#blind!astrid rambling i suppose!!!

[astrxd]

A temporarily blind Astrid Drabble?

A/N: Holy heck. I am, so terribly sorry that this took me so long to put out!!! I found it and decided to rewrite it aaaand,,, Well, this was the result! I’m so sorry that it took me forever to post this, @aracanabraeks​!! :’)(I think this one might be a little heavier than what I usually write? I’m not entirely sure, but I feel as if it’s necessary to note that it’s not super light and fluffy, or anything!)

Blink

 “Mostof the hindrances that you and your friends cause me are generally…unseen. And as the saying goes–an eye for an eye, no?” He’dsaid. “You needn’t worry, however. I’ve decided to be mercifulby letting you keep them, at the very least. How useful they’ll beto you is simply… undetermined.”

Therewas no ultimatum, no ulterior motive–Viggo wanted revenge for theRiders’ last stunt: the destruction of his marble stronghold. Theentire purpose of kidnapping Astrid was for the sake of making apoint.For the sake of gettingeven.

Hemade a formidable adversary, and part of that was due to the factthat he wasn’t afraid to employ tactics heavier on the…unscrupulousside…in order to get what he wanted. The fact that he so casually broughtthe Scourge of Odin back down upon the Barbaric Archipelago was proofenough, but yet another one of methods he utilized revolved aroundthe fact that prolonged and close-range exposure to an Armorwing’sflameresultedin (supposedly temporary)blindness–toboth dragon and viking. Such exposure was appropriately classified astorture.

…Andin both cases of blatant inhumanity, Astrid was a victim without a choice.

Thevery real threat of hurting Stormfly if she didn’t cooperate withthe Hunters was the only thing keeping her eyes open in the face ofthe Armorwing’s inferno. Every blink risked a scale off of her bestfriend’s back, a premature spine ripped off of her tail. Thistime… there was no way out of Viggo’s plot.

“Obedient,”he had mused from somewhere in the ship cellar, a tone of purecomplacency dripping from his voice, “I believe I expected a littlemore from you, Miss Hofferson.”

Shegrit her teeth and kept her hands–which had curled into fists–gluedto her sides.

Oneday, he would crumble at her feet.

Viggo’stricks were growing dirtier and dirtier, and the fact that Astridwasa prime target was–quite frankly–rapidly becoming veryirritating.

Shewas a pawn. A bargaining chip. She knew that, and while her capturehadn’t been her most graceful moments, she surely didn’t go downwithout resisting. In the end, whether or not she went with theHunters quietly or not didn’t matter, but it brought her a shred ofcomfort to know that she put up a fight. Of course, she promised togive them much morethanan axe to the gut and a kick in the groin when she recovered.

(…Ifsheever recovered. The thought made her heart sink impossibly further.)

Theyencountered her during her morning flight-slash-patrol around the island. 

They’dtaken both her and Stormfly–again.

Theyhadn’t even bothered to restrain her, but they did disarm her–andtheyput her very own axe to her dragon’s neck.

Theyforced a captured Armorwing (who Astrid vowed to help free as soon asshe was able) to sustain its flame, only a few feet from her face.

Theygave her a choice that wasn’t even a choice.

Theygave her an option–lose her sight indefinitely, or leave with hersight and her life… but without her dragon.

Butneveragain.Never again would Astrid allow the Hunters to have Stormfly in theircustody.

…Andso she stood, in the center of the cellar, steeling herself for whatwas to come.

Shedug the soles of her boots into the grain of the wood and squared hershoulders, and she furrowed her brow in fierce determination from thevery, very beginning. The Armorwing loomed before her, and the heatimmediately bordered unbearable. It hadn’t been long before she felta sheen of sweat broke out across her forehead–but how hot her skinwas paler in comparison to the intense burnhereyes promptly experienced.

Theyquickly felt as if they were going to begin to shrivel at any givenmoment–but when she began to squint or nearly blinked, Stormflytrilled. Woefullytrilled.

ForStormfly, shechanted in her head.

Theentire time, the ones she held dearest to her heart were on her mind.It was from thoughts of them that she drew her strength, herendurance–that, and pure spite.IfViggo thought he’d be guaranteed some sort of twisted gratificationfrom seeing her suffer, then he was sorelymistaken,because she had no intention of expressing her pain. She was strongerthan this–stronger than him, and whatever he tried to put up againsther!

Andyet…

…Very,very soon came the point where Astrid grew numb to the dragon’sflame, but could hardly stand to keep her eyes open any longer. Hervision clouded and became glazed with white, everything becominglighter and lighter with each passing second. She initially refusedto give the onlooking Hunters holding down Stormfly the satisfactionof hearing her cry out in pain, and instead elected to bite down onher lip to muffle any shouts that threatened to escape–

Buteven the mightiest were susceptible to being felled.

Astrid,knees wobbly, ended up collapsing to the ship’s floorboards withinless than a few minutes,witha broken, choked, patheticgaspfor air that wasn’t heated. The sustained fire had done its job,but it also seemed to devour the oxygen in the air. Her firm resolvehad been melted by the Armorwing’s intense flames, and she resortedto pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes, as if doing sowould somehow numb the sharp, stinging sensation.

Itwas over surprisingly quickly, but every moment felt like absoluteHel.And the aftermath?

Excruciating.Every single secondofit.

Whenshe felt her dragon thunder towards her and curl protectively aroundher person, Astrid finally pried her eyes open and blinked. The sharpfwhipofStormfly brandishing her barbed tail filled her ears, but her eyes…

Shesaw nothing but white.

Theystung with both welling tears and the lingering pain of having staredat a bright source of light for an extended period of time–but shedidn’t cry. As soon as they oh-so kindlyallowedStormfly to escort Astrid back to their base, the Hunters made aquick departure in the opposite direction of the Edge… and that wasthat.

Hercondition served as a message. A warning. A taunt.

AndOdin knew what Hiccup would do when he found out.

Whenshe was safely on Stormfly’s back and well in the air, she stilldidnot allow herself to cry, because crying was givingin.She could not see the sun or the morning sky–she just assumeditwas still morning. She could not see their base in the near distanceor the rolling hills and trees beneath her. She couldn’t even seethe crown of spikes on Stormfly’s head, but she clung to thedragon’s neck with such dependency anyway. Astrid wanted to tellthe Nadder to take her somewhere secluded, but despite the dragon’sloyalty, she knew that Stormfly would take her to her friends. Itwasn’t until she reached a tentative hand to her face that sherealized that she was crying anyway. She tried to blink away thetears.

Intrusivethoughts swarmed her mind relentlessly–how uselesstosaid friends she was now that she couldn’t see, whether or notshe’d be able to see atallinthe future, how they would react. How Hiccupwouldreact. Just thinking about it made her feel guilty, as if somehow,she could have prevented this from happening. 

Even though such wasimpossible, she knew she couldpreventthe impending carnage and cycle of revenge that was likely to takeplace when her condition was revealed, but how could she keepsomething such as being blindunderwraps? How could she pretend that her world wasn’t crashing down ontop of her?

Sheonly continued to imagine–no, predict–howher future was going to further fall apart.

Combatwould be next to impossible.

DragonRacing–if not just flying in general–was just… out of thequestion.

She’dnever see the sunset, or the exotic colors of every dragon theyencountered. She’d never see her mother or father or her friends oreven her future children–andit wouldn’t be because she wasn’t present, but it would be due toa physical incapability.

Everythingwas changing, all before her very eyes. The ones what she couldn’tseewith.

Evenafter Stormfly landed, presumably back at the stables, Astridcontinued to think.Her fingers trembled and her breaths were all ragged and strained,but she strove to find some reason deep within herself.

Wouldshe ever see again? Or was she stuck in a perpetually white world?The fact that she wasn’t seeing pitchblack waspromising, and it gave her a sliver of hope that she could somehowrecover. She clung to that shred of optimistic thought, because therewas still a chance for her to beat the odds and beatViggo,but as soon as she attempted to dismount Stormfly–

“Astrid!There you are!”

GreatThor.

Sheswallowed thickly and rubbed at her eyes as she slowly swung her legover Stormfly’s back. It was a motion she’s completed with suchease and confidence time and time again, but she’d suddenly…grown wary of her footing. All she wanted to do was curl up besideher dragon and reflect and be alone,butof courseHiccuphad to come around. Quickly attempting to recompose herself, heturned towards the source of his voice and blinked, thankful that herhearing was still intact.

Astriddidn’t know how long she could maintain the illusion that herencounter with the Hunters didn’thappenand that she couldstillsee, but she would try. She’d simply have to–for the sake ofkeeping order on the Edge. Her thoughts of her future and herhappiness be damned–they couldn’t afford to make any risky movesfor the sake of getting even, and getting even is exactlywhatViggo probably wanted them to do. If Astrid knew the Hunter’sleader at all, she knew that he tried to have everything planned downto the last confrontation.

“Hey,Hiccup,” she responded soon enough, offering a brief lift of herhand as wave. Her voice sounded unbearably tightandshe had no clue about how disheveled she may have looked, butStormfly ducked her head and nudged her shoulder so that she wouldface an entirelydifferentdirection.

Somuch for being secretive.

Astridplaced her palm on the Nadder’s horn for stability. She blinked.Her world went from white, to black, to white again.

Shecould only imagineHiccup’sperplexed expression. Literally. What he looked like at the momentwas a mystery to her and–

Oh,no.

No,no, no.

Whatif she forgets?

“…Astrid,is everything okay?”

Whatif she forgets what he looks like? His eyes. His smile–all of them.The goofy, crooked one and the jokingly serious one and the heartmeltingly adoring one and… What if she forgot her other friends,too? What they all look like? It was only a matter of time before anyand all hopes of her ever seeing again would be ultimately crushed,and then… And then she’d be stuck. She’d never see Stormfly orHiccup or her friends. She’d never see the sunrise or sunset orcoloratall–

Astridtried so desperatelytoremain composed and stay levelheaded, but with such a probablyreality looming on the horizon, how could she stay calmwhenit truly, finally hit her that her entire futurewasvery likely compromised? She relied so heavily on her sight thatliving without it…

…Wouldn’tbe living at all.

