#dagret

[evilwriter37]

Can I request AFG KINK BINGO with Hicret or Dagret please? (Leaning more towards the Dagret since it's so underrated ship)

I should probably have this on my pinned post somewhere, but I’m not taking requests at the moment. (And I don’t really ship Dagur/Eret.)

[seagreen-meets-grey]

When Lightning Strikes Ch. 19

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 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11] [Chapter 12] [Chapter 13] [Chapter 14] [Chapter 15] [Chapter 16] [Chapter 17] [Chapter 18] [Chapter 20]

Crossposted on ao3 and ff.net

_______________

Hiccup first brought it up on a sunny afternoon in mid-July, one year after that fateful rainy Sunday.

It was a Friday and Astrid’s parents had invited them over for a barbecue. They were both still at work, but Astrid and Hiccup were already at the house and had prepared the food. There was a green salad waiting in the kitchen, the meat was seasoned on a covered plate in the fridge, herb bread was ready to be gratinated in the oven and drinks were cooling in the minibar.

While rifling through the closet for napkins, Astrid had found an old bag of water balloons and, unbeknownst to Hiccup, had filled them in the sink before she’d attacked him in the garden. He’d just arranged the garden furniture and wiped the table with a damp cloth when something cold and wet had exploded all over his back, followed by the hearty laugh of his girlfriend.

“Hey, that’s not fair, I’m unarmed!”

She rolled a handful of balloons over the table and he had to be careful to catch all of them before they fell to the ground and burst all over his feet. He made a show of fumbling with his ammo, catching her off-guard when he suddenly hurled one right at her. It exploded on her chest and while she was momentarily distracted, he escaped from her immediate attack zone.

In no time, they were out of ammunition, with large water stains all over their clothes. Balloon shreds were scattered all over the lawn, some had hit the house wall and there was a wet imprint of a water explosion on one of the living room windows.

But Astrid was in no way done with their water fight, despite her dripping hair and wet left butt cheek. From the garage, she produced two dusty Nerf Blasters, and the battle carried on. The chairs and table were converted into shields and hiding spots, the water faucet was a safe zone to fill up on ammo, and the hammock was off-limits.

After Hiccup accidentally shot a blast in her face, she dropped her gun and wiped at her eyes. He rushed over. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

As soon as he was right in front of her, she made a grab for his Blaster, picked up her own in lightning speed, and pointed both of them at him. “Gotcha. I win.”

“Oh, you!” He tackled her and when they stumbled a few steps backwards, he steered them right into the hammock. Swinging back and forth from the momentum, he pinned her down and started tickling her sides. She writhed underneath him, tried to kick him, but it wasn’t that easy in a hammock. Tears from laughter were gathering in her eyes until, finally, she managed to free a hand and attempted to push him out of the hammock. “Okay, okay,” he relented and rolled off of her.

A light breeze was rustling through the leaves of the apple and plum trees above. Catching their breaths, they made themselves comfortable, gazing at the bright blue sky through a sea of green. The breeze was brushing through their wet clothes, providing a nice change to the summer heat.

He moved his head to the side, watching the game of cat and mouse that sunlight and shade were playing on her face. When the hammock came to a stop, she stuck one leg out to lightly kick at the ground. “Hey,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

“Hm?”

“Do you ever want to get married again?” Her eyes widened slightly as she looked back at him. “Just a general question,” he quickly added. “I’m- I’m not proposing.”

“Yeah, I know. I just…” She wrinkled her forehead, focusing back on the ceiling of leaves. “I’m not sure. I once thought getting married was the right idea and now I’m divorced.” She glanced back at him. “I’m not saying things aren’t different this time. But I don’t know if I want to go through that again.”

For a while, he was quiet, fiddling with a loose thread on her top. He understood what she meant. Maybe it had been a bit too early to ask, anyway, even as a general question. It had only been a little over a year. That didn’t mean his stomach didn’t make a traitorous drop, though.

“That’s okay.” He reached out and played with a strand of her hair, twirling it between his fingers. “As long as I get to be with you, labels don’t matter, anyway.”

“Good.” She kissed him. “Because that’s all I need.” Then she produced a water balloon out of nowhere, probably a stray one that had rolled off earlier, and held it in a threatening way over his head. “Get merked, Hiccup!” He had just enough time to jump out of the hammock before the bomb hit and doused him. The game was back on.

Not much later, a car pulled into the driveway and soon enough, Frederick Hofferson stepped onto the patio. Astrid immediately hid behind him, using him as a human shield. Hiccup just about managed to hold back his throw. The last thing he wanted to do was shoot his girlfriend’s father with a large water gun. Especially since he felt like the man was still not quite used to him, still regarding him as the guy that ended her daughter’s marriage.

“I’m not a part of this!” Frederick shouted and ducked out of the way. While Hiccup was still mindful of the splash area of his projectiles, Astrid had no such reservations. She took her Nerf Blaster apart, dashed over and emptied the small water tank over his head. It seemed the winner was obvious this time, but he would get his revenge soon enough.

The warm weather had dried most of his clothes by the time the first steaks were ready. Frederick offered him to trade places so Hiccup could take over with the meat, but he declined. It was obvious the man was in his element. Astrid leaned over and whispered, “I think he’s trying to bond with you. He’s looking for shared interests.”

“Really?” he whispered back. “That’s great, but I’m really not interested in barbecuing techniques.”

She shrugged. “Then find something else to talk about. He’s finally making an effort. We shouldn’t let that go to waste.”

Hiccup nodded and wracked his brain for a topic to strike up a conversation with Frederick about. He’d never really been alone with the man so far, there had always been at least one other person present to save them from any awkward interactions.

He was so lost in thought, he almost didn’t catch Wilma’s announcement about the party. She and her husband would soon have their 25th wedding anniversary and wanted to celebrate it with family and friends. Hiccup was naturally invited but, after a quick check with Astrid, so was Eret. After all those years he’d been considered part of the Hofferson family, and considering he and Astrid were still on such good terms, Astrid’s parents wanted him to be there with them.

Astrid sent him a sidelong glance, asking with her eyes if he was okay with that. He sent back an answer of, Do I have a choice here?

I can talk to him and ask him not to come, she offered.

He shook his head. No, that’s stupid. We’re adults. I’m okay with him coming. He’s family.

Well, she raised her brows, if you’re sure…

“…no, I don’t think she’s listening. Astrid!”

She looked up. “Sorry, what?”

Frederick chuckled. “Your mother just asked you whether you could help her carry the dishes into the kitchen.”

“Oh, sure, yeah. Of course.” She got up and started collecting the plates, sending Hiccup a conspiratorial smile before she followed her mother into the house. That left him at the table with Frederick.

For several minutes, they busied themselves with their beers and the last pieces of bread still on the table. From inside the house, voices and the clattering of dishes carried over, not quite loudly enough to provide sufficient white noise and deeming a conversation between the two men necessary to drown out the awkwardness settling over them like heavy snow.

Whatever you do, Hiccup firmly told himself, just don’t talk about the weather. Really, anything but that. Or sex. Especially with his daughter. He gulped down the rest of his beer, looking anywhere but at Frederick, infinitely glad that mind-reading wasn’t a thing.

His fingers drummed on the legs of his chair and he couldn’t sit still, shifting around, accidentally bumping his knee against the underside of the table, grimacing through the pain. He was just about to jump up and flee into the house when Frederick spoke.

“So,” he started, leaning forward a little, “I’ve always meant to ask…”

Please don’t be an embarrassing question, Hiccup mentally prayed. “Yes?”

“What exactly is it that you do at your job?” Oh, thank god. Hiccup exhaled. “Astrid mentioned it a couple times, but I never really caught it.”

“Ah, well, I illustrate uh, books?” Why had that come out as a question? “Yeah, um… Mostly covers and artwork for fantasy novels, and I’ve done some children’s books… Uh. Do you like to read?”

“The newspaper.”

“Oh. Yeah, I don’t do that. Illustrate that, I mean. I do read it, though!” Please come back, he mentally cried, hoping Astrid would pick up the brain waves. The other man just nodded and another silence engulfed the table. Hiccup continued drumming on the chair. When Astrid had met his parents, she’d immediately gotten along with them, especially with his dad. Why couldn’t he do the same with hers?

“I’m not very artistic myself,” Frederick continued in an attempt to keep the conversation going. He really was trying.

“You’re a construction engineer, right?”

“Exactly.”

“Don’t you need a certain level of artistic ability for that, too? Designing constructions is still designing, after all.”

Frederick shrugged. “Sure, I can think up construction plans and put them neatly on paper, but I could never draw, say, a dragon. I just don’t have the imagination or patience or creativity.”

“I’d argue you are creative. Where else would you get ideas for constructions from?”

“Well, if you put it like that… Maybe you’re right.”

Hiccup felt a surge of confidence. They were having a conversation and Frederick was agreeing with him. “When I was little, I always wanted to become an engineer. I had a whole room full of Lego Technic stuff and I would spend entire days building, taking apart, and rebuilding all kinds of machines.”

Frederick raised his head in interest. “What changed your mind?”

“Nothing, actually.” He scratched his neck. “There was this engineering school I wanted to go to, but they were full the year I wanted to start. And instead of applying somewhere else, I took their offer to start the next year. In the meantime, I enrolled in a number of illustration courses and liked it so much that I stayed.”

“Do you ever regret it?”

“No, I don’t.” He didn’t even have to think about it. “I love my job. And, well… Through a chain of events it’s what’s led me here.” Frederick gave him a quizzical look. “I mean, uh, my friend and colleague Fishlegs, he… Um, long story short, he introduced me to my ex-girlfriend. And she has a brother who has this best friend and… Ah, you see, this best friend had a fiancée…”

An understanding light went on behind Frederick’s eyes. Nervously, Hiccup waited for the reaction that told him the other man wasn’t very amused by the story, taking into account that he’d probably exchange Hiccup for Eret on the spot if he could…

What he hadn’t expected was for the man to burst out laughing.

“Well, in that case, the engineering school not taking you gave me a second son-in-law.”

“Oh, ah…” Hiccup felt his face heat up at the term. He felt a ramble bubbling up in his chest, about how he’d only barely discussed that with Astrid and how she wasn’t even sure she wanted–

“Don’t worry, I’m just teasing you, son.” With a chuckle, Frederick leaned back in his chair and Hiccup exhaled. “So tell me, what machines exactly did you build as a kid?”

Once he started talking about his Lego inventions from his childhood, Hiccup lost track of time. An indefinite time later, Astrid and Wilma returned to the table, finding the two men deep in conversation. Wide smile on her face, Astrid gave him a kiss on the cheek and shared a pleased look with her mother. At the end of the day, he had to promise Frederick to continue their conversation the next time they saw each other.

Maybe he wasn’t yet an Eret when it came to being an integral part of the family, but he was getting there.

_______________

On the night of the Hofferson’s anniversary party, Hiccup found himself surrounded by several of Astrid’s great-aunts, great-uncles, grandparents, and various other older folk somehow related to or friends with the family.

He’d actually just wanted to take a break from socializing and had retreated to one of the tables in the corner while the party continued on the dancefloor and at the bar. Astrid’s cousins were doing shots, but he’d just so managed to escape. Her uncle had claimed dance after dance with her. Wilma and Frederick were moving from group to group, having a drink here and a conversation there, dancing with friends and family in-between. And Eret stood with the cousins as if he was one of them.

It had been quite a tad awkward when great-aunt Phyllis had walked past the two of them earlier, cheeks red from brandy, and said with a cheeky wink: “Let’s hope she sticks with this one.” Once she had moved on, Hiccup wanted to sink into the ground and Eret was guffawing.

Now, Phyllis was sitting opposite him, another Cognac in front of her, giggling with the group about something he’d said. He’d discovered he had a knack for entertaining the older generation of his girlfriend’s family. They questioned him about every single detail of his life, his family, and their favorite topic, the story of how he and Astrid fell in love. Even after hearing it for the third time that night, they still aw-ed and ah-ed, hanging onto his every word.

“Then what happened with Eret?”

“Larry, he’s right there,” great-uncle Greg groaned and pointed at the tall man downing tequila with cousin Beth.

“But I don’t know the details, old fart!”

“Who are you calling old?! I’m younger than you.”

Grandma Rosie, 93 years of age, lifted her walking stick and threatened to whack them both over the head if they didn’t stop bickering. The men let their squabbling go and grinned as the rest of the group watched, amused, as Rosie’s façade crumbled, revealing the humor in her eyes. Eleven wrinkly faces returned their attention to Hiccup, expectant and curious, some a little wary. They hadn’t heard this part of the story yet and they had caught on to Eret’s change of lifestyle.

Hiccup hesitated. This wasn’t his story to tell anymore. And part of his audience was quite conservative, already scrunching up their noses. Then again, Eret had come here with an official male date. He wasn’t hiding anything. And to their credit, even the most conservative person in this hall had been nothing but supportive towards Astrid’s life choices so far, first a divorce not even two years into her marriage, then bringing both her current and her ex-partner to a family event.

Also her supposed choice of having kids out of wedlock, but since she was currently drinking a glass of wine on the other side of the hall, Hiccup expected that particular rumor to dissolve during the night. Not that it hadn’t given him a minor heart attack, though, when he’d first been asked about it by great-uncle Charles. Hiccup had told her that dress looked a little baggy when she was sitting down, no matter how gorgeous she looked.

“Well,” he started, searching for the right words, “Eret’s date went great. But after a few weeks with Tim, the spark faded.”

