#dragon cove trader

[lookslikethatsallthetimewehave]

it's Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month

That's true!

[theplotmage]

50 Worldbuilding Setting ideas for your fantasy book

Cities and Settlements

1. Capital City - The central hub of political power and culture in the realm.

2. Harbor Town - A bustling port city crucial for trade and naval activities.

3. Elf Village - A serene settlement hidden within a forest, home to elven inhabitants.

4. Dwarven Mines - An underground city where dwarves mine precious metals and gems.

5. Nomad Camp - A temporary settlement for wandering tribes and traders.

6. Market Square - The commercial heart of any major city, filled with vendors and artisans.

7. Sky City - A floating metropolis held aloft by magic or advanced technology.

Natural and Enchanted Locations

8. Mystic Forest - A dense, magical woodland filled with ancient trees and mythical creatures.

9. Enchanted Lake - A serene body of water with mystical properties.

10. Secret Cave - A hidden cavern that might contain treasure or danger.

11. Dark Swamp - A treacherous wetland often home to dark magic and creatures.

12. Forbidden Desert - A vast, arid expanse known for its harsh conditions and ancient secrets.

13. Floating Island - A landmass suspended in the sky, often home to unique flora and fauna.

14. Hidden Valley - A secluded, fertile valley protected from the outside world.

15. Charmed Meadows - Peaceful fields imbued with protective enchantments.

Magical and Supernatural Places

16. Wizard’s Tower - The abode of powerful sorcerers, filled with arcane knowledge.

17. Sacred Temple - A place of worship and spiritual significance, often protected by divine magic.

18. Haunted Castle - An ancient fortress inhabited by ghosts or malevolent spirits.

19. Necromancer’s Crypt - The lair of a dark sorcerer who practices necromancy.

20. Oracle’s Sanctuary - A holy site where oracles deliver prophecies and visions.

21. Magical Academy - An institution where young sorcerers learn the art of magic.

22. Alchemist’s Workshop - A place where alchemists experiment and create potions and elixirs.

23. Time Portal - A gateway to different eras, allowing travel through time.

Dangerous and Uncharted Areas

24. Ancient Ruins - The remnants of a once-great civilization, often hiding secrets or dangers.

25. Dragon’s Lair - The home of a fearsome dragon, filled with treasure and peril.

26. Cursed Forest - A dark, haunted woodland where malevolent forces dwell.

27. Battlefield - The site of a significant past conflict, often haunted by the spirits of the fallen.

28. Volcanic Wasteland - A desolate, fiery landscape wrought with volcanic activity.

29. Giant’s Keep - A massive fortress built and inhabited by giants.

30. Pirate Cove - A hidden inlet where pirates gather to plan their exploits.

31. Shadow Realm - A dark, parallel dimension filled with malevolent entities.

32. Frosty Tundra - A vast, icy wasteland where few dare to venture.

Cultural and Social Hubs

33. Royal Palace - The lavish residence of the ruling monarch and their court.

34. Thieves’ Guild - A secretive organization of thieves and rogues.

35. Warrior’s Training Grounds - A facility where soldiers and heroes train for battle.

36. Arena of Champions - A grand coliseum where warriors compete in combat.

37. Goblin Market - A chaotic and colorful marketplace run by goblins, offering exotic goods.

38. Hermit’s Hut - The secluded home of a wise hermit, often sought for advice.

39. Secret Hideout - A concealed refuge used by rebels or outlaws.

Mystical and Legendary Sites

40. Ethereal Gardens - Magical gardens with rare plants and enchanting beauty.

41. Celestial Observatory - A tower dedicated to studying the stars and celestial events.

42. Sanctuary of Lost Knowledge - A hidden library containing ancient and forbidden texts.

43. Sunken Ruins - The underwater remnants of a lost civilization.

44. Gryphon Nesting Grounds - A mountainous area where gryphons make their nests.

45. Spiral Staircase - An enigmatic, seemingly endless staircase leading to unknown depths.

46. Giant’s Keep - A colossal fortress built and inhabited by giants.

47. Protean Plains - A region where the landscape constantly changes, reshaped by powerful magic or ancient curses.

Adventurous and Explorative Spots

48. Treasure Hunter’s Camp - A gathering spot for explorers seeking lost relics.

49. Relic Seeker’s Cave - A cave rumored to contain powerful artifacts.

50. Explorer’s Outpost - A base for adventurers preparing for expeditions into unknown territories.

***

Discover the Ultimate Sci-Fi Fantasy Planner, designed by a fellow writer to transform your worldbuilding journey! This meticulously crafted template will unlock your limitless creativity and add unparalleled depth to your storytelling.

Why You Can’t Miss This:

• Comprehensive Worldbuilding Worksheets: Delve into political, cultural, historical, and economic facets to create a rich and immersive world.

• Series Support: Perfectly tailored for epic, multi-book sagas, ensuring consistency and coherence across your narrative.

• Lifetime Use: Invest once and enjoy a tool that will support your writing endeavors forever.

• Easy Navigation: Designed with a user-friendly interface, allowing for a seamless workflow and effortless organization.

• In-Depth Character Sheets: Develop complex, unforgettable characters that will captivate your readers.

• Centralized Information Hub: Keep all your worldbuilding details in one accessible place, making it easier to reference and build upon your ideas.

• Writer Tool Repository: Gain access to a curated selection of top tools from around the web, enhancing your writing process.

• Guided Writer Tasks: From idea generation to book publishing, this planner supports you every step of the way.

Don’t let this opportunity slip away! Experience the joy of writing with the Ultimate Sci-Fi Fantasy Planner and watch your world come to life. Build your universe. Inspire your readers. Act now and start your journey toward extraordinary storytelling.

Buy now for a 50% off to this planner!

[sanfangirl-cynicalromantic]

The Lady Knight | Chapter 4

Oh, my God, I didn't actually think I'd be posting the last chapter exactly one year after I posted the first, but well, here we are.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Read on AO3 here

Astrid wasn’t sure what to say to Hiccup at first. After everything had happened, they still needed to talk more. They still hadn’t resolved what to do about . . . feelings. Did he still like her that way? Had he realized they just wouldn’t work and that’s why he had forgiven her so easily?

The thing was, she had told him she was in love with him, and they were good now, but what did ‘good’ mean? Were they still friends? Was the proposal void or still being offered? Did she want to marry him? Well, yes, of course she did but she also didn’t until she sorted things out. But what about Hiccup? Did he want these things? 

There were uncomfortable questions still battling for space in her head, but she discovered that they had not lost their companionable silence, and for that she was grateful. It was nice to forget about all the drama between them and slip into their familiar pattern of working harmoniously alongside each other. Stormfly and Toothless huffed at each other as if catching up on the latest gossip and Astrid found herself smiling stupidly when her visor was down at the prince’s concentration on the maps.

“So, what are you doing on this mission?” she asked into the silence.

“Huh?” Hiccup asked, dragging his eyes from the road to look at her.

“You said you were going to Raven Point because there wasn’t enough time to gather a squad, but I’m wondering how you got this information with so little notice,” she clarified.

“Ah,” Hiccup said. “Well, um, I was . . . actually the one who got the information.” Astrid frowned in confusion.

“Really? How?”

“I, uh, well, do you possibly remember the day I came to propose to you and you said no?” he asked sheepishly. Astrid grimaced at the reminder which Hiccup took as confirmation despite not being able to see her face. “Anyway, I stumbled across Trader Johann who generously spilled the beans.”

“He just told you Drago and his generals were meeting with Dragons of his own free will?” Astrid asked skeptically.

“After I threatened him and saved his life, yeah,” Hiccup nodded. “Not in that order, though.” Astrid snorted. The idea of Hiccup being the type to threaten someone was laughable, but Trader Johann had an uncanny knack of getting under everyone’s skin, and poor, patient Hiccup often lost his temper with the obsequious merchant.

They rode on mainly in silence, trying to cover as much ground as possible so that they could hopefully scope out the coves before Krogan arrived. The sun hadn’t halfway hidden behind the horizon before Astrid caught sight of a cozy looking clearing on the west side of the forest and called to Hiccup that they should set up camp there. He turned Toothless slightly and they investigated the brush quickly, still on their horses, before Hiccup nodded in satisfaction and dismounted Toothless, beginning to brush him down immediately.

Astrid slid off Stormfly and turned to unfasten her mare’s straps. Hiccup, finished with Toothless, held out a hand to take her saddle from her. She smiled and passed it to him, their hands brushing and setting her body atingle with prickly warmth. She could have sworn his eyes darkened in response, but chalked it up to the dimming light. After looping Stormfly’s harness around a low branch by the river she set about making camp. They could afford a fire for now as they were still early on in their travels and did not need to be so discreet, and there was no need to forgo what little comfort there was to be had when sleeping on the ground.

Hiccup set to stirring up a fire and unpacking the food as Astrid finished clearing the brush out of the way. He tossed her a bread roll, stale and cold from that afternoon, but a luxury for the next few days.

“I brought plenty of coins,” Astrid said as Hiccup started taking inventory of their supplies. She had brought a lot, planning to use money to get into certain people’s good graces as she started her campaign to let females inherit, but Hiccup had already established the case with the king and brought it to his attention, so there was no better use for it than perhaps providing them a night in a tavern bed.

“Oh,” he breathed. Astrid turned to see what he was looking at. He held up her hair comb, an unreadable look in his eye.

“Oh, that,” Astrid said quietly. He brought it closer to the fire, the light glinting off the polished metal. “I bring it everywhere I go,” she shrugged when he didn’t say anything. “Plus, you know, I was coming to apologize and I just - if you didn’t accept it . . .” she trailed off, not really sure what else to say and afraid to hear if Hiccup wanted it back or if he was angry she’d even considered giving it to him.

“It’s always yours,” he told her in a low voice. Her eyes flicked up to meet his and he offered her a tentative smile which she returned. He looked down at the comb again and then back at her. “May I?” he asked, gesturing with his hand still holding the accessory.

“Yeah,” she granted him permission immediately. She untucked her messy braid - the helmet wore out the braid in mere hours - from her neckline, ignoring the way Hiccup’s breath caught as individual strands lit up like golden threads from the fire. She brushed some wisps from her face and smiled shyly. Hiccup got up from his crouch slowly, moving the way one did when approaching a wild animal and didn’t want to scare them off, but she wasn’t sure who was the most skittish in this case.

She had to stop her face automatically angling to meet his as he brushed the wisps of hair that had fallen into her face again and combed them back with fingers that would have been shaky if it were any other person, but this was Hiccup, the man with the steadiest hands on Midgard and though they were unsure they didn’t tremble in the slightest. He was unaccustomed to dealing with hair, that she could tell by the way he didn’t know exactly how to pull her hair back, but he managed and slid the comb in place, pinning those stray locks into place. He didn’t move as his hands slowly fell away from her hair. She was ridiculous looking, surely. Her hair was frizzy and messy with those few strands pinned back in a mockery of an elegant hairdo and her face was an unflattering red from the heat of the fire, steadily growing almost unbearably warm under his tender scrutiny, but he was still gazing at her like she was the most beautiful lady he had ever seen.

Neither of them were breathing, too paralyzed with the presence of the other to move, until Astrid found herself tilting her chin upwards a smidge, and Hiccup’s gaze zeroed in on her mouth. Her lips suddenly felt dry and cracked and her heart pounded at the barely concealed hunger in his eyes. Their eyes met for a split second before they found themselves leaning it at the same time, just barely stopping themselves before they made true contact. There was almost no room to breathe, if any of them were even breathing. Astrid didn’t dare blink, but if she did she’d wager her eyelashes would tangle with his before they brushed her cheek. Her neck started to protest at holding herself too still. She let out a shaky breath and inhaled a greedy gulp of air before her eyes shut and she brushed her lips over his.

She had to hold in a gasp as the sensation. She could have sworn the contact sizzled the space between them and she retreated, a knee jerk reaction like how she automatically pulled back after placing a fresh cut of meat on the iron pans when it was her turn to cook breakfast back in the Berk Guard. Apparently frying bacon was all she was good at cooking. But even as she pulled away her hands gripped his shoulders and pulled him with her, his lips landing on hers with more surety.

This was a proper kiss, Astrid thought faintly as she pressed back up against him, her neck shifting to get a better angle and one hand sliding up his shoulder to grip the back of his neck, holding him there to ensure he wouldn’t pull away until she let him. She didn’t let go of the back of his neck even as they parted for air - a short gasp - before they were surging forward again to meet each other. His body was blocking the heat of the fire from reaching her but she couldn’t bring herself to care, not when the heat of his body was seeping into hers and the whole world had condensed to dark warmth and firm torsos and his hot mouth.

“Astrid,” he whispered when they parted again, and she shivered at the utter sin in his desperate rasp of a voice.  Again they collided, mouths opening, tongues tangling. She didn’t even register them somehow slipping off of the log but she knew that now Hiccup was on the ground and she was straddling him and she couldn’t get enough and she was fumbling with his tunic, overcome by the need to be close to him, as close as humanly possible and then some but Hiccup’s hands gripped her hips to hold her still and she pulled away from his lips with a pop to look at him confusedly. “We need to stop,” he croaked, his voice tight the way it usually sounded when he was getting treated for wounds and held back his cries of pain.

She had to blink a few times to clear the cloud of lust and her cheeks immediately burned bright as she looked down at the flushed prince.

“What?” she asked stupidly because wow Hiccup’s eyes had never seemed as luminescent and dark and big before and his warm hands on her hips was terribly distracting.

“Um,” Hiccup tried to shift before he let out a deep groan and covered his face in his hands. “We shouldn’t. Not like - not like this.”

“Yeah,” Astrid agreed, not entirely sure why her body felt empty as she stood up. She offered her hand to the prince, too, but he just shook his head and rose to a sitting position, pulling his legs close to him and hunching forward like his stomach was in pain. Astrid wondered if she had somehow hurt him, if maybe she was too heavy to straddle him. Or maybe was he ashamed of what had just happened? She tried not to scowl at the thought.

“It’s just,” Hiccup continued, having caught sight of her face. “I, I just - I don’t think I could hold myself back - right then, at least. Because I, um, it was unexpected.”

“No,” Astrid said nonchalantly. “You’re right. It’s a bit too soon for us to…” she trailed off and shrugged abashedly, cursing her reddened cheeks. She cast around for her last bite of bread and stuffed it into her mouth indelicately.

“Do you want me to take the first watch?” she offered, not looking at him.

“No,” Hiccup sighed. “I won’t be able to sleep just yet.”

Me neither, Astrid thought but she unrolled the blanket and threw it over her legs before laying down with her back to the fire - and consequently, Hiccup.

‘Maybe we weren’t the match I thought we were’ rang in her head as she squeezed her eyes closed and tried to force sleep upon herself. Did he regret what had transpired between them? She fought against a shiver at what would happen to her marriage prospects if Hiccup outed her. He wouldn’t, of course, she knew she was being ridiculous, but she felt stupid and rejected and she wanted to punch him. So he had to do something that would justify her punching him.

She woke him up early in the morning right after dawn by kicking him somewhat gently in the side. He groaned and rubbed his eyes. Astrid brought Toothless, already saddled and watered over to him as he slowly packed up his bedroll. He was adorably slow for the first fifteen minutes when he woke up, and then was bright eyed until unholy hours of the night. He let out grumpy noises of protest as Toothless jostled him in the saddle and Astrid wanted to melt, but the warm thoughts of what had happened last night froze her sentimental feelings and she turned ahead coldly.

Astrid kept her eyes stoutly ahead as they rode that day. She was now beginning to regret coming with Hiccup. He kept sending her questioning glances and opening his mouth to talk and so though Astrid really didn’t want to talk to him at all, she was forced to distract him from talking about the other night by pointing something inconsequential out. She scarfed down her food that night and volunteered herself for guard duty, cutting Hiccup off efficiently by telling him not to be tired when she woke him up for his turn.