Sheblinked.

Suddenly,she felt her hair get tucked behind her ear and warm, calloused palmson either of her cheeks, and she stiffened, startled. The contactalone was enough to make her walls fall in around her, while herpreviously rigid expression crumpled into that of one conveyingagony.

“Astrid?Astrid,what–what happened out there? What did you see?”

Theirony.

Astridshook her head and barked out a single, humorless laugh. Her eyescontinued to burn with a dull intensity, partially because she wascrying even harder now, but she kept her hands to herself. The thingsthat she knewshecould do with her eyes closed now seemed to be completely foreign andimpossible–even throwing her arms around Hiccup in the way that sheusually did seemed hazardous.

Shesettled for squeezing her eyes shut. The darkness was comforting,because she could pretend that she was fine despite knowing shewasn’t.

“Astrid,look at me–”

“Nothing,”shefinally snapped, the sharp bite in her trembling voice evidently notdirected toward Hiccup. She pictured him wincing. “Nothing, okay? Ididn’t–I can’tseeanything.I can’tlookat you.” Astrid could hear Stormfly coo, and she imagined thatHiccup looked worriedly over at both of their dragons, seeking somesemblance of insight as he gathered her in an embrace.

“I–Idon’t–Astrid, what are you…?”

Shefelt his arms loop around her middle, so she managed to find hisshoulders. Astrid buried her face in the crook of his neck and simplystood there,leavingHiccup to try and decipher her cryptic response for the same amountof time it took for her to compose herself to the point where sheknewshewouldn’t break down. It was only when she became astutely aware ofthe fingers rubbing circles into the small of her back that she wasdrawn out of her bout of self pity.

Asingle name was enough to make Hiccup’s hold around her waist growsignificantly tighter. She was well aware of the shift in hisstature–from comforting to downright protectiveafterso much as hearing “Viggo” leave her lips.

“What,”Hiccup grit out, “did he do?”

Shetook a shuddery breath that wracked her chest and pulled her armsfrom around Hiccup’s shoulders. It didn’t make the pain subside,let alone help her fears for her future shrink, but the blonde soonset either of her hands on what she felt as the slope of Hiccup’sneck and slowly wrenched her eyes open. They stillburned.Everything was still bleary, still white.

Hiccupwas probably only inches away from her, but at the same time… Hewasn’t there.

(Butusing that logic, the moon didn’t exist and neither did theHunters. Astrid breathed deeply again. She blinked. It still didn’thelp.)

“Itwas an Armorwing,” she managed, willing strengthtoinject her quiet voice. Astrid knew that around Hiccup, there was noneed for her to remain strongindifficult times, but it was the only way she found herself capable ofspeaking to him. “Viggo–he, he wanted revenge. But you–youhaveto, to promise, promise me that you w-won’t do anything stupid.”

Astrid…Astrid was conflicted. On one hand, Hiccup had taught her thatemotion was natural,andthat they didn’t live in a world as brutal and ruthless as theyinitially thought. With the resurgence of a new massive threat intheir lives, however, that notion immediately caved in on itself.What wasshe,if not the resilient, hardy Hooligan that her people were known tobe? What happened to the viking who had so firmly believed inherself, and believed that she was stronger than anything Viggo triedto do to harm her?

“Astrid,”Hiccup said again, this time more sympatheticallyhurt,and it was as he’d said her name a million times over in the pastminute with different tones each instance. She knew that he wantedher to continue to explain.

“Hiccup,I’m–”

Shechoked on the next word, a sob ripping from her throat, becauseadmitting it made it real.Admitting it made it feel like Viggo won,and she’d be damned before she let something like that happen.Astrid felt Hiccup tense further, and she squeezed his shoulders,sniffling and breathing choppily.

“…Bl–ind.”

Itfelt like a massive wave crashing onto an unsuspecting shore. It hither like a Catastrophic Quaken barreling into her at full force,knocking the wind out of her lungs and sending her reeling.

Shewas blind.

Sheblinked. Astrid felt as if her mind was still foggy with disbeliefand sheer horror,but saying it out loud… It helped. Somehow, it helped, and deepdown, she knew that acceptingitwas the first step to overcomingit.

Hiccup’ssilence, however, was terriblyconcerning.Astrid lifted a shaky hand to thread her fingers through his hairwith slight uncertainty. She couldn’t use her thumb to smooth awaythe creases in his brow that she knew were there, so she had tosettle instead. His presence was grounding, and it made her thinkmore practically–it made her realize that the only thing left to dowas cope,notcry.

Ithurt, but knowing that he was worried about her… hurt more.

“Maybeit’s temporary–”

“Hiccup…”

“Wecan get you to Berk and have Gothi–”

“Hiccup–”

“Astrid,we can still–”

“Youknow,” Astrid interjected (again), “all I could think about washow useful those Deathsong amber goggles you made would have been,”she whispered, fingers curling at the hair at nape of his neck. Shethen pressed her palm to his cheek and leaned forward–he got thememo, thankfully, and their foreheads met. She thoughthehad his face committed to memory, but now that the situation requiredher to draw upon those memories, they were… Gone?

Notgone,but buried.

Byfear.

Byanger.

Byirrational thought.

Sheblinked. She smothered those feelings by reminding herself thatletting them fester would only make matters worse.

“I’msor–”

“Don’t,”Astrid interjected, both pleadingly and in warning. He wiped histhumb against the corner of one of her eyes, presumably to wipe awayher tears, but she squeezed them shut reflexively. “Don’tapologize.”

“…”

“What’sdone is done,” she said, her tone indicating that what she had tosay was final, though it retained its shakiness. Astrid tried sodesperately to sound okay,but…“Apologizingwon’t, c-can’t change–this.”Astridwaved a hand toward her face.

“Iwas… just going to say that–I, I’m here,Astrid. You were there for me, and… And now it’s my turn.”

…Itdawned on her then.

Thevalue she had was not determined by, nor was it reliant, the heightof the senses. Despite lacking her sight entirely, what she said wastrue–the only way to go about her life at this point?

Work past it.

Learna little morefromHiccup.

Swiftly,and with practiced ease, she pressed a kiss to the apple of his cheekbefore slipping out of his arms to find her dragon, ignoring thestrain of keeping her eyes open. The rough texture of Stormfly’sscales was beneath her fingertips in mere seconds–Astrid didn’thesitate once in pulling herself onto the Nadder’s back.

Shewasn’t okay. She was far from okay.

Butshe was guaranteed not to be okay for the rest of her life if she didn’t at least try to move forward.

“Whereare you–”

“Thefirst thing you did was fly,” Astrid reminded him, squaring hershoulders as she curled her fingers against the bar of Stormfly’ssaddle. She sucked in a deep breath. “And that’s exactly what I’mgoing to do.”

IfViggo Grimborn thought he could eliminate AstridHofferson fromthe game, he was painfully mistaken. Sightor no sight, she’d overcome the trials set out before her–shealways had, anyhow.

Sheblinked.

[speuradair]

I wanna hear about your favorite OC. or current favourite, I know mine are like my babies and it's hard to choose. I love the sibling dynamic too, I have two Marvel OCS, one whose the daughter of Thor, Kari, and one whose the daughter of Loki, Astrid. They're my main babies rn, like the idea started out so simple but than I wanted to make them their own story and not have their legacy be their parents. I've also got my sonic the hedgehog OC from when I was a kid that I came back to and am polishing up now that I'm a better writer. Her name is Annastasia and she's supposed to be sonics twin. Than there was Umeko for blue Exorcist, she's basically a witch. Haven't fully finished her yet. And than there Airi for Assassination Classroom, she's one I kind of projected a lot of my insecurities one to try and love myself a bit more. Like for example, she's a bit more on the thicker side as I am and I'm trying to love that about myself and I love Airi and I think she's adorable the way she is so it's kind of my way of trying to cope with something I can't really change. She's basically a character I've mostly projected myself on to. Than I have Amoret Faith from Soul eater whose also a witch. (I love witches) I know I've got more, I can't think of any other's tho. But right now the ones who are kind of fleshed out the most I'd say are probably Astrid and Kari, I'm working more on Annastasia tho. But I'd love to hear your OCS, whichever one your most passionate about rn

They all sound so cool too, I love them all 🥺 I'm glad I'm not the only one who loves to make oc's that are related to canon characters, those are always the characters I like the most

Rin is technically my self insert for BNHA, so I'm super attached to her! She has a time based quirk that lets her see into either the past or the future for short bursts of time. She can push herself enough to see farther back or farther forward, but it has some intense consequences. The longer she tries to use her quirk, the more stress it puts on her and her brain- which leads to migraines, ringing ears and nosebleeds at best, and temporary blindness and passing out

She was adopted by Aizawa when she was about 5/6 after she was rescued during a villain base raid. She's the product of a quirk marriage, like shoto, but rather than being crafted into the ideal hero, she was intended to be a strong villain. Aizawa is involved in the raid mission, and rescues Rin from the building. Long story short he gets attached and ends up legally adopting her :')

-

Then I have Kaiya, who's shoto's younger twin! She just has her mother's quirk, though, and similarly, she seems to only have her mother's features- pale skin, light eyes, white hair. While shoto looks very similar to their father, Kaiya looks almost identical to their mother. Her quirk is really strong, so she's constantly cold and has to bundle up in sweaters. It also leaves a constant pink flush on her nose and cheeks from her low body temperature

I don't have her story finished, but she eventually realizes that Dabi is Touya before he announced it, and ends up reconnecting with him. Then I kind of have two timelines for her, if that makes sense? Like I have one where she stays neutral and does her best to redeem him and fix her family, and one where she ends up being a villain as well

Her hero name is Freeze Frame, but if she ends up being a villain, her villain alias is Frostbite

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For dangan, I have Haru, who's Byakuya's younger twin! She's the shsl figure skater, and she went to Hope's Peak and was in the THH killing game as well

She has a very long backstory/plot, but the tl;dr version is that twins have to be treated as one possible heir in the Togami lineage rule, so she isn't exiled after Byakuya wins the title of heir. She's autistic and semi-verbal though, and their father doesn't care much for her since he considers her an 'unfortuanately necessary inconvenience'. Byakuya is super protective of her, and she relies on him a lot until they start at Hope's Peak, where she's able to find her own independence and found family with her classmates :')

She befriends Chihiro and Aoi very quickly, and ends up learning enough coding from Chihiro to carry on as the tech person for the Future Foundation after the killing game

I could totally ramble about them forever so I'll stop here, but they're my favorites and they're my emotional support ocs 🥺💕

[seagreen-meets-grey]

When Lightning Strikes Ch. 9

When your life is nothing but a cloudless sky, lightning can come and strike you so unexpectedly, you won’t even know what hit you.