“And then he was with that girl from the bakery, right?” Susan, one of the Hofferson’s neighbors, chimed in, leaning forward and lowering her volume just a bit, as if she was passing on a secret. “I saw them together a few times.” Astrid had warned him about Susan. That woman was probably the worst gossiper in all of Berk. That’s why he’d made sure she was the first to hear that Astrid was, in fact, not pregnant.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, “he dated Christina for a short while.” He didn’t specify that this short while had only been three consecutive weekends on which they had hooked up. He also deliberately left out the part where Eret had tried to figure out the exact nature of his sexual orientation, having short flings with several women and men. “But then he found love in unexpected places and that’s been going strong for several months now. And counting.” Finally, he might add. He and Astrid had had quite the bet riding on that one. She still owed him several, well, favors.

“Aww,” cooed the group. No comments or expressions of disgust regarding the homosexual nature of Eret’s relationship. If they didn’t like it, they were keeping that to themselves. These people were here for love, no matter the manifestation. And as a bonus, they liked him. Astrid’s entire family, from first cousins to the great-aunt’s third husband, had welcomed him with open arms. Some more wary at first, some with a sassy comment, but warm and openly, nonetheless. He started to feel like he belonged.

“So Hiccup, tell me,” Susan shuffled her chair a little closer to his, expectant look in her eyes, and asked the question he’d feared would come up eventually. “When are you and Astrid getting married?”

“Ah… Um, I- I–”

“Susan, come on,” Rosie chided the nosy woman with a sharp glare that Astrid had obviously inherited from her, “it’s only been a year. This generation is different from yours or mine. Kids these days don’t want to settle down first chance they get. Let them live life!”

Susan pouted, but she listened to Rosie and dropped the topic. Hiccup smiled gratefully at the old lady, even though the truth was a little more complicated than what she’d said.

With a little wink in his direction, she added, “We old folk don’t need to understand everything the youths are up to. Our time is over. Now we just do our job keeping them humble by telling them horror stories about wars and an age before the facebooks and twittle existed.” She raised her glass of white wine spritzer at Hiccup. “Right, my boy?”

Suppressing a laugh, he mimicked the motion with his empty beer bottle. Individual discussions broke out among the table, varying from rants about kids these days to how old Florence had recently bought a 4k TV set. Susan continued to do her best contributing her share of gossip.

Hiccup was just considering leaving the table to it when he felt it. It was subtle, a twitch of his heart, a prickling in his neck, before not a moment later two arms wrapped around his shoulders from behind.

“What are you kids up to over here?” she asked, her lively voice right next to his ear coating his chest in honey. He didn’t register the following conversation, only felt the vibrations of her laughter, distracted by the warmth of her arms around him, her perfume, her general proximity. Despite being used to it by now, the rush of the feeling still turned his insides into an out-of-control carnival ride.

She shifted behind him, bringing her face closer, and whispered in his ear. “Want me to save you?”

There was no need, he was sure he could just leave the table on his own, but he would never turn down the offer to be saved by Astrid Hofferson, who he was sure was descendant from literal Valkyries… He was getting distracted again. “Yes, please,” he whispered back.

She took his hand and pulled him out of the chair. “Come on, let’s get a drink.” They waved goodbye to the table of elders and made their way over to the bar. Immediately, one of her cousins asked him what he wanted to drink, handing him a glass of rum and coke, and in no time, he found himself included in the conversation. And not just because he was Astrid’s boyfriend. He saw it in their eyes, felt it in his gut. He was part of the family.

At some point a little later in the night, the music switched to hits from the 90s and 2000s, and most people left the bar to dance. Hiccup used the opportunity for a minute to breathe, now alone at the bar except for Astrid and two of her cousins. Olive and June were busy with whatever endless row of texts June was receiving, and Astrid had leaned her head on his shoulder, watching the mob on the dancefloor. He slid an arm around her.

“Look at Hank,” she said and pointed at the crowd. A middle-aged man, her dad’s best friend Hank, was raving in the middle of the dancefloor, completely lost in the beat. His shirt had come out of his pants and there was a large beer stain on his chest. People around him were cheering as the usually so composed office worker was letting loose in their midst.

Hiccup spotted a shock of fiery red hair dancing its way over to him and grinned. “Looks like he found a friend.” Astrid chuckled as they watched Dagur join Hank with his ridiculous dance moves, and the two men took over the entire floor. “I’ve never seen anyone so passionate about the Crazy Frog.”

“I have. Dagur and Eret, at a college party.” She grinned and joked, “I really should have seen this coming when Eret ditched me half the night to dance with Dagur.”

Scanning the crowd for Eret, Hiccup found him talking to the DJ. He’d never forget the day Astrid and he had been over at the man’s place for brunch when all of a sudden, the door to Eret’s bedroom had opened and a yawning Dagur, clad in only boxers and a loose bathrobe, had strolled out, disappearing down the hall into the bathroom.

Eret had cleared his throat. “Yeah, so, when I said I had news, that’s what I wanted to tell you.” However he’d thought Hiccup and Astrid to react, he probably hadn’t expected them to instantly start haggling over winnings and unwritten betting conditions. By the time Dagur had joined them at the table, Astrid had admitted defeat and settled for an I told you so-face directed at everyone.

They really made an odd group, even more so with Heather thrown into the mix. Astrid always got a kick out of explaining to other people how they all met, watching them try to figure out the specific relations and histories between all individuals involved. Hiccup had to admit, it was kind of funny.

The song ended, fading over into a beat he loved to hate, or hated to love, accompanied by a honking sound and a distinct 90s beat. Next to him, Astrid bobbed her head from side to side to the music, and the next moment, Eret’s outstretched hand appeared in front of him.

“Hofferson, this is our song!”

Astrid thrust her drink into Hiccup’s hands. “Hold this for me, babe!” Then she pulled Eret onto the dancefloor, instantly falling into a series of dance moves clearly coordinated with Eret’s. Hiccup blinked a couple of times at the sight.

A snort next to him shook him out of his stare. It was Frederick, ordering a tray of drinks. “Whoever has an elaborate choreography to the Vengabus song figured out, deserves to be best friends. Don’t you think?”

Hiccup smirked. “Oh, sure.”

Frederick saw his expression and mirrored it. “You’re not going to let her forget this, are you?”

“Nope.” He took in every little aspect of the show. Oh, she would never hear the end of this. In perfect sync, she and Eret dragged peace signs in front of their eyes, swung their arms around, twirled, and did something vaguely resembling the chicken dance. This even blew Ross and Monica’s Routine from Friends out of the water.

“You can still run and never come back,” Frederick suggested.

“Are you kidding me?” Hiccup laughed. “Why would I ever leave a girl like her?”

“Good answer.” Frederick boxed his shoulder, then took the tray over to the table of elders. The friendly violence seemed to run in the family.

When the song ended and another took its place, Dagur wedged himself between Astrid and Eret, claiming his new dance partner. Shaking her head with a humorous eye-roll, she walked back over to Hiccup and took her glass back. Upon his grin, she asked, “What?”

“Oh, nothing.” His grin didn’t fade. “That was… Beautiful. Graceful. I- I don’t have the words.”

“Shut up, you’re just jealous.”

He wrapped both arms around her, mindful of the drink in her hand, and kissed her temple. “Yeah, totally. I wish I had moves like that.”

“Yes, you wish.” She was grinning now, too, turning her head to give him a kiss, and then another one. He would be crazy if he ever even considered leaving her.

A few songs later, the beat slowed to a Cranberries song. Astrid put her glass away and tugged at his hand. “Your turn.” She didn’t pull him onto the dancefloor, just stepped a few feet away from the bar, put one hand on his back and laid the other in his. Together, they danced on the spot, her face resting in the crook of his neck.

After a while, he mumbled into her hair, “Susan brought up the question.”

She didn’t need to ask what he meant. “What did you tell her?”

“I didn’t. Before I could say anything, granny Rosie came to my rescue. She said something about generational differences and Susan shut up. We should steer clear of her, though, I don’t think she was satisfied with that answer.”

She huffed. “I can handle Susan.” He knew she could. He just didn’t want to face that question again without feeling the need to explain Astrid’s decision to not get married again; it was none of Susan’s business. If Astrid changed her mind, though, he wouldn’t waste any time. Even if they were in the pharmacy aisle of a rundown big box store, surrounded by diarrhea medicine, and Snotlout was the officiator. Although, come to think of it, he might be able to make himself wait until they’d moved to at least the garden center.

As if she’d read his mind, Astrid lifted her head and looked up. “You want to get married, don’t you?”

He didn’t answer straightaway. “I know you don’t and that’s okay. I want to share a life with you, be by your side, as your partner in everything, no matter what a document says or what last name I have.”

She chuckled. “Oh, so you’d take my name?”

“Sure! Hiccup Astrid Haddock, that has a certain ring to it, doesn’t it?”

She groaned good-naturedly. “You’re ridiculous.” After a short pause, she continued, “You know what? If I ever end up changing my mind, I’ll take yours.”

“Wait, really? What about your family pride?”

“Oh, I’ll make sure my kids know their roots.”

His lips stretched into a smile. “Your kids, huh?”

Hiding a blush, she buried her face in his shoulder. “You know whose kids.” Her voice came out muffled and was nearly drowned out by the next song, louder and faster than the last, but he’d heard her.

“Okay. Deal.”

[shipmistress9]

FTLOAP: Interlude 7: Secrets And Plans

For The Love Of A Princess Masterpost

Alpha/Co-author: @athingofvikings

Taglist: @drchee5e @hey-its-laura-again @thepixiedustfactory​

AN: Originally, I'd wanted to post this update on my birthday last week. But that didn't work out, too much RL chaos. Ah, well, have the update now. ^^Another interlude? you may wonder.

Yep, it's another interlude. And not the last one coming during the next chapters. There are a lot of things happening behind the main viewpoint of Hiccup and Astrid, and they need attention. This one contains some hints that are important to me. And I finally got around to write some Dagret fluff. :D

Also, many people commented guesses about what's happened there to Hiccup at the end of the previous chapter. I'm sorry, but we're not returning directly to Hiccup here, so you still won't get an answer. All I can say is... that so far, nobody guessed right. O:) Also, there's a hint I gave on the ATOV-Discord server, so it only seems fair to give it here, too. I might be pulling a WIMTBC here...

Read on AO3

. o O o .

???

His steps echoed off the empty corridors, hard and deafening. He had to hold himself back from outright running toward his goal. It wouldn’t be appropriate for a man of his rank. But even worse, such a run would surely draw the attention of a guard or servant, and secrecy was vital to his every action.

But, oh, he couldn’t wait to get back to his private room! The piece of paper he carried hidden in his inner pocket seemed to weigh as much as a millstone, seemed hot like a coal, burning a hole right into his skin. If anyone knew about this message…

But no. Who was left to notice, anyway? A smug smile tugged at his lips. As much as he loathed the latest developments, they’d still given him the perfect excuse.

Once he’d reached his room, he narrowed his eyes at the servant hustling about. The young woman was only cleaning dust, but still. That was more company than he was comfortable with at this moment.

“Thank you, but that is enough for today. You may leave now,” he dismissed her in a composed voice.

The young woman looked up in surprise, then hastily bowed. “As you wish, your Grace.”

He wandered over to where a carafe of wine stood, and poured himself a glass, watching the serving girl from the corner of his eyes. He put on a show of not paying her any attention as she left, but as soon as the door closed behind her, he placed the glass back onto the sideboard, the wine untouched. This was not the time to cloud his mind with a drink.

Impatiently, he rushed over to where a fire was burning in the hearth, low but consistent, and threw a fresh log in. Then he pulled out the piece of paper from his pocket. It was small, the writing clipped.

“We agree with your assessment of the situation. D.M. has outlived their usefulness. You may dispose of them however you please.”

A satisfied grin spread across his face. Finally! Content with the content of this message, he went to get the glass of wine from earlier and watched as the note burned to nothing but ash in the hearth. This person had been a thorn in his side for years on end, but now, he could finally use his influence to do something about that. Their days were numbered.

. o O o .

Dagur

Dagur tried to be as gentle as possible, he really did. Even so, he couldn’t prevent Eret from hissing and wincing at nearly every motion. And he felt sorry for it, he really did! He didn’t want to cause his boyfriend pain, not like this, at least. But most of all, he just found it hilarious.

“I can’t remember you ever being so whiny,” he said in a cheerful voice as he applied the healing salve Fishlegs had given him for the wound on Eret’s chest.

Eret grunted. “I wouldn’t be complaining if you were just a little more careful,” he threw back, but Dagur didn’t buy his overly offended attitude.

“No, I don’t think that’s it,” he replied. “I mean, come on! Do you remember the brawl we once started? In that little tavern in the middle of nowhere?”

“You mean the brawl you started,” Eret threw in, but Dagur opted not to listen to him, lost in fond memories.

“And do you remember how that coward called over some twenty of his friends because he didn’t want to face us both? Okay, maybe one against two wasn’t exactly fair, but… twenty? Talk about fairness.” He cackled. Oh, that day had been fun.

Eret rolled his eyes. “But you remember they didn’t actually beat us up, right?”

“They didn’t?” Dagur’s brows furrowed. “Huh. I could have sworn I woke up the next day with a pretty mean headache. Didn’t someone smash a bottle on my head?”

Now, Eret chuckled. “Yeah, you woke up with a headache alright. But not because we lost a fight. One of them eventually realised who we were, then they apologised and every single one of them insisted on ordering a drink for us. And while I was sensible enough to quit after four or five beers, you insisted on drinking them all, mine included. Hence the headache.”