By morning again, Hiccup was also in a sour mood. His eyes bore into the back of her helmet as they trotted forward silently. It had been two days. They still had a week’s ride ahead of them, then scouting and another two weeks back. Thor strike her dead. Why was she doing this?

“Give me the map,” she said abruptly. She held her hand out and he wordlessly placed the rolled up parchment, carefully oiled, in her hand. She studied it aimlessly, trying to look occupied so she could avoid the conversation. “There’s an inn nearby,” she noticed.

“Is an inn a smart idea?” Hiccup asked. “We want to be discreet.”

“I doubt they’re expecting us,” Astrid reasoned. “And we’re only two knights. There’s nothing suspicious about that. Plus, we can do a little recon tonight anyway.”

“Alright,” the prince accepted.

“If we ride hard for three hours we should make it before evening and establish ourselves before the crowd comes in,” Astrid told him, rolling up the map and handing it to him smartly.

“Right,” Hiccup drawled in a voice that said, I know exactly what you’re doing, and you’re not getting out of it. Astrid flashed him a saccharine smile, pulled the visor over her face, and nudged Stormfly gently into a gallop.

They were silent for the ride until they caught sight of plowed fields. Hiccup straightened in his seat as the farm houses became closer and closer together before a two story building rose up invitingly. He let out a soft groan of hunger.

“Isn’t that a sight for sore eyes,” he sighed, rubbing his stomach. Astrid cast an amused glance towards him but couldn’t deny the grumble of her stomach either.

The inn was old gray wood. It was made of uneven boards that had small cracks in the thin walls, but Astrid supposed with a fire and warm food and drink it would be just fine. The bedrooms would be freezing, however. It was easily the biggest building around, so Astrid was willing to bet all the men and even some of the women would be gravitating towards the center of the small village, full of unguarded conversation if Astrid or Hiccup were to pay for their drinks.

Their horses slowed to a trot, then a walk until they stopped in front of the door. No stablehand came running to take their horses. No hired help, then. She turned to look at him before they dismounted, silently debating which one should go inside and do the talking. Two knights on their own were hardly suspicious, but the Prince and Sir Hofferson were a well known duo. The question was, which was the least recognizable? Astrid had not cut her hair before leaving her estate, not sure how everything was going to play out and not willing to risk months of cultivating her hair growth and ruining pillows with castor oil. It had also been months since she’d deliberately kept her voice low and gruff for hours on end. Mother had been pushing her to stop speaking so deeply and try a lighter tone. But she could hide behind her visor and blame any distorted sounds on the echo of her helmet. Hiccup did not look like the King, and with all the stories of his near-magical ingenuity his persona and description was probably far from the actual truth. But he wasn’t the best at bargaining, and they needed to save their money to pay for drinks later that night. They settled on Astrid, who dismounted Stormfly gracefully while Hiccup tied a kerchief around his mouth and nose.

She handed him the reins wordlessly and tried to clear her throat subtly as she walked through the door.

It swung open with a creak, revealing two women and a man bustling around the dingy room. Tables scraped against the floor as the seating was rearranged by the youngest girl. The older woman was red in the face as she snapped directions at her daughter from the fireplace while expertly balancing trays of meat and a cauldron of soup. Her husband was switching the kegs and opening them in preparation for the evening. Stacks of clean and dirty tankards littered the counters behind him. He looked up, a hint of fear and deference entering his eyes as he noticed Astrid’s intimidating armor and stance.

“How may I help you, good Sir?” he asked respectfully. His wife’s shouting ceased and the younger girl halted her work, not daring to approach the foreign knight in the room.

“Two rooms for the night, please,” Astrid said curtly. She was pleased at her voice sounding appropriately deep, although wished it had not come out so harsh. The innkeeper shifted uncomfortably.

“We don’t have two rooms available, Sir,” the man said apologetically. He was burly and his voice was steady. Astrid had to admire his guts as she pushed her visor up so he could see her piercing blue eyes and the top half of her nose. “We only have two rooms to rent out as it is, and the first one is under repair. It was damaged severely in the last raid and is completely uninhabitable.” The annoyance at his response melted a bit. This far up north the raids were deemed less important so the Berk Guard rarely had time to patrol the place when they were more focused with protecting the western and southern sides of Berk exposed to the war. And all the soldiers stationed up here would be poorer rookie knights. The people up here didn’t stand a chance. And if Hiccup was right and there was a whole army stationed up here and they were testing Berk’s reaction to small raids in this insignificant area? Odin help them all.

“Very well. One room for two, please,” she amended in a more amicable tone. The door opened and Hiccup strode through, dusting his hands. He must have cleaned out the stables for their horses and raked some hay for them. “For my comrade and I,” she explained, jerking her head towards him.

“We only have the one bed,” the innkeeper apologized, almost cringing. “B-But it is the finest we ‘ave, an you get yer own bathing room.” Astrid sighed.

“That’ll do,” she acquiesced. She produced three gold coins - far too much, she knew, but she wanted to help the family fix up their second bedroom and maybe fix those holes in the walls - and set them on the counter. “That should cover a night and a hearty breakfast and dinner as well as the stables and feeding for our mounts, yes?”

“Y-Yes,” stammered the man, likely never having received so much gold from one person before. “That’ll - that’ll certainly do.”

“Good,” Astrid smiled, though he could not see it. “Would one of you kind folks help us run a warm bath? We are weary after our travels and could use a good soak. Separate bathwater for each.” The older man nodded and snapped his fingers at his daughter, who scurried to haul some water.

“Right this way is your room, sirs,” the man led them to a small room with a rickety bed. A thin rug lay on the floor and a narrow tub stood in a corner, hidden by a sheet. The bed had one down blanket and two flat pillows. Astrid decided she liked it. She took her travel sack from Hiccup, who had brought them in and deposited it under the bed.

“The bath will be ready in twenty minutes,” the innkeeper informed them and Hiccup thanked him.

“You can have the first bath,” Hiccup offered when the man had left the room.

“Thanks,” Astrid nodded. She hesitated at taking off her helmet before the girl came in, because she hadn’t cut her hair yet and she wasn’t sure if they’d keep quiet if they realized she was a girl.

Ten minutes later the girl came bearing a yoke with multiple buckets of boiling water.

“I can pour them,” Astrid offered, taking the three large buckets of water easily. The girl nodded and went to fetch the other buckets. Once the tub was filled, Astrid dug through the sack for a change of clothes and Hiccup shuffled awkwardly.

“I think I’ll go downstairs,” he announced. “Help them get ready for tonight and see if I can get any gossip.”

“Okay,” Astrid agreed. “I should be finished by the time the hour’s done and I’ll ring to have it switched.” Hiccup dipped his chin towards her and slipped outside, leaving Astrid to finally take off her helmet and clean her hair. She stripped gleefully and slid into the tub, suppressing a pleased groan at the scalding water. She had to sit with her knees to her chest to fit in the tub, so she hadn’t filled it all the way in order to have space to shift and clean herself. She scrubbed furiously until her skin felt pink and raw. The servants at home would be horrified at her skin; it wouldn’t be as soft without their special flower baths, but Astrid relished the tender feel of cleanliness.

She dried herself off quickly after stepping out of the water, binding her chest and throwing a tunic over her head and wrapping her hair up in the remaining towel. She rang the bell and watched quietly as the girl quickly disposed of the dirty water and brought in buckets of clean water, already heated. Hiccup came back in and thanked her.

He slipped behind the sheet and Astrid averted her gaze as she heard the sounds of his tunic being pulled off and tried not to think about the lean silhouette behind the flimsy cloth divider. She fumbled for the brush in her pack and ran it quickly through her hair. She heard him step into the tub, a quiet hiss at the water and drew a shaky breath. She ran her hands through her hair, trying to dry it quickly so she wouldn’t get sick with a wet head of hair. For the first time in a while, she enjoyed the heavy weight of her golden locks. They had gotten smoother and softer with the care her servants had paid to it in the past months and she found herself planning which updos would work and how to hide her hair comb in it. She heard Hiccup scrubbing himself as she shook her hair out like a wild mane and stretched out on the bed. Even the thin mattress was much softer than the hard ground they had slept on for the past two nights.

She was wringing the ends of her hair again with her damp towel when she heard Hiccup step out of the tub.

“Oh - damn,” he swore. “I, um, forgot my undershirt.” Astrid turned to see his clean undershirt on the floor.

“Oh, it’s fine,” she reassured him. “Come out, I’ll hand it to you.” She got off the bed and picked up the shirt. Hiccup stepped behind the sheet and both of them halted.

She knew what he looked like without a shirt. But she had never had truly taken the time to look and appreciate, especially not with the unprecedented amount of tension between them and the hot brand of the memory of his mouth on lips. He was lean, with only shadowy hints of muscles and underlying strength in that stupidly attractive, unassuming way of his. His eyes were locked on her unbound hair, clean and wavy in its full glory instead of sweaty and wispy.

“Here,” she shoved the shirt into his hands and retreated as he coughed embarrassedly and scratched the back of his head.

“Thanks. I - I didn’t know . . . your hair.”

“I need to dry it so I don’t catch a cold with a wet head,” she explained. “It’s practically dry, I can just-”

“No,” Hiccup threw up his hands. “I mean, you don’t have to put it back up yet if you don’t want to.” Astrid stared at him quietly. He sighed. “Look, can we - can we talk about this?”

“About what?” Astrid asked mulishly.

“You’ve been avoiding talking to me all day today and yesterday,” he said firmly. “I thought we’d just sorted things through, and now we’re back to this.”

“I don’t think there’s much to say,” she shrugged. “I apologized-”

“And I stand by what I said; it was the best apology I’ve ever had. But I mean what happened two nights ago?” he demanded. “I’m sorry if I did something wrong-”

“No, that’s not - you didn’t do anything wrong,” Astrid protested.

“Then why are you giving me the cold shoulder?”

“I - You - didn’t like it,” she stammered. “You wanted to stop.”

“Stop? What, the - the kiss?” Hiccup let out a small laugh. “Astrid, the last thing I wanted to do was stop.”

“Then why did you?” Astrid asked. “Did you think it was a mistake?”

“I just,” Hiccup waved his hands around pleadingly. He reached for her hand and led them to sit on the end of the bed. “I want to do this right, you know, and ensure that there’s nothing to get in the way of a lawful marriage. Don’t you?” Astrid looked down at her clasped hands and didn’t answer. She felt him frown at her. Marriage. He wanted marriage, she realized. Hadn’t she literally refused it less than two weeks ago? He still wanted to marry her? Was she ready for marriage? She had only just come to terms with their feelings for each other. Was she ready for marriage to the Prince and the public scrutiny of being a Princess? Her eyes were growing bigger with her spiraling thoughts and Hiccup’s noted her panicked face with a pang.

“Astrid?” he asked hesitantly, his voice small and unsure. “Do you - do you want to marry me?” Astrid bit her lip. He sighed and made to move off the bed.

“Wait, no,” Astrid protested, grabbing his wrist swiftly. He tried to shake her off half heartedly and she caught sight of his face. Her heart dropped into her stomach at the sight. He was hurt. Again. Thor damn it, this was why she didn’t like to talk about her feelings!

“Hiccup, that’s not what I meant,” she amended hastily. “Okay? I really - I wouldn’t marry anyone else; it’s just -” she broke out and glared at the ceiling like it was withholding her words from her. “I don’t want them to win,” she finished ashamedly.

“Win?” Hiccup asked, turning to her. “Who?”

“My parents,” Astrid admitted. “They - they want me to marry you.”

“You don’t want to marry me because you already have your father’s approval to marry me?” Hiccup said incredulously. She groaned and contemplated smothering one of them with a pillow.

“No, not because I have his approval, but because - I don’t want them to think I’m marrying you because of them,” she explained. “Like they’re the reason their daughter managed to marry into the royal family. They - before you came that day to propose they had already been planning to marry me to you. They knew I liked you but the reasons they’d give me … They’d act like I’d be failing them if I didn’t, you know? I’m just expected to marry you now. All my years being a knight were useless if I didn’t use them to learn how to make the Prince fall in love with me and become royalty.”

“Astrid,” Hiccup scooted closer to her  and rested a warm hand on her shoulder.

“It’s your worst nightmare,” Astrid continued. “You’ve always said you hate those families who eye you like a piece of meat and mine is just like that.”

“Hold on,” Hiccup interrupted. “Marrying you could never be a nightmare for me. But aside from that, how is it your nightmare?”

“I don’t mean that I don’t want to marry you,” Astrid said, hoping he hadn’t misunderstood her. “But all they had to say was how beneficial a union would be. And I don’t want to make them feel like any of that is justified. I don’t want to be relegated to a simple wife! I want to be one, sure, but I don’t want it to be all that I am. And their plan! I just,” she shrugged. “Is it awful of me to want to be difficult just to spite them?”

Hiccup barked a laugh. “Heavens, no. And even if it was, it’s not like I’d be in a position to judge. Do you remember all the ridiculous messes I made just to spite our instructors?” Astrid smiled at the reminder.

“How could I forget,” she teased him dryly.

“But if they were planning to marry you off, what were they going to do about the other you?” Hiccup contemplated. Astrid scoffed.

“They didn’t know you know who I am, so they were going to kill me off so that ‘Astrid’ could emerge properly back into society. They hoped I might console you over the death of your friend and perhaps remind you of him enough to marry me.” Hiccup snickered.

“That would have been a funny scene,” he grinned. “We could have played such games with your parents not knowing I knew.”

“It wasn’t funny to me,” Astrid admitted. “I dreaded having to look you in the eye and act like I didn’t know you. I thought you’d hate me for being so duplicitous to your face.”

“Hey,” he said intently, waiting for you to look up at him. “I could never hate you. And I know you’re in a unique position. I would never hold it against you. I would tease you, though, if no one was listening, just to mess with you.” She immediately swatted him and he yelped.

“You muttonhead,” she scowled, fighting back a smile. “You would have given me a heart attack.”

“Even better,” Hiccup smirked. Astrid leaned forward to rest her head against his chest.

“I hate that plan, though,” Astrid admitted. Hiccup wrapped an arm around her and squeezed gently as if to ask, why?

“I - I don’t want to stop being a knight,” Astrid whispered. “I don’t want to stop fighting. I don’t want to pretend like I haven’t literally given my blood for this country. Do you know what the knights our age are like to young ladies? They think they’re Thor’s gift to women and are the most condescending pricks to exist on Midgard. And I want to punch them and tell them who I am just to see their grins slip off their face, but instead I must smile politely and praise them for their bravery! It must be vain of me to want the adulation of the kingdom for my bravery and skills, but the only alternative is to be praised for outwardly beauty or perhaps virtue, how could I ever succeed in their eyes?” Hiccup was silent at her words.

“Well, what if you could be both?” he asked.

“Excuse me?” Astrid blinked incredulously.

“What if you came out as a knight as your female counterpart - as Astrid. Then people would know but you wouldn’t have to pretend any longer.”

“It’d ruin marriage prospects,” Astrid shook her head.

“Not for me,” Hiccup said immediately. “I don’t need to protect my ego and have my wife unable to defend herself. In fact, I’d be immensely proud of her being such a skilled warrior.”

“Hiccup-”

“It could work,” he pressed passionately. “Dad wants to change the laws surrounding women. We could make knighthood a part of it besides inheritance.”

“That would take years,” she argued.

“I would wait,” he told her seriously.

“I don’t think my parents want me to wait that long,” Astrid sighed. “And how do we know your parents would ever allow it? You’re the Heir; your standards for a wife are higher than most in the kingdom.”

“Who could possibly be better than a lady who is beautiful, poised, and can defend us all in a pinch?” Hiccup cried with righteous indignation. Astrid couldn’t help but laugh as she hung her head to hide the furious blush that bloomed on her cheeks. “I don’t want to marry anyone if it isn’t you,” Hiccup began but Astrid laid a finger on his lips.

“Don’t say that,” she said sternly. “Not yet. Please.”

“We’ll sort this out,” Hiccup promised instead. “Starting with taking down Krogan.”