Or: When Hiccup and Astrid meet, it is as if lightning strikes.

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11] [Chapter 12] [Chapter 13] [Chapter 14] [Chapter 15] [Chapter 16] [Chapter 17] [Chapter 18] [Chapter 19] [Chapter 20]

Crossposted on ao3 and ff.net

_______________

“Hey.”

His touch and voice tore Astrid from her thoughts and her mind blanked for a second. Up close, she could see the many freckles on his face and the strands of hair that stood in every direction. When she caught his eyes properly, she steeled herself.

“Hi.”

He started balancing back and forth on his heels, casually putting his hands in the pockets of his jeans, dropping the two packed sandwiches he’d just held. “I thought I saw you at the park yesterday.” He ducked down to pick up his food, coming up with a red face.

“Oh, right. I was…” – running away from you – “in a hurry.”

She watched as he absentmindedly grabbed something from a shelf next to him and ran his fingers over the print. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she registered it was women’s shaving cream.

“Yeah, me, um, me too. I mean–“ He put the item back and ran his hand over his neck and the gesture was so familiar, she wondered how she’d come to learn to associate it with him during the handful of times they met. “I was there with my friend, and… Oh my god, you met him, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what he said to you, he just doesn’t hear how stupid and obnoxious he sounds most of the time, and he doesn’t mean to, at least not usually, and I’m sure he didn’t want to sound like a creep or anything, and I really hope he wasn’t being terrible, because he can actually be nice, and I’m rambling, do you want me to stop talking, I can stop talking, I can – I’ll just stop talking.”

Maybe it was the awkwardness, the hands flying roller coasters through the air, and the genuine concern about annoying her, or maybe it was her lack of sleep from last night, but she couldn’t stop the amused grin from blooming on her face.

“It’s okay, I don’t even remember what he said.” She reached out and gently socked him on the arm. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

He exhaled in relief and properly smiled at her for the first time. It was that lopsided smile and the kind gleam in his eyes that still kept haunting her in her dreams and fantasies that she just couldn’t seem to ban from her mind, no matter how hard she tried. But she had to make peace with that. She’d had to accept that one of her favorite shows had ended in an, in her opinion, not so perfect way, and she couldn’t do anything about that as well. (If she turned a blind eye, the comparison might even work.)

“It’s been what, one and a half years? How- how’s everything? How’s um… How’s Eret?”

„Good. It’s… We’re good. He’s on a work trip.” Why was she so nervous? Maybe it was the effect of those green eyes and that smile that made her fidgety and stumble over her words.

He was about to respond when she held up her hand in an emergency decision. “Look, I have to go.” Didn’t need to make up a reason, right? “But maybe we can talk later?” She fished her phone from her pocket and created a new contact before handing it to him. “I don’t have much to do this upcoming week and since my best friend is on vacation in Europe, having a friend around would be nice.”

For a moment, he stared at the device a bit dumbfounded, then his fingers tapped a series of digits and he handed it back. “All your friends are on vacation in Europe?”

“No, just that one. But everyone else is kind of busy.” Did that sound like some kind of excuse? She hoped not.

“Oh, okay. Well, I’ve got work, but not all day, so…” Before he could start rambling again, he stopped himself by pressing his lips together and nodding a few times.

Giving herself something to do that didn’t include looking at his soul-searching eyes, she fumbled with her phone, opening up a new chat and typing in a simple “hi” and a friendly emoji. “Check your phone.” Looking up again, she gave him one last smile, then she grabbed the next best item from the next best shelf and brushed past him on her way to the door.

“Um, don’t you want to pay?” he called after her. Right, crap. The cashier looked up from his magazine at Hiccup’s words and watched her warily with narrowed eyes. Wordlessly, she hurried over and fumbled a bill out of her wallet on autopilot, taking the change and stuffing it in the pocket of her pants. Then she left with a quick wave over her shoulder. Hiccup was still standing there, holding his sandwiches in one hand and the other frozen mid-air in a waving gesture.

Only when she was back at the house did she realize she’d bought shaving cream with a raspberry and cheesecake smell. With a groan, she tossed it into her duffle back. She hated that artificially sweet stuff. She’d have to go back to the store to get what she’d actually come for tomorrow. Hopefully, she wouldn’t run into anyone else that she knew.

After several hours had passed and her phone hadn’t chimed once, she huffed and turned it off. Her heart shouldn’t be beating so fast every time she checked it for new messages. She wasn’t a teenager waiting for her crush to text her, although the sentiment didn’t seem too far off, her age aside. But she would rather punch herself in the face than admit it was true. If anything, she was waiting for a friend to contact her. Nothing more.

It was the only truth that she’d ever allowed herself to believe. At times, it sounded almost like a mantra she kept repeating, in yet another sleepless night after she woke from the same old dream. She knew that Eret could tell something was off with her, trying to concentrate on throwing these thoughts and feelings out of her mind and unintentionally growing distant while fighting her inner battle of guilt and stubborn loyalty to her principles. Whenever Eret realized he couldn’t get through to her during these phases, he grew distant himself, and it usually ended in either a big fight or a steamy reconciliation.

She guessed it had only been a matter of time until they’d end up where they were now. But she didn’t want to remind herself of last week, instead nudging her thoughts in a more flowery direction. Like to last winter when she went to Austria, high into the Alpines, feeling like she was in a whole other world. Almost touching the sky, her steps painting shapes into the white wonderland, the air frosty and revitalizing.

Then she came home, back to Eret, back to the life she chose, back to the routine that would slowly make her restless again. Make her feel like there was more to her life than Eret, although she quickly made herself brush that thought aside. For the most time, everything was fine and she was glad she married him. It was what she’d always wanted – a secure life with someone she loved and who she knew loved her, a life she was comfortable and familiar with.

But after a while, that restless feeling would return, and she booked her next ticket. Sometimes, her husband would accompany her on her adventures and they were twenty again, their relationship new and exciting. Other times, however, she went alone, glad to get away from it all. It was like a never-ending cycle of comfortable domesticity and the longing for more.

For some reason, sitting on her parents’ couch, waiting for a text from a guy she shouldn’t be so excited about texting, felt like another adventure, like that something more she was always desperate to reach. It shouldn’t.

She could feel herself drifting off into dangerous territory again, fields upon fields of what-ifs, throwing her about like a churning ocean as soon as she dared to step onto the soil. The only other pressing matter on her mind was no good alternative to mull over, though. It just made the ball of nerves in her stomach tighten until she couldn’t sit still anymore, so she jumped off the couch and went for another run. Maybe, if she drove herself to exhaustion, her mind would become pleasantly blank.

The exercise helped. Soon enough, she could hear her blood pumping through her veins, could feel every short breath in her lungs, every muscle in her body. Her feet were pounding onto the asphalt and dirt paths that lead her all around the neighborhood, until she reached the house again, panting and refreshed despite the sweat running down her skin. She felt right again, like everything was how it was supposed to be.

Only after she took a long shower and dragged dinner with her parents out into the late hours of the day, she turned her phone on again. It chimed, several new messages popping up. None from Eret. A few from Ruffnut, asking for a video chat. One from her assistant trainer, telling her that the Berserkers, their rival swim club from the next town over, had opened up a spot for Berk’s junior team to train in their swimming hall, the small one reserved for the swim club only. It was good news, very good at that. Not only could she finally go swimming again, but her team had the chance to train again as well, to get ready for their next meet with the Berserkers and Bog Burglars.

Taking a deep breath, Astrid put her phone away and rolled onto the other side of the bed, burying her nose in the pillow with the small smile on her lips wavering. No further messages.

_______________

The berries in Hiccup’s sundae were swimming in a sea of melted ice cream, splotches of whipped cream giving the sad picture a moldy flair. Around him, the sound of chatter and spoons clinking against glass provided his ears with white noise; not even the voices of his friends discussing some trivial matter reached his ears.

His eyes were glued to the little text box on the bottom of his phone screen, his fingers hovering above the letters of the virtual keyboard. The screen went dark from inactivity and his reflection stared back at him, adorned by greasy fingerprints in the shape of his unlock pattern.

“Hiccup, you still with us?” The sound of his name finally pulled him out of his thoughts. When he looked up, three pairs of eyes were looking at him expectantly.

“Huh?”

“You kind of spaced out there for a while.” Fishlegs pointed at the phone in his hands, trying to get a look at the screen but giving up when he saw it was dark.

“Oh. Sorry. I was just… Never mind.” He laid his phone next to his sundae and started stirring the warm, sugary soup with the long spoon, frowning at the viscous consistency. Just when he had brought himself to eat a spoonful of ice cream soup, his phone chimed and he dropped the spoon as if it were burning hot. It fell back into the sundae, splashing purple-pinkish soup on his shirt.

His shoulders sagged when he saw it was a text from his dad, replying to his last message with a simple thumbs up. With a sigh, he went back to stirring his soup, ignoring the curious looks of his friends.