Dagur frowned, but then just shrugged. This didn’t line up with his memories… but he couldn’t say he had anything to dispute Eret’s version, either. However, ultimately, he didn’t care either way. “Whatever,” he said cheerfully. “That’s not the point, anyway. The point is, that you’re awfully whiny, and this wound isn’t even that bad. When did you become such a wimp? Or…” An insinuating grin spread across his face. “Or is it just that you enjoyed it more when it was Hiccup tending to your wound? He sure seems to have some gentle hands.”

At that, Eret laughed. “Wasn’t it you who made joking comments about how he might end up with Hiccup if Swanja and I were to get married? I think I recall hearing something like that. And it didn’t sound too sorry, either.”

“Eh,” Dagur waved Eret’s words off, knowing it was nothing but lighthearted banter, anyway. "Well, I won’t deny that Hiccup is cute in his own way. I mean, Thor, that boy has an ass! Wait… did I say that out loud? Ah, whatever… Yeah, he’s cute, but he’s not my type.” He threw Eret a wink, which made him fondly roll his eyes in return. “But back to the point! I can’t remember you ever being so whiny when he tended to your wound, and this time, I was sober. Mostly.”

Suddenly, a smirk played around Eret’s lips, making Dagur cock his head in curiosity. “Maybe I was just hoping you’d put in the extra effort and kiss it better.” He peered up at Dagur, a twinkle in his eyes.

Dagur laughed. “Oh, all right. I see.”

Without warning, he jumped onto the bed, tackling Eret and pressing him down into the sheets. Play-fighting and wrestling for positions was always great foreplay, and also this was an excellent test of how sturdy the bed was. If it couldn’t hold up with them, they were better to replace it now instead of in the middle of the night.

Eret grunted as if in complaint, but didn’t really resist and even placed his hands on Dagur’s upper arms, rubbing over the fabric of his tunic to feel the muscles beneath.

“If this is what you want…”

Dagur shifted until he was straddling Eret’s hip, and with a grin leaned down to kiss the skin around Eret’s wound. He was more gentle than their usual energetic making out, but Eret seemed to appreciate it. He was humming, the rumbling in his chest pleasant against Dagur’s lips, and he placed his hands on Dagur’s shoulders, caressing, feeling him.

Content with the slower pace for once, Dagur enjoyed this form of treating Eret’s wound far more for a while before he eventually moved further down. His lips found a pert nipple, circling around it teasingly before they closed around it in some fun mixture of a kiss, a bite, and suckling.

“Nng, Dagur,” Eret groaned. His hands grew tense around his shoulders, fingers digging deeper in obvious longing.

“You all right there, Chippy?” Dagur mouthed against Eret’s skin, grinning when he felt something poke against his thigh.

Before Eret could reply, however, a knock came from the door, making them both groan in annoyance.

“That’s got to be the food Hiccup ordered to be brought here for us,” Eret muttered. He rubbed his face, then reached for his tunic after Dagur had climbed off him.

Dagur waited until he was dressed again—even as he internally bemoaned not being allowed to ogle his half-naked lover any longer—then opened the door. Just like Eret had predicted, it was a servant carrying a heavy-looking tray with three portions of roasted meat and vegetables.

“Your meals, Sirs. Hopefully, they will be to your liking,” the boy said cheerfully. There was a hint of awe on his face. It was an expression Dagur had become used to, even as he couldn’t understand where the fuss about his person was coming from. He might have gotten born into an important position, but that didn’t mean he was automatically special.

“Also, the inn-keeper wanted me to ask whether the accommodations are to your satisfaction,” the boy went on.

Dagur had to suppress a smirk. It would have been way more satisfying if you hadn’t interrupted us, he thought to himself. Outwardly, he nodded and gave the boy a—hopefully—easy smile. “Aye, everything is all right. Thank you.”

The boy nodded, awkwardly shifted his weight from one foot to the other, but then excused himself.

The food turned out to be surprisingly good. Not as well-seasoned as the meals they’d got at the castle over the past months, but still better than what he’d expected. Which was good. They had to eat enough to cover for Hiccup’s absence, after all. But then, how much would a scrawny guy like him eat?

“Do you think he’ll be all right?” he asked a little while later, chewing on the last bite of tender meat from Hiccup’s plate.

With a slight grimace, Eret put down his fork and sighed. “I hope so,” he muttered. “If it doesn’t, if this plan doesn’t work… then I don’t know what to do anymore.”

For a moment, those words dampened Dagur’s mood as well. Yeah… If they couldn’t get Hiccup into a position where he was eligible for Swanja, then she would have to marry Eret after all. The thought on its own didn’t hurt as much as it did in the beginning. Strategically, Eret and Swanja would still make a good match, he could admit that much. And the reminder that his and Eret’s relationship couldn’t last had only made him appreciate this small reprieve even more.

But for Swanja… If she and Hiccup couldn’t be together, then it would break her, break both of them; the past weeks had shown that clearly enough. And watching her wilt and die inside would be so much worse than to eventually give up on Eret. For one, he was prepared. For the other? Never!

But then, sitting here and brooding wouldn’t do anyone any good.

“Eh, I bet he’s already found one of those beasts and is just about to build a trap or something. He’s smart. And motivated.”

Eret snorted, a weak smile tugging at his lips. “That’s certainly true. And I don’t really have doubts, you know? If there’s anyone who can pull this off, it’s that stubborn idiot of a Haddock. I just wish… I don’t know, I wish we’d already be back and everything’s clear. I want these uncertainties to be over.”

“Ah, but that’s life.” Dagur leaned back in his chair, a wide grin on his face. “If you already knew how everything turns out… where would be the fun in that?”

Eret snorted, but shook his head. “As much as I agree; in this, I wouldn’t mind a little less excitement.”

Dagur threw his boyfriend a thoughtful look, then jumped up on his feet and sauntered over toward him. “Maybe it’s just that this is the wrong kind of excitement.”

With a wide grin, he sat down on Eret’s lap. It made the chair groan beneath their combined weight, but Dagur couldn’t care less. Wasn’t that what people expected of them? For the high lords to trash their rooms and pay handsomely to cover it up? Surely some people thought like that, right? Better not disappoint them.

“I have an idea,” he purred into Eret’s ear. “How about we accept that there’s nothing left for us to do but wait, and make the best of it? And if you keep worrying… well, I can be very distracting, you know?”

He ground down against where he could feel Eret’s cock through his trousers, quickly growing hard in excitement. And at first, he thought he’d been convincing enough to persuade Eret so he would let go of his worries. His large hands landed on Dagur’s hips, bucking up against him as their lips met in a searing kiss. The same strength that on other occasions could reign in even the wildest of horses now held him tight, helping him move as breathing and thinking became secondary.

“We should… nnng, fuck! We should get to the bed or this chair is going to be nothing but firewood in a minute.”

There! He could be sensible. Sometimes.

But as proud as he was of this fact, in the next moment he already regretted having said anything.

Eret grunted, something like a pressed laugh, then used his strength to hold him still instead. “Actually, we should take care of a few other things before we get carried away like this.”

“No, no, no. Moving over to the bed is enough sensibility for now. Everything else can wait.”

Now, Eret laughed for real and even leaned up to kiss Dagur once again. “Mmh, I know why I love you,” he hummed, but then sighed regretfully. “But as much as I’d like to go along with this plan of yours… I know where these usually lead us. And without Hiccup being around, we need to take care of our horses. We can’t let some unassuming grooms risk their lives feeding Crusher or Squish now, can we?”

Grudgingly, Dagur had to agree. “Okay, fine,” he grumbled, and pushed himself back up on his own legs. He held his hand out to help Eret up as well. “Let’s get that over and done with and then—”

He broke off when Eret grabbed his arm but then grunted, his face twisting into a pained grimace and his free hand flying to his injured chest.

“Oooor... how about I go and take care of the horses while you stay here and rest. No, no talking back here,” he said as he put his hand over Eret’s mouth when he attempted to object. “I can do that, okay? And I’d rather have you not constantly in pain afterwards. Now, shush! Lie down. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Not giving Eret the chance to object, he turned and left the room without a pause. As he got to the door, he rolled his eyes a little as Eret called a reminder to be cautious with the horses. Of course, he would be cautious! He could be responsible—if he wanted to. Maybe he would never be like Eret who always had the well-being of those depending on him at the forefront of his mind, but he could try. He had to…

Once in the corridor outside their rooms, Dagur cursed under his breath. Too soon, he chided himself. He at least should have waited for his erection to go down again. Well, it couldn’t be helped now. He would not go back in there and admit his mistake. He could just wait here, right?

Sighing, he leaned against the wooden wall. He really wasn’t good at this, was he? At being responsible and all that? There was no doubt in him that, one day, Eret would become a great leader to his House, no matter how much his grandfather, the old goat, complained. He was smart, reliable, sincere. He truly cared for those around him and surely was going to work hard to do whatever was necessary to make the life of his people better. He always knew what to do.

Dagur, however? He wasn’t like that. His father had never voiced even the slightest complaint, but Dagur knew. He knew that he would be a poor leader at best. It wasn’t that he didn’t want this kind of responsibility. He would just never live up to it. If there was just any other way, he’d abdicate and leave the title and responsibility to someone else, anyone else.

Except that the only other candidate was Heather’s unborn child.

With a suppressed groan, he let his head thump against the wall. Yeah, if there was anyone else… But he would not take away his sister’s baby. He’d given his promise, and there was no way he would ever break it. No, he just had to do his best and hope that it proved to be enough.

If only the stupid law would allow for one of his siblings to take his place. There was no doubt at all that they were their father’s children, his blood. And especially Aren, who was only short of a year younger than Dagur, would be a much better choice. As a Prestr of Odin, he was studying politics and strategy, and in general was so much better at ordinary things like just plain dealing with people. Or keeping his temper...

Dagur let out another sigh. At least Aren had agreed to become his advisor one day. So there was hope that Dagur wouldn’t ruin the entire Grand Dukedom within a year.

“Well, at least these gloomy thoughts served one purpose…” he muttered to himself, glancing down along his body. He pushed himself off the wall and finally headed for the inn’s stables where the grooms welcomed him with a mixture of surprise and relief.

“Sir Dagur! You’re already here, good,” one of the younger grooms exclaimed as he grabbed his arm and pulled him along. It made Dagur smile; the carefree straightforwardness of the boy was refreshing. “With all the visitors that are coming, we wanted to move your horses to other, more secluded boxes, just like Sir Eret had suggested. But we couldn’t find his squire anywhere, and—”

“It’s all right, I’ll help there,” Dagur interrupted him. “Sir Eret’s squire is taking a well-deserved break, better leave him to it.” Eventually, people would notice Hiccup’s absence, but it couldn’t hurt to cover up his departure for as long as possible.

He followed the boy to where Crusher and Squish stood next to each other, and with the usual combination of cooing and humming, he entered Squish’s stall without any complications.

“Right, buddy, it’s just me,” he murmured, and patted his neck as the large stallion greeted him with a nudge to his chest. He wasn’t sure whether making those noises was even necessary for him anymore or whether Squish recognised him by now without them, but he rather stayed on the safer side. “We’re going to move you to another stall, somewhere where it’s a little quieter. How does that sound?”

Squish gave a snort as if in agreement which made Dagur chuckle. Calmed down now, it only took a few minutes to guide him to the other stall, where Dagur left him with an additional apple as a treat.

“Don’t go in there unless there’s no other option,” he warned the grooms. “Better get me or Sir Eret… or his squire. He didn’t get the nickname Squish for nothing.” Suppressing a grin at the almost scared looks on the boys’ faces, he walked back to get Crusher as well. This wasn’t so hard, he pondered as he opened the black stallion’s stall, again cooing at him to keep him calm. See, he could be responsible when the situation called for it. These were only two horses and not an entire Grand Dukedom, but still. He could do this!

Dagur realised his mistake too late.

He heard the apprehensive gasps from the grooms behind him and even saw how Crusher moved restlessly as he entered the stall. But, too sure of himself and his skills, he hadn’t paid it any mind. After all, he knew the noises to calm these horses by heart by now.

Except that those didn’t work on Crusher.

It happened in the blink of an eye and Dagur barely caught any of it. Crusher whinnied, the grooms shouted, and pain exploded in his right foot. It raced up his leg, momentarily rendering him blind, unoriented. He didn’t even know how he’d made it out of the stall.

There were screams around him, calls for a healer. People were running around everywhere. Dagur only registers it throughout a weird haze as every time he tried to get up and tell them he was fine, a fresh wave of pain washed through him and let black spots explode behind his eyes.

“Oh, by Odin’s balls, how did that happen?”

Eret’s voice. Dagur would recognise it everywhere.

“Wrong noise,” he pressed through gritted teeth. He wondered when someone had sent for Eret or how he’d got here so quickly, but didn’t really care either way.

Eret snorted. He was careful as he cut Dagur’s boot open, but it still hurt.

“That doesn’t look good.”

Another voice. Dagur blinked up and saw a woman in the robes of Freya’s order. Her face looked younger than her greying hair made her seem to be.

“I saw what happened,” a young boy volunteered. One of the grooms, presumably.

“Good, Jimmy. I’m listening,” the Gythia said in a calm but clipped voice as she knelt down by Dagur’s foot. Slim hands touched him, gently, but it still made Dagur hiss in pain.

“The black stallion didn’t grow calm like the buckskin earlier. He grew even more restless when the Lord went in, and then stomped on his foot.”

“Crushed is more accurate,” the Gythia muttered.

Dagur cackled, a little hysterically. “Made good on his name then.” Wow, did that hurt!

“This is not funny, Dag,” Eret grunted, and kneeled down on his other side. “How bad is it?”