“Right,” Astrid shook her head, having forgotten about the mission at hand. “We should go down. Supper is probably ready.” Hiccup lifted his arm from her shoulder and her hands immediately went to her hair. “I’ll braid this and be down.”

“I’ll finish getting dressed,” Hiccup added. “If you’re going to be in armor, I should be, too.” She smiled at him.

“You hate wearing your armor when you eat,” she reminded him. He raised an eyebrow at her and shrugged.

“It’s fine,” he assured her. “It’d be odd to have one knight in casual clothes an the other in armor. Plus, I wouldn’t want you to single yourself out as a target should things go south by being the one dressed for a fight.

“Thank you,” she said sincerely. Hiccup had complained heartily to her over the years on those occasions where they had had to stay in their armor and on their guard even when eating. He hated how hard it was to move his arms and how inaccessible movement was. And, still having the residual clumsiness from his youth, he often accidentally spilled his food and it drove him mad not to be able to find the bread crumbs.

The casual inquiries went well. Astrid knew the way Hiccup thought and knew which questions to ask to give him the details he needed. They had their act down to an art, moving smoothly around one another, any awkwardness from their room forgotten. But it did not stay that way when they retired for the night.

“Hiccup, get in the bed,” Astrid said firmly. Hiccup shuffled awkwardly.

“I, um-” Astrid patted the blanket beside her aggressively.

“We have one night with a bed,” she pointed out. “I’m not going to be the only one to enjoy it.”

“You should take it,” Hiccup insisted. Astrid growled.

“We should both take it as knights who both need a good night’s rest. If you don’t get in I will give us shifts in the bed and wake us both in the middle of the night to switch places. If you’re going to pull the ‘I’m a lady’ yakdung I’m going to pull the royalty card which entitles you to the bed.” Hiccup sighed and pulled back the blankets on the other side of the bed.

“Why can’t you let me be chivalrous for once?” he grumbled as he shifted around to get comfortable. Astrid considered facing him but decided to stay on her back staring at the dark ceiling.

“You are irritatingly chivalrous to the point I worry you will get me found out,” Astrid said flatly. “I do not wish to be coddled in cases like these.”

“I don’t mean to coddle you,” Hiccup replied. “I’m sorry. It’s just hard to treat you without the care I want to give you. That you deserve.”

“Hiccup,” she said softly. “It’s never going to be easy. Us, I mean.” Hiccup shifted under the blankets.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “And I understand that, but at the same time, there is no one I feel as comfortable and easy with as you. You get me. I like to think I get you. We’ve already established ourselves as a legendary team; imagine us leading Berk together as a team.”

“It’s only easy because we’re on the same footing,” Astrid refuted. “When we’re both knights, we’re equals. As a fellow warrior, it is easy for us, but as a prince and a reclusive lady? Hiccup, the only time we’ve acted as such we fought.”

“We fought and grew,” Hiccup said steadily. “We hurt each other but came back stronger. Look, I’m not saying it won’t be hard, but I believe what we have is worth fighting for.”

“But I haven’t won you over,” Astrid protested.

“What?” asked Hiccup confusedly.

“I thought I’d have to woo you,” Astrid explained. “And now I don’t have to? You’re throwing me off the plan.”

“Well, my apologies,” Hiccup said in a tone that told her he was rolling his eyes. “But you’d already won me over years ago.”

“How?”

“How? By - by being a woman unafraid of fighting in a man’s world to support her family. With your resolve and faithfulness as you powered through dreary fights and helped me overcome them, too. With your straightforward honesty and how you didn’t coddle me with your words or actions.”

“I wasn’t trying to win you over, though.”

“You never had to,” Hiccup leaned over to press a kiss to her hairline. “You’ve won me just as who you are. There was never any question as to whether I’d fall for you or not.” Astrid’s breath caught and she pushed him off of her gently.

“Will you still feel that way if we part ways after this mission and don’t see each other for mayhaps years?” she asked. “I have not reached a resolution for my problems and you will become King.”

“We can only try,” Hiccup admitted, “But I am only certain that my feelings would remain strong while we sort ourselves out. I’d like to announce an engagement sooner rather than later, though, so I can get Mom off my back whilst I'm promised to another.”

“I’ll try,” Astrid told him. He scooted softly back to his side of the bed and Astrid closed her eyes.

“Astrid?” She opened her eyes again, then realized he couldn’t have seen the action.

“Yes?”

“Does this mean that you’ll say yes when I do propose eventually?” Astrid bit her lip.

“We’re nowhere near ready for that,” she said sternly. “But - Yes. When you propose. Eventually.” She couldn’t tell for sure, but the movement he made sounded a lot like he’d buried his face in his pillow and let out a yell of triumph.

.oOo.

Not a week later they arrived at the Coves. The land was rocky but green, courtesy of the late summer rains. Most of the land in northern Berk was full of small rocks and thin dirt, making it hard for any life to thrive. It was one of the reasons it was such a good hideout for the Dragons; there was no pressing incentive to farm the land they were occupying and terrorizing. The winds were harsh enough to discourage many trees from growing to imposing heights, so the most texture it had were the many hills and uneven piles of rocks. The Coves, however, were like a breath of fresh color. The rocks were larger and more stable. Moss blanketed the stone with green warmth. A couple brave flowers peeked between thin cracks, and the water was freezing but clean.

The journey to the Coves was a boring one, and the locals were wary enough of the place to steer clear of the bandits they knew were lurking somewhere. Most had been tight lipped in the inn a week ago, but with Astrid and Hiccup generously paying for everyone’s drinks that night, enough tongues loosened up enough to prove useful.

The raids had been getting a little more frequent, and it was getting harder for the surrounding villages and towns to restock enough provisions for themselves between each raid to have enough left over to feed everyone. Cows and chickens frequently went missing, and even the foxes had been hunted to the point where they doubted the animals were what was eating their precious livestock, and the alternative option for meat had disappeared.

“Aye, the Coves,” one older lady had nodded drunkenly that night. Astrid had smiled politely at her. “They’re beautiful, not that I’ve been there for years! Them bandits are always guarding that place, they are.”

“Beautiful how?” Astrid had asked. “Do you remember how to get there, exactly?”

The Coves were just the start of the magical place. There was a large lake in the middle of the coves that turned the surrounding area green and apparently, caves that created a large network of tunnels around the Coves and even branching into some of the nearby hills.

“We used to explore them tunnels,” the old lady had recalled wistfully. “Dunno what’s been dun to the place now, of course.” Astrid had waved over another keg of mead and pushed it into the lady’s hands.

Hiccup looked around the place with interest. “Amazing what a steady source of water will do,” he wondered. “Maybe if I talked to Dad and we could figure out an irrigation system-”

“Hiccup, focus,” Astrid laughed. The ruler in Hiccup was starting to show despite his protests that he wasn’t cut out to lead a country. They had grown closer in the past few days. Hiccup had assured her he cared for her and would do everything he could to ensure that Berk would become a better place for girls like Astrid. If worse came to worse after the war, Astrid supposed she could step down as a knight to marry Hiccup and help make the world easier from the sidelines. They were doing things right, but that didn’t stop them from sharing a couple kisses between every break and sleeping in each other’s arms at night instead of back to back. Neither had said it outright yet, but they were in love and Astrid was finding herself hard pressed not to just elope with him then and there. Being a future queen didn’t sound so bad or insurmountable anymore. But, she reminded herself, that was just because

“We have about a week until Krogan’s set to arrive, yes?” Astrid checked when Hiccup hadn’t stopped staring contemplatively around him. He blinked and shook himself out of his daze and Astrid bit back a smile.

“Er, yes,” he said. “I figured we could arrive ahead of time, scope things out and figure a course of action before he came. I don’t know how long he’ll be here and we want to be as efficient as possible.”

“When the lady I talked to said the place was guarded, do you think she meant like sentries, spies, or everyone just knows everyone?” Astrid wondered aloud.

“It’d be impossible to know everyone,” Hiccup responded. “According to Johann, their numbers are in the thousands. How long ago had it been since she’d tried to come here? Maybe they’ve gotten lax with their security.”

“Maybe,” Astrid said doubtfully. “I say we choose an opening and watch it until someone comes out,” she decided.

“I like the plan,” Hiccup agreed. They unsaddled their horses and hid the saddles behind a bush outside the main opening of rock.

“Bye for now, Toothless,” Hiccup petted the beautiful black stallion’s nose and rested his forehead against it. Astrid patted Stormfly’s flank before shooing her off gently. Their horses were well trained and Hiccup and Astrid would be able to call them back with a curlew’s song whenever they needed to. The horses deserved some free time roaming the plains for a week or so, and they wouldn’t be caught or found out while tending to their steeds. They had trained their horses that trick during their stint with the Berk Guard to show off to their comrades. Throk could catch literal arrows out of the air, and Alvin had been able to snap a small log in two with his bare hands. Every few nights or so all the Guards would take turns showing off, and after months and months of chasing down their horses, Astrid and Hiccup had proudly demonstrated their horses’ intelligence.

Hiccup and Astrid turned back to the cove and began to explore it, looking for an opening.

“There are multiple openings,” Astrid reasoned. “They can’t possibly all be hidden.” They eventually settled behind a big rock and pulled their hoods up over their faces, waiting to be shown an opening they could slip into and observe admittance. Hiccup let out a huge sigh. He didn’t appreciate stakeouts. They usually made him antsy, but Astrid liked the meditative practice of sitting still for hours on end. It was calming, and since she had already sorted through most of her complicated feelings with the wonderful man sitting next to her, she allowed herself to bask in his presence while they waited.

She’d always liked it best when it was just the two of them. Sure, she was friends with the other Guards and even liked Snotlout or Ingerman on occasion. And she always enjoyed lively Eret. But Hiccup and her were special. Maybe it was because he knew of her true self, but even before that, they had connected as two lonely kids and found solace in each other’s friendship. Hiccup thought he had benefited the most out of their friendship, but Astrid was certain that without Hiccup’s gentle awe of her, his quiet support and his unfaltering goodness she would never have wanted to share the experience of freedom with other girls. She would have never learned the elation of love and consuming hope of better things to come for the future. She broke one of the first rules of observing an enemy’s territory and turned her head to gaze at him. His eyes were half closed. It looked like he was falling asleep, so she nudged him gently, stifling a snort at the way his head shot up in a panic. He looked around quickly, remembering their surroundings.

He met her eyes concernedly. Has anyone come? He asked silently. Astrid shook her head and made no move to restrain her smile. He sighed and scanned the cove around them, debating whether or not it’d be faster to continue searching or wait for a Dragon to come out. Astrid’s legs were starting to seriously cramp when Hiccup gripped her arm hard and she stiffened as much as she could without moving and alerting anyone to their location. Her eyes narrowed as she caught sight of a rock moving and a curtain of ivy shoved aside. The Dragon whistled, oblivious to the two sharp pairs of eyes watching him. It looked like they had found their way in.

.oOo.

“This is stupid,” one Dragon member grunted to his companion. His left eyebrow was singed and his teeth filed into fangs. His friend tore into his leg of chicken, ignoring the one who’d spoken. “They’re treating us like soldiers,” he continued to grouse. “But we’re Dragons. We fight and steal for profit, not for stupid conquerors.”

“We’ll make plenty of profit from our coin once Drago pays us,” his companion deigned to answer.

“But there will be so many casualties,” the first one complained. “We raid, not fight. I tell you, the last Red Death would never-”

“Careful,” cautioned his friend urgently. “You can’t be heard saying that. You know she isn’t afraid to slaughter anyone who opposes her, and with Drago’s support, no one can rise against her.”

“I think she cheated when she challenged the last one,” the singed eyebrow groused. “She was nothin’ but his mistress. This is why we can’t never trust no woman.”

“Doesn’t matter if she won,” the Dragon rolled his eyes, biting off the last bit of cartilage from his chicken leg.

“She might not win next time, though,” the first one said, his voice lowering to nearly a whisper. His companion went still.

“Fanghook,” the Dragon said sternly. “Don’t tell me-”

“Kingstail is a strong Dragon, and he hates this yakshit going on with Drago. We’ll lose our identity if we become that man’s soldiers. We’re Dragons. We answer to no one but our own.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” his friend said flatly.

“No we won’t,” Fanghook said confidently. “Kingstail asked if he could count on me when he gives the signal-”

“This is treason,” the other Dragon hissed. “What signal?” Fanghook shifted.

“He said I’d know,” the younger Dragon said with a pout. His companion threw away his chicken bone in disgust. Hiccup’s eyes narrowed but he kept his head perfectly still. There was a coup happening? He waited until the two Dragons had walked away before he dared to stir. Clearing his plate, he hid a couple choice pieces of meat and grabbed a keg of the mildest mead to take to Astrid in case she hadn’t had anything to eat. He wove through the pillars until he reached a rather large one, pockmarked with cavities that were ideal for hand and footholds. He cast a glance around, then carefully took off his hood, stuffing the food inside of it and grabbing onto the rock.

He and Astrid had discovered that while the caves and coves eventually led to the one big cavern, there were pockets of rock that most Dragons liked to sleep in. The pillars were mostly sturdy, and water had carved large holes in the porous rocks over time so there were plenty of handholds. Dragons slept on the rock, and fought for the best places. They weren’t a tight knit group, though. It was every man for himself, full of temporary alliances that ended in backstabbing. Hiccup and Astrid had found a small slab by the northwest end of the coves. The holes were smaller and the slabs less sheltered. It wasn’t a coveted spot, so they were left alone. The only thing that distinguished Dragons were their tattoos and weapons, but as long as he and Astrid kept covered and didn’t get into any fights, they should stay undetected.

It was a good thing Hiccup wasn’t afraid of heights. That was another thing. The small pocket of rock they had chosen was hard to reach because it was so high up. No one wanted to climb that much before they could even make it to their bed, especially after a night of revelry or if they wanted to store their spoils. Hiccup breathed and tested his foothold before stretching out his hand to pull himself further up. He had climbed this pillar enough in the past few days that he had practically memorized his route up, but he wasn’t foolish enough to lose caution.

Astrid was already in the pocket when he had woven through the low ledge to their spot. She looked up at him with a smile, pushing back her hood. It was woven into a crown around her head to keep it short and out of her face, although her hair was too short for it to be fully smooth, and little flyaway hairs stuck out comically. He thought it was adorable.

“Brought you some food,” he said softly, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of her head. She swatted him, trying to hide her blush and reached to take the food from him eagerly.

“Oh, thank you,” she breathed. “This is so much better than the food outside. No one knows how to cook over there.”

“Learn anything?” Hiccup asked.

“Mmm, nah,” Astrid said. “They are working on loading carts, but they are unfamiliar with traveling in large numbers. Usually they just hide in the bushes and ambush traveling caravans. They’ve never fought on a large scale before, and a lot of them aren’t happy about it. No one trusts the other, so they won’t be as solid a force as normal soldiers when we fight against them.” She took a minute to chew and swallow. “But in a battle, they’ll probably break off in pairs or something and try to slip through weak cracks. They’ll be very difficult to beat, and don’t seem to have any honor.”

“What are the carts for?” Hiccup asked.

“Weapons and food,” Astrid replied. “They aren’t used to packing and preserving food for travel; usually they just steal it, but Drago wants them to be discreet. What about you?”

“I have something really interesting,” Hiccup smirked. “It sounds like these Dragons really don’t like the idea of teaming up with Drago.”

“Oh?” Astrid cocked her head to the side.

“It sounds like one of them - Kingstail - wants to seize leadership for himself.” Astrid leaned forward, a curious smile on her lips.

“Do you know when?”

“No. The guy I heard it from was utterly clueless. He’ll probably think the next shout is a signal to attack. Anything else on your part?” Astrid snapped her fingers and pointed at him as she remembered.

“Yes! Krogan is coming tomorrow with some of his own generals to lead the Dragons. They’ll be arriving and getting special treatment. Some of the Dragons have had to give up their sleeping spaces to make way for his soldiers and apparently they’ll even try to get a full on room for Krogan.”