“Did something happen?” Fishlegs asked, concern lining his voice. “Are you waiting for an important call?”

Hiccup shrugged in the most casual way he could. “Nah. It’s just the old question of who’s going to text first, me or her.”

His friend’s face lit up in understanding, then went back to a slight frown. “I thought you quit online dating.”

“I did.”

Leaning forward, Heather pushed her empty sundae cup away from her and placed her elbows on the small table. “Enlighten us. We want details.”

Hiccup sighed. “It’s not like that. She’s… a friend.” Heather didn’t look convinced in the slightest, her eyes boring into him like an aggressive x-ray. He quickly turned to the man sitting next to her. “So, Cam. How was London?”

Cam, a young man with blonde hair that went down to his shoulders, scratched his beard as he put on a reminiscent smile. “Not as rainy as we thought.”

“As you thought,” Heather interrupted him and set her eyes back on Hiccup. “And you stop changing the topic!”

But Hiccup kept his attention stubbornly on Cam. “Heather mentioned you guys saw Romeo and Juliet at the theater?”

With a wary glance at Heather who was still not done with the subject, Cam nodded. “The interpretation was a little unusual, with a lot of slang and modern topics. Not quite the classic Shakespeare experience, but it was a really funny performance.” He grinned. “During an intermission, there was this group of teens who asked me if I was related to Kurt Cobain.”

“What did you tell them?” Fishlegs asked.

“I wanted to spin some story, but then someone,” he threw a pointed glance at Heather, “butted in and had lots of fun talking about how I just needed a haircut.”

“You’re welcome,” Heather said in a sugar-sweet voice, prompting a discussion over Cam’s hair that Hiccup didn’t bother listening to. He was too pre-occupied with trying to find a nice way to draft a text message in his head. What was he supposed to say to her? Did she even want him to text her? Maybe she’d given him a fake number so he’d leave her alone. Despite the warm weather, he suddenly felt cold.

“Earth to Hiccup, you’re doing it again.” Apparently, Hiccup’s crisis over texting a girl was more interesting than Cam’s Kurt Cobain hair. Such a pity.

Once again, the attention of the whole group was on him, and he knew that especially Heather wouldn’t give up until he told her what his problem was. He shoved his phone back in his pocket where it would hopefully stop haunting him, at least for the moment, and rolled his eyes. “Like I said, she’s a friend and we’re not dating.”

“Yet,” Cam commented but Hiccup pointedly ignored him.

“Then why are you so nervous about texting her?” Fishlegs asked.

Hiccup scratched his neck. “It’s complicated.”

“Why?”

One look at his friends and their attentive expressions and he realized he wasn’t going to get out of this so easily. He fiddled with the paper napkin under the sundae cup, ripping off a piece and rolling it to a ball between two fingers. “Because,” he mumbled, so quiet the others had to lean in to understand him, “she’s in a relationship and we have something like history, mostly on my part.”

“Oh,” said Cam.

“History?” it came from Fishlegs.

“What kind of relationship?” asked Heather, her eyes narrowed, the answer already in the back of her mind, poking at the surface behind a suspicious expression.

Hiccup sighed. The only person who hadn’t been there when the whole Astrid fiasco had started was Cam, and he didn’t feel like explaining the entire thing to him. So he just threw Fishlegs and Heather a meaningful look and clarified, “I mean that she’s married.”

“Oh,” said Cam again, none the wiser.

“Oh,” said Fishlegs, knowingly, and with a pitying frown.

Heather rolled her eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Still?!”

About nine months ago, Heather had called him one night, and the next morning they’d gone out for breakfast and talked for hours. About them, their relationship, the past, the future. He had told her the whole Astrid story and she had listened. She had apologized for being so harsh to him, but she’d been hurting, and Hiccup knew that. She also told him about her recent breakup and it had felt like something heavy had been lifted off his chest when they’d talked it out and realized that after all this time, they were still friends. It was that day that Hiccup noticed the guy shyly looking at her from a few desks over every once in a while, his long blonde hair falling into his face.

“Yes, still, unfortunately. I can’t exactly turn that off, you know.”

“Stop sassing me, Hiccup, and tell us what happened.”

“Less than you think,” he said and recounted his two encounters with her over the past two days.

“Just that we’re clear,” Fishlegs started when he was done, “we are talking about Astrid Hofferson, right?”

“Yes,” Hiccup and Heather confirmed in unison.

“Who?” asked Cam.

“The reason Hiccup and I broke up.”

“Hey!” Hiccup exclaimed. “You know that’s not all true.”

“Weeeeell…” it came from Fishlegs in a high-pitched voice, prompting Hiccup to roll his eyes.

“She wasn’t the whole reason, just the catalyst.” He nodded in Heather’s direction. “And you know that.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever, it’s in the past,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Fact is, you can’t keep waiting for a girl who’s as unavailable to you as her. She’s married, Hiccup. She made her choice. Move on.”

“But what if she likes him too?” Fishlegs threw in.

“Then she’s still married. And it wouldn’t be Hiccup’s problem, it would be hers.”

“It would still concern him,” Cam countered. “And isn’t it his problem already?”

“Well, yes,” Heather said, “but it wouldn’t be his choice to make, is what I mean.”

Hiccup wiped a hand over his face. “Then what do I do?”

Heather shrugged. “Easy. If you still feel like you need to, you text her a universal ‘hey, how are you’ and then you move on with someone else. My brother’s been seeing this guy for fun recently, no strings attached, and it helped him move on from his previous relationship. Maybe that’s something you could try, just hook up for sex, without any hopes or expectations going in, and maybe you’ll find someone you really like.”

“You brother is gay?” Fishlegs asked, slight surprise coating his voice. “I didn’t know that.”

“Took him a while to figure it out, but yeah, very gay.”

“Honestly,” Hiccup murmured, “that doesn’t surprise me in the least.”

“Right?” Heather chuckled. “So, what do you think? Have meaningless sex and find some love?”

Hiccup’s smile disappeared. “I tried to date other people, Heather. It never worked out. I just can’t forget her.”

“That’s why I said go in without expectations, because you’ll immediately start comparing the poor girl to someone you can never have.”

“First of all, how is me going in without trying to fall in love with someone going to help me forget Astrid? Second, I’m not the guy for casual hookups. I want something real, and no matter on how many dates I go, no matter how much effort I put into moving on, I can’t find that with anyone else because all I can think of is her.”

Especially now, with the invisible weight of her phone number in his pocket. He flopped back into his chair, suddenly exhausted. He’d lain awake for hours last night, contemplating whether it was actually a good idea or not to text her, the tips of his fingers tingling from simply reading her name in his contacts and the simple ‘hi’ she’d texted him to give him her number. Which she’d done on purpose, which in return had to mean something, didn’t it? And she had basically asked him to be her friend…

Cam let out a low whistle. “Sounds like you have it bad, man.”

“I collectively only spent about six hours with her, and I fell in love with her.”

Heather huffed. “Oh, please. In love? What’s her favorite color?”

“Blue,” he answered quick like a shot. “But she also likes soft gold tones.”

“Did she tell you that or are you just guessing?”

Suddenly taken aback, Hiccup racked his brain for the memory and came up short. “I don’t…” He couldn’t remember her ever sharing this particular piece of information with him, and yet he was so sure that he knew. How?

“Look, there’s no logical explanation for why I feel this way. But it… It’s like…” Gesticulating, he searched for the right words. “It’s like I’m the land of the dinosaurs and she’s the meteor that crashed and changed everything. Like I’m a ghost town and she’s the magic that strikes like lightning and creates new life.”

Cam was picturing his words, Fishlegs nodded the way he did when reading and trying to understand poetry, and Heather just raised an eyebrow at the analogies.

“And now… Now I have the chance to truly get to know her, even if all I can ever get from her is friendship.”

Heather considered this for a moment. “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you.” He nodded with a grave smile. “But you don’t even know her.”

“Maybe if he gets to know her,” Fishlegs pondered, “he’ll realize that she’s not that great.”

“Maybe,” Heather mused. “And then you’ll get over your infatuation.”

“You’re always so supportive.”

“Hey, I’m just looking out my friend because I don’t like to see him hurting.”

“The same goes for me,” Fishlegs added. “If you think it will make you happier to text her than to cut her from your life completely, I think you should just do it.”

Cam fished his phone out of his jacket, pulled up a video and wordlessly held it in Hiccup’s direction. “JUST DO IT!” Shia LaBeouf screamed at him. Heather pinched the bridge of her nose in fond exasperation.

Fishlegs gave him two encouraging thumbs up. “Just text her hi.”

Hiccup looked between his three friends, ignoring Shia who was still screaming at him, and willed the ball of nerves in his stomach to go away. It was just a text, a simple electronic message that he probably attributed more meaning to than it actually held. He could still back out. Could resolve to hearing about Astrid and her life from Heather who’d know from Dagur who’d know from Eret…

But the prospect of a life completely devoid of her felt worse to him than just being her friend with the additional pain of never being able to be with her the way he wanted to, although that would go with the first option as well. So maybe getting to know her was the only way to go from here, since being without her hadn’t been of any help so far. And maybe, even though he doubted it with all he had, he would get over her as soon as he knew her better.

He took out his phone and weighed it in his hand for a minute, like weighing out his options, until Heather snatched it from him. “I still don’t like the thought of you getting hurt through this more than the other way, but…” She held the device directly in front of his face. “Just goddamn text her so you can get to know her and stop putting her on a pedestal.”

Taking a deep breath, he unlocked his phone, pulled up his chats, selected hers, and before he could overthink it, he typed in a simple ‘hello’ and a smiley face and hit send. Only a few seconds passed until he started wondering if perhaps he should have send more, like an explanation why he waited a day to text her, or his name because she’d already deleted his number, and that reminded him that this might not even be her real number and he was already spiraling.

“Did you do it?” He glanced up at Fishlegs who was once more trying to get a peek of his phone screen. Hiccup decidedly turned it off and shoved it back into his pocket.