The Gythia sighed. “There are at least three broken tarsal bones. We’ll bring him to my house so I can put a cast on it as well as give him something against the pain, but…” She bit her lip, then shook her head. “I don’t know if I’m fit to treat such an injury correctly; those bones are small and hard to set.”

“Aye. Sadly, it’s a fairly routine injury among horsemen,” Eret said, frowning. “If he doesn’t get them set right, he might need a cane for the rest of his life.”

“You’re probably right there, milord. All I can say is that he needs to rest his foot now. No putting weight on it at all, for two or three weeks, maybe more. And the best bonesetter you can call for.”

“We should bring him back to Oramond then,” Eret said. “I know that my House has healers experienced with this injury.”

She nodded. “I agree. Jimmy, go and tell Gordan to get a stretcher ready. Can you gather what he needs, sir?”

Eret nodded in confirmation, then the Gythia hurried away, probably to do some preparations or something.

“I really can’t leave you alone for even ten minutes, eh?” Eret murmured.

Dagur let out a chuckle through gritted teeth. “Just imagine how boring your life would be without me.”

“Sometimes, I wouldn’t mind a little boredom.”

Again, Dagur chuckled. He knew how to take this comment. “Well, you’ll get your wish. I hope the next few days will be sufficiently uneventful now.” He paused, then added more quietly. “I’m sorry. I thoroughly ruined these days for us, didn’t I?”

Eret gave him a small but true smile and said in a low voice, “I don’t know. Generally, you just make everything better for me.” Then, before Dagur could reply anything to that sudden outburst of sappiness, he stood up. “Make sure to stay off that foot, you hear me? This is serious, okay? Be careful or you might end up having problems with it for the rest of your life. So be a good patient and let the healer do her work, and I’ll go and gather our things.”

Dagur accepted the advice as serious, but perked up in surprise at Eret’s last words. “You’re what now?”

“Well, I’m not staying here all alone with nothing to do when you need help with that injury.”

Dagur’s lips twitched into a smile, and if he hadn’t been in love with this idiot already, he most certainly would be now. But then, he shook his head. “As much as I appreciate the thought... you have to stay here. Just think about how much it would fuel the rumours about us.”

“You know that I really don’t care about these rumours, right?” Eret scoffed.

Dagur nodded. “I know, and neither do I. But you know as well as I do that they won’t make your lives easier in the long run. So think about it from the other side. If we separate now and you stay here, that would quench at least some suspicions. Besides,” he went on before Eret could protest. “If you leave now, Hiccup’s absence will become obvious immediately. But he needs the head-start. You have to stay here, if only to cover for him and to wait for his return.”

Eret’s mouth was already parted, ready to object. But instead of saying anything, he closed it again, lips pressed together, and shook his head. “By Frigga’s piercing glare, since when are you the responsible one here?” He chuckled at Dagur’s triumphant grin, then let out a heavy sigh. “You’re right, though. I have to stay. But when you go back anway, will you look after Swanja? To keep her company. That is, if you can.” He gestured at the swollen foot, but Dagur refused to look at it. If he ignored it, the pain was almost bearable. “I fear she’ll have a tough time getting through these days.”

Grimacing, Dagur nodded “Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll have an eye on her. Make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid.”

. o O o .

In the day since his accident, Dagur had been hauled back to Oramond on a stretcher slung between two horses, which had been ‘fun’. He was of the opinion that it was probably a great way to train sailors against seasickness, especially when the village Gythia’s potions against the pain had worn off. Once he was back in Oramond, he’d had his bones set—a ludicrously painful process, to say the least— and now had a cast made of flour and egg whites wrapped around his foot and calf, reinforced with birch rods.

As he was made to sit and wait for his cast to dry, his father kept him company. He didn’t say much, just sat in a chair next to him and had a weirdly satisfied expression on his face. It irked Dagur to think about the reason, even as it was a welcome distraction against the pain.

“Glad to see my misfortune makes you so happy, father,” he grumbled between pressed teeth. Who would have thought that a stupid foot could hurt so much? “But I shouldn’t be surprised. This way, I at least can’t cause any skandal, eh?”

His father measured him with a long and thoughtful look. Then he sighed and stood up to place a hand on Dagur’s shoulder. “I care about you, son, so I don’t like seeing you in pain. And given our family—” his face twitched into something between a smile and grimace. “—you should know that I also don’t care much about gossip or scandals. Emotions are not something we can always control or direct, so as long as you don’t let them influence your duties and responsibilities, I don’t have issues with who you love.”

Dagur lowered his gaze and pressed his lips together. This was the first time his father acknowledged in any way that he knew about him and Eret, and his reaction was far better than what he’d anticipated. But still, the reminder of his responsibilities stung.

“Anyway,” his father went on. “This is not why I’m glad you’re back again. It simply means… that you’re safe. There are far too many hidden knives out there for my taste...” He squeezed his shoulder again and then turned to leave, not pausing even as Dagur called after him.

Some hours later, he was still thinking about the meaning of those words. Hidden knives usually meant assassins. But… whose assassins were they if his father knew about them but also was worried about his safety? It made no sense…

After the cast was finally dry, he’d badgered the healers into giving him some crutches. They’d dithered, but eventually had given in after his father had given his permission. So long as he accepted a minder, who was a middle-aged Temple lay sister who was clearly wanting to make sure a ducal heir didn’t get more banged up under her supervision.

Grumpily, Dagur maneuvered the crutches and hobbled along the hallway to the rooms where Astrid was quartered here in Oramond. His foot itched, which the Gythia here said was a good sign. But it itched. Still, with at least some of his mobility back, he was going to fulfill his promise to Eret and check in on Astrid... and to give himself something to think about other than the throbbing pain radiating up his leg.

Upon his minder’s knock, his own hands occupied with the crutches, he could hear voices inside, one female which clearly was Ruff and one male which belonged to… Snot? Confused, he waited until the door opened and Ruff’s face appeared in the narrow gap.

“The Princess welcomes no visitors. You better—” Ruff’s eyes grew wide as she recognised him, then a worried expression crossed her face. “Dagur? What are you doing here? What— Did something happen?” She opened the door a little wider, glanced around, and then hurriedly ushered him in after making his minder wait outside, ready to escort him back to his room.

Even more confused—had she not heard that he’d been injured? The servants’ gossip was usually much faster than that!—Dagur manoeuvred himself inside, then stopped in bewilderment when he spotted Snot sitting by a low table at the side of the room, also looking surprised.

“Snot, you’ve really got to leave now,” Ruff ordered in a stern voice. “Get it into your head, Astrid won’t receive you. And I have no patience to chat with you, either.”

Given the history between these two, Dagur wasn’t surprised at the hurt expression on Snot’s face. Ruff’s rejections had always stung him more than those of others.

“No, I’m not leaving,” he grunted stubbornly, even crossed his arms in front of him and settled back on the cushioned sofa he was sitting on. “I want to know what games you’re all playing. I have just as much right to know as he does.”

Dagur grimaced. What he had to tell was not something Snot couldn’t know about. But he would have to be careful not to accidentally spill Astrid’s and Hiccup’s secret.

However, his own reluctance was nothing against what he spotted on Ruff’s face. Her expression grew more and more desperate, her movements fidgety. Why was she so nervous?

“I’m back because I got injured,” Dagur began, indicating toward his bandaged foot. He hoped to ease the tension at least a little. “Horse stomped my foot, my fault. But since I’m back here anyway, I thought I could update Swanja on… on her husband-to-be’s current state.”

Snot snorted. “What, did you bring love letters from Eret? Come on, you really don’t have to keep up that act for my sake. Besides, they’ve only seen each other yesterday morning, even for pretend yearning, that’s a little too thick, don’t you think? Besides, good luck with getting past Ruff. ‘The Princess doesn’t receive visitors’ is all she’s been saying all day.”

Dagur threw Ruff a measuring glance. Snot being so far off the mark was funny, in a way, but he didn’t miss how tense and uncomfortable Ruff was. And somehow, Dagur doubted that was merely because of her former lover’s presence.

“Is everything okay with Swanja?” he asked cautiously. “Is she hurt? Sick? Is there anything we can do for her?”

“She looked fine to me when I spotted her taking a stroll through the gardens earlier,” Snot muttered. “But even then, Tuff wouldn’t let me near her.”

Ruff grunted. “Sure, she’s fine. You can go now. Both of you!”

Dagur narrowed his eyes. He was too used to this tone from her and her brother. It always meant that they were hiding something, and in this case, it was probably more than just evidence of yet another prank.

“Argh, you’re getting on my nerves.” She threw her hands up in annoyance and stomped back towards the entry door. “As I said, she’s not receiving any visitors. Now, go.”

“Ruff?” Dagur growled, alarmed now. “What happened? I get her annoyance with random visitors, but why would she not even want to see me? Why would you not even ask her?”

Her expression grew even more tense. Her eyes darted from him to Snot and back again, both who were glaring at her with the same stubbornness. Whatever it was, Dagur would not leave until he knew what was happening here. And eventually, Ruff gave in.

“Oh, by Loki’s balls, I knew this wouldn’t work,” she cursed. She stood there with her hands balled into fists at her side and with her eyes screwed shut, as if waiting for the moment to pass by. Then she let out a deep sigh. “You have to swear, okay? Swear, that you won’t say a single word to anyone outside these rooms. Got it? Astrid’s life might depend on it.”

Alarmed, Dagur exchanged a quick glance with Snot, then they both nodded. Swanja’s safety was always a top priority for them.

Ruff hesitated for yet another moment, then went toward the door that led to the more private part of the suite. When she opened it, Tuff was the first to step through it.

“What did I say?” he exclaimed as he threw his hands up in the air. “This was a stupid idea. Completely hair-brained! And that means a lot coming from me!”

Dagur had to agree there, a bad feeling spreading in his stomach. Then someone else entered the room behind Tuff, and Dagur could do nothing but gape. With that elaborate dress and her blonde hair intricately braided around her head, she could have fooled him at a first glance.

But she was not Astrid.

. o O o .

Cami

(Three Days Earlier)

Curious as to why she’d been called to the Fyrir’s office, Cami greeted Mala with a light courtesy. “You wanted to see me?”

Mala waved for her to sit at a table in front of her. “I did. I just received a message from the castle, someone asking for your company.” She frowned. “And even though it came unexpectedly and on such short notice, I don’t think it would be wise to decline it without further consideration.”

“Oh?” Cami cocked her head. “What is it then? Which of the high lords is so bold as to request my company in the castle?” She smirked. She knew she was playing her role well, but this hadn’t happened so far.

However, Mala shook her head, bemused. “None. They explicitly asked for you, but I doubt they’re interested in your skills as an Ástir. Not directly, at least. Here, see for yourself.”

Mala handed Cami a letter and she started to read. Upon seeing the name written at the bottom though, she paled.

“Would you rather I decline the request?” Mala asked, one eyebrow raised as Cami looked up at her, the distress on her face obvious. “I can do that, for now at least. Offer another opportunity for a meeting, at another time, maybe?”

But Cami shook her head. “No, it’s all right. I’ll go immediately.” No matter what this was about, a delay wouldn’t help. Besides, the message contained a certain sense of urgency. As if something bad would happen if she didn’t respond.

“Very well. I’ll send for the stables; they’ll have a carriage ready for you.”

Only half an hour later, Cami reached the castle. And even though she wasn’t exactly scared, she still couldn’t help but wonder about this request. Why would the princess of all people send for her on such short notice? They’d only met a few times, and even though those had been pleasant enough, it wasn’t as if they were friends. Sure, it wasn’t uncommon for soon-to-be-brides to have this informative talk with a member of Freya’s Order, and maybe it even made sense that the princess summoned her specifically to have this conversation. But why now? Why in the middle of the night when everyone was trying to get a full night’s rest for the journey to Oramond in the morning?

Or... did she want to talk about something else entirely?

“Only one way to find out,” Cami muttered under her breath as she left the carriage.

The young man who’d delivered the princess’s message jumped off the coach box and waved her to follow him. “This way. We have to hurry. And if possible, make sure nobody sees you.”

Cami followed him with a frown, pulling the collar of her cloak tighter to somewhat hide her identity. What was happening here? Was this somehow about Hiccup and his involvement with the princess? Was she in trouble? But she’d already learned that questioning the princess’s servant had no use; he barely seemed to know more than she did.

They reached what had to be the family wing of the castle, with plush carpets covering the floor and paintings or tapestries on every wall. The man led her through the corridors in a hurry, nervously looking left and right, and then ushered her into what had to be the princess’s suite without even knocking.

Inside, Cami stopped by the doorway. In the middle of the lavish sitting room stood the princess, pristine and sublime as ever. From Eret, she knew that Princess Astrid wasn’t as stiff as people perceived her, that her cool front she showed at every public event was just that, a front. And the few times they’d met in person, Cami’s impression of the other woman had been similar, that she was kind and funny when in private. But right now, with how tense she stood there, eyes burning into Cami’s, she wasn’t so sure about that anymore.

A few tense seconds passed before the princess spoke.

“You know. Don’t you?”

Just those words. Cami bit her lip, nervously. Yes, she knew about a certain secret, about one that involved the princess and a certain squire. But right now, it didn’t feel safe to know about that. Was she going to get rid of Cami? To make sure the truth stayed hidden forever?

“I… I’m… I have no idea what you’re talking about, Your Royal Highness.”

The princess huffed in annoyance. “Oh, drop the act, and the title as well. We don’t have time for that.”