“They’re probably to help the Red Death keep the Dragons in check,” Hiccup mused.

“Do you know how to find the Red Death?” Astrid asked.

“Not yet, although I’m sure she’ll make an appearance to greet her guests.”

“Then we’ll be ready. They’ll probably have the conversation in one of their rooms so as to keep their privacy,” Astrid frowned in concentration.

“So, we have until tomorrow,” Hiccup nodded.

“And then what?” Astrid asked. Hiccup wrinkled his nose in confusion. “What do you mean, and then what?”

“Will we leave as soon as we hear the plan?” Astrid asked.

“Yeah. This is just supposed to be a spy mission,” Hiccup said. Astrid stared at her leg of chicken contemplatively.

“We should probably stake out the meeting place before he gets here, then.” Hiccup nodded in agreement. Astrid looked longingly at the thin pile of blankets in the corner, including some they had stolen. “I say two hours rest and then we can spend the rest of the night searching.”

“Suits me,” Hiccup said, crawling over to arrange the blankets. “Wake me when it’s time.”

The best time to sneak around wasn’t late night, but rather a few hours after midnight during the early morning. It was still dark, but the guards on duty were tired after hours of trying to stay awake. Astrid climbed down the pillar first, landing without a sound and pulled her hood up over her head. Hiccup followed quickly and they set off down the cave.

They were pretty familiar with their surroundings on the northwest side of the tunnels. They expertly wove through the twists and turns in the rock, skirting around the cavern filled with Dragons who had passed out from their mead consumption. Astrid had spent the last few days inspecting the collection of wagons and horses the Dragons had in their stables to the western side of their camp to gauge the numbers. With approximately a steed to ride plus a pack horse for each and wagons that could hold more supplies and ten men, she estimated their numbers at eight thousand. Which left the southern and eastern sides. They were closer to the numerous villages the Dragons liked to raid and as a result were far more busy and protected. The south part of the coves were composed of thicker slabs of rock, which stood to reason it’d probably be where the Red Death and her most valuable things were kept.

They drew up short as they came across a sleepy guard standing by a tunnel entrance.

“Well that’s an indication to investigate if I ever saw one,” Hiccup whispered quietly. Astrid snorted softly. They stayed still for a minute, gauging his breathing. Finally, Astrid gave a short nod and Hiccup started forward, stepping in time to the guard’s exhales. Astrid followed suit and they crept down the stone hall until they came across an alcove. It was a cold place with very little light, so there was no way it was the Red Death or Krogan’s quarters, but it had to be important if there was a Dragon guarding it. Hiccup snagged a torch from the wall and brought it over to the alcove. It was actually big enough to be a room, and it was full of gourds, barrels, and boxes, all securely closed. Some of them were labeled and new while others looked old and untouched.

“They seem to be organized by some system, although it’s not obvious yet,” Hiccup observed. Astrid picked up a large gourd and frowned.

“This is awfully light, but clearly sealed. What could possibly be in this?” she wondered. Hiccup shrugged and simply held the torch higher as she looked around the room.

“They have all the weapons together, there,” she pointed. “So maybe they’re sorted by use?” next to the pile of weapons stood a collection of smaller chests and boxes filled with vials and powders. On the other side of the room were the big barrels and gourds. Hiccup brought the torch closer to the latter objects to see if they were labeled.

Astrid walked over next to him and opened a barrel. It had been opened before, and it was no problem to pry the lid and set it to the side. A pungent smell hit their noses and they struggled not to gag audibly. “It looks like . . . gel,” Hiccup frowned. Astrid dipped a finger in it and brought it closer to the torch to inspect it. Her eyes widened as it quickly caught on fire. She yelped and immediately enclosed her flaming finger in a fist.

“Astrid!” Hiccup panicked. “Are you okay?” she opened her fist cautiously, no smoke rising from her palm.

“I - yeah,” she said shakily. “Just surprised. It looks like it burnt all the gel but I stopped it before it could reach my finger.” She wiped the grease on her pants and winced. Her palm was a little red and raw. Hiccup noticed and opened his mouth to say something but Astrid interrupted. “I’m fine. It’s nothing. Is there anything else useful?” Hiccup turned reluctantly back to the stack of supplies. 

“Flammable gel,” he mused, looking around the room. “Weapons. Nets . . .” he walked over and inspected a vial before jerking back. “Nadder concentrate. And Deadly Nadder leaves. This is the poison section . . .”

“Wow,” Astrid breathed. “This place is amazing. Poisons, explosives.” She walked over to a gourd. “This must be some sort of explosive gas, then.”

“We should bring back a sample of all of these poisons,” Hiccup murmured. “Half of them we’ve never seen. I mean, what’s F mist? Although it’s next to Speed Stinger venom so maybe it’s paralyzing, too.” Astrid decided not to fight her eye roll.

“They must use all of these on their victims - a few Dragons have occasionally been hired as mercenaries and assassins, even though the majority of them are bandits,” she thought aloud. “This must be where they keep their supplies.”

“Good to know,” Hiccup mused. “But the Red Death wouldn’t want to be so close to explosives, or keep potential enemies close to them, so Krogan and his men certainly won’t be here.”

The third corridor they came across had a lot more torches, and even fancy doors installed with tapestries lining the walls. There was no doubt this was where the Red Death resided. Astrid and Hiccup expertly immobilized a pair of patrolling guards and strode past the corridor, standing at attention, their eyes taking in every detail. The Red Death was a curvaceous woman who remained mysterious - or maybe didn’t dare to venture very far into her own den for fear of upstarts wishing to challenge her. Her meals were brought to her rooms and only a few select advisors entered her chambers. The guest rooms were cleared and the next day Hiccup and Astrid were part of the crew that helped set up Krogan’s rooms.

The meeting with Krogan was to take place in a ‘neutral’ room, sparsely furnished to show the absence of traps and with a big table. Only a few guards, two from the Red Death and two from Krogan would guard the entrance to the room to avoid anyone else hearing their plans. The two guards would probably be of the Red Death’s few advisors she allowed in her chambers. Hiccup and Astrid had identified four. So two of them would probably be in the meeting between the two leaders.

Krogan arrived the day afterwards with ten generals. Astrid peered over one of the ledges, laying on her stomach, her hood pulled far over her face to ensure no one saw her even if they looked up. They looked tired, and one of the Red Death’s close advisors escorted them to the southern caves.

“Krogan,” the Red Death welcomed him with a pleasant, deep voice. “A pleasure to meet with you in person again.”

Krogan grunted and inclined his head.

“How go the preparations to move?” he asked abruptly. The Red Death let out a soft laugh.

“Straight to the point,” she noticed keenly. “They are going well. Is everything going as planned on your front?”

“Berk sent in reinforcements,” Krogan said flatly. “It is nothing we can’t handle, but with the soldiers we have Drago wishes to act sooner than we planned.” The Red Death said nothing for a minute.

“With your soldiers helping my Dragons fall into place we should be able to be ready,” she acquiesced. “Of course, such a decision will cost you.”

“Deal,” Krogan agreed. “We’ll need you to move in four weeks' time,” Krogan said as he shook the Red Death’s hand.

“Four weeks?” she asked incredulously.

“Four weeks,” Krogan repeated sternly.

“Very well,” the Red Death acceded. One of her guards at the end of the table shifted.

Astrid tugged Hiccup’s tunic lightly. “Four weeks isn't enough time for us to get back to Berk and formulate a counter attack,” she hissed urgently.

“I know,” Hiccup agreed, frowning. Astrid cocked her head to one side as she studied him. What are we going to do? She asked silently. His eyebrow rose in contemplation. “If we need more time, I guess we’ll have to slow them down,” he said thoughtfully.

“You mean, killing Krogan, laming all the horses, burning the wagons and provisions, or blowing up the weapons and their base?” Astrid asked sardonically, a gleam in her eye at the prospect of battle.

“From what we’ve seen, the Dragons aren’t exactly feeling very loyal to Drago. The only real connection between him and the Dragons is the Red Death, who is in kahoots with Krogan.”

��So, no Red Death . . .” Astrid nodded, catching his drift.

“. . . no ambush,” Hiccup finished. “Yeah.”

“Well, great. We just need to incapacitate the leader of the Dragons in this den full of hundreds if not thousands of highly dangerous individuals. Easy. How do we do that?”

“We can’t fight off all of them, so we’ll need a diversion,” Hiccup said, a grin spreading across his face as he met her eye. A smile grew on her face in answer as she played along for dramatic effect.

“Oh?” Astrid asked coyly. “And what do you propose?”

“What was that idea about blowing up their transportation and provisions?” Hiccup asked innocently.

.oOo.

The Dragons and Krogan’s generals would be put to work the following day and the caves would be too swarmed with soldiers to set up any traps, so they had to act that night.

“It has been forever since we’ve done this,” Astrid said, biting back a smile.

“Do you remember how furious Gobber was when we singed his eyebrows that one time?” Hiccup nudged her.

“How could I forget the whack of his staff during our extra training,” Astrid shook her head. “I swear it hurt to breathe for days. But now I can beat almost anyone with just a staff.”

“Okay,” he puffed, standing up to stretch his back and looking at his work with a satisfied smirk. “That should be the last of them.”

“I’m pretty sure this is a record of ours,” Astrid groaned quietly. “I don’t think I’ve set more traps in four hours in my entire life.”

“You’ll be able to hit all of them, right?” Hiccup checked.

“Of course,” she assured him. “I’ll definitely be able to make it outside before Krogan.”

“What I want to know,” she continued, “is when did you get so good at this? I don’t remember you being so eager to cause this kind of destruction since we were seventeen.”

“Maybe I missed this,” Hiccup shrugged.

“You’re way too confident to have supposedly just resumed pranking after five years,” Astrid accused him gently. “Should I be worried?”

“Not unless you’re related to my uncle,” Hiccup assured her. Astrid sniggered.

“I almost feel bad for Snotlout,” she shook her head.

The plan was to take place during a meal, which was when most Dragons would be in the cavern that served as a mess hall. They would start an explosion right outside the cavern and feign a coup that Hiccup had overheard plans about. They hadn’t been able to glean much more information surrounding it, as Kingstail was a popular and shrewd Dragon; it was hard to eavesdrop on his plans. However, there were at least a couple Dragons who were waiting for an unknown signal. They would lead the attack and send the hall into chaos. Kingstail might try to stop them or take advantage of the situation; either way, they didn’t care. Hiccup would stay in the mess hall and try to target the Red Death while Astrid exploded a few entrances to barricade the Dragons in and make it harder for them to exit the den, plus their wagons and supplies to prevent them from having the resources to attack Berk. Krogan would also try to make a run for it, so with most of the extra entrances collapsed, he’d run into Astrid, who would overtake him and bring him back to the Berk palace to interrogate him.

“You probably don’t have to take the Red Death on directly, you know,” Astrid said hesitantly. “What’s more important is that you make the mess hall such chaos Krogan will want to leave rather than help and you can escape.” Hiccup turned to look at her.

“I can handle myself in there,” he assured her. “It isn’t my first brawl, you know.” Astrid winced.

“I need you more than alive; I need you well enough to ride back to Berk with a dangerous prisoner,” she said firmly. “It took weeks for you to move properly after those brawls.”

“Fine,” Hiccup huffed. “Getting out of there is my priority. But what about you? How are you going to take on Krogan?”

“I’ll coat my blades in Speed Stinger venom,” she shrugged. She had never used the concoction before, but had heard about it from the legendary healer Gothi and in history books. Even a few drops were enough to paralyze a fully grown man for a couple hours. As long as she managed one slice on Drago’s general, he would freeze immediately for long enough to tie him up securely.

The traps were a few tripwires connected to torches along the walls that would set piles of the flammable gel on fire, and a couple of gourds of the explosive gas by the entrance. If they failed, Hiccup had found a few weak spots in the rock where some of the Dragons had piled boulders themselves to give themselves more cover. Astrid could simply nudge the weak spot and tumble the rocks manually, trapping the Dragons inside.

“Did you pack our bags?” she checked. Hiccup nodded. He had carefully bundled the samples of substances he wanted to bring back to Berk in packs, along with their blankets and had retrieved their horses, getting them saddled and waiting by the entrance in the cove.

“We’ve done as much as we can, Astrid,” he said reassuringly. “You can stop worrying.” Astrid cast him a dark look and he bit back a laugh.

“I can’t believe we just spontaneously decided to assassinate the Red Death and capture Drago’s general,” she said drily.

“Never a dull moment with the two of us,” Hiccup smiled.

“Breakfast will be in about twenty minutes,” Astrid observed. “So we should get to our positions. Be careful,” she warned him as she began to walk away.

.oOo.

When Fanghook sauntered to breakfast early for once, he didn’t notice the gleeful eyes watching him from the corner. A few more of his comrades made their way down quickly, drawn first by their need for the latrines, then by the tantalizing smell of food. They helped themselves from the pots and platters on the main table. Krogan’s men were sitting at the head table like the good little soldiers they were. He scoffed and jeered at them with his friends. They were going to have to follow those foreigner’s orders and they would be expecting hardworking minions, so he had no choice but to ridicule them as much as he could now before they exhausted him. Who cared about stupid soldier formations? Fanghook excelled at ducking out of the fight whenever it came to confrontation and holding a knife to a pretty woman’s neck and forcing his opponents to surrender. What was the point of fighting next to a buddy who’d kill him as soon as he had enough spoils to make it worthwhile? Why should he save a comrade when less people meant a greater share of the prize? Soldiers with ideas of conquering made no sense.

The Red Death made her way to the breakfast table, surprisingly enough. He supposed it was because of the Krogan general. She didn’t want to seem unorganized or weak in front of him. He scoffed again. Women were nothing but weak, and it was so typical of a woman Red Death to team up with some conquering bastard like Drago to keep the Dragons satisfied. He couldn’t wait for Kingstail to take her down.

Fanghook was on his second bowl of stew when a loud boom sounded, filling the cafeteria with green gas which burst into flames. He jumped up, his short sword already drawn. Fanghook may have never learned to read or figure or even hold a meaningful conversation, but he was well versed in the lifestyle of stab first, think later and that had kept him alive as long as he had. Everyone’s heads snapped toward the flash of fire and coughed in the wake of smoke.

“THE SIGNAL!!!” someone from the midst of the smoke bellowed. Fanghook started. The signal? Had Kingstail set this up?

“THE SIGNAL!!!!” another voice roared. “Go, Go, Go!” Fanghook sprang into action.

“Come on, boys,” he shouted. They followed him without question.

“What’s happening?” one of them asked.

“We’re not gonna let these soldiers boss us around!” Fanghook cried. “Time to put someone else in charge!” Plenty of people drew weapons, too and leapt over tables to follow him. Someone stepped in front of Fanghook and he struck him down easily. The Dragon’s friend cried out in outrage and leapt onto one of Fanghook’s comrades. Now it was just a cacophony of petty squabbles resulting in blood. Some people targeted others they had grudges against and others swung their knives for the fun of it. Some were trying to stop the brawl but they didn’t understand that this was no brawl, but a rebellion. A slim figure streaked past him, aiming for the Red Death’s table. Explosions from farther away sounded, not that Fanghook cared as he roared in pain at someone’s knife in his shoulder. He threw himself into the fray, bloodlust taking over as he punched and grappled and swung whatever blade he could get his hands on, not noticing the absence of a certain general from the scene or the Red Death’s whereabouts.

.oOo.

In the instant before the mess hall exploded, Astrid was gripped by an all consuming fear that they had misjudged the situation severely. Maybe they shouldn’t have pushed their plan into action in the morning, with all the Dragons still waking up. But then one Dragon drew his sword and after that, everything took care of itself. She turned from the scene and sprinted to the nearest exit. So the explosive gas they had used was quite strong. She set the closed gourd of gas covered in the gel on fire and backed away, turning to see if this explosion was just as strong.