“Yes.” He pointed at the warm ice cream soup before him. “And now I need another one of these.”

It was late when he turned his phone back on, the nerves in his stomach tangled like his father’s knitting yarn after his cat had declared it its mortal enemy that had to be defeated in a life or death encounter.

The breath in his lungs turned to stone when his notifications appeared. A couple new mails, ads from applications he never deleted, and a handful of new texts he skimmed with lightning speed. Group chats, colleagues, Snotlout, Cam with a Nirvana gif and the same old Shia video, and– the frown on his face turned into a wide smile. One new text from Astrid.

[coneygoil]

The Home We Built Together, part 16

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…

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9| Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

“Hey Gobber,” Hiccup’s voice called from the arena floor, standing by casually as a Deadly Nadder chased the other teens in training. “I noticed the book had nothing on Night Furies. Is there another book? A sequel? Maybe a Night Fury pamphlet?”

A blast suddenly scorched the wall beside him. Astrid resisted the urge to not jump down through the chained roof and shake her husband back to his senses.

“Focus, Hiccup!” Gobber yelled, “you’re not even trying!”

Hiccup seized up as the Deadly Nadder spotted him and made a mad dash his way. He looked almost comical as he sped off this way and that before choosing a path through the maze.

“How’s your hand, lass?” Gobber’s question shook Astrid from her focus on Hiccup and his lack of trying to fight the Deadly Nadder tearing through the maze.

“Better,” she replied, distantly. She flexed her right hand, the sting not as sharp as it had been. “I think I’ll be ready to return tomorrow.”

Gobber’s students raced around the maze like trapped mice with Hiccup trailing behind them. The Nadder cornered the twins, both trying to fit in its blind spot but failing. Hiccup slowed right under where Gobber and Astrid were observing.

“Hey, how would one sneak up on a Night Fury?”

Gobber did not look amused. “One has never seen a Night Fury and lived to tell the tale.” He stabbed a finger through the air. “Now get in there!”

Astrid rolled her eyes. It was strange, she mused. Ever since the whole Night Fury fiasco, Hiccup had become overly interested in the elusive dragon species. It was almost like the incident changed his perspective.

Fishleg ran by screaming as the Nadder threw spikes at him, the deadly objects penetrating his shield.

Gobber sighed in frustration and rubbed his aching head. “I fear for our tribe’s survival with this lot.” His hammer prosthetic gestured toward Astrid. “You’re the only one that has any sense around here.”

“I don’t think Hiccup will ever be ready for battle,” Astrid pointed out. She’d been adamantly against his involvement in dragon training, but the Chief had spoken and there was no going back on his order.

“None of these knuckleheads are,” Gobber flung an appendage out toward the arena floor, “so he fits right in!”

As if on cue, Snotlout threw his hammer at the Nadder missing it by a mile. “The sun was in my eyes!”

The lame excuse made Astrid roll her eyes. Gobber was right. These knuckleheads weren’t fit for battle. She itched to get in there and show them how it was done.

The Nadder hopped onto the top of the maze walls, it’s weight no match for the wooden structure and it began to topple like a domino effect.

Hiccup was back again, standing under them. “Has anyone ever seen one in person?” he asked, paying absolutely no mind to the other teens running in terror right passed him.

“Hiccup!” Gobber pointed to the Nadder practically surfing upon the wooden walls as they collapsed.

“Idiot!” Astrid hissed through gritted teeth. She ducked underneath the rails, unsheathing her axe from her back as she leapt down without a thought for her own safety.

She toppled upon Hiccup and they both hit the dusty floor. She shook the stars from her vision, her face incredibly close to her husband’s. She tried untangling herself from him, but he ramblings and struggling weren’t helping.

“Oooo…love on the battlefield,” neither was Tuffnut’s remark.

The impact of her jump had caused her axe to embed in Hiccup’s shield. She tugged with all her strength to dislodge it, but it wouldn’t budge. She gasps at the Nadder came barreling toward them. It took several yanks, but she finally dislodged the shield from Hiccup’s grip and smashed it on the Nadder’s head just in the nick of time. The dragon retreated, shaking its spiky head.

Adrenaline had taken over in that critical moment. Astrid’s hand throbbed and she curled it into itself, ignoring the sharp sting. So much for returning to training tomorrow. Her breathing began to calm, and she spun around to find her husband curled up on the ground.

“Is this some kind of joke to you?” she spat at him, pointing her axe that still had a chunk of broken shield stuck to it. “At least try to do something, Hiccup! Anything besides paying no attention to the death machine coming at you!”

Astrid pivoted toward the arena entrance and stormed off, her anger lingering in the air. She wanted so badly to keep him safe, but he was making that rather difficult when he freely put himself in the path of danger.

***

It was passed sunset when the front door creaked open. Hiccup had run off – again – and stayed gone practically the entire day. Gobber was fit to be tied that his apprentice was slacking on the job for a second day in the row.

Astrid was waiting for him, arms crossed over her chest and a scowl that could spoil milk. “Where were you this time?”

Hiccup froze still holding the door handle. He looked positively stunned and guilty. He swallowed hard then threw on a quirky attitude that was fooling no one. “I went for another walk in the forest. Had to clear my head after training.”

Astrid narrowed her eyes. “Should I be jealous of the forest? It seems you two have been spending way too much time together.”

Hiccup took her hand and rested it over his heart. “My heart only belongs to you, milady.”

Astrid huffed then gritted her teeth, trying to ignore the little tingle in her chest. She was supposed to be mad at him! For what happened in training and slacking on his duties! He’d fallen back into his irresponsible behavior ever since the dragon raid. His unexpected fascination with Night Furies was becoming a distraction.

But somehow, he’d softened her like butter sitting on a windowsill.

Astrid glared for an extended moment, causing Hiccup’s cheesy smile to droop. His hand was still atop hers over his heart, and she twisted her wrist to grab his.

“Come on.”

“Where’re we going?” nervousness tinged his voice as she dragged him out the door.

“To eat,” she replied, moving to grip his hand instead. “Gobber and the rest of the gang are eating around a fire atop the lookout pillar. We’re joining them.”

It was hard enough being in training with the other teens. “I really don’t—”

Astrid gave his arm a quick tug. “Oh, you are.”

She heard him groan. There was no escaping this time. After the last few days of screw ups, she was through treating him gently (as gentle as she could manage) as she had been the first few weeks of marriage.

They trekked along in silence for a couple minutes, their footfalls the only sound. Darkness had fallen over Berk and most individuals were either at home or in the Great Hall. She felt Hiccup finally relax in her grip. She focused on his hand in hers. They’d never held hands this long, and it was another little intimate gesture that Astrid could learn to enjoy.

“Y’know,” she cut through the quiet of the evening, her recent contemplations manifesting into words, “I bet you and Fishlegs would get along. You’re both huge geeks, and Fishlegs knows a hel of a lot about dragons.”

“I don’t know.” The hefty boy was usually projecting the stink eye at Hiccup. “He seems to look down on me.”

Astrid glanced over her shoulder, flashing a grin that was caught in the passing torch light. “That’s because he’s taller than you.”

Hiccup rolled his eyes. “Har har, Astrid.”

Astrid laugh rang out as she playfully gave his arm another yank. “But really, I think you two would make good friends.”

“Maybe—” Hiccup mumbled, unconvinced.

They arrived at the lookout tower, firelight glowing bright from the top. Astrid inwardly lamented releasing Hiccup’s hand as they began to climb the stairs. The haughty voice of Snotlout then Gobber’s knowledgeable lilt filled the night air. Already a rollicking conversation was in full swing.

“You two made it!” Gobber smiled as they approached the deck. His wrath must have been dissolved – at least, until morning – by a few drinks already in his gullet. “Grab a stick and your choice of meat.” He waved at the two buckets of raw chicken and fish.

Astrid glanced at Hiccup, noticing his posture was less than confident. His head hung and an arm was secured across his torso as if to shield himself. In training, he seemed fine around the other teens. There was (loose) structure in training and he wasn’t put on the spot to socialize with the others. In this situation though, there was more chance of interacting.

She promised him she’d take care of him in situations like this, so Astrid reached for his hand once more. Hiccup snapped up his gaze to meet her encouraging smile that she hoped to show him that they were in this together.

Astrid chose the chicken while Hiccup chose a fish. They skewered their meats on the sticks provided and sat down on the bench near the stairs.

It was a perfect night. A full moon illuminated the sea, the gentle churn of the water rippling its light. The fire’s heat was just right, driving away the night’s chill. The conversation was…lively to say the least. Fishlegs brought up an outrageous thought about if a you could still control your hand after a dragon swallows it. Snotlout, in all his thick-witted glory, proclaimed he’d chop off the legs of any dragon he found…with his face. Yep, he said that.

Astrid shook her head. No wonder why this group was doing so poorly in dragon training. She looked at Hiccup as he listlessly picked at his fish. She softly bumped his shoulder with hers grabbing his attention to exchange small smiles.

“It’s the tails and wings you want,” Gobber corrected, ripping off a wing from the whole chicken carcass he planned to eat. “A downed dragon is a dead dragon.”

A rustle beside her drew Astrid’s attention. Hiccup had gotten to his feet and was setting his half-eaten fish dinner down. “Where’re you going?”

Hiccup gestured for her to join him on the stairs so he wouldn’t have to raise his voice over the boisterous conversation taking place. “I just thought of something I really need to get done at the forge.”

“Do you want some company?”

He shook his head. “Nah, I’ll probably work late. You stay here and enjoy the nice evening and,” he glanced around her, “fascinating conversation.”

“Okay.” Astrid couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed that she couldn’t join him, “I’ll see at home.”

Hiccup leaned up to press a kiss to her cheek. Astrid fingertips touched where his lips had just been, shook by how much a simple kiss on the cheek could affect her. She watched him disappear down the spiraling stairs then made her way back to the circle.