Gulping at her sharp tone, Cami reflexively bowed her head. “As you wish, Milady. But I don’t—”

The princess groaned, causing Cami to fall silent again. “I know that you know.” She looked at Cami with narrowed eyes. “About me and Hiccup. I know that he told you about us.”

So this was about Hiccup and his idiodic infatuation. Great! What had he got her into? But playing dumb wasn’t an option anymore. Taking a deep breath, Cami straightened, her eyes meeting those of the princess. “I do.”

The princess seemed to relax, her shoulders a little less tense now. “Good. Because I don’t have the time or patience to be vague. I need your help.”

Cami blinked. “My help?”

“Yes,” the princess said bluntly. “He told me how you always helped him, with information or to get away so we could meet. So I assume you’re not impartial toward him. I need your help to save him.”

“To save him?” Cami blurted out. “But… why? Is he in danger?”

Now that the princess apparently didn’t want to execute her after all, Cami felt a little more at ease around her. So this really was the woman Eret had told her about. And she had asked her to act normal. But it still felt surreal.

The princess hesitated, then gave a helpless shrug. “I think so, yes. I…” She paused, thinking, and then nodded as if to herself. “I really don’t have time, so I’ll be blunt. He’s going to partake in the Dragon Hunt, to earn himself a title so we can get married.”

Cami’s eyes grew wide.

“But I know he won’t make it alone. I can feel it!” She paused again, her hands balled into tight fists and her lips and eyes pressed shut. “I have to help him. So I’ll go after him, whether he wants it or not. But I don’t want the guards rushing after me as soon as they notice my absence. That would ruin everything. So… do you remember us joking about you taking my place now and then? That’s exactly what I need you to do now. My servants will do the major work, and you just have to be there. When visitors come to see me, let them see you from behind while my maidservant declines their request. Take a walk through the gardens while my warder keeps everyone at bay. Let them think I’m still there until we return.”

Unable to even blink, Cami could only gape at the princess. Was she serious? “You… you want to do what?” Eret had said that she liked being outdoors, but… she was still the princess! She couldn’t just… “Go out into the wilderness of the forest and hunt some elusive dragons?”

In the back of her mind, a tiny voice screamed at her to be cautious. For all of Freya’s love, she was still talking to the first lady of the entire kingdom.

Luckily, the princess didn’t seem to be angry though, and merely shrugged. “Into the swamplands, actually.”

“The swamps?” Cami shrieked, growing pale. “But… but that’s madness!” The swamps were no-man’s-land, dangerous, deadly. She couldn’t be serious!

“Maybe. But I don’t care.”

For a moment, Cami was speechless. The plan alone was pure insanity already, though the expression on the princess’s face was deadly serious, tense even. She was serious. But what baffled Cami even more was that she was willing to go to such length in the first place. And all that just… for Hiccup?

“You… would really do that?”

From one moment to the other, the princess’s features shifted into a soft smile, warm but distracted, her eyes cast unseeingly right through her. “For him? I’d do everything!” She paused, her lips twitching into a wider smile, as if she remembered something funny. But then she looked back at Cami again, sincerity radiating from her like a powerful wave. “Hiccup told me you don’t believe we share a true soulbond. I don’t have the time or energy to argue with you about that, believe what you wish. But I know it is real. Nothing will ever separate us. I will follow him. The question is just… Will you help me?”

Cami was reluctant to admit it, even just to herself, but she might have been wrong before. The princess clearly meant what she’d just said; she was set on going through with this mad plan of hers, whether Cami helped her out or not. But no matter whether this was just some intense form of first love infatuation or a true soulbond after all, the princess was right. What Cami believed was not important right now.

Right now, she had to make a decision. Logically, she should get away, alert the guards of the princess’s plan and do everything in her power to keep her safe. But… Someone—Princess Royal or not—had asked for her help, had placed great trust in her by even doing so. And a dear friend was in danger.

Cami squared her shoulders and gave a resolute nod. “Okay. What exactly do you need me to do?”

. o O o .

Dagur

(Present Time)

“And you just let her leave?!”

Dagur all but shouted, starring in utter disbelief at Cami and the twins.

“Hey, do you even know your so-called sister?” Ruff retorted, hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. “Do you know what she’s like when she’s set her head on something? Of course, we tried to talk her out of this. But you know how she feels about… her future husband. She would have left anyway, with or without our help. This way, she’s at least prepared and has some support.”

Dagur gritted his teeth but couldn’t help but see Ruff’s point. Deep down, he wasn’t even surprised Swanja had gone after Hiccup, not really. In hindsight, it was even obvious that she wouldn’t let him leave on his own. But by Thor’s balls, what was she thinking!

“I don’t get it,” came Snot’s confused voice from behind him. “Why would she go after Eret? No offence, but I didn’t expect her to feel that passionate about their wedding? And why out into the wilderness? Doesn’t she know that you and Eret would only travel as far as you need to and then enjoy your days off? Or… at least I assume that's what you’d planned?”

He threw a questioning look at Dagur, but he ignored it. Right. When Ruff and Cami had given them a brief account of Astrid’s plan, they’d been purposefully vague about who exactly she was following.

But what to tell Snot now was the least of his problems. He had to do something about Swanja, had to get her back here safely—and preferably, without anyone noticing she’d been gone in the first place. He hobbled over to a small writing desk and rummaged around for a pen and a sheet of paper.

“What are you doing?” Tuff looked at him with a bemused expression, his head cocked.

“Writing a message,” Dagur grunted. There are far too many hidden knives out there for my taste… Once again, his father’s words came to his mind. If what he’d hinted at was true, then… “We need to send someone after her. She can’t be out there on her own, it’s far too dangerous, especially now.”

Ruff snorted. “Good luck with that. She’s travelling disguised as a messenger.”

Groaning, Dagur let his shoulders slump. “Why… why would you do that?”

But Ruff just raised an eyebrow at him and he didn’t need an answer anyway. Because if she wanted to catch up to Hiccup she had to travel as fast as he did. Too bad that also meant she was already out of reach by now.

With a grim expression, he reached for the pen and ink and started to write.

“Uh, and what are you doing now? Didn’t you listen to what we just said?”

“I’ve got to send a messenger to Eret,” he muttered, pushing himself up on his crutches.

Tuff snorted. “Why? He won’t reach her anymore either.”

“I know. But he still needs to learn about this.”

Oh, what a mess!

. o O o .

Uh oh... Astrid, what have you gotten yourself in to? How does this relate to Hiccup? And who was that person in the beginning? What was that note about? So many questions... *hides under rocks*

(If you want to be added to or removed from the tag list, just let me know! :))

Next Chapter >>

* - . - * - . o O o . - * - . - *

I am but a street artist, offering my art to those around me. If you enjoyed it, a tip in the form of a ❤️, comment, or reblog would be highly appreciated. 😊

Or if you want you can buy me a coffee. I love coffee 😊 (Ko-Fi)

[taketheshot21]

14 and 15 for the fandom asks

17. Go on, who are your BroTPs?

Clintasha. I just don't ever see it for them. I mean, I can fully get that they might have fucked, either as a trust thing or because they didn't have anyone else or as a post-mission adrenaline thing and they absolutely have unbreakable bond of love but can't see them in a relationship romantically. I don't read anything that ships them.

Phillinda. I know, this is sounding like 'no ship but Phlint!' but even that aside I just don't buy them as having any chemistry? They just feel like real deep almost soulmate buddies and I love their banter but sexually I don't feel any sizzle for them. Could just be my Phlint specs though, I don't ship Phil with anyone but Clint!

15. Is there an obscure ship which you love?

As I said before Dagur/Eret from HTTYD really floats my boat, they're just two big handsome idiots and I think their personalities compliment each other so well.

Aside from there I guess it's not really obscure but I have a total soft spot for Brutasha. I totally fell for their chemistry in Avengers and AoU (and in Ragnarok come to that) and don't buy into the rhetoric that the writers used Nat as a 'reward' for Bruce in some way. I absolutely could see why she would like Bruce and admire him and I really think Infinity War and Endgame should have acknowledged it at least. No, actually I think they should have been allowed to be happy. Nat gives orders to a blue robot lady and talking racoon, she would totally have been down for snuggling up with Professor Green. And he clearly still had feelings for her, I hate that it was just abandoned. Thank god fic is there to do the job.

Man that became a rant! 😁

Thanks for asking @montanagirlm 😘

[darbobirza]

Fasadininkas | UAB "Dagret" | Vilnius

Pareigos:  Fasadininkas Įmonė: UAB "Dagret" Miestas:  Vilnius Atlyginimas:  01.03 

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Darbo rinka Vilnius http://www.darbo.lt/darbas/darbdavys.php?id=2018020201031531241212

[shipmistress9]

FTLOAP: Bonus 1: Skullcrusher

As announced, there won't be a new chapter for FTLOAP this week, because I'm on vacation in the UK. I'm visiting a friend and also am going to meet other friends I never would have made if not for fanfictions and HTTYD. So what better company could there be to watch the third film with? @taketheshot21 , @athingofvikings , @themanonthecouch , @heathenvampires , I'm so happy to know you! :D

However, just because there won’t be a new chapter this week doesn’t mean there will be nothing. This is the first part of my Bonus and Background Collection for For The Love Of A Princess. This little story here was meant to be a fun story, but in the end turned more fluffy and a bit angsty, maybe. Anyway, this little story refers to something that got mentioned in Interlude 3: Chaos Squad. It's about how Dagur ended up calling his brew Skullcrusher... and other things. Hope you enjoy it. :)

Fandom: HTTYD

Alpha/Co-author: @athingofvikings

Discord-server for discussions and questions

. o O o .

Groaning, Eret covered his eyes with his hand as he stepped out of their house’s backdoor. The bright sunlight felt like little lances piercing into his head, which only made the headache he already had worse.

“Loki, I’ll never drink that stuff again,” he muttered. “I feel as if my head’s splitting in two.”

“Ah, don’t be such a lightweight,” an aggravatingly cheerful voice came from behind him, and Eret turned to glare at the voice’s source. Dagur, however, just kept grinning. “You just overdid it a bit. Not that I can blame you, that stuff is fantastic. Good thing I wrote down the recipe; I’ve got to make more of it. And it needs a proper name. Something… something cool so that people know exactly what to expect of it. Mmh, Mjolnir, maybe? Or would that be too presumptuous? How about Blissbringer? No, that sounds more like an aphrodisiac. I mean, it was followed by pure bliss, but I doubt everyone who drinks this would be so lucky as to experience such joy. Mmh, I’ve got to think about this. Anyway... not the point! The point is that my brew is fantastic. You just need to work up to it. Believe me, once you’ve gotten used to it, you barely feel anything anymore.”

Grunting, Eret shook his head – and regretted it instantly as the motion made his vision swim. It wasn’t as if he didn’t believe Dagur; he knew well enough that his hangover came from too much rather than from what he’d been drinking last night. But, Loki, this time he really wished he hadn’t drunk anything. Having a hangover was never fun, but having one when dealing with a skittish stallion? That was worse.

“You really could have stopped me at some point,” he muttered, but smiled nonetheless when Dagur gave him a nudge to the arm.

“Ah, but we had so much fun!”

And they really had. Eret still couldn't believe how… liberating it had been to spend the night with Dagur. Not just laughing and drinking and joking like they’d done nearly all their lives, no. Actually spending the night together, as lovers. As a couple.

That still sounded… strange, even in his own head. Just like calling Dagur his boyfriend did. But it was true nonetheless, and now that the truth was out – at least between the two of them – he couldn't be happier.

He’d known for a while that what he felt for Dagur was more than just brotherly affection. But it had taken the chaotic night of the grand blot a few months back, with inhibition lowered by alcohol, incense, and the sense of new beginnings, for him to realise what he felt. And that Dagur felt the same.

That night, they’d kissed for the first time. He remembered the kiss he'd once shared with Swanja, an experiment to see whether their closeness meant more than the affection between siblings. But there had been nothing, just awkwardness and weirdness. With Dagur, it had been different. It almost happened by accident, in-between messily making-out with who knew how many people, but it had sparked a deep fire that since then was glowing inside him. For all these months now, it had never failed to bring a grin to his face, and last night… Last night, it had grown into a true bonfire, every stroke of hands over bare skin, every kiss only letting it burn hotter.

No, there was nothing about last night Eret truly regretted, not even celebrating their love with Dagur's latest brew. The stuff had been good! But by Odin, he wished he'd drunk at least a little less.

“Fun it was,” he admitted with a smirk that made Dagur cackle. “But I severely hope the reports about the horse they sent back from Berk were exaggerated, or I fear my head might just split in two at some point.”

The reminder of bad news was enough to let even Dagur sober up in an instant. “So it's true?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed. “They're all dead?”

Eret nodded, eyes dropping to the ground. “Looks like it. The entire house burned down to the ground, and no matter how much they searched, they couldn't find any survivors. Just... burned bodies. They haven’t even been able to sort out who is who for some of them.” The thought still hurt. Eret had spent a lot of time at his aunt’s household, had taught his cousin Hiccup, who had a natural gift in dealing with animals, how to handle their horses, had sparred with his uncle Stoick and his younger cousin Arndis, had told stories to his little cousin Teitr, the small boy staring up at him with wide green eyes. It were fond memories; he’d always enjoyed spending time with this part of his family. But now, they were all dead, they and their entire household, servants and everybody.

He took a deep breath to steady himself again. Death wasn’t something he hadn’t encountered before. Hel, it had been only three years ago that he and his sisters had lost their mother. But this was still… different somehow. Because nobody knew what really happened, whether it had been an accident, a dragon attack, arson, or a deliberate assassination. Everything was possible, and yet nothing made sense.