Reaching the two north entrances, she slipped into the stables, her torch aggravating the horses and opened the stalls and doors, chasing them out of the barn, yelling loudly and waving the fire around. She waited a minute to make sure none of them were close enough to be harmed before turning to the wagons, soaked in that very useful flammable smelly fluid. She targeted the wagons filled with weapons first, then the ones with healing supplies and food, snagging a piece of bread and stuffing it into her mouth before throwing her torch straight into the wagon.

The caves were full of Dragons running to and fro, some confused, others fighting. None of them took much notice of her. Someone swung a fist and she dodged before flooring him with a well aimed kick. She burst out into the coves and blinked, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the bright sunlight. She hid herself by the exit and removed her axe. She found herself frowning at the slight residue the Speed Stinger venom left on the metal’s surface, marring the shine and care she took of her blade, but Krogan was an experienced fighter, and if it looked like she didn’t know how to take care of a weapon, he might guess she didn’t know how to handle one, either.

She barely had time to stabilize her breathing before Krogan’s tall frame made its way outside. Astrid’s heart sped up but she forced herself to breathe evenly. He was hardly the first opponent she had ever fought. He began to climb the pathway up to the opening of rock that led out of the cove. She waited until he was close before jumping out of the brush with a fierce yell, aiming for his fingers. He yanked his hand away with enviable reflexes and managed to keep his balance, but Astrid stood above him on higher ground and with stabler footing.

“You,” snarled Krogan.

“You’re coming with me,” Astrid said with her deep voice. He scoffed.

“I think not,” he replied. “You no longer have much use for me or Drago. You are unorganized and have no respect for authority. Plus, some idiot blew up the wagons and provisions. Drago will cease trying to allow you Dragons your own authority and conquer you easily.”

“I’m the idiot who blew up the supplies,” Astrid said, her voice steely, “And you’re coming with me. To the Berk palace.” She quickly removed her hood and pulled it over her head before she could blink, tossing it away from her. Her hair was pulled back into a tight braid and tucked into her shirt, plus she had carefully applied smudges to her face to alter her features and make them more masculine. Krogan’s eyes sharpened into slits. He took out a long handled axe with a jagged axehead on one side and smirked arrogantly at her. Astrid lifted her chin and hefted her own weapon before lunging forward, aiming for his exposed arms. He dodged easily, but Astrid did not press further. She had good ground and there was no other exit out of the coves. She wouldn’t give him the chance to slip around her and escape.

His eyes narrowed at her and he leapt at her, swinging his axe. Wow, his legs were freakishly strong and fast. She dodged to the side, avoiding the sweep of his longer axe. She brought her own weapon up and slashed at him, not moving to the side to lend him enough room to escape.

“You’re not bad,” he taunted. Astrid smiled tightly, acknowledging the compliment but not letting it detract from her focus. A flash of annoyance crossed his face at her lack of response, and she bit back a smile.

She had a small knife by her side, also coated with the Speed Stinger Venom. If she were able to get close to him she could slice him. Or, she could distract him with an offensive attack with her axe and throw the knife, hoping to cut him. She was a great shot with a knife, but Krogan was powerful and strong. She wasn’t sure she’d actually be able to hit him. And if she missed, there would be no way to retrieve her knife. I just need a slice, she told herself as she moved to strike again. She didn’t need to kill him or make him yield or even draw first blood, although that was preferable. She swung again and he jumped out of the way. She swung around to block him from slipping between her and the opening. He relied the most on his strong legs, reaching ungodly heights and if Astrid ducked he’d probably be able to jump over her, although his swings with his axe were arm-shatteringly strong. His heavy cloak was a bit of a hindrance to him, but he was good enough that it wasn’t a weakness Astrid would be able to utilize.

She made to aim a swipe at his legs, crouching down low enough for, say, a certain opponent to jump over her. He took the bait, launching himself over her. She ignored the rush of fear as he sailed over her, and twisted quickly, drawing her smaller blade and slicing deeply along his unprotected calf. He bellowed, more out of arrogant fury than pain as he landed. He stood to face her but froze before he could completely straighten. Astrid smiled grimly at the effective work of the Speed Stinger venom. She knocked him over with her foot, delighting in the way he toppled over helplessly. Stormfly trotted over as Astrid whistled and Astrid unwound the rope from her horse’s hidden saddle.

“Hey, girl,” she greeted her mare. “Did you have a nice time roaming these plains?” Stormfly’s eyes twinkled at her. “I missed you, too,” she smiled, stroking the horse’s soft nose. “I’m going to put this on you now,” she gestured to the saddle and Stormfly stood obediently still.

Astrid made quick work of Stormfly’s saddle, then called Toothless over and readied him for Hiccup, too, casting a nervous glance back at the caves. She tied Krogan’s hands and legs securely, signaling Stormfly to kneel. She slung him over the saddle, cooing as her strong, beautiful mare shifted under the weight.

Ten minutes later, Hiccup still hadn’t come out. She inspected Toothless’s saddle bags one more time again. They had brought out the samples of the substances to bring back to Berk the night they had set the traps, not wanting to risk one of them being poisoned or paralyzed if the bottles broke. She cast a glance at her prisoner. He would not be able to move for a couple hours or so but did she want to keep him conscious? Should she knock him out now or wait for Hiccup to get back and subdue Krogan just as they began riding again?

Toothless’s ear perked forward and Astrid wanted to sag in relief. She saw Hiccup a few minutes after, climbing out of the cove and taking a moment to rest his hands on his knees and catch his breath before straightening up to address them.

“Hiccup-” she said, concerned. He waved her off.

“I’m fine,” he assured her. “It was just a hard fight, but it’s fine.” She eyed him suspiciously as he hauled himself into Toothless’s saddle with a pained grunt. “I’m good,” he insisted when he caught sight of her face. She arched an eyebrow.

“Okay,” she said disbelievingly. He clicked his tongue, signaling his stallion into a trot and Astrid turned and whacked the side of Krogan’s head with the flat of her axe. Hiccup winced. She turned to him, a wide smile on her face. Hitting the General had felt good.

Hiccup didn’t have any cuts on him but his breathing was slightly shallower than normal and a few times she had caught him gingerly holding his side between breaks. The ride back to the Berk Palace was going to take two weeks with the addition of Krogan and they wanted to avoid towns near Berk’s borders in case Krogan escaped and tried to make it back to Drago.

Maybe they should have stolen more healing supplies, Astrid worried. They had plenty of bandages and a few herbs for poultices if they needed them, although if there was a serious wound they’d have to restock at one of the cities.

“Let me look at you,” she decided as they dismounted for the night. Hiccup’s head snapped round to look at her.

“What?”

“You’re clearly hurt,” he glared at him. “Don’t try to deny it. I won’t let you. So let me look at how bad it is before I fuss over you as punishment.” He rolled his eyes.

“I swear you’re like a mother dragon,” he muttered. She cuffed him around the head and he snickered before removing his shirt.

He had bruises lining his torso from what looked like grappling and a few kicks.

“What were you doing?” she asked incredulously.

“Uh… fighting.” Hiccup responded. He scratched the back of his head. “She was a really good fighter, but better with long range and I had a few explosives left.

“Is she?”

“Dead.” Astrid nodded. “Good job.” She knew he hated killing, knew it haunted him at night but the Red Death was just too dangerous to be kept alive, and they wouldn’t have been able to restrain two powerful prisoners. She gave him an encouraging smile. You did the right thing. Her hands automatically began tracing his old scars and he sucked in a breath, moving his head closer to hers just slightly. She began to tilt it upwards when Stormfly snorted and Astrid remembered the prisoner just sitting there watching them.

“Uh- um,” she stammered. “Great. We actually - we should have a poultice for the bruises that you can use.” Hiccup looked adorably confused and put out at her pulling back before his brain caught up and he scowled.

Well, now Astrid was sure she didn’t have to worry about Hiccup being accidentally too nice.

It was stupid how much Krogan got in the way. It had been weeks since Hiccup and Astrid had had to watch themselves around each other, and all of a sudden stolen kisses or light flirtations that had so easily become part of their routine had to be cut out in front of their audience, leaving them embarrassingly off balance. And the prisoner was so quiet that they’d forget he was there at times. Hiccup would stumble upon her name or Astrid would lean too close before they remembered the third party. It was dangerous. And Astrid found herself cranky without Hiccup’s soothing affections.

This is how it’s going to be, she told herself. For a couple more years at least.

That didn’t mean she had to like it, though.

Sometimes, they let pesky urges get the better of them and did irresponsible things. Astrid was chopping up an old dead tree with her axe (cringing all the while; the blacksmith was going to kill her when he saw her weapon) for firewood when she heard a rustle behind her. She immediately snapped to high alert, hefting her axe in front of her.

“Who’s there?” she barked.

“Hey, it’s just me,” a nasally voice assured her as a figure slipped out from behind a trunk, his hands in front of him placatingly. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.” Astrid let out a breath and loosened her grip on her axe.

“Hiccup. Is everything okay?” she asked concernedly.

“The General is properly secured; I just checked him,” he assured her. “I just needed a little break - and to do this.” He cupped her face and kissed her. Astrid almost dropped her axe at his forwardness. They shouldn’t - they shouldn’t … something. But oh, she thought as her hands slid up his shoulders and he pinned her against the tree, maybe they could spend a few moments …

“You need to go back,” Astrid insisted after they had lost track of time. “It’s too suspicious. You were only supposed to be gone long enough to relieve yourself; that doesn’t take too long.” Hiccup grumbled.

“He’s awful company.”

“He has valuable information you could try to get out of him.”

“Mmm. Fine. There is that.”

“Go now. He’ll know exactly what happened if we both come back together. And fix your tunic; it’s rumpled.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. Um, and your hair,” Hiccup pointed. She touched her braid and swore. He chuckled nervously.

“I’ll be going now. See you soon, Hofferson.”

She arrived at camp half an hour later, her hair rebraided and firewood in tow. At one point Hiccup even accidentally called her by her real name.

“What did you say?” Astrid asked, trying to channel a proud knight being upset they were called a woman’s name.

“Astor, of course. What do you think I said?” Hiccup asked smoothly. She shook her head internally. She just hoped Krogan hadn’t caught the slip up. He looked like he was sleeping. Even if he wasn’t, there was no need to be paying attention to them. They were fine.

“I can’t believe you did that!” she hissed at him when they switched night shifts.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized groggily.

“We can’t risk sneaking off again,” Astrid decided. Hiccup acquiesced.

Never mind that she instigated the rest of the times they snuck off for the rest of the journey.

.oOo.

They arrived at the Berk Palace at last, grimy and sore but triumphant, Krogan handcuffed and blindfolded on the pony they had managed to buy a couple days back. The guards at the gate were waiting for them and jumped into action as Hiccup pushed his hair back and gave them a tired smile.

“Your Highness. Sir Hofferson,” they greeted, sneaking glances at the prisoner behind them.

“Would someone please notify the King of his son’s arrival?” Astrid prompted them as they gaped, unmoving as the three travelers passed through the gates. The guards snapped back to attention, one bellowing for a page boy.

The outer courtyards were as busy as ever, if a little more serious than they had been before they had left. It had been more than a month since Astrid had initially come for the Prince. They wove through the crowds that halted and stared at them as they made their way to the Eastern Entrance, a smaller door where the King usually welcomed close friends or officials on important business. Squires rushed to help the knights dismount from their steeds.

“Don’t take him down,” Astrid instructed, nodding to Krogan. “He’ll be easier to contain the way he is.” The squires nodded in understanding.

“Of course, Sir,” one assured her.

“Henry!” the King boomed as he appeared. He noticed Astrid and raised an eyebrow in surprise before shaking his head and muttering something that sounded like ‘should have known’ under his breath. “My dear Astor,” he greeted her cordially. Astrid bowed deeply.

“Your Majesty,” she returned. “I accompanied Hiccup on his mission without your permission.” King Stoick waved his hand.

“No matter,” he chuckled. “You two don’t seem to be able to be separated for more than a few months, and I can hardly begrudge your good influence on him.” Behind him, Hiccup blushed and grinned at Astrid, who fought not to look as if she wasn’t focusing on the King.

“The Dragons won’t be a problem, and we brought Drago’s General back to interrogate, sir,” Hiccup informed his father. The King smiled and patted his son on his back.

“Better than I could have hoped,” he praised. Hiccup beamed. “I’ll call a council meeting. You two should rest and recuperate. Give me your reports in the morning.” He led Hiccup into the palace with a hand on his back and looked over his shoulder at Astrid. “I believe your previous rooms are empty, Astor, if you’d like them.”

“I would be honored, Your Majesty,” Astrid bowed again.

The bath tub was big enough to lay down in entirely and full of scalding hot water. She groaned as her back muscles began to relax. Riding in the saddle while keeping a keen eye on Krogan and pretending not to notice the glances Hiccup kept stealing at her kept her back rigid and it was a relief to slump in the water. She had instructed the servants not to bother her, and took longer than she normally did washing herself, thoroughly wringing out her hair and skipping around in clean clothes before braiding it back in a crown and adding chain mail with a hood to her ensemble for dinner. They would be eating publicly, so one was supposed to dress finely, but it was disrespectful to wear a hat while eating, so the hood of chain mail would have to do. She was quite reluctant to cut her hair; she didn’t know how much longer she’d be able to keep up the pretense as Sir Hofferson. She hadn’t exactly discussed such things with her parents, having avoided them after Hiccup’s arrival and then suddenly riding off after him. They would probably be worried sick. She had written them the night she had left with the Prince, citing that she was on a mission and would be unable to reach them for a while, but there would certainly be Helheim to pay with her mother.

Dinner was delicious as always. She was invited to dine privately with the Royal Family so she was not bombarded with questions about her mission. King Stoick did not ask many questions concerning what they had done, only of the journey and their health.

“The council will meet in a few days, and you two will be rewarded for your bravery and hard work,” he told them kindly. He turned to Astrid.

“I can invite your father, if you so wish,” he offered. Astrid inclined her head to him gratefully.

“Thank you, Your Majesty. I would be honored to have my father in attendance.”

She retreated to her rooms and wrote down a comprehensive report of the past month, recounting the tales from the bars, the locations of the Dragon’s Den entrances, their weapons and fighting techniques as well as their numbers. She wrote of Hiccup’s bravery and, with a little pride, of her defeating Krogan. Satisfied she had all the details saved so she wouldn’t forget before submitting the report, she headed off to bed to catch a good night’s sleep.

Freya bless the one who had invented mattresses.

She was awakened a few hours later by a knock at the door. It could only be one person who knocked like that - but what was he doing at such an ungodly hour? The last stolen moment they’d had together flashed through her mind - she had pushed him up against the stable walls in the barn they had bought the new pony from and kissed him thoroughly until he was dazed before heading back to their horses as the prisoner. Astrid’s heart leapt into her throat as he tentatively knocked again. She pulled the door open a crack and grinned at him. He beamed back and she ushered him in, trying to shush the growing giggles in the back of her throat. She left him in the main room and ran to her dressing chambers, grabbing her robe’s large sash and belting it securely around her waist to give herself a figure and fluffing her hair absentmindedly. She was being absolutely ridiculous and wholly improper, but what else was one to do when the Crown Prince snuck out to see her at night?

“What are you even doing here?” she asked sternly because she had to have some principles. “Whatever you need, could it not wait til tomorrow?” Hiccup shook his head sheepishly, a shy smile on his face.

“You’ll be Sir Hofferson come morning,” he said. “I wanted to speak to Astrid.”

That wasn’t - that wasn’t romantic at all, Astrid huffed. Even so, she was glad the room was dark with dimly lit candles so he could gauge the color of her cheeks properly.

“Did you need to deliver your love poem in person?” she asked teasingly. Hiccup rolled his eyes.

“No. Unless-” he stepped forward, clasping her hand and bent down on one knee dramatically. “Do you wish for me to serenade you?”