She felt someone’s gaze on her and looked over to find Ruffnut nodding her head and gawking. The other girl waggled her eyebrows suggestively. All Astrid could do was roll her eyes and go back to roasting her chicken leg, tucking away one more weird behavior from her husband in the past few days.

***

She’d fallen asleep with her arm draped over his pillow waiting for him to come home. Hiccup was burning the midnight oil at the forge. How Hiccup could live off a few hours of sleep was a mystery to her.

After weeks and weeks of awaking to his charcoal pencil scratching over parchment, she was in tune to listening for him. She was roused from slumber at a noise of metal thudding on wood. Astrid opened her eyes, blinking away the blur of sleep.

Hiccup had set his lantern down on his desk, his back to her. He pulled off his tunic, exposing his skinny form. Astrid watched entranced by finally catching a glimpse of the skin underneath his usually fully covered body.

She’d become comfortable removing her clothing in front of him. Though Hiccup had not seen her front half completely nude, he’d seen her bare back multiple times. During those times, she could sense his gaze upon her. It was a bit unsettling at first with a boy catching a glimpse of a state that only her mother had seen in recent years. But now that she was used to it, his gaze sent lovely little shivers along her skin without even a single touch.

She continued to watch, the fur blanket tucked under her chin, as Hiccup covered himself with his white nightshirt and removed his tights. He turned and gave a comical double take at finding her staring at him.

“Were in waiting for me?” he asked in a whisper as if speaking any louder would be wrong.

“I tried, but dozed off.”

A warm ball of contentment rested in her chest as she watched him join her in bed. It was strange how the haze of sleepiness could affect your way of thinking. All Astrid wanted right there was to be close to her husband, and that same sleepy haze gave her fortitude to be forward about it.

She sidled over to Hiccup, lifted his arm, and cuddled up against his side with her head resting on his chest. She barely noticed the hesitancy of his arm wrapping around her as she snuggled her head to find the most comfortable place on his bony chest. She finally settled on his right breast.

A comfortable warmth radiated from him that seeped into Astrid’s skin. His palm idly rubbed across her back. This was what she had been craving.

“I’m happy your home,” she murmured into his nightshirt.

She vaguely registered his cheek pressing gently onto the crown of her head. “Me too.”

Tags: @martabm90 @chiefhiccstrid @lauracalabresi 

***

Writer’s note: I'd been wanting to have Hiccup and Astrid cuddle for a while now! I wasn't sure if they were at that point in their relationship, but it felt like this was a good spot to put it. AND Stef (@chiefhiccstrid) convinced me that it was time for them to cuddle :D Thank you Stef for the input!! <3 

Hope yall enjoyed this chapter! It's moving along at a nice, steady pace!

[wolfie-dragon-rider]

Bursts of Light 1: Holding Hands

Hello everyone, welcome to my Nanowrimo 2018 project! I recently finished Blind Spots, and I'm a little done writing more big stories in this universe, but there were a lot of little tales and headcanons I never could find the room to explore in Blind Spots. So in this we explore those, based on 30 drabbles. I'll post one every day. The prompts are as follows:

01 - Holding hands 02 - Cuddling somewhere 03 - Gaming 04 - On a date 05 – Kissing 06 - Wearing eachothers’ clothes 07 – Cosplaying 08 – Shopping 09 - Hanging out with friends 10 - With animal ears 11 - Wearing kigurumis 12 - Making out 13 - Eating icecream 14 – Genderswapped 15 - In a different clothing style 16 - During their morning ritual(s) 17 – Spooning 18 - Doing something together  19 - In formal wear 20 – Dancing 21 – Cooking/baking 22 - In battle, side-by-side 23 – Arguing 24 - Making up afterwards 25 - Gazing into eachothers’ eyes 26 - Getting married 27 - On one of their birthdays 28 - Doing something ridiculous 29 - Doing something sweet 30 - Doing something hot

You can find the rest of my Blind!Hiccup universe HERE, but I don’t think you’ll have to have read those to enjoy some light Hiccstrid romance here. You just might not get some references. 

Well, I’ve rambled enough, here’s the first drabble, Holding Hands:

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

"OWWWWW" Hiccup groaned as Gothi rubbed more salve into his burns. The old woman wasn't bothering to be gentle.

"I think she wants to tell you that if you didn't want this pain, you shouldn't have stuck your hand into a pile of hot coals," Gobber said, and Hiccup resisted to urge to curl his other hand into a rude gesture at the man.

"I didn't mean to. I couldn't see them. Why did you move that furnace anyway? It was supposed to be against the wall," Hiccup slowly said, trying to control his frustration. It had been a nice happy day. He was working in the forge, Astrid assisting him, when Gobber had rushed through 'to grab something real quick'. Apparently that involved moving the coal oven Hiccup had been using, so when he tried to grab a hammer, his hand went straight into the burning coal instead.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize. I thought Astrid would warn ya," Gobber said sheepishly.

"Well, she didn't notice, and then that hammer fell on her hand when she tried to help me," Hiccup said flatly, trying not to worry too much about her. She was strong, she had overcome way worse injuries than this. But still… she and Vali had been in the other room for a long time.

"Okay, it's slightly my fault. How about I make it up to you and not let you work for the next two weeks?" Gobber said. It didn't cool Hiccup's anger.

"Oh, you mean the exact amount of time I can't use my right hand?" he remarked sarcastically as Gothi finished bandaging said hand.

"Uhhhh… okay, a full month then. You can just use the forge for whatever you want, or go out with Astrid, or whatever you want to do," Gobber conceded, and Hiccup was about to accept when the door opened and Astrid walked through.

"Hey love. How bad is it?" Hiccup asked as he jumped up and awkwardly walked in her direction.

"I can't use my left hand for a while. It's not broken exactly, thankfully, but I can't move it for a couple weeks. See, it's in a cast," she said as Hiccup moved to feel it gently. He could hear she was trying to stay strong and fearless, but that she was far from okay.

"Hmm, we match. I can't use my right hand for two weeks. Not quite in a cast, but I'm not allowed to do anything with it either," he said, running his left hand over her cast. "At least we both lost our non-dominant hand."

Astrid chuckled despite her obvious pain. They stood there for a second, just there for each other without having to say a word.

"Well then. Time for you to head on home and rest and forget this ever happened!" Gobber said awkwardly, shattering their moment, and with a sigh they followed him outside.

"Wanna hang out at my house for a bit? Stormfly is acting weird, maybe you can figure out what's wrong," Astrid asked, and he smiled.

"Sure!" he said, and lifted his right hand automatically to search for her left. It was only when bandage met cast that he remembered.

Holding hands had become a completely automatic action for them. Her left hand in his right. It was a way to be close and connected when they couldn't see each other's faces. She could guide him gently as he walked, and they could exchange messages and emotions through their linked hands.

And no one on Berk would think much of it beyond calling them lovebirds.

"Oh, uh… This is kinda weird," Hiccup said, quickly retracting his hand.

"Yeah, it's, uhm… maybe we should switch positions? So we can hold hands that aren't injured?" Astrid said, and they awkwardly moved past each other so his left hand was now next to her right. Hiccup tried to grab her, but it didn't feel as intuitive and right.

They started walking down the many steps of Gothi's house, talking about how Gobber should have been more careful.

Their linked hands were in the back of Hiccup's mind the entire time. It was weird, they fit together, but it still felt wrong. He tried to write a symbol on the back of her hand, but his finger was unsure how.

"I'm sorry, this is just… I don't think this'll work," he said as they reached the bottom of the stairs, releasing her hand.

"Yeah, you're right. It's like everything is the wrong way around. And what if we learn everything this way now, and then when our hands heal the old way will feel wrong!" Astrid said, laughing nervously.

"It's okay. Maybe this is something we can try. See if I can walk with you without you guiding me. If we can… communicate, you know?" he said softly, and she suddenly ran her fingers up his cheek.

"I like that idea. Just let me know if something is wrong, okay?" Astrid said before kissing him gently. Hiccup nodded as she stepped back again, chuckling awkwardly.

"I will. Now let's cheer up Stormfly!" he said, before walking towards where he thought Astrid's house was. She nudged his shoulder a bit and he rotated along, and they walked the rest of the way together yet on their own, talking happily all the while.

[kyndaris]

Sneak Peek

A sneak peek into the second chapter of my story. It’s been a couple years in the making but I hope all those that follow me will find it enjoyable. Or not.

--

Kiralt skimmed through the report one last time, a heavy scowl decorating his mien. Reaching the end, he rolled up the parchment and roughly shoved it back into his saddlebags. Two patrols lost in just as many days. What had seemed a simple reconnaissance mission had now taken on a direr tone. These were not simple bandits. At least, Kiralt did not think so. Yet the other possibility sent a chilling shiver down his spine. He had his suspicions. The Aethali that had been found in the north quarter was only the beginning, concluded Kiralt. If the beastman’s ramblings held even a grain of truth, it meant that disaster was spiralling towards Winchesa.

At first, they had questioned how the Aethali had managed to elude the guards stationed at the gate. The second mystery came from the beastman’s wounds. He had been all but dead when they had found him, sequestering the suspicious creature into the Wards.

Why had he accepted this commission, Kiralt quietly chided himself. Gods knew he had a comfortable and steady position as master-at-arms for the Ylsven branch of the Protectors. A glorified instructor, perhaps, for the recruits that flocked to join its cause but the pay was decent, he had his own quarters and a freshly minted badge of office. What else could he have asked for?

Alas, the thrill of danger, the promise of something greater, had beckoned. Kiralt should have known and yet he had cast a blind eye to the cravings that drove him. Even though he had abandoned the mercenary life, he knew a small part ardently hoped and wished like a constant whisper in the back of his mind. He had learned to ignore it. When that failed, Kiralt had found it effective to rationalise the few joys he found with the risk of a knife in the abdomen or contracts drying up after a bad run. The thought he would return to a similar lifestyle was laughable.