And there was nothing he could do about it either. Nothing but to take back his uncle’s horse, who was too hot-blooded for anyone in the Tribes to handle. Or that’s what he’d heard. Maybe they were just too superstitious to ride a dead man’s horse. Although truth be told, Skullcrusher was tough to handle. Eret remembered breaking him down only two years prior, and it had been quite a bit of work. No wonder even his father’s grooms didn’t dare to get near the beast now and had called for him instead. Well, he had to pick a new horse anyway with his current steed getting too old, so getting used to this one might be just right anyway.

“Woah, that’s what I call a big horse,” Dagur whistled as they rounded a corner and spotted the stallion on a secluded paddock nearby.

“Yeah, and you better keep your distance,” Eret replied, and placed his hand in a ‘wait here’-gesture on Dagur’s chest as they reached the fence. “If even the grooms had their problems…”

Dagur paused in his steps, then nodded. “Yeah, you’re probably right. But don’t think I’ll always do as you say,” he added, cackling when Eret rolled his eyes with a fond smile. If last night had made one thing clear, then it was that neither of them would be submissive in any way. Instead, there would be constant play-fighting between them, and Eret was looking very forward to it.

Brushing all distracting thoughts aside for now, he entered the paddock. His hands were raised in a calming gesture, and he automatically started to make shooing and humming noises under his breath to keep Skullcrusher calm as he neared the horse. The stallion was a beauty, even with his black fur matted by lack of grooming. Nobody had gotten close enough to him in a while to do so.

Contrary to what Eret had expected though, the beast didn’t calm down. Instead, it seemed to get even more agitated, lifted his head with his ears pressed flat to his fur and pranced nervously. It made Eret pause; that wasn’t how they’d trained their horses to react to those noises.

“Be careful,” Dagur called from behind. “It looks as if it’s ready to hammer you into the ground. And not in the fun wa– oops!” Dagur’s loud words had startled the stallion, his attention jerking away from Eret before he turned and cantered away to the other side of the paddock. “Sorry?”

Eret turned and gave Dagur a flat look.

“Hey, I said I was sorry!” Dagur called in a slightly remorseful tone, but the amusement tinging his words sounded far more like him.

Fighting the twitching of his lips, Eret turned back to the stallion and slowly walked over. Dagur couldn't stay serious for long no matter what, probably not even if his life depended on it, and it was part of what… what he loved about him. Because that was what it was. Love. Sure, they'd always been close. But this felt so much different. Good. Right. He threw another glance over his shoulder at Dagur, a warm smile, and as if Dagur had known, his expression already matched Eret's.

But now, he had a horse to deal with. Again, he neared Skullcrusher with raised hands, averted eyes, and the usual calming noises, but it was bewitched. He barely ever made it closer than half a dozen steps before the horse bolted. For over half an hour he tried again and again but didn't make any considerable progress, until it happened.

Eret wasn’t sure whether the beast did it on purpose, just hadn’t paid attention, or was so stressed by now that he wasn’t even looking where he was running anymore. But at his next attempt at bolting away from Eret, Skullcrusher missed and hit him in a near-full bodyslam against his shoulder, and Eret found himself lying on the hard ground before he knew what had happened. All he knew was that, in addition to the hangover, his head now also hurt from the impact.

“Hey, you still alive down there?” There was concern in Dagur’s voice as he appeared above him a moment or three later, but it was barely noticeable beneath the amusement.

Groaning, Eret closed his eyes, his head pounding somewhat fiercely. “I think I found the perfect name for your deadly brew,” he muttered, trying to concentrate on anything else beside the hammering pain. “How about Skullcrusher? Because let me tell you, they both hurt the same.”

Dagur paused, then burst out laughing in his usual irresistible way. “Oh, Gods, that’s brilliant,” he cackled. “I hope that old nag doesn’t mind, but yeah, I’ll use that name. It’s perfect.” He reached one arm out to help Eret up, and Eret took it gratefully.

Groaning some more, he followed Dagur to the side where a plate with cheese and bread, and a carafe with fresh water were waiting. He hadn’t even noticed, but Dagur must have sent for food at some point, and Eret threw his lover an appreciative smile. “Thanks. That’s just what I need now.”

“Anytime,” Dagur retorted, grinning. “Thought you could need a little refreshment.”

They settled in to eat, chatting lightly over non-threatening topics. The weather, the landscape, the latest gossip. Not about what was important, like the war or the dead, or what their feelings for each other meant and where they might lead them, but it was good. For now, it was good.

“Alright then, let’s give it another try,” Eret muttered eventually. With his arms crossed in front of him, he leaned against the paddock's fence, frowning as he watched the grazing stallion in the distance.

“I'd say he simply doesn't like you,” Dagur commented, cheerful as ever. He sat on top of the fence next to him by now, and apparently found the idea of a continuation of the show highly amusing. “If you'd come at me with that determination, I'd given in long ago.”

Almost against his will, Dagur’s cackling made Eret’s lips stretch into a grin. It didn’t last long, however, worries soon clouding his mind again. “But he has to cooperate,” he muttered, face dropping again. “If he’s really so fixated on his former rider that he wouldn’t accept anyone else…”

“So what?” Dagur asked when Eret trailed off. “Isn’t that what you train these horses for? To be loyal to their owner?”

Sighing, Eret nodded. “Yes. But his owner is dead,” he replied harshly. “We can’t keep him uncontrolled like this, so if he doesn’t accept anyone else near him, then… then we have no choice but to kill him too. And–” he gulped as a lump was forming in his throat at that thought– “and I don’t want to do that. Skullcrusher… He’s like the last part of them, you know? If he dies too…”

Suddenly, a hand was on his shoulder, squeezing him comfortingly, and only now did Eret realise how tense he was. Killing a horse was never a pleasant job, but this horse? No, he couldn’t let that happen, not without a better reason. It would feel like losing them all over again.

“Hey, it’ll be okay,” Dagur muttered, suddenly sounding much more insightful than usual, and when Eret turned, the redhead had an oddly intense expression on his face. “I didn’t mean it like that. Since when do I encourage giving up that easily?” Again, he squeezed his shoulder, but this time it failed to cheer him up. “Go on, try again. Maybe he just didn’t understand you. Are you sure you used the right noises? They sound pretty weird to me.”

Eret snorted. “Of course I’m using the right noises!” he exclaimed. “I’m working with these horses for almost ten years now, don’t you think I–” He broke off, eyes widening as he remembered. Of course! Stoick had been bad at getting these noises right. Like… really bad! It had always sounded off and he hadn’t been good at remembering the right order either, or so Hiccup had said. And he’d also said that he’d trained his father’s horse to react to a different set of noises instead, a melody their mother had often hummed to them.

“Ha!” His outburst seemed to startle Dagur, judging by the puzzled frown on his face as Eret turned to grin at him. “Thanks, Dag, that’s it! I was using the wrong sounds. Now, I just…” Almost feverishly, he scoured his mind for the right tune. It was one he’d heard in his childhood too, but had forgotten until he’d heard Valka hum it to Teitr. Hearing it again from Hiccup in Berk’s stables had been nothing but funny in that moment, but the deeper meaning hadn’t registered in his mind – not until now. But now, it was back, and all he had to do was remember the melody.

Nodding to himself, Eret pushed himself off the fence and made another attempt at getting closer to Skullcrusher. The stallion eyed him warily, looking ready to bolt again. One step more, than Eret began to hum. It came out low and more insecure than he’d hoped, but the effect was instantaneous. Skullcrusher’s ears twitched around, curious. The next step had the horse’s flanks tense up again, but Eret’s humming held more confidence now, and it only took a couple of seconds until the horse relaxed again. Two more steps, then Eret was able to touch the stallion’s snout and place a calming hand on his neck.

“There we go,” he murmured, scratching the horse’s chest which he obviously enjoyed greatly. “That’s good, isn’t it? Yeah, you’re a good boy. We’ll get along, you and me, won’t we?” He kept murmuring and humming until the stallion had relaxed completely, and Eret sighed in relief. So they wouldn’t have to kill him after all, but would be able to keep him instead. He would be able to keep him. “But you know what, big boy? Skullcrusher is quite a mouthful. Mind if I just call you Crusher instead?” The horse snorted, once, then rubbed his big head against Eret’s chest, making him chuckle.

“Is it safe to get closer?”

Looking up, Eret saw that Dagur had followed him across the paddock and now stood a healthy distance away. He was grinning, as usual, but there was more in his eyes than just humour; a certain fondness and a hint of pride. Eret placed a calming hand on Crusher’s neck, the other on the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, but be careful,” he said calmly. “No too sudden movements.”

Eyeing the horse warily, Dagur came closer. “He’s even bigger than he looked from afar,” he muttered, glancing upwards. “Now I’m all the more glad he didn’t trample you into the ground. I would have missed you.” He winked, making Eret snort. “No, really. But jokes aside… I’m glad you were able to calm him. Because you’re right, it would have been a shame.”

A shame indeed, Eret thought to himself. Again, the memories of those lost threatened to overwhelm him, and he quickly sought comfort in those around him; against Crusher’s neck and with Dagur’s hand in his. He would keep them alive in his memories, he decided, but life would go on.

It would have to.

. o O o .

So, that was that... hope you enjoyed it! :)

I can't say how often or regular I'm going to add to this collection. Feel free to suggest if there's something you'd like to see/know, but I won't/can't guarantee that I'm going to write everything.

[taketheshot21]

7, 8, 9, 12, 15. ;)

7. List your NOTPs for each fandom you've been in.

OK so, HTTYD - pretty much just anything with Heather. I just can't stand her. Oh god, no, actually anything that involves any human with Toothless or any other dragon either humanised or not. Noooooooooo not for me.

Marvel - Clintasha. They're my solid Brotp. And any ship involving Nick Fury.

Sherlock - any ship involving Moriarty

The Witcher - erm, I don't think I know enough ships to have a NOTP? There's ones I wouldn't be interested in but nothing I'm a hard no on. Unless, actually, if Stregobor is involved. He's a twat.

8. How did you get involved in your latest fandom?

I guess it's The Witcher so that's @shipmistress9 's fault again. She says' you have to watch this', I go insane. As usual.

9. What are the best things about your current fandom?

With Phlint, which is where I'm mainly at nowadays as you know, it's the support. The readers and writers and gif makers and artists etc are the best. And everyone is so nice to everyone! We're maybe kinda smaller but still wonderful. And the ingenuity and dedication of Phlint producers blows me away.

12. Who is your current OT3?

Okay, I'm allowed one per fandom, right? 😊

HTTYD - it's Hicretstrid (of course)

Marvel - I don't really have one? Though I do like a bit of Stuckony and I'll forever be fond of the Phil/Clint/Bruce fic that brought me to Phlint.

The Witcher - its an OT4 Jaskier/Geralt/Eskel/Lambert and I won't repent.

15. Is there an obscure ship which you love?

Dagret for sure, (Dagur/Eret from HTTYD) we'll paddle that rowboat just me and you @shipmistress9 if we have to (even if I am more moral support than production atm! That WIP still burns a hole in my head...) 😊

Thanks for asking @shipmistress9! 😘

[shipmistress9]

What ship do you dislike? What's the most underrated ship?

I’m going to answer these in the wrong order. 

The most underrated ship? 

Dagret 

As I don’t consider RTTE and HTTYD2/3 belonging to the same canon-verse, these two never meet, might not even exist in the same realm. But I think they would be incredibly adorable together. They would always try to one-up each other, always play-fight for dominance, even over the smallest things. They’d have so much fun together. 

What ship I dislike?

Heathstrid

Just writing this name makes my heartbeat accelerate and gives me this sick/angry feeling in the stomach. 

I know that I am very  much alone with this opinion in this fandom, but the way I see it, Heather’s behaviour is nothing but abusive. She’s only friends with somebody as long as it’s to her advantage. She can act all friendly if it serves her purpose, but doesn’t really care about what any of her ‘friends’ feel or want. 

Her friendship with Astrid makes me shudder. Because Astrid needs a friend; she’s never really had one among the other teens from Berk except Hiccup eventually, and, obviously, there are things about which she can’t talk with him. And she offers this friendship to Heather who, as it would seem, needs a friend, too. But all Heather does is force Astrid to lie to her friends even after she voiced her concerns about that and abandons her (and the others) whenever she feels like doing something else. That is not what I perceive as friendship.

Seeing them paired romantically just makes me sick. I know a lot of people see them as perfect couple, as equals, as two strong women who love and support each other. But that’s not what I see. If it were that way, I’d ship them, too. 

But what I see instead is one abusive person exploiting and taking advantage of another. And I hate it.

[shipmistress9]

The next chapter for FTLOAP is written and already roughly edited. I’d wanted to post the next update on my birthday next week, but I’m severely lacking the motivation and energy to do the final edits. So until that’s done... have at least this little sneak peek. :)

Now, Eret chuckled. “Yeah, you woke up with a headache alright. But not because we lost some fight. One of them eventually realised who we were, then they apologised and every single one of them insisted on ordering a drink for us. And while I was sensible enough to quit after four or five beers, you insisted on drinking them all, mine included. Hence the headache.”

[shipmistress9]

FTLOAP - 26.5 - Interlude 2: The Price To Pay

Title: For The Love Of A Princess

Fandom: HTTYD

Theme: Hiccstrid - Medieval-style AU - Romance - Angst/Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Reduced to little more than a stable boy, Hiccup, despite his noble birth, has few prospects for more in life. But when he meets a girl who came to look at the horses, being a stable boy might not be enough anymore. Together, they have tough choices to make and great risks to navigate if they want to survive and be together.