“No-”

“My lady,” he declared, interrupting her with a mischievous light in his eye. “The glow of the moonlight dances upon thy flawless skin, whilst the candlelight sets thy locks afire.”

“Hiccup-”

“To Valhalla every mortal aspires but next to thee’s angelic form how could one ever wish to go higher?” Astrid ripped her hand out of his.

“That rhymed,” she accused him.

“That it did,” Hiccup laughed at her blatant colored cheeks.

“There’s no way you made that up on the spot,” Astrid said, incredulous. “How long have you had those verses up your sleeve?” Now it was his turn to blush.

“I didn’t - it wasn’t - I - not long,” he sputtered. He sighed. “I saw it in a book Mom was reading.” Astrid’s hands flew to cover her mouth.

“The Queen reads those things?” she dared to inquire.

“How else do you think my father’s speeches end up so flowery?” Astrid shook her head. She’d never thought about it - it didn’t matter.

“You can’t sneak off to see me every night,” she told him regretfully. “Someone would probably notice - and we can’t have that. Not to mention you would ruin my virtue even if we did nothing but talk.” Hiccup sighed.

“I have become spoilt with your presence, I’m afraid,” he admitted. “I find myself disliking not being able to call you Astrid all the time. And after this, you might go back to your estate. I’ll have to take on more duties, be it fighting or ruling as well as trying to change the laws. I don’t know when we’ll see each other again. I don’t want you to leave.” Astrid wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest.”

“It’s not decided yet,” she tried to reassure him. “You may see me more often than you think.”

“It is stupid to start missing something before it’s gone,” scoffed Hiccup.

“Maybe, yes, but understandable,” Astrid countered. 

“I just want to steal a few more moments with you before we have to go back to pretending you’re just my friend,” Hiccup confessed.

“Of course,” Astrid promised. “You can have me for a little while longer.”

.oOo.

Astrid was called into the Council Room the day the council arrived. She and the Prince were sent to the dungeons to retrieve the prisoner they had captured and prove his identity to the council.

“Long time no see,” Hiccup greeted the general as the jailor took out his keys. “Now we’re just going to ask you some questions, and it’ll do you good to answer as many of them as they ask. Astrid stepped inside the cell and hauled Krogan up. He groaned at the change in position and Astrid gave him a moment to recover before tying a blindfold around his eyes and setting off at a steady walk through the castle. Hiccup took up his other side, a firm grip around the prisoner’s arms. He had been fed, so he wasn’t too weak to fight back, but he kept their pace without complaint and made no move to fight against them. Was playing docile a strategy of his, Astrid wondered.

The guards to the King’s Council opened the doors for them. The King and Queen sat in the middle of the room, five council members on each side and eight additional knights and lords were present. They sat in extravagant chairs on one side of a long wooden table that spanned the side of the room. Often, the table was covered in maps and war diagrams, but those had been removed to hide any information from Krogan should he escape. The King also had multiple rooms he held council in; the battle plans were probably in another one.

The King’s Council consisted of the King, his Queen, and their closest confidantes along with Berkian Elders who could not be taken off the council, only resign from it when they saw fit. Gothi, a great great ancestor of the King that was hardly ever awake, dozed in the far left corner, while Mildew sat right next to Duke Spitelout on King Stoick’s right. Lord DeRange, another member of the Council sat on the other side of Lord Mildew, his son sitting next to him with a sharp grin on his face. Lords Svenson and Meathead and Thuggory were also present, as well as Captain Throk of the Berk Guard. Some of the other lords she did not recognize on sight but would probably remember them when she heard their names. A few knights she’d worked with including Sir Alvin and Sir Eret - now Captain Eret - sat around the table gazing interestedly at the man held between her and Hiccup.

“General Krogan,” King Stoick greeted the prisoner. “A pleasure to meet you in person.” Krogan smiled insidiously.

“My master looks forward to beating you on the battlefield,” Krogan returned. Some of the lords muttered and scowled at his impertinence.

“I’m quite sure that’s not going to happen,” the King narrowed his eyes. “But we could always discuss accommodations to be made for you or your family following the battle in exchange for something. Krogan remained silent.

“Why did Drago combine forces with the Dragons?” King Stoick asked. Krogan sneered.

“He won’t,” he said loftily. “The Dragons were an unorganized force that Drago wished to use in one of his plans, but due to unforeseen circumstances, they were cut from the plan.”

“Very well,” the King said, pleased that the conversation appeared to be going somewhere. “Is there anything else you’d like to tell us?”

“I do believe I could tell you something,” Krogan said smoothly despite the grime still on his face and his hands behind his back. A couple of lords shifted forward eagerly.

“The number of soldiers Drago has?” one of them asked.

“Drago’s plan?” speculated another.

“Where is Drago?” King Stoick asked. The General scoffed

“Drago doesn’t employ traitors,” he sneered. “But the information I have pertains more to your own affairs. You have an imposter in your midst,” the dark skinned man declared dramatically. The effect around the room was instantaneous. Astrid stiffened and her face drained of color as she cast her gaze around the room. A traitor? In the council? Each man immediately glared at his neighbor suspiciously. The room felt like it was about to explode into a brawl but Krogan cut them off with an arrogant laugh.

“Who?” demanded King Stoick. Astrid cast a worried glance at Hiccup, her hand subtly moving towards her axe to be unslung if whoever-the-imposter-was decided to make a run for it. Then to Astrid’s shock, the prisoner jutted his chin at her. Gasps sounded around the room and  Hiccup’s eyes widened in panic.

“Impossible,” Lord Mulch said stoutly. Astrid swallowed around a lump in her throat.

“Sir Hofferson is an honorable knight of mine and completely loyal to the crown,” King Stoick said in a low voice.

“You might be surprised,” Krogan sneered. “He wasn’t able to hide everything on the ride back; your so-called noble knight is a wench!” Astrid couldn’t stop herself from jerking back. Krogan suddenly lunged at her, dragging a cry of surprise from Hiccup.

“I’ll show you!” he shouted, his arms snapping his restraints. They must have been worn down while in the dungeon. She should have checked them before bringing him here instead of being distracted.

“Astrid!” her father cried desperately before clapping a hand over his mouth in horror. The General’s hands reached her helmet. Astrid twisted in an effort to escape his hold but he yanked the protective armor off her head. Her hair sprung into her face and blinded her as if in retaliation for her stuffing it into her helmet that morning.

She heard the sharp inhales of fury as she scraped her locks away from her face and Hiccup tackled Krogan to the floor. The King was blinking as if he couldn’t believe his eyes and the Queen had a surprised hand pressed to her mouth - although she looked more calm than upset.

“Bring me a new pair of manacles,” Hiccup ordered sternly but no one took their eyes off of Astrid.

“Astrid?” Duke Jorgenson asked dangerously. Astrid saw her father bow his head in shame and she wasn’t sure if it was for the instinctive slip of her name or her being found out.

“Who is this Astrid?” Lord DeRange frowned suspiciously.

“She’s my daughter,” Astrid’s father spoke up. The council swiveled to stare at him.

“Then who is Astor Hofferson?” asked Lord Bucket.

“No one,” Father replied. Astrid couldn’t help the pang in her chest at that. Yes, Astor was a fictitious name for her, but he - she - wasn’t nothing.

“I am Astor Hofferson,” Astrid said loudly. The Duke scowled fiercely at her and Lord Mildew muttered something derisive under his breath. “It is simply another name for me,” she went on. “It is I who has trained and fought and been knighted with the highest marks in the initiation. I who served in the Berk Guard for a year and defeated the Den of Dragons alongside our Crown Prince.” Hiccup, who had somehow managed to take Krogan’s belt and fasten it around the would-be attacker's wrists, stood up and gave her an encouraging smile.

“But you’re a lady,” protested a lord next to Captain Throk, whose own face was unreadable.

“Yes, I am a lady,” she said defiantly, focusing on Duke Spitelout’s scowl rather than her father’s panic or Hiccup’s pride. “But I am also one of the best knights in the kingdom and I will not stop serving the inhabitants of Berk. I have still helped the Prince bring in our most valuable prisoner of war. I have still fought and bled and proved myself capable of battle, and the discovery of my gender does not change any of that. I have not lied about anything but this, and have let others get to know me with my warrior’s spirit before they dismissed me due to poor misconceptions about my sex.”

“It’s blasphemous,” Lord Mildew sneered, the Duke shaking his head alongside him in agreement.

“There are truly no rules explicitly against it,” Astrid countered. “It is just not done. It has been done now.”

“We could never accept her as a pure lady,” Mildew protested. “Our women are to be models of chastity and decorum. She has been sullied by cavorting with lads who could not help themselves, and no one to stop her wantonness in seducing them. No one would marry her.”

“I will,” Hiccup spoke up. Astrid turned to him, a protest on her lips reflexively. “I have witnessed her since the beginning of her deception and can attest to the entirely modest attitude she has shown around my peers. She never entered while we were bathing or even attended the trips to drink and bed pretty peasants. She has behaved with the utmost modesty allowed for her situation and even if all the other lords were foolish enough to not desire her, I have fallen in love with her.” He shot Lord Mildew a dangerous glare as the man opened his mouth. The crotchety old lord shut it obediently like a chastened dog. “I have fallen in love with her wisdom, her battle prowess, her bravery, and lastly, her dedication and her beauty.” He stared the lords in the eyes defiantly. “From before I knew her true identity - and I’ve known for years -” cries of outrage followed his declaration as even the King’s jaw dropped at the omission. “I have known that she was the most capable of our peers. If it hadn’t been for her, I wouldn’t have been able to pass Squire training.” More cries of outrage followed his admission.

“Father,” Hiccup addressed the King who was glaring at Astrid. “I can think of no better future queen than Astrid. She can comport herself with every grace any other lady can, and can defend both herself and me in any dangerous situation as she has demonstrated for years. She is intimately acquainted with our battle tactics and leadership abilities, having studied from the same tutors as me. If something were to happen, she would still be perfectly able to run the kingdom. She already has practice with her own estate. And I love her,” he added. Stoick stared at him stonily.

“Is she the reason you have been pushing to change the laws around women’s inheritance?” Stoick asked. Lord Mildew practically choked and Astrid found herself wishing he didn’t catch his breath again.

“Yes, Sir,” Hiccup admitted. “She has opened my eyes to the capabilities of our women, if only we let them. Dad, we have a serious war coming up soon and we need as many fighters as we can get to end it quickly.”

“Preposterous!” cried Mildew.

“You dare interrupt your future king?” Hiccup asked venomously. The air stilled. Hiccup walked slowly to the center of the room and gazed into every one of the lords’ faces until they looked away.

“I am the one who will inherit my father’s throne when he is gone,” he said quietly but clearly. “I am the one who will take on the burden of caring for an entire kingdom and endeavoring to do right to all. And I know I will not always succeed. There were countless times I wished to relieve myself of such a burden. But I have accepted it now, and I will embrace my duties to the best of my ability. Women are an integral part of our society. Without them we cannot have heirs or mothers. Why should we disregard them, then? Would anyone here argue that our Queen is not the strongest woman in the land?” Everyone bowed their heads towards the Queen in respect, who beamed upon her son. “I wish for my wife to be equally as magnificent.” It was all Astrid could do not to duck her head in embarrassment but she held it high, focusing on the Queen.

I cannot be you, she said silently. But I can try to be my best as you would. Queen Valka’s face softened a smidge, and she inclined her head ever so softly towards the woman knight.

“But we cannot stand to have a lord who would so gleefully lie to us,” Lord Thuggory said with a predatory gleam in his eye. He was long contemptuous of the large estate the Hoffersons boasted next to his paltry one in comparison. “Who knows what else he might hide from us? He could be feeding our secrets to Drago, for all we know, with his wench in the trenches alongside our generals.” Astrid’s father stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the cold tile.

“The only thing I have lied about is the gender and name of my child,” Sir Hofferson hissed. “My daughter is perfectly adept at running my estate and I taught her enviable skills that many of your sons lacked, but her own discipline and bravery were always hers. I selfishly and cowardly allowed her to continue and expose herself to such dangers because I knew she would overcome them and endure for her family, but I always waited for the day we could cease the deception and bring her back as a lady. My eldest had a wonderful baby boy over a year and a half ago, so we called Astrid back to retake her ladylike mantle. It was never meant to be a lifelong deception.”

“Father,” Astrid interrupted, a mix of feelings in her chest; pride at the acknowledgement of her skills, but also annoyance? Anger? Sadness? At how quickly she had been replaced and forced back into a proper lady. “Trying to pull me back into being your daughter you could marry off would mean it would be a lifelong deception. I don’t want it to be a lifelong deception. I hated being restricted to being just a knight or a lady,” she caught herself looking at the floor and pulled her head back up to face the men surrounding her. “I do wish to be a mother and raise a family,” she said clearly. “But I have found a great love for fighting for this country.” She took a deep breath and forced herself to meet at least three lords’ eyes before continuing. “And I believe it is a great disservice to have to choose between raising a family and protecting one’s  county.

“Can someone take him away?” Hiccup demanded, gesturing to Krogan who had managed to stand himself up and was observing the proceedings with a gleam in his eye. “Your hastiness and distrust are exposing unnecessary information to our enemy. The King nodded to three knights in the room who promptly pulled out proper handcuffs and escorted Krogan quietly out of the room. Astrid took a moment to draw a deep breath and close her eyes. Her contour had been done so carefully and her chainmail newly shined, but all the lords would see was her messy braid, the way she had been caught off guard, and deem it poor presentation. Hiccup reached over to tuck a loose lock of hair behind her eyes. You look beautiful, his eyes assured her. Color rose in her cheeks and she resisted the urge to take all of her hair out to hide behind it and redo it, but she knew such a thing was not done in public. She gave Hiccup a brave smile and nodded at him. She appreciated him fighting for her, but this was something she had to conquer for herself.

“But how could she be a role model for our girls to hold their standards without pretty features?” one lord asked his colleague a little too loudly. Astrid felt Hiccup bristle beside her but spoke calmly.

“I use contour, as a lady does, to disguise my features and make them more masculine,” she said succinctly. The men broke into more murmurs.

“But what about dresses?” Another one demanded. “Such a physique is not made for dresses.”

“I fit dresses just fine,” Astrid retoroted, clenching her jaw in anger. How dare she be quizzed on the fit of her dresses at an impromptu trial. “And should any of you get any misconceptions about my or my sister’s virtue I would be happy to challenge you on behalf of my honor myself. Are you all confident you would win? Lords, you need not worry about my femininity. It is perfectly intact. During the summers, I often shed my armor and joined the weekly tea parties. No one ever suspected me of being anything less than ladylike. If I wash off the contour I use to make me look more masculine, my features are delicate and pretty. I can dance easily in most gowns, and can ride straddle and sidesaddle. But most importantly, I wish to continue to fight as a knight for Berk. I am proof that Berk can have a successful woman knight, and I plead to be allowed to continue to serve my country.

“It goes against our code of ethics to put our women in such danger,” a kinder lord said contemplatively.

“The path of a knight is one I chose and enjoy, Your Lordship,” she answered. “It would be cruel to deprive me of patriotic pride and the defenseless citizens of Berk an upstanding knight just because of her gender.”

“Sir Hofferson has indeed been an invaluable soldier in Berk’s service for years,” Throk said reasonably. “She was the best in her class during training as a squire, and distinguished herself during the knight trials as well as in the years afterwards. It appears she has proven herself more than the average knight does; why should we stop her now?” Astrid’s heart rose with hope and pride at her former captain’s praise.

“My son has vouched repeatedly for her extraordinary influence in motivating him,” the King mused. “I have frequently dined with her personally, and she is respectful and clever. And I have read the reports from his - her superiors and accounts from citizens. All of them paint a fair picture of a chivalrous knight who does not lie, steal, or cheat.”

“Except for the very basic fact of her gender,” sneered Duke Spitelout. The King stroked his beard.

“But the reason for that is understandable,” he decided. “And so of little consequence determining her character.”