Yet here he was. The ‘Captain’s’ silver tongue had proven to be as sly and cunning as any serpent.

With a sharp kick, he urged his mettle bay mare on.

Alistair snorted at the command and pulled lightly on the reins. Absentmindedly, Kiralt leaned over to pat her gently on the neck, sensing that the sedate pace he had set only served to aggravate the fiery horse. He ducked under a branch as the road dipped and meandered through the King’s Wood.

“How curious. I believe I spy the lieutenant lost in the glorious memories of yester year,” said a voice, accompanied by the clops of hooves. Kiralt looked up and spied the beastwoman as she rode up on her black mettle bay mare. He gave her a wry grin as she came astride him. The horse nipped gently at Alistair, who huffed but allowed the familiarity. Snowboots, the beastwoman had named her own mettle bay, for the white socks that marked all four of its legs. “Divined any new information after the last twenty times you’ve gone through it?”

“Only that it’s added to my frustration,” replied Kiralt. “If I didn’t know the man, I would have thought he actually preferred vague non sequiturs.”

“Looks like someone has had their feathers ruffled,” observed the Aethali, her dark hazel eyes glinting with mirth. “The promotion not to your liking, sir?” She teased out the last word, placing special attention on the honorific.

Frowning, Kiralt said, “I’ll have you know that I never asked for the promotion, Kulori. I had never hoped to be an officer and I doubt a love for paperwork will suddenly flourish under the guiding hand of the ‘Captain.’”

“A valid reason,” said Kulori though she was fighting back a laugh. “Why be trapped behind a desk when there’s excitement to be found in the wilds. Oh come on Kir, you must be revelling in the power you’re holding over us.”

“Indeed corporal,” he drawled. Kulori flinched and the look on her face could only be described as mutinous. Kiralt bit back a snort as he chuckled quietly into one hand.

He had known Kulori for only a couple of years. She had been a reluctant sparring partner when he had first enlisted with the Protectors. She had managed to disarm him twice and cap out a knee before the day was through. Her injuries, however, had been far more severe and he had treated her to a drink out in the Jewel as an apology. The bruises could be seen for days, darkening her rich sienna dusting of fur.

“Aye, aye,” Kulori finally conceded.

“No jibes?” asked Kiralt as he managed to arch a brow.

Kulori flashed a wolfish smile before a deep furrow appeared on her forehead. “While I’m chomping at the bit for another go, what little you’ve told us is concerning. The Red Suns are nothing but thorough it comes to jobs. Last I heard, the bandit camps stationed from the outskirts of the Jewel to the Gladstone River had been swept clean. The smoke could be seen from miles.”

“We shouldn’t have lost those men.”

“Exactly, sir.”

“And it’s no secret that the Protectors are spread thin. What had once been the royal guard has evolved into a policing force for the entire kingdom,” added Kiralt. “Who do you think could be responsible?”

The beastwoman simply shook her head, “I wish I knew.”

Unsatisfied but unable to press further, Kiralt settled back into the saddle and allowed his mettle bay mare to set the pace, his gaze wandering to the forest paths he had known since he stood as tall as his father’s knee. Sunlight filtered through the thick canopy, bathing the leaves golden and refracting from the early morning dew. A rustle in the underbrush drew his attention. Tension hunched his shoulders forward and one hand crept to his blade.

Before he could cry out a warning to the men behind, a small creature leapt out before darting beneath the overhanging fronds of another fern, its fluffy tail the last to vanish into the surrounding shrubbery. His lips tugged upwards at the sight. Perhaps when his good days were behind him and he finally settled down with a family he could take his son and teach them how to hunt. Or perhaps abscond from city life altogether and take on the life of a ranger with the freedom it entailed.

The King’s Wood bordered the north of the Jewel, serving as a veritable hunting ground for the nobility as well as trackers. And while the aristocracy saw it as a game, it was a livelihood for those so blessed by Orthrox.

For Kiralt, the hunt was a test of skill. Often in his youth, he had ventured into the forest with his brother at his side and a bow slung across his back. Together they had brought down deer, trapped rabbits and collected what herbs mother had needed for her simple remedies.

Caught in his memories of the past, Kiralt did not notice when the burnished copper Aethali slip behind. He kept his focus on the mare beneath him and when she quickened into a canter, he was ready, freeing up a little of his tight control on the reins. The mare leapt forward, eager. Besides, rationalised Kiralt, they could not afford to wait any longer. For close to two bells, they had tarried in the King’s Wood, hoping that the ‘Rogue of Ylsven’ would join them.

As the trees began to thin and the gravel path, worn smooth by wagons and the thundering hooves of horses, disappeared into the rolling plains beyond the arched exit of canopies, Kiralt slowed Alistair to a brisk trot. Kulori rode up, flanked by two others. One was a hulking giant of a man. His skin was a dark tan and his scarred face was flanked by stringy strands of light brown. Just from a glance, it was clear he was from the Southern Bay. It was clear from a glance that this particular Protector was more familiar with the deck of a ship, though he rode his dappled stallion with ease.

The second was a grizzled beastman that had seen better days. What had once been black fur was now greying at the tips. A scar traced the Aethali’s down from his left eyebrow to his snout. He kept a tight hold on the reins of the feisty mare. From the distinctive head shape to the high tail, the Protector rode a kaendar, if Kiralt knew his horse breeds correctly.

Arnath and Nyris, respectively. Both had been mercenaries in the past and it showed in how they carried themselves to the way they gripped the pommel of their blades. Kiralt was no different. The mercenary guilds trained their men well. Since he had joined the Protectors, he had come to know the two quite well, oft times sharing a drink after a beat through the winding back alleys of the Jewel or a particularly dull watch at the city gates. When he had heard they had both been assigned to his squad, Kiralt had felt both a sense of trepidation and a flare of excitement.

“From there, it’s a straight road down to Bronstone,” said Kiralt, pointing towards the edge of the King’s Wood. “If memory serves, it’ll be at least two days ride.”

“Kulori was just telling us that we might be fighting off more than just bandits, sir,” said Arnath. Kiralt thought he could detect a hint of worry in the large man’s voice. “Do you suppose it could be the Movement?”

“A possibility,” dismissed Kiralt with a wave of his hand, injecting a confidence he did not feel into his voice. “We’ve lost two patrol teams in the area, that’s true. Recent reports, however, indicate that they’re in Berallgor, recruiting for the cause.”

Nyris grunted in agreement. “It’s a fool who would pick a fight with an armed squadron of Protectors. Ain’t that right, Dithe?”

“I wouldn’t put it past any brigands to attack a supply convoy out of necessity or risk a merchant escort,” answered Kiralt. “But I do acknowledge attacking a patrol would be highly irregular.”

Satisfied, Nyris turned to Arnath. “Just as I told ya, Arnath. For a great ol’ shifter, I’m surprised you’d be nervous.”

“Shove off Nyris. A family man like me should be worried. I’ve a wife and three kids to think about back home in Ylsven.”

As the beastman was about to retort, a different set of cadences overlayed their own soft tattoo of hooves. Kiralt pulled on the reins and held his fist out for silence. He looked over his shoulder, scanning the depths of the King’s Wood. The short banter between Nyris and Arnath ceased. Kulori reached for her unstrung bow that nestled just beneath the saddle. The remaining four members of the squad also tensed, reaching for their swords.

Minutes passed as a heavy atmosphere descended over the party. The beastman’s ears twitched at the slightest break and rustle. Finally, Kiralt caught a flash of familiar auburn hair, tied into a messy ponytail, amidst the fresh green buds of green. For a moment, fear seized his throat and he prepared for battle. The command was on his lips before he managed to spy a kaendar stallion racing through the abandoned paths of the King’s Wood, dodging past heavy pines. At last, both horse and rider were visible on the main road, slowing down to a trot.

Seated atop the midnight black creature was Lathin. From the leather coat that fluttered in the wind to the pair of braod swords strapped to the man’s back. With a grin, Kiralt called out a greeting. Chest puffed out, he brought the proud horse to heel even as it snorted heavily, invigorated from its gallop. Where once there had been an old cantankerous palomino the mercenary had kept for years was gone, in its place was a young gelding.

“What? No welcoming party?”

“I’m afraid you just missed it. We’re the only ones left after you spent the bells before dawn negotiating for your pay. I’m actually surprised you caught up with us so quickly,” retorted Kiralt. “We’d just finished the biscuits and wine.”

“A shame,” said Lathin. “I had so wanted to taste that delightful vintage you had hidden under your bed.” The smirk he had first sported now transformed into a frown of dismay. On any woman, it might have moved them to pity. Kiralt, however, had seen it far too many times.

“Perhaps next time,” replied Kiralt, arching an eyebrow. Amused contempt clearly visible for all to see.

He had always envied his friend’s simple charisma that oozed from the chiselled jaw to the high cheekbones. While Kiralt had always been known as the ‘Whirlwind,’ Lathin had been simply termed the ‘Rogue.’ It was an apt moniker even if Lathin had proven his inability to steal anything but the hearts women everywhere in the kingdom.

“Not even a little sip?” wheedled Lathin.

“If you’ve forgotten, we’re on patrol,” said Kiralt, digging his spurs into Alistair’s side. “I may occasionally play the drunk when I’m off-duty but I’m afraid when the ‘Captain’ personally assigns you command of a little soiree in the back-ends of the Kingdom, you’ll do it sober or by Trebessia’s grace, you’ll die trying.”

“Liar. You just want it all to yourself,” said Lathin with a knowing look.

Caught, Kiralt offered a sheepish grin as an apology. “I suppose you brought yourself a healthy dose of brandy for the trip.”

“Whiskey. But are you sure you have nothing hidden in those saddlebags of yours? You know, in case there’s cause for celebration?”

“Bitter herb poultices, if you’re interested,” interrupted Kulori, riding Snowboots between them. She cast Lathin a scathing look, steel grey eyes flashing. “We also have some distilled ethanol to serve as a disinfectant. Care for a taste?”