Rating: Explicit

FF-net  -  AO3 -

Discord-server for discussions and questions

Prologue; Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7; Chapter 8; Chapter 9; Chapter 10; Chapter 11; Chapter 12; Chapter 13; Chapter 14; Interlude 1; Chapter 15; Chapter 16; Chapter 17; Chapter 18; Chapter 19; Chapter 20; Chapter 21; Chapter 22; Chapter 23; Chapter 24; Chapter 25; Chapter 26

Alpha/Co-author: @athingofvikings

. – * – _ . o O o . _ – * – .

AN: What's this? An unscheduled surprise update? YES! And with good reason:

~ . o O o . ~

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, @deathberryhime ! From the both of us. :D

~ . o O o . ~

So, what do we have here? Another interlude, from Daniel's POV this time. So sorry, no Hiccstrid progress yet ;P

And before we get started, I want to freshen up a few names. In this interlude, we'll meet the father's of our chaos squad again, so here are their names once more to hopefully prevent confusion. We have: King Osmond, father of Daniel and Astrid Grand Duke Oswald, father of Dagur Grand Duke Eret II, father of Eret III, which is the Eret we usually deal with. (This is not the old goat/scarecrow of a man Eret 'the Elder' who's the Grandfather of both Eret and Hiccup. That one doesn't show up here.)

Also: YES! The Dagret ship is floating! It might be barely more than a two-(wo)men-rowboat, but we love it. :D

. o O o .

As Daniel hastily left the bathhouse, having donned his clean tunic and trousers in a hurry, still tightening down his belt as he went out the door, he couldn’t help but feel triumphant. Finally!

Finally, he’d made progress.

Finally, he’d know for sure.

Finally, he’d be able to act.

Grim satisfaction filled his heart as he crumpled the inconspicuous note in his fist. He wasn’t fooling himself, as he knew perfectly well that this small note was only the start of a long and probably ugly process. But that didn’t change how pleased, even excited he was to finally get started. After months and years of escalating incidents, he finally had the chance to crack the shell of the conspiracy that was rotting the kingdom from the inside out.

With sure strides, he walked down the corridors and several staircases until he reached his goal: the castle’s dungeon. The guards that stood at the door to the side corridor he was heading at greeted him with a silent nod, and opened the door without a single word only to firmly close it behind him again. Not a word of what was spoken in here would reach unintended ears. The corridor behind the door was a short one; only a few strides deep with one door on each side, leading to further rooms. The left one was a cell, the one to the right an additional guard room. Daniel paused, gritting his teeth as he glanced at the cell, but pulled himself together and entered the other room. He would get his chance to deal with the prisoner soon enough.

“Ah, I see the note reached you, Your Highness.” Fyrir Alvin greeted him with a nod as he entered, his deep voice barely more than a low rumble. The broad man filled a considerable amount of the small guard room, but as it was otherwise empty except for the small and hunched form of Fyrir Gothi and Daniel himself, it wasn’t much of an issue.

“Fyrir Alvin. Fyrir Gothi. Yes, I got your note; thank you for sending for me directly. So, he finally gave in?” Daniel asked, excited. He’d been waiting for this note to reach him for days now.  

Frigga’s old Fyrir nodded, mutely as ever, and stepped forward to hand Daniel a folded piece of paper. Both Fyrirs stood quietly as he quickly unfolded it and scanned its content. As expected, it was nothing but a quickly scribbled list. A list that made him grit his teeth in hatred, yet at the same time made his heart thump eagerly. It was a list of names.

After scanning it twice, Daniel nodded and safely stowed it into the front pocket of his jacket. “Thank you for your efforts,” he said with a grim smile. “Hardly any name here comes as a surprise. Especially not...” he trailed off, gritting his teeth, but then gave a small nod. “I want to speak to him once more.”

“We didn’t expect anything else,” Alvin nodded, and led the way over to the cell and its resident.

Gunter Erwinsson still wore what had to be the remnants of his formal court attire, but after several days now, it had lost a great deal of its former dignity. The formerly neat trousers, tunic, and west were stained with dust and sweat, the fabric dishevelled and partially torn. The former Count Ravenledge had been offered clean clothes as Daniel knew, but he had refused to wear anything that would diminish his status.

The man sat on a low pallet, an empty bowl at his side, and looked up as the door to his cell opened. “Ah, what an honour,” he sneered in a low and raspy voice. “The Crown Prince himself again. This is it then? Is my time up?”

Daniel scrutinised the old man. Directly after his imprisonment, he’d used every opportunity to fight his way out, but it seemed like he’d given up by now. Or he’d accepted that he had no chance of escaping anyway with Fyrir Alvin blocking the way.

“Not yet,” Daniel replied solemnly. “We’re still waiting for our couriers to return with a more accurate assessment of County Ravenledge’s current state. You still have a few days left.”

Gunter Erwinsson gave a harsh laughter. “How very kind of you. A few days more to wait for my slow and degrading death...” He gave the two Fyrirs standing behind Daniel wary glances, before he got up on his feet, slowly, indicating that he was no threat. “I assume you got what you wanted, Your Highness. Each and every man I know of being guilty of supporting the title disputes, as you requested.”

Daniel nodded, once. “And you swear that all these names are valid? You know these men are guilty?”

The former count snorted. “Indeed. I’ve only been to one of their meetings, but that was enough to get what they’re up to. All they want is chaos and power.”

Again, Daniel nodded. He knew the former count’s story by now. How a certain influential duke had approached him with an offer of power if he agreed to support him, how the count had refused, and how, in retaliation, the duke had arranged for his county to be taken from him.

A part of Daniel saw the value in the former count’s action. He’d been loyal to his position and House Berserker, hadn’t been a bad vassal, all things considered. But that didn’t change the fact that he was a bad man and had been a horrible leader to his people.

“And are these all the noblemen who conspire against the Crown?” Daniel asked calmly. He already knew the answer, but still had to ask.

“Hardly,” Gunter snorted. “But those are all the names I can confirm without a doubt.”

Glancing to the side, Daniel saw how Fyrir Gothi nodded. The former count was speaking the truth. “All right,” Daniel said, turning to leave the cell, but paused when the other man spoke again.

“What about our agreement?” he inquired. “What about my son?”

Glancing back at him, Daniel let out a sigh. “Our agreement stands,” he announced. “You told me what I wanted to know, so I will keep my end of the bargain. Your son Angus won’t suffer any further consequences by your or Harold’s actions. He will remain a knight in the Royal Army, and will suffer no inferior treatment for what his family did. You have my word.”

He didn’t feel comfortable with having the son of this man, Harold’s brother, among his personal guard. But so far, Angus hadn’t done anything wrong, was a good and loyal soldier, in fact. Punishing him just for his relations wouldn’t be right. Although, Daniel would certainly keep an eye on him.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Gunter muttered. He insinuated a bow, before he slumped back down onto his pallet.

Daniel gave him a last look before he followed the Fyrirs and left the cell. The man looked completely broken.

Once back in the solitude of the guard room, Daniel turned toward the Fyrirs again. “You’ve worked on him for several days now. What is your evaluation?” he asked, glancing from one to the other.

Gothi and Alvin shared a look that spoke of decades of cooperating. “He’s telling the truth,” Alvin finally grumbled. “Most of the names he gave us didn’t come as a surprise, and the few that did–” he shrugged, “–well, they aren't exactly known as close allies of the Crown either. And he has no reason to try and twist the truth in any way. His story makes sense. He was loyal to House Berserker, and when he refused to cooperate with the traitors they took away his city, and burned it to the ground when he came to take it back. A punishment and a warning. There was never any loyalty between him and those men; he just tried to get as much out of revealing them as possible.”

Fyrir Gothi nodded in agreement, and Daniel did as well. “Why now, though?” he wondered idly. “I didn’t offer him anything that I haven’t offered him at the beginning already.”

Again, Gothi and Alvin shared a brief glance. “Maybe he realised that you wouldn’t offer him anything else anyway?” Alvin suggested. “Maybe he gave up?”

“Yes, probably.” Sighing, Daniel grimaced. “Either way, we have what we wanted. Now, we just have to decide what to do with this list. Did you send a note to my father?”

Alvin nodded. “And to the Grand Dukes too, as requested.”

“All right. Then I better not let them wait.” With another nod, Daniel bid them farewell, and left the dungeon again.

As he made his way back to his rooms to change into a more formal attire before meeting his father and the Grand Dukes, he felt the same sense of excitement as before growing inside his chest. Finally, they would be able to do something! And there was one name on that list that Daniel was looking very forward to dealing with, one name that hadn’t come as a surprise at all.

Duke Thuggory of Meathead. Of course he’d been on that list of traitors. Gunter Erwinsson hadn’t been able to confirm Daniel’s suspicion, but he was sure that Thuggory had cooperated with Harold to get to Astrid. Just like he was sure that Thuggory was somehow behind the first attack on her all those months ago, too. Daniel had no proof or evidence, not even a hint or rumour, but he simply knew it. The satisfied smirk that had flickered across Thuggory’s face on that day… Even after all these months, Daniel still couldn’t forget that look.

But now, finally, he could get back to him. Maybe not directly for what had happened to Astrid, or how he’d treated other girls, if rumours were true, but in the end that didn’t matter. He would stop Thuggory and his malicious doings, would gladly do whatever was necessary, pay whatever price it took. Everything, if only it meant revenge for what he’d done to Astrid, and would turn the Kingdom back into a safer place to live in again.

A burst of laughter made Daniel look up, just in time to see three familiar figures turn around the corner at the end of the corridor he just passed. For a second, he considered calling after Eret, Dagur, and Hiccup – but decided against it. He didn’t want to ruin their cheerful mood with politics; they’d get the chance to discuss it at a later occasion.

Their cheerfulness made him a little melancholic, though. If only it would be possible for them to spend more time here at the castle than just these brief few months each year. Their presence was so incredibly good for Astrid, Eret’s especially. Ever since his arrival, she was like a completely different person.

Or well… no, that wasn’t true. She wasn’t like a different person. She was herself again. Not the fearful and jumpy shell of a person she’d been during the months after the spring festival anymore, but happy and laughing. So full of life again. If only they would see how good they were for each other…

And, well...Cold-blooded as the dynastic logic was, Astrid would almost certainly be married off to either Eret or Dagur the day she turned twenty anyway. She would be expected to start popping out heirs as rapidly as possible, if only to avoid another succession crisis in one of the grand-dukedoms. No matter how much they all liked to ignore it, those were the solid facts, their future – and the only solace was that she still had two years for her mental and emotional wounds to heal before she would have to accept getting intimate with a man again.

It was the same cold-blooded logic that demanded for Daniel to soon choose a wife, too, with an impeccable bloodline of course, and to sire heirs on her, regardless of his heart. No matter how much he despised that thought, it, too, was a solid fact, a future he was prepared for. And he comforted himself that it was yet another way to make his friends’ lives easier, if nothing else. If anything were to happen to him, he didn’t want the weight of the Kingdom to lie on Astrid’s shoulders. To place a target on her – and her future husband. Nothing cemented an usurper’s legitimacy like marrying the last remaining member of the old royal line, after all. And they surely wouldn’t refrain from turning her into a widow first, either.

Idly, he wondered whether the way the Tribes handled their successions, electing their future ruler, rather than having the succession be merely a matter of bloodlines, was the more prudent way, with fewer intrigues and blood-shedding. Although… that obviously wasn’t how it always worked, either.

Sighing, Daniel pulled his thoughts away from that whole complicated mess. There was nothing he could do to influence the Tribes and their situation, he had to accept that – no matter how much he’d like to. Forcefully, he focused back on things where he could make a difference – the future of his beloved sister. All Daniel wanted was to ensure that she would be happy. But Astrid refused to see Eret as anything but her brother, and the same went for Dagur and Snot. If only she would overcome those sisterly feelings, and see them as something else. Maybe not as a true lover, as marrying for love was a luxury they couldn’t afford, but at least as a partner. Someone to spend her life with. Someone who would make sure she was happy, so that Daniel could stop worrying over her.

Letting out a deep breath, he threw one last glance to where his friends had vanished moments ago, then he continued on his way. There had been a time, a couple of weeks ago, when he’d mildly entertained another hope. He knew his sister well, after all. Lively as she was, she’d still always struggled with opening up to strangers, even before that first assault. So when she’d opened up to Hiccup without any problems, he’d hoped… Surely, she wouldn’t see him as a brother, too. And while he didn’t know Hiccup as well as he knew Eret or the others, Daniel was still convinced that Hiccup was a good man. There had been the hope, that, if he would agree to the union, he certainly would take good care of Astrid.

But Harold’s assault had destroyed that hope. Sure, she wasn’t as jumpy and scared as she’d been after the spring festival. But while her behaviour toward Eret and Dagur, her brothers, hadn’t really changed, the differences in the way she interacted with Hiccup, a relative stranger, were striking. Gone was her playful lightness around him, the joking and teasing. It even seemed like she grew especially tense around Hiccup now, probably because of his physical resemblance to Harold.

Damned be Harold to Hel for what he’d done to her! And damned be Thuggory for pulling the strings from the background; and all just because she’d repeatedly turned him down. He prayed that Nidhogg would gnaw on their entrails.

Daniel let out an angry growl, startling a passing maidservant, and took a deep breath to calm himself again. Exhaling, he relaxed his gritted teeth and clenched hands, and forced himself to relax, to return to his controlled self. Getting angry wouldn’t do him any good, he’d learned that lesson already. Especially back then when he’d arranged for the quick execution of Astrid’s attacker. If only he’d been more patient… if only he’d waited to first question the man. Maybe he could have already put an end to Thuggory’s doing then.