“But we still have a war to fight,” another lord tried. “Surely it would stir up unrest to hear that such a high knight has been a mere woman all along. It would lessen morale.”

“Or it might be better to keep her as a well known knight to rally around,” argued a political rival of the previous lord. The rival looked at the King furtively. “While it is too progressive to uproot society for just one woman, we can agree she is exceptional, and as such exceptions could be made if needed.” He wasn’t necessarily happy with Astrid’s revelation or what she wanted to achieve, but with the Prince so firmly in her favor along with Captain Throk and the King’s fondness for her he sensed showing support was the smart political choice, although he wanted to make it an isolated case. The King narrowed his eyes in thought, reading between the lines the same as she and deciding the best course of action.

They could not risk rebellion against them before the war was won by giving women rights the soldiers did not approve of, but Astrid would be damned if she allowed herself to lose her position as a knight. This hadn’t been how she’d planned this at all, but in a way, she was glad it had happened while she still had favorable sway so soon after her accomplishments. The Prince vibrated with excitement, wanting to say something but sensing the wisdom of remaining quiet while his father thought. Her father looked astonished at the turn of events, but also hopeful. Astrid wasn’t sure how much she agreed with her father on her status as a knight. He had never liked her choice, but had also been the one to teach her to fight and figure and enrolled her in Squire’s Training anyway. His support had lessened as of late, but he had originally come to see her rewarded for bringing in a dangerous prisoner of war. She knew if she had been a true boy her father would have been bursting at the seams with pride, but never once had he ever told her he was proud of her for the same things.

“I think,” the King said slowly. “That the woman in front of us here has proved herself to be in every way exceptional. She has proven her warrior capabilities time and time again, as well as proven herself extraordinarily clever, both in her strategies and ability to be … discreet with her gender. And I think she will prove to be extraordinarily beautiful when she wishes - after all, we were all jealous at one point of her handsomeness at a ball, yes?” The Queen chuckled while most of the lords scowled.

“My daughter pouted because she didn’t get to dance with the elusive Sir Hofferson,” Astrid was sure she heard one of them mutter. “Now I’m glad.”

“Therefore, all in favor of granting her immunity or special status?” the King asked, looking around the room.

The Queen and Captain Throk immediately raised their hands, followed by Lord DeRange and his son. Young Captain Eret raised his hand with a jovial smile towards her, and she found one growing in response. Her father raised his hand. Hiccup raised his pointedly, and glared across the room at quite a few other people until another four hands were raised, including Spitlelout’s. The others, Astrid noticed with amusement, were the ones behind on taxes. They must know Hiccup knew, then.

Eleven hands were raised and nine were not. Then Gothi raised hers. Everyone blinked in surprise at her clear eyes as she gave Astrid a toothy smile.The King looked around the room, nodded decisively, and raised his hand as well. Thirteen. Thirteen votes against eight.

“It’s decided then,” the King declared. ”In light of her service to our country and her help in battle, I hereby grant  - er - Sir Astrid Hofferson a lord’s status.” The room gasped. “Astrid Hofferson. You are now free to inherit, write a will, choose your own marriage, vote on council meetings, and fight alongside Berkian soldiers.” Astrid bowed, feeling too awkward to curtsy in pants.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” She turned to the Queen. “And thank you, Your Majesty.” She bowed to Gothi. “And thank you, Elder. Thank you all for letting me continue to fight for our country!” Hiccup let out a triumphant cheer and Astrid couldn’t stop the laugh that fell from her lips, all giddiness and relief.

“Meeting dismissed,” the King boomed. “We will gather again to question the General and reward the two knights at a later date.”

“-Petition to enforce medical tests on squires in Training-”

“-Dad-” Hiccup said, pushing his way through the crowd.

Astrid silently watched her own father pull himself out of his seat and slowly make his way towards her. She wordlessly offered him her arm and he took it, leaning on it heavily as they walked out the throne room.

“I’m sorry, Astrid,” her father apologized as they left. Lords milled around them, some hastening down to tell everyone of the scandal. Astrid stared ahead. ‘It’s okay’ didn’t seem like the right response, but she couldn’t bring herself to hold anything against him.

“It was always going to happen, one way or another,” she said at last. “In a way, I’m glad it’s happened and dealt with for the most part. It was never something that would have stayed hidden forever.” Why did you never want my accomplishments to never see the light of day? Did you not think me worthy of them? She wondered.

“I never wanted you to have to deal with this,” he sighed defeatedly. “The politics, the careful maneuvering, the silent enemies - staying a knight in society means navigating all those things, and I wanted to keep you away from that.”

“I never minded,” Astrid said, her throat thick for some unfathomable reason. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t unfathomable. Maybe she was able to admit things to herself a little easier. “Society among women is much the same - although the silent dangerous games are that much more a part of it. And I don’t like it, but I can do it. I have always been prepared to do it. All I wanted - all I want -” she cut herself off, horrified at the raw emotion in her voice. They were still in the palace’s public halls, for Odin’s sake! Anyone could come along and hear her.

“What do you want, my dear girl?”

“I want you to be proud of me,” Astrid whispered. She felt a hot tear sting its way across the bridge of her nose and hung her head in shame.

“Of course I’m proud of you,” Lord Hofferson coraked. “You’ve accomplished things I could have never dreamed of, you never did what was expected of you, and I love you for it because you are my child.” He pressed a kiss to her messy hair. “I couldn’t be prouder of my Astrid.” She lowered her forehead onto his shoulder and they stood there, not embracing, but soaking in each other’s presence.

“Oh! I hope I’m not intruding -” Astrid immediately lifted her head off her father’s shoulder and frantically smoothed her hair.

“Hiccup! Oh, no, of course not - never - we were just - ahem. We were just finishing up,” she repeated. Her father was watching the proceedings with a decidedly amused expression as Hiccup gave her a soft smile.

“I was hoping I could accompany you to your rooms?” he asked. “So, that … certainly happened in there.” He glanced obviously behind him, indicating the Throne Room a few corridors back.

“Indeed,” Astrid shook her head incredulously. “I cannot believe it ended as well as it did.”

“The nerve of some of those lords,” Hiccup grumbled.

“They shall certainly face raised prices in Hofferson produce,” Astrid’s father added loftily. Hiccup looked delighted. Astrid had learned over the years that Hiccup was concernedly forgiving of all slights to himself, but could get hilariously petty when holding grudges on behalf of someone he cared about. He once picked on a poor stableboy, spreading the horse manure and stepping in it to make it harder to pick up and to replace the straw more often when he’d overheard the boy speaking derogatorily to Toothless (the stallion had tried to bite him) for a whole year until the boy had absolutely begged to be moved despite the superior pay for caring for the Crown Prince’s prize steed. It looked like now Hiccup had found a new set of men to torment on her behalf. They could pull some more pranks, Astrid decided with a small smile. The Dragon’s Den had revived memories of the good old days when they’d torment their instructors weekly, and Astrid found herself missing the thrilling passtime of setting up traps and not getting caught.

“I won’t be able to wear men’s garb to dinner,” Astrid realized. “Word would get around. I need to prove myself to be a girl to those who have heard the rumors.” Her father nodded.

“I shall send for some clothes from home and look into getting you some formal gowns as quickly as possible,” he promised.

“My mother’s seamstress, Nadia, is very skilled and prompt, and she has a friend, Minden, who’s skill and efficiency is equivalent to hers, if you’d wish to get into contact with them,” Hiccup offered. Her father thanked him and Hiccup kindly directed him to her rooms both in the palace and a little out in the city. “In the meantime, you are welcome to dine with us, Astrid,” Hiccup invited her. “My parents will want to question you in earnest now that I’ve declared my intentions towards you, as well as probably congratulate you.” Astrid managed a weak smile in spite of her dread.

“I would be immensely grateful, as I do not yet have the wardrobe to probably make a debut at court,” she admitted. Mother was absolutely going to kill her. Oh, Cami was going to have a field day.

“Well, I shall take leave of you two now to procure you a wardrobe as soon as possible,” Lord Hofferson excused himself. “A father’s work is never done,” he nodded at Hiccup, “You would do well to remember that.” Hiccup’s entire face turned beet red and Astrid scolded with her eyes, mortified. He just looked satisfied at their embarrassment and their comfortability around each other.

“Astrid?” Hiccup asked when they could meet each other’s eyes again. His hand found hers and Astrid did not pull away from his touch.

“Yes?” she asked, bemused as he ran a thumb over her knuckles contemplatively. He took a deep breath.

“If … I was to propose now, would you … accept?” Astrid stopped walking.

“Is this a proposal?” she asked.

“No!” Hiccup assured her. “No, this is me asking permission.” Astrid thought. She thought of the lord’s sneers and Cami’s. She thought of Astoria’s gentle encouragement and her mother’s more aggressive kind. She thought of her father, who was proud of her but tried to pull her out of danger’s way instead of standing behind her and believing she could fight her way through it. She thought of Hiccup, his boisterous attitude, the growth she’d seen in just two months. His support, the smiles on the faces of the King and Queen - the heat of his body and the taste of his lips. He was patient and he was handsome and he loved her and he was asking permission. She thought about what accepting his proposal meant to her - not just being claimed by each other, but promising herself to her country in a way that was scarier than pledging to die for it.

“Yes,” Astrid said. Hiccup’s eyebrows jumped in surprised delight, and he threw his arms around her.

“Oh Thor - really?” he drew back to look in her eyes. Astrid leaned forward to press her lips to his quickly. Anyone walking down the corridors could just take a different path, she decided.

“Yes,” she said again. “Of course I’ll say yes when you ask me.” Hiccup’s face broke into a beautiful grin.

“It should be public, though,” Astrid decided. “For their benefit. We’ve kept everything else so secret, we should start letting Berk know about us.”

“Very well,” he smiled. “We can do that.”

“What should I wear?” asked Astrid. “The future princess of Berk should look her best when she gets engaged.” Like hell was she going to make the mistake of not being impeccably dressed for the event - everything about her was going to be torn to shreds by all the others rejected by Hiccup by default, and she wasn’t going to give more ammunition they didn’t need.

“Mmm,” Hiccup hummed, cocking his head as he examined her. “Blue that brings out your eyes.” Astrid’s eyes jumped up. Mother had actually commissioned such a dress a while ago. It would be perfect, and was up to the latest styles with a comfortable corset and the skirt wide enough to not make her legs feel trapped.

“When will I wear it?” Astrid asked archly, enjoying the discussion. Hiccup’s smile grew more cocky.

“It’s your decision,” he told her. “I’ll propose as soon as I see you in it.” Oh. He shouldn’t have done that. Astrid was going to make him wait - or maybe, wear it immediately. Dammit, she didn’t know when she wanted to wear it. Hiccup’s grin morphed into a fully blown smirk. The bastard. He had known exactly what he was doing.

“Be on your guard, Your Highness,” Astrid’s eyes narrowed at him. “You’ll never guess when I wear it.”

“I’ll always be ready when you are,” he replied smoothly, and bent down to kiss her hand.

Whoever taught Hiccup to say those kinds of things reflexively like that needed to be charged - and thanked. Viggo - she was pretty sure it was Lord Viggo who had handled tutoring Hiccup in additional speech and politics. He had turned the Prince into a dangerous man.

She pulled her hand out of his grasp and brushed her pants self consciously. “I’ll see you at dinner,” she smiled at him. Turning to the last corridor towards her rooms. “Goodbye, Hiccup.”

.oOo.

Her mother arrived at the palace faster than the wind.

“You ran off at us for a month!” she said dangerously. “And then you return and your identity is found out! Thor have mercy on us, young lady! You have sent Berk into a scandal before you even made your debut!” Cami and Astoria arrived a week later bearing more clothes.

“It is even more imperative you make a good impression on your debut,” Mother shook her head before snapping at the maids to get to work.

Four hours later saw Astrid in a light white gown; the color every girl wore to her debut. She was older than most, of course, which had made her hesitate initially at the color, but it made her look sweet and innocent and feminine, and that was exactly what Berk needed to see. Her hair only fell halfway down her back, so her updo could only be so big, but they expertly wove strings of pearls (and in some places, straw) into her hair to give it an elegant updo.

“You look perfect, darling,” Mother said approvingly as Astrid looked at herself in the mirror.

“Not yet - wait,” Astrid insisted, hastening over to her drawers to dig through them. She emerged with her golden hair comb. “Please,” she said, handing it to the maid who had done her hair. “Could you add this?” Astrid’s mother raised an interested eyebrow at the one lone comb in her hair but said nothing.

“It won’t be very visible, miss,” the maid told her apologetically.

“That’s fine,” Astrid assured her. “As long as it’s there.”

Her debut was a rousing success. Sir Jorgenson in particular took an interest in her, much to his father’s consternation. After two dances Astrid couldn’t find herself refusing the Prince swept her away coldly, a scowl on his face.

“You look awfully moody tonight,” Astrid teased him.

“I’m finally able to dance with the most beautiful woman in the room for the first time after years of watching you with others, and what does my idiot cousin do? Try to stake a claim on you.”

“Possessive,” Astrid tutted because she refused to let herself blush. Hiccup ducked his head apologetically.

“Sorry,” he apologized. He spun her elegantly - she was so glad to find he was a good dance partner. It seemed they fit together in every aspect - and pulled her in close by her waist as she returned. “You look absolutely radiant tonight,” he complimented her in a low voice that made her fight not to shiver. “This is my first time seeing you properly dressed up. I can barely breathe.” Astrid was struggling with keeping her own breaths steady, not that she was going to tell him. “I like your hair comb,” he whispered as the dance ended.

She danced with Eret next, who was both delighted and furious at the fact she had been a girl the whole time. “I can’t believe I didn’t realize,” he kept shaking his head. “I can’t believe you never told me! Seriously, you knew my secrets! Oh, everyone’s faces …”

The news of her dual identity was taken pretty smoothly. Or at least, as smoothly as she could expect. She sparred with the soldiers in the mornings with her age-old tunic and pants, her chest bound securely and her hair pulled back into a smart French braid. A few older lords and knights also had deluded themselves into thinking she was a worse fighter now that they knew she was female, so they thought to challenge her. She happily put them in their place. In the evenings, she donned her gowns and jewelry and danced - or, more importantly, established female allies. There were plenty of women who viewed her status as a knight and being politically equivalent to a lord was absolutely blasphemous. Not to mention it was no secret the Prince was enamored with her, so they inevitably deduced that the whole reason for disguising herself as a boy in the first was just to ‘get her claws in the Heir.’ Others, however, were more open to the idea and even impressed at her accomplishments. And how much would you be willing to stand behind me with your family’s influence to acquire these rights and accomplishments for even more women? She asked through her smiles and delicate conversation. ‘Long live the King,’ ‘To good health!’ they’d toast her, nodding delicately in silent answer of her unspoken question. Heather smirked at her from across the room and Astrid dipped her head in acknowledgement. They weren’t friends yet, but they would be soon.

A few days later, she wore the blue dress.

It had been a while since she’d properly enjoyed the power of a beautiful woman in a room full of men. On the battlefield, there was a certain point when opponents were able to recognize their doom in her walk. She had grinned then, feral and covered in blood, and swung her sword. Now, her smile was beautiful, but wide like a particularly satisfied cat as she sauntered down the steps into the ballroom.

Her dress was bright sapphire silk that rustled and shone as she walked. Jewels hung from her neck and ears, but subtly. There was one piece of jewelry she wanted everyone’s eyes on tonight. Her hands had been carefully soaked and scrubbed, her hair was artfully curled and pinned, her axe headed hair comb nestled securely into the intricate updo. Heads turned to watch her but she sought out Hiccup, finding him and sending him her best I-dare-you look. A slow smile spread across his face as he took in her dress, and he gave her an imperceptible nod.

Dinner was eaten first to ensure everything would be present during the dancing and drinking. Before the first man could claim her hand for a dance Hiccup appeared by her side.

“Lady Hofferson,” he said loudly, discreetly drawing everyone’s attention as he led her subtly toward the center of the room.