“I-I. Kulori—“

“Lieutenant,” said Kulori tersely. Despite his best efforts, Kulori pointedly ignored all of Lathin’s contrite overtures. “Shall I scout ahead?” Her tone was cool and she barely battered an eyelid when Kiralt finally gave his consent, glancing up at Lathin who desperately shook his head.

With a nod, she brushed forward on her mare without a backwards glance. As she passed, the mercenary flinched, his entire body tensing up as if he expected a blow. None came even as a palpable silence took hold. Finally, Lathin drudged up what little remained of his courage.

“She’s still mad, isn’t she?”

Kiralt grimly nodded. “After what you did the night before last? I’m afraid so, Lathin.”

“Durnham, strike me down. You know, she kicked me out of her quarters when I even brought her flowers. And a platter of the finest cuts from the Jolly Dwarf.”

“Give it time.” Kiralt shrugged. “Besides, the two of you are the only trackers we have. I would have preferred it if we rode with a small company of soldiers to this godsforsaken town but I’ll play the hand I’m dealt.”

“You know as well as the ‘Captain’ that sending out a search party would only bring unwanted attention,” chided Lathin. As they reached the edge of the King’s Wood, they ducked under a few low-lying boughs and emerged onto the rolling plains that the city state was infamous for. Known as the breadbasket of the Kingdom, it was home to the bustling metropolis that shared its name. Ylsven.

In the distance, Kiralt watched as Kulori crested a hill like a speck of shadow among the green. He had never been one to judge his friends but it was clear from the Aethali’s recount of the events that Lathin had hurt her deeply. The infidelity had cut something deep within the beastwoman. A small part, however, rejoiced though he gave it little voice.

He looked back over at Lathin and the beast he now commandeered. A question rose to the fore of his mind and begged to be asked. “What happened to Jyll?” he finally asked. “Granted, my memory may not be as sharp as it once was but I doubt she was a kaendar, let alone a gelding.”

Enthused by the change in topic, Lathin sat up in his saddle, his lips twisting into his patented debonair smirk as his eyes glinted. “Curious, Kir? This here is Varhn. Bough him off a horse merchant who couldn’t tell the difference between a bridle and a horse shoe. Let alone realise he had a kaendar on his hands.”

“I suppose you sold Jyll then?”

Lathin nodded. “The last time I was out on a mission for the Black Steels, she went down. For a moment, my heart was in my throat and I thought I’d lost her forever. Still, it was a nasty break but instead of putting her down, I’ve put her out to pasture. The old girl deserved at least that much.”

“At least she’ll be free from your corrupting influence,” said Kiralt.

“I resent that remark, Kir. I loved Jyll as much as my own mother.”

“You rode her like a possessed daemon. And I’ll bet Varhn here will be treated no different.” At his words, the young gelding snorted. Kiralt thought it sounded much like agreement and pitied the proud creature. “A kaendar’s wasted on you.”

“Ha,”Lathin growled playfully. “You just wait Kir. One of these days, I’ll prove you wrong.”

“Of course,” Kiralt said with mock deference. “Should we bet now or later?”

 ~

Tents were pitched as dusk has fallen. At first the hills had shone a vibrant gold. By the time the last one had been hammered into the soft mud, the hills seemed like misshapen purple lumps as the sun crossed beyond the western horizon. Kiralt had allowed the men to light a fire and even inside the small cramped tent he had claimed as his own, Kiralt’s mouth watered at the whiffs of roasted rabbit. A welcome surprise when Kulori had finished scouting the surrounding area with three rabbits in tow.

The fire also served a second purpose. Though spring had come to the breadbasket, the nights still held a chill. Wrapped up in a heavy fur cloak, Kiralt relished the warmth of the flames as they permeated through the thin canvas. As he unrolled his bedroll for the night, he could not help the intrusive thoughts of the morning creeping into his mind. What had been a lax afternoon on the plains of Ylsven, questioning villagers as they passed through small hamlets, presented itself in a new light.

Yes, they had seen the blue and gold of the Protector’s colours. No, there had not been word of any recent attacks in the region, bandits or otherwise. The only unusual wrinkle in their daily lives had been the two patrol parties passing through in quick succession.

Again, Kiralt found his thoughts circling the puzzle that had presented itself. The information they had pieced together made no sense. If the men were alive, why had they not sent word? Yet, if they were dead, why had no curious shepherd stumbled upon their bodies? He wished he could have accepted Lathin’s offer for a drink but the promise he had made to himself still held sway. The tremor in his hands had all but subsided though there had been many a day that did not go by without him craving one. Sobriety would have to see him through this particular obstacle.

For all he knew, the men had simply forgotten to report in. Why waste good ink and parchment to send a missive? He had done it a few times back during his mercenary days, especially on long expeditions where the tedious journey lulled them into a sense of security and boredom. Their clients had been furious but at the time, Kiralt had brushed off their concerns with a warm drink and a laugh.

But that had been then. The Vipers had not been beholden to a city state or a kingdom. If they had failed to return, clients would have cursed and grumbled on good coin going to waste before seeking out another company. The Protectors, however, were men of the realm, loyal and steadfast in their service to the Crown. He could only pray that the men were hale and hearty. Perhaps they were holed up in a tavern, enjoying a glass of the finest brandy.

Kiralt could only dream it would be so simple.

He was interrupted from his musings by the casual grumblings of his stomach. Pushing out of the tent, Kiralt found his way to the fire pit.

Keeping an eye on the rabbits was Nyris. The old Aethali looked up at his approach, stirring the pot a final time. Kiralt could feel his mouth salivating as the scintillating smell of broth wafted over.

“Smells good,” he said, wiping his hands on his sweaty tunic.

“Nearly ready,” grunted the beastman. “Give it a few more minutes, Dithe. Need to let it simmer.” Despite Nyris’s appearance, he was an excellent cook even as he grumbled over his assigned duty.

“I’ll take your word for it, Nyris.”  

“Kulori has a good eye. These rabbits are fat enough to be a good meal,” said Nyris. Leaning close, the beastman continued in a whisper, “And, between the both of us, that woman also has good taste. I raided her personal stores for a few spices. Adds just the right amount of kick. What would make it better is if we had a good vintage of red wine to go with it.”

“Alas,” agreed Kiralt with a grin.

With a friendly nod, Kiralt left the Aethali to tend to the fire. Instead, he negotiated the haphazard camp to the pinions where they had hitched the horses for the night. In the flickering flames of the fire, Alistair’s coat shone red. The mare snorted as he approached. She impatiently nudged at his arms as he drew level, snuffling at his hands for a cube of sugar or treat. With a smile on his face, Kiralt gently patted the mettle bay mare, cooing out platitudes. He brushed one hand down through her mane.

“Sorry Ali. No apples today,” he said. “You’ll just have to make do with the oats, like the others.”

Whether or not she understood, Alistair backed away, tossing her head as she did so and let out a sharp whinny of disappointment. Kiralt allowed a smirk to cross his features. He always did spoil her rotten. It was funny, now that he recalled their first meeting, that he had drawn his sword on the sweet animal. Fingers trembling with sweat cascading down his forehead, rendering him all but blind.

Out of the darkness, she had emerged. Back then she had been a young curious filly. To Kiralt, she had been a monster from the depths. Kiralt remembered Lathin laughing along with Adur. He had awkwardly followed suit once his nerves had calmed, trying to diminish his embarrassment and fear with mirth. That had been in his younger years when the mercenary life still had its appeal.

From there, he had come to trust in the horse and found enjoyment from both her greedy ways to her independent spirit. In turn, she had come to know his moods.

Two years after he had acquired her, they had become nigh inseparable partners. She had been with him through thick and thin. Kiralt would be hard pressed to envision another horse to replace Alistair.

He watched as the mare joined the others as they grazed. She took particular care around the unfamiliar kaendar gelding though it was clear that she accepted the young stallion into their midst. With a knowing smile, Kiralt left Alistair to her own devices and returned to camp, this time accompanied by the saddle bags he had removed.

As he negotiated his way back to his tent, Kiralt greeted all the Protectors he passed, from the fresh-faced sergeant Dresdin to Arnath. He knew all of them by name, even if he might not be able to place each face. The men assembled had been handpicked by the ‘Captain.’

“Dithe, over here,” called out an Aethali. Though he looked fairly young with burnished copper fur, Kiralt knew the beastman had seen his fair share of battle, stationed in the Southern Bay during the skirmish with the corsairs.

Kiralt hesitated for a brief second. Swiftly, he sifted through his memories for a name. He was certain the Aethali shared a name with one of Winchesa’s heroes of old. Finally, he acknowledged the beastman with a nod. “Rolad.”

“It’s Ragast,” the Protector corrected with a suffering sigh.

“That’s the one,” Kiralt said, quickly recovering and hoping to hide his error with a cocksure grin.

The Aethali refused to bite. Instead, Ragast seemed amused at his attempts. “Whether or not you have the head for names, I just wanted thought it might be best to bring up that your friend over there,” at this he nodded towards Lathin who was struggling with his solitary tent on the far side of camp, “tried to smuggle in some moonshine. He’s a mercenary so I gave him a bit of a pass. I did confiscate a bottle of the 1452 he had. Should have seen how he mouthed me off for that one.”

“Are you cracking it open for a drink later on?” asked Kiralt, a little curious.

There was a knowing smile on the beastman’s lips. “Think I’ll save it for a special occasion. Just tell him that if he had only been one to share I would not have thought twice about it. We’re all King’s men here.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him,” Kiralt said over his shoulder, a chuckle in his voice as he entered his tent, ducking under the flaps.  He threw the saddlebags atop his bedroll and as he was preparing for dinner, he heard the rustling of canvas. Lathin poked his auburn covered head through, a half-empty skin of wine in his hand. Cheeks flushed, he all but stumbled inside, ready to divulge the day’s woes.