Smiling grimly, Daniel felt for the folded note in his pocket. This time would be different, though. This time, he wouldn’t act too hasty. This time, he would use calm logic and politics to fight. That was something he was good at, after all; thinking and tactics. This time, he would free Astrid and the entire Kingdom of Thuggory. And with him of many others who were a threat to their people’s safety in their own ways.

For that goal, Daniel was willing to pay any price.

. o O o .

“Can’t say any of these names come as a surprise,” Oswald grumbled as he leaned over the King’s shoulder to glance at the piece of paper.

Daniel stood quietly and watched the three men on the other side of the impressive desk. The more agreeable of the two older Erets, his friend Eret’s father, nodded mutely.

“The question is just what we’re going to do about them now that we have confirmation,” Osmond sighed, placing the piece of paper onto the tabletop in front of him.

Daniel gave the list a thoughtful look. “Putting them on trial, as we did with Count Ravenledge, won’t work, right?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer. As much as he prefered such a relatively clean solution – things wouldn’t always be that easy.

“Sadly not,” Eret II confirmed, rubbing his tattooed chin. As so often, it amused Daniel how similar he and his son were, in looks and mannerisms, but today, that wasn't enough to make him smile. “There’s nothing we can accuse them of, nothing solid. Sure, they are the ones to blame, but that doesn’t mean that they ever did more than pulling strings. And even proving that would be difficult. We have, after all, only the word of a convicted criminal who had heard them giving big speeches.” He shook his head. “No, a trial wouldn’t lead us anywhere; if we tried that, we’d almost assuredly fail. And if we give them any excuse to raise their banners in rebellion in retaliation, to start a civil war…” He trailed off, shaking his head. But he didn’t need to explain anyway.

The names on the list – well-placed and well-off counts, and even several centrally-placed dukes – had demesnes that wound their way through the heart of the kingdom. Their fiefdoms were wealthy and well-populated – often with lands stolen from other lords – and their own personal forces, while not nearly a match for the Royal Army, could still inflict a wound on the kingdom that they might never recover from.

Daniel thought of the landscape to the west, of burned-out orchards and skeletal towns. Of overgrown fallow fields and mass graves of the fallen.  

The thought of that sort of devastation here in the kingdom’s heart... it gave him chills. And apparently, he wasn’t the only one.

For a minute or three, they all fell silent, thinking, contemplating how they could go about this problem. Daniel followed his father with his eyes as he got up and produced four elegant glasses from a cupboard standing to the side and filled them from a bottle. He eyed the rich amber liquid after his father handed him a glass, then followed the other men’s example and tossed it back into his throat in a single swallow. The Tribal whiskey burned on its way down, and he put the glass back on the desk with a thunk.

There was a slight scoff from the other side of the desk, and Daniel turned his head to look at Oswald’s mildly amused expression. “I remember well how, five years ago, you tried a single sip of that, spat it out, and said that you didn’t understand why we drank it. You’ve surely grown up since then.”

Daniel scoffed in reply. “That was before I saw the battlefield firsthand... and, even worse, politics.”

Both Oswald and Eret II chuckled weakly, but his father just nodded and refilled the small glasses before handing one back to Daniel. “Aye, those can do things to a man. Those, and...” the King trailed off, sighing. Apparently lost in thoughts, he gazed at his own glass, at the sloshing golden liquid, then lifted it. “To absent friends.”

“To absent friends,” the Grand Dukes murmured in reply, raising their glasses.

Daniel chimed in, lifting his own glass, and wondered which lost friends they were seeing. The battles to the west had given him a number of faces that he would dearly love to see again.

A melancholy silence filled the room, and he contemplated suggesting to relocate to the other part of the office, the lower table with the comfortable sofa and chairs around it – but decided against it. For once, this was his father’s office; it would be his privilege to suggest that. And in a way, Daniel even understood why he hadn’t done it yet. The conversation they were about to have wasn’t going to be a comfortable chat among friends after all, but a sober and surely not comfortable discussion about politics and traitors.  

“How about...,” Oswald eventually began, though only to trail off again, resolute eyes drilling into the whiskey in his glass, before he sighed. “How about we use assassins?” He looked around, rolling his eyes at the somewhat scandalised looks he earned himself for that comment. “Oh, don’t act so surprised; you all have thought about it, and you know it! We all have our contacts, after all.”

“But sentencing them all to death, just like that?” Eret II asked sceptically.

“As traitors to the Crown, they deserve nothing else,” Oswald replied, shrugging. “We could even make the sentencing official before – there’s reason enough, I’d say. Not to mention the countless murders and other crimes that go on their account. We would just need to–”

“That wouldn’t work,” King Osmond interrupted him quietly. As Daniel glanced at his father, he looked deep in thoughts, concentrated, but also weirdly tired. “You’re right, I have thought about that. If we only had to deal with one man, or maybe up to three, that would be an option. But with–” he glanced down at the list between them, “–well over two dozen men of high ranks? No, I don’t think so. Hiring enough men to deal with them all at the same time is too risky. It would take just one failure to put them on guard, one capture or turncoat, and it would blow back in our faces.” He raised one hand to ward off an interruption by Oswald. “I know what you want to suggest. But even if we use someone who’s loyal and supposedly as invincible as your specialist, then it still wouldn’t work. After the third accidental death of a High Lord at the latest, the others would retreat into hiding. And while that might serve to calm these disputes for a year or two, it surely wouldn’t help on the long run. No, what we want is… is to draw them out! So that we can deal a lethal blow to this conspiracy’s roster and set them back. Many of them don’t have heirs or clear lines of succession, and that would revert them to the Crown, or allow us to judge who succeeds them. If we removed enough of them at once, we could completely hamstring this faction’s aggregate strength of arms and fortune.”

Grumbling, Oswald nodded, clearly not happy but seeing the logic in the King’s words nonetheless.

“Drawing them out… Maybe with something like a tournament?” Daniel suggested thoughtfully. “The prestige of a big tournament surely would be enough to lure them here, and accidents do happen all the time at such events. We’d just need to place the right men as participants.”

“Maybe,” his father agreed hesitantly. “But even then it would draw attention when so many accidents happen. Again, if it becomes obvious which participants accidentally get killed, the others would retreat quickly. The general idea might work, but…” he trailed off, shaking his head.

“How about a Hunt then?” Eret threw in. “Out in the forests, nobody would ever know how certain accidents happened. And we could invite enough other noblemen so that the number of accidents wouldn’t look overly suspicious either.”

“But if it’s such a common Hunt, many of these wouldn’t even participate,” Oswald pointed out, waving at the list. “They would consider it beneath them.”

“Maybe something like the old Dragon Hunts then?” Eret II went on, unperturbed. “Something that’s special enough to lure them out. They might even end up killing each other if the prize is grand enough – they’d all be in this for themselves, and, well, as the saying goes... no honour among thieves.”

“I know you’re fond of old traditions like the Dragon Hunts, old friend,” Osmond remarked with a small smile. “But you know as well as I do that those were nothing but excuses. I don’t think there’s been a dragon killed in living memory during one of those arranged hunts. Maybe Fyrir Gothi remembers one. But there simply aren’t enough dragons around here anymore. And you do remember the one Dragon Hunt we participated in some – oh, was it almost thirty years ago already? When we spent the entire three days of the Hunt in that tavern next to Freya’s Temple?”

Eret and Oswald shared a glance and Eret snickered like a young man for a moment. “Aye, just like practically… everybody else did too,” he added, then glanced at Oswald and clapped him on the shoulder. “And you can’t say it didn’t work out for Oswald here!”

Osmund rolled his eyes as Oswald flushed slightly. “Aye, and now her daughter works here as one of the best bakers in the city.” Daniel blinked at his father’s words. Oh. Was that where Uncle Oswald had met... he shook his head, trying to stay focused, despite the whiskey and the old gossip. “But that’s the problem. No dragons, no prize or prestige worth the effort, and unless you think that they’ll die of exhaustion in Freya’s Temple, there’d be no risk to them.”

“Ah, but that’s not a fair comparison. Wasn’t that at your father’s fiftyth birthday celebration? Those were stressful days and that Dragon Hunt really was only planned as a break for everyone from the weeks of feasting and socialising. I mean, that was…”

The other men drifted off into memories about the old days and teasing Oswald, but Daniel wasn’t paying close attention to that. There was something in what Uncle Eret had said, something that sparked the hint of an idea, something–

“How about this,” he said thoughtfully, interrupting the other men’s joking. “I think we all agree that drawing them out in order to thin their ranks is what we need to do. A tournament, though, would be too random and obvious, and a Hunt possibly too common. But how about we do both? We could host a grand event, like what was done for grandfather’s birthday, something stretching over half a month or more. Something where accidents can happen every now and then, where people might tragically disappear in the forests, and where the glory at stake is high enough that some of these greedy lords turn on each other. Divide and conquer is a tactic I’m familiar with; we do that in the West all the time.”

Daniel felt his heart beat faster as his idea more and more took shape in his mind. “When we know that there are several groups of bandits, raiders, and enemy soldiers in the area – especially when they’re from different Malarian princedoms – then we place some kind of bait to lure them out and let them fight each other over it, so we only have to deal with whoever’s left. We could do that here, too. Host such an event, lure them out, let them fight each other, and deal with who’s left.”

There was a moment or three of silence, before Eret II nodded. “I think that might work. We just need the right bait.”

“Exactly,” Daniel agreed eagerly. “Too bad that we already offered County Ravenledge to Lord Gregson, that might have been just what we’d need as a bait.”

“Don’t overestimate the value of that county, son,” Osmond said grudgingly. “From the little we’ve gotten so far, it’s in a pretty sorry state. But even if it were in a better one, men like Thuggory wouldn’t compete for such a county themselves. They’d send their vassals instead, and then control the land by controlling them.” He shook his head, grimacing. “No, we’d need something else. Something so big, so valuable that they’d want it for themselves.”

For a few minutes, they threw around several ideas like a chest of golden coins from the royal treasures, trade contracts, or other admissions. But nothing appeared to be suitable, nothing that the greedy lords would want for themselves, instead of being content to control it through pawns. Eventually, they ended up sitting and standing mutely, all thinking, but without being able to come up with further ideas.

Until Eret II spoke up.

“I… might have one last suggestion for what we could use as bait,” he said quietly. He’d had his eyes glued to the ground, but now raised his head to look at them all in turn. “But you’re not going to like it.”

. o O o .

Hours later, Daniel stood in front of the window at the end of the corridor outside of his room and gazed out into the distance. When he’d been younger, he’d used to do that often. From here, the view over Lake Vola with the broad shores of white sand and the surrounding hills and the forest was breathtaking.

But tonight, he barely registered anything of that. Not because it was dark night outside, no; there was enough light from the moon and the stars to make out the shapes and to reflect on the waves. The reason why he didn’t pay any mind to the beauty surrounding him were his distraught and troubled thoughts.

The price was too high!

He’d thought he was ready to pay whatever price he had to, but he’d been wrong. The option uncle Eret had suggested was too high a price, and he hadn’t been ready for that.

And yet, it was the only option.

They’d spent hours discussing it afterwards. Even though they’d build in a loophole that made it bearable, Daniel knew that nobody, not he himself, not the Grand Dukes, and certainly not the King was happy with their decision. And yet, they’d committed to it anyway.

Because it was the only way forward that they could see.

With his hands clenched into tight fists and his eyes pressed shut, he let his head fall against the cold glass. I’m sorry! he thought desperately. I’m so, so, sorry…

But, of course, his apologies wouldn’t reach the person they were meant for. And never could, not until it was too late.

He didn’t really notice the passing of time as he stood there and gazed out into the darkness. But he figured it must have been a while when suddenly a familiar hand landed on his shoulder.

“Hey, you’re still up?” Eret asked. “That must have been quite some news if they kept you up for so long. Were you able to deal with whatever it was?” He had a lazy grin on his face, similar to Dagur’s behind him, but when they noticed Daniel’s despondent expression, they sobered up in an instant.

“What happened?” Dagur asked, stepping closer as well, but Daniel just shook his head.

“It’s… nothing of importance right now,” he tried to placate them. “Yes, everything’s dealt with… or at least plans are made.” He swallowed, then shook his head. “But let’s not talk about that now. How was your night?”

Eret gave him a scrutinising look. “It was good. Kaden sends her thanks and gratitude.” He hesitated for a moment, but then went on, “You know you can tell us what bothers you, right? And if it’s some political secret we’re not yet allowed to know, you at least can vent, if that helps. We always have an open ear for you.”

That brought a small smile to Daniel’s face. “Yes, I know.” He paused, honestly considering for a moment, but then shook his head. “And it’s actually not ‘you’re not allowed to know’. You’ll learn about it soon enough, I guess. But…But I think it would be better if you didn’t know just yet.”

“What, you doubt our loyalty?” Eret asked, theatrically pressing a hand to his heart as if he was hurt. But Daniel wasn’t in the mood for joking.

“Believe me, my friend, your loyalty is the last I’d ever doubt.” he placed one hand on Eret’s shoulder and gave him a strained smile. “In fact, I’m very much counting on your loyalty for all this to end well. But it is also because of this loyalty that I can’t tell you just now.”

There was confusion on Eret’s and Dagur’s faces, and it pained Daniel to not be able to clear it. But he also knew that, sometimes, not knowing something could be a blessing. And he didn’t want to inflict that kind of pain on his friends. They shouldn’t have to be forced to choose to whom they were more loyal.

. o O o .

*jumps back into hiding and waits for the explosion*

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