“Why, of course,” Astrid responded, all concern. “Whatever do you need, Your Highness?” Hiccup bent over her head and Astrid knew the moment clicked for everyone watching. It was all she could do to keep a smirk off her face as the Crown Prince knelt before her..

“My lady,” Hiccup said clearly. “You have held my heart captive for years and now it has simply made you its new home. You have been with me through thick and thin, even back when I was naught but a skinny fishbone, but even then, you believed in me. And I have believed in you through every battle, every fight, and everything else we’ve weathered together. You are wise and kind and clever and so beautiful you take my breath away. You could do me no greater honor than if you accepted my hand in marriage and became my wife.” Mothers of other contendents for Hiccup’s hand gasped in outrage and resignation. Astrid held her right hand over her heart. They had agreed on the proposal being public, but Astrid hadn’t expected such a heartfelt confession, so her response came out more emotional than she’d planned.

“Yes,” she said, shaking her head. She had the strangest urge to laugh and cry at the same time. “Of course,” she said again. Of course she’d say yes. He rose, a triumphant smile on his face as he slid the ring - a beautiful, intricate thing inlaid with small diamonds and sapphires - onto her finger and clasped her left hand. The orchestra struck up as if on command, and Hiccup expertly guided her into a dramatic waltz - her mother’s favorite to dance with father, and Astrid’s favorite by default. It was intimate and close, and neither’s gaze left the other’s faces throughout the entire dance. They didn’t speak. What words were there to describe the rising feeling of rightness, the utter terror of being in front of all these people, the restraint they were showing not immediately locking each other in a passionate embrace.

“It was my mother’s,” Hiccup shared quietly near the end of the waltz, flicking his eyes to her new ring glimmering in the candlelight. “I asked her for one of her rings and she told me to choose. When I saw that one, I knew. I saw you.”

“It’s perfect,” Astrid told him earnestly. “It’s better than I could have ever imagined. It fits perfectly.”

“Good,” Hiccup nodded approvingly. “Mom said it had always been a little big for her, so I hoped it’d still fit you.”

“I have calluses on my fingers,” Astrid told him dryly. “It’s a good thing it was too big for her.” The dance ended but instead of bowing Hiccup bent down and kissed her slowly. The kiss was chaste and sweet and oh-so-aware-of–everyone-watching, but she drank in every second greedily until they parted softly. She smiled up at him through her lashes. They had fully claimed each other in front of the court. There was no dispute about their relationship now. And Astrid felt proud.

Her brother in law swept her up in a congratulatory dance while Hiccup was congratulated by all the men.

“She’s a real looker,” Snotlout said obnoxiously.

“She’s taken,” Hiccup bit out.

“Man, it must be nice to just marry your bro,” Sir Thorston told Hiccup wistfully. “You know, you’ve already lived with them for years and been through thick and thin together. Getting a wife is weird; they’re all prissy and refined - except for my sister, of course. She’s a right shrew.” Lord Fishlegs stiffened.

“She may be your sister, but she is an Ingerman now, and I cannot allow you to speak ill of our women, Thorston.” The Thorston brother shuffled and muttered under his breath but said no more about his sister that night.

“You’ll take good care of her,” Eret grinned at him, squeezing Hiccup’s hand a little too hard. Hiccup found himself appreciating a man that cared enough about her to threaten his future king.

“Of course,” he agreed cordially and increased his own grip. “And you with Heather, of course.” Eret released his hand and bowed.

“I’m honored to have your blessing,” he said quietly.

He dared not go near the Hofferson matriarch, not sure if she’d threaten him or welcome him enthusiastically, and he was a little afraid to find out.

“That was a beautiful proposal, son,” his mother told him gently. Hiccup turned to embrace her.

“Mom. Thanks.”

“You are lucky to have her.”

“I am indeed.”

.oOo.

After they had gauged the public approval of Astrid, it was back to war preparations. It had been two months and they had been stealthily gathering the remains of their forces without alerting Drago. Hofferson is a girl, the trenches whispered incredulously. Some refused to recognize the unaltered feminine features now accompanied with a braid. But then they saw her fight on the front, and she was still as legendary as before. In such cases between life and death, her gender didn’t matter, only that she was protecting them, charging out into the battle, bleeding freely as she cut down enemies. She was a protector who would never stop fighting, and well, the soldiers could hardly let themselves be shown up by a girl, and so, too, they charged.

The battles were exhausting. Every other night Astrid almost prayed for death, even with Hiccup lying beside her. The soldiers said nothing about Astrid and Hiccup disappearing into each other’s tents to ‘tend each other’s wounds’ and not coming out for the rest of the night, but who cared? Astrid treasured those nights together, filled with the desperate closeness of two people begging the other not to leave the next day. Astrid received many, many more scars all over her body. This was not a fight to be fought lightly any more. There would be no more fighting after this, either because they won or lost, but knew no one was coming to save her unless she saved herself first.

The Prince and his Knight In Shining Armor were a power duo that swept across the battlefield. The King moved them around the battlefield to boost morale as the other forces prepared to battle Drago’s impending forces from the north. She was assigned a squire from Training, young and shaky looking as she quietly showed him how to polish her armor.

“I’ll probably be too tired to help you at night,” she admitted. “But I need my axe and sword sharpened every day. Can you do that?”

“O-okay Sir Hofferson,” the boy whispered in awe.

“Good,” she breathed as Hiccup entered the tent, dirty and grimy, kissing her neck all the same and began rubbing her shoulders. They spent their evenings catching their breaths from the day’s fight and discussing strategies, too tired to pick themselves off their cot. Astrid’s squire polished her armor til it gleamed every night and occasionally called female attendants to treat her to a delightfully hot bath when the injured were all too dead to treat so the hot water wasn’t needed for the night.

“Not much longer,” he whispered reassuringly into her hair.

“Not much longer,” he promised into her lips as they kissed.

“Not much longer,” he pleaded from between her arms as they slept.

“Not much longer,” he begged into her sweaty neck amidst the throes of passion.

And then, ‘not much longer’ became ‘hush, it’s over now.’

The war was won with casualties and hefty loss. Hiccup realized a way to challenge Drago, and so raced off like the heroic sacrificial hero he was to defeat Drago while Astrid kept the rest of his enemies at bay. She went down first, the sea of Drago’s men drowning and choking her as she fought. She needed … needed to keep them away … away from - who? What? … Hiccup!

Hiccup who was fighting still. Hiccup who was fighting for Berk and for her. Hiccup, who loved so entirely he couldn’t hide it on any part of his face. Hiccup who so staunchly defended the weak. Hiccup, who she was supposed to be protecting! Hiccup, who had lost a leg because she hadn’t been able to save him -

“Hiccup,” Astrid breathed in relief as she opened the door and saw him. He lay in his bed, his legs uneven lumps under the blankets. Astrid entered the room, shaking her braid out of her helmet and tucked it under her arm as she sat by the bed.

“Hey, there,” she greeted him softly. Hiccup just sighed.

“Thanks for coming by again,” he said in return, looking stonily down into his lap. He was bored and hated being still. He had his sketches nearby but they weren’t as fun when Hiccup couldn’t go down to the forge and tinker with hot metal until his diagrams made sense.

“Trader Johann has been officially banished from Berk for aiding enemy’s armies as of today and Toothless says hi,” Astrid told him conversationally. “I took him for a nice long ride today.”

“Thanks,” Hiccup grimaced. “I miss him.”

“He misses you too,” she responded immediately. “He can’t wait to see you again.”

“And then what?” he scoffed. “I’ll just tell him, ‘Hey, bud. Nice to see you again. Unfortunately, I’m lame and won’t be able to ride you.’”

“Don’t say that,” she frowned. “You’ll still be able to ride,” she tried to comfort him. Hiccup gave her a shaky smile.

“I can’t if I’m not able to walk,” he said bitterly.

“Hey,” Astrid said, reaching out to hold his hand. “You can do anything you put your mind to. I’m not saying this is going to be easy, but I know you’ll be able to do this.”

“Why are you still here, Astrid?” he asked. “I’m not going to make you marry me now I’m like this.”

“Good,” she said crisply. “Everyone can know it was my choice.”

“You don’t deserve an unwhole man like me.” She slapped him lightly.

“You are still Hiccup, leg or not,” she said firmly. “And I love you and I would never marry anyone else. You can still be a warrior - look at Gobber. And you’ll be a great King. Taking your leg didn’t take your heart as well. Losing your leg didn’t mean you’d ever lose me.”

“How did I ever deserve you?” asked Hiccup.

“You are the one man in the world I could stand to marry, Hiccup. You don’t have competition.” They laughed.

“Get better. Take all the time you need,” she kissed him. “But you aren’t getting out of the wedding.”

After a year, Hiccup walked and rode easily - or at least, without complaint. He got aches and plains aplenty, which Astrid had taken upon herself to identify quietly so she could take care of them before Hiccup had to ask - if she waited for him to ask for any help, he’d never ask - and learned to rub and massage the right oils and to anticipate his pain on rainier days, or those instances where he ran around castle determined to help everyone he could. He was still nimble and light on his feet, just a little clumsier than before which he hated but Astrid found endearing.

“You’re perfect,” she giggled as he bumped into the foot of the chair and swore. She caught him before he fell and he wrapped his arms around her in mock desperation.

“That would have hurt if my leg wasn’t metal,” Hiccup muttered.

“Mmm. Well then I guess it’s good you have a metal leg.”

“Shut up.”

“Never!”

.oOo.

She never wanted to have a wedding, until the day came for her to have her very own. When she’d been a little girl, she’d never cared for the fuss about weddings. The grooms were never handsome, and the girls, while beautiful, looked pale with overly rosy cheeks. She’d hated the idea of weddings and leaving her family, although now she’d learned that a healthy distance between her family didn’t prevent them from connecting frequently. And truthfully, by the end of those visits, she was glad to retire to her solitary rooms - although they were hardly ever empty. A certain newly crowned king of hers was partial to loitering around there for some unknown reason, but she let him. Someone had to protect the King while he slept.

On the day of her wedding, her hair had just reached her waist. Her maids left half of it out, the looseness representing her wedding night but also her freedom. She certainly had the freedom to kick someone without ripping the fabric if she so needed, but with Heather as her fierce Matron of Honor, she was rather certain Lady Eretson had any offensive company handled. She had not yet hung up her armor for good, only polished it carefully so that it still shone when she returned from her honeymoon. She was to be a warrior Queen, unafraid of fighting and of showing her scars. They had been hard earned, and served as a reminder of what she had overcome - and how she would still fight. It was still hard to change laws even as a lady with a lord’s status and betrothed to the king, but Astrid was nothing if not tenacious and she had been slowly winning simple rights one after the other. By the end of her honeymoon, women from families above a certain income would be able to inherit a small percentage. In a few years, they might have a female knight program. But she was getting ahead of herself. Today was selfishly all about her and Hiccup. 

She looked in the mirror. Her makeup was light but dramatic, her pearls lavish but elegant. Her dresses’ skirts were loose but full. And the belt was heavy but worn with pride. She felt like she was walking on clouds even as they hung the ornate ceremonial cloak made from the hide of a white bear over her shoulders. In a few minutes, there would be an added crown on her head. (But somewhere among her shiny locks, a polished golden axehead gleamed.)

Her mother had tears in her eyes. “You look beautiful, my darling,” she said, sweeping her daughter into a hug.

“We’ll have to call you ‘Your Highness,’ now,” Cami, now at seventeen, said boldly.

“Of course not,” Astrid protested as she allowed all her sisters to pull her into a hug one by one. “You’ll call me Astrid like you always have and you can call him Hiccup, he won’t mind.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s your special name for him,” Agatha sighed dreamily. “There’s no need for us to intrude on it.” Astoria nodded in agreement.

“Nothing’s changed,” Astrid whispered to her older sister, letting her see the fear in her eyes. Astoria simply smiled in encouragement.

“Marriage is another adventure you will conquer like to do with everything else,” Astoria assured her. Astrid bent down to grin at little Gunner who was watching the proceedings with wide eyes. He was now decidedly her favorite nephew, as Astoria was a good mother but some of her sister’s little babies were squalling monsters. She suspected they were spoilers because their mother’s were, but that was just an older sister’s opinion. And it hadn’t stopped her heart from bursting with joy when they’d handed her an infant and she’d been terrified she’d drop it until she’d tucked it into her side.

“This is what we’re going to have,” she’d told Hiccup. He’d had a dazed look in his eye.

“I can’t wait,” he’d admitted.

And now, the day had come.

Astrid took a deep breath, and stepped outside.

[fountainpenguin]

"He's always running with no one to keep warm. It's like he's flirting with the smoke alarm..." (x)

---

New Criminal Experience chapter today!

Chapter 7 - “Freed”

❤️ Read on AO3

💙 Start from Chapter 1

💚 More Pixels Imperfect fics

---

Mumbo hatches an allay egg. Is that in a wandering trader's job description?

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

---

Several minutes later…

Egg hatching is a slow, ugly process. It's all kicks and little throbbing membranes visible through the shell. It takes an account creation to spawn a hybrid (and that's a whole theology in itself). Between has 100 dragons (or rather… 99; 98), and it can take days or weeks for an egg to have its turn. The rarer species may not hatch for months- Like the allay eggs. Mumbo kept them in Little Sun, awaiting Doc's green light to bring them to their new home.

The Allay Dragon was still alive last time he went to Crystal Cove. Mumbo holds the egg in both hands (mostly in his lap) as the baby inside pauses for energy. The rough wall behind him presses cold and hard against his head. Each individual block bears against skin. Is it comfortable? No. But is it safe here? … Nah, likely not. Carrie's patrol members could stumble across him at any time. And who knows if there's an enderman on the floor below, studying the ceiling tiles and readying themself to grief the block of their choice? Oh, this could go so badly.

If the allay's a hybrid, then somewhere in the multiverse, this newbie already exists in a form (on some secret little pocket server, dragged beneath Between as though by squid tentacles) that walks and builds and plays.

New accounts draw energy directly from the player who created them, but only on a server. Only while actively engaged. When that borrowed energy withdraws, the new player is left wobbly-legged and bleary. That's when their world fades out around them. They wake here in Between, swaddled in an egg. Born of a dragon. Part human in creation, blessed with lore, concept, and culture from the outside world. Part mob-themed dragon, blessed with a vessel to carry them through life even without a player's aid. Born of milk. Raised in love.

"Shh, yeah, look at you," Mumbo whispers, brushing his thumb across one cracked piece still clinging on. It's like a rose petal in his hand. The membrane pulses underneath. Is that a wing? Yeah, that might be a wing. That can't be right. It would've had to turn over. Maybe it's a foot.

"Not a first-timer," Vee muses, still washing things in the tub. What- Because he's not losing his mind? He'd laugh if he weren't shaking. Yes, well… even amidst new life, there are chores to be done. It's a lot of work, holding a baby and keeping still.

"You neither, yeah? Didn't you sit with ravager eggs 'til one hatched a mob?"

"Yeah, that's how my tribe's always done it. Some try to tame the wild ones that roam the emerald savanna, though."

"Oh, I don't fancy that."

"BigB and I picked ours out together," she murmurs, and leans her head in closer. Mumbo watches her eyes flick across the cracking egg in his hands. He's never felt her breath dance and swirl like this. They've never been this close. Vee lays a hand against his rolled-up sleeve. "Did it stay warm, you think?"

Stay warm. Now, that's the hardest chore of all. Mumbo doesn't answer, tightening his arms around the living, breathing egg. Funny… It even feels more alive now that it's been sparked with life. Are his sleeves enough? Is HE enough? He doesn't have the serpentine body of his mother, with her golden scales and spiky gemstone wings. Mum can wrap many, many times around many, many eggs in her nest of maple twigs and leaves. Wandering traders hatch from dark blue eggs flecked with gold. The allay in his arms is not the first one he's ever seen crack before reaching its final destination.

His earliest days are blurry ones. In Between, his eