right. Anyway, it honestly won’t be that bad. I’ll be right there to walk you through it.”

“Do you even remember how to use the thing?”

“Yes, of course.”

“It was three years ago, Hiccup.”

“So?”

“How did it even survive your fall?”

“I made two, just in case.”

“That is about as much forethought that I think I’ve ever seen you have.”

“Why, thank you.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“So will you do it?” He looked at her so hopefully Astrid figured she might as well get sucked in a whirlpool with no chance of getting out.

She heaved an overdramatic sigh and finally relented, pretending not to find his wild fist pump and violent toppling cute.

***

The next day at dawn, Astrid met Hiccup on a bluff overlooking the Northern Ocean. The other riders had slowly trickled in to witness the “disastrous” flying attempt. Looking around, Astrid had a sudden flashback to Hiccup’s psychotic flight-suit test runs - multiple of which failed miserably and almost ended with Hiccup-juice splattered on the rocks. Astrid frowned deeply and mentally made a note to ground Hiccup from death-defying acts for the next...forever.

“Ok, ‘Strid.” The lanky teen pushed himself out from under Toothless’s belly, where he had been adjusting and attaching several important-looking gears. “We’re ready.” He sat up and grinned at her. Using Toothless as support, he stood, wobbling for a minute before steadying out.

“This,” he said, pulling a rumpled piece of parchment from a pouch on his right hip, “will be your most useful tool. Don’t lose it: you will crash.”

Astrid gulped. She recognized the tell-tale signs of second-thoughts and quickly steeled her nerves, looking defiantly at Toothless as if he were daring to question her resolve.

“Come here,” he gestured towards himself, and clipped the parchment onto the saddle head with a double-binder system. On the paper was a grid of six squares, each containing a cartoony sketch of a tail position and marked with a number.

“These are all the possible points the tail can be shifted to.” He held up a flattened hand. “Here’s the stirrup. Your foot will start like this,” he tilted his hand a bit forward. “That is position three. It is your takeoff and landing position.” With his free hand, he pointed at the fourth box in the grid and tilted his hand backwards. “This is position four.” He pointed at box five and tilted his hand back farther. “Position five…” he pointed at the next box and tilted his hand so that was vertical, “...and position six. Forget five and six, you won’t need those yet.”

“What do they do?” She inquired.

“Five basically lets him spin uncontrollably, and six is for steep dives, but we won’t be doing any of those today.” He moved his hand back to simulate position three. “This is your most useful position. For easy flights where he just wants to glide, three is basically all you need. However,” he shifted his hand forward. “Position two is also very important, and so is position one.” Position one looked just as uncomfortable as position six, lying completely vertical in the opposite direction, and Astrid learned to respect the flexibility of Hiccup’s ankles.

“Listen carefully, now, because this part makes all the difference.” Astrid fixed her eyes on his still- hovering hand. “Both takeoff and landing require some unique dexterity. You have to synchronously switch positions while changing your weight on his back, Toothless takes off a bit differently than Stormfly, of course, so instead a vertical climb straight from the ground, he does this sort of run/hop/skip thing and climbs at an angle. Your foot - like I said earlier - will begin in position three, and he’ll begin by running, but as soon as you feel him bunch himself in preparation to jump, you need to switch the position to two. There will be this little pause between him leaving the ground and him flapping his wings, and that’s where you switch it back to three. Once he flaps his wings, the stirrup immediately goes to position one. He’ll face himself at an angle to the ground and the second time he flaps his wings, boom, back to three. Did you get that?”

Astrid most certainly did not get that.

Hiccup chuckled - a deep sound that reverberated in his chest. “I’ll walk you through it again when we’re in the air. Next item!”

Astrid desperately wanted him to slow down. He was talking so fast, just like he did whenever he got passionate about a project, and it was hard for her to completely wrap her mind around everything.

“Toothless hates it when you sit on him like a rock, so you need to adjust your weight accordingly, especially during takeoff. It’s mostly a natural reaction, but whenever he wants to go forward, you have to lean forward, when he encounters turbulence, you need to sit him like a feather. Basic stuff.

“For landing - it’s basically the reverse of takeoff. He’ll come in at a reasonable angle, then, just before he touches down, he’ll hover over the ground momentarily. When he starts descending, you’ll switch the stirrup to three (but you’ll probably have it already on three because you’ll be gliding), when you feel the little hiccup before he starts hovering, switch it to two, then when he drops, switch it back to three.” He glanced warily at Astrid, trying to judge just how unhappy she was with this arrangement. “You’ll do fine,” he encouraged.

Astrid mumbled something about him being such an ass.

Hiccup chose to conceal his smile with a cough.

“Well then, shall we?” He made a sweeping motion with his hand, gesturing for her to mount Toothless.

Astrid took a deep breath before grabbing the saddle-horn and hauling herself up. She wiggled a bit, getting familiar with the unfamiliar saddle.

“This isn’t so bad,” she said.

“You’ve just got to put your foot in the stirrup now.” With a little struggling, she was able to fit her boot within the straps. “Good. You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Stormfly hummed from her seat next to Toothless on the edge of the cliff, sniffing her rider with interest. The Nadder squawked at the Night Fury, and he warbled back tiredly, as if promising for the umpteenth time that nothing was going to happen. Stormfly, however, didn’t seem too convinced. Still, she stepped back to give Toothless suitable space.

“Looks like your dragon has about as much faith in this working as the rest of us do,” called Snotlout from where he sat leaning against a rock.

Hiccup rolled his eyes. “It’ll work, and she’ll be fine,” he proclaimed confidently.

“Sure.”

Hiccup reached across her lap to grip the saddle-horn and lift himself up behind her. His thighs mirrored her own, running parallel with the tops touching the backs of her legs. He hooked both his arms loosely around her waist, and suddenly she was aware of the fire that burned across her skin everywhere he made contact.

Great, all she needed was another damn distraction.

She focused on the small spiny bumps between Toothless’s ears, which were decidedly less attractive than the lean male she had her back pressed against.

Focus.

“Whenever you’re ready, Mi’lady,” he chippered in her ear.

“Ok, Toothless. Let’s do this.”

The dragon flashed her a gummy smile before taking off towards the lip. Just before reaching the edge, Astrid felt the powerful muscles underneath her contract, tensing in a wired way.

“Position two,” Hiccup reminded her softly. The calm and confidence that emanated from him helped to clear her mind and let her focus. She pushed her foot forward slightly, hearing a small click that reverberated up her leg.

Toothless jumped, pushing all three of them in the air. They hung there for a couple seconds - seconds where time seemed to have no hold - before Hiccup reminded her again that she needed to switch the tail.

She counted one flap of the ginormous wings that propelled them forward jerkily. Toothless grunted as she almost missed the cue to switch to position one, but cooed encouragingly when she remembered the last shift.

And they were flying.

“Ha, ha!” Hiccup cheered. “You did it!”

Astrid, although she didn’t outwardly show it, was jumping hysterically for joy inside.

“Now all you have to do is land him!”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Haddock.”

“I’ve said it enough already, but you’ll do fine.”

“In the meantime, though, I’ve hardly ever ridden a Night Fury, and never flown one, so let’s make this count.”

***

That afternoon, Astrid was beginning to regret her decision to help the chief’s son.

It definitely wasn’t worth it, she mused as she hung suspended from the figurehead at the top of the dome, to ride the fastest known dragon, but still end up hanging from the ceiling.

#HTTYD #Hiccstrid(minimal)#Oneshot #First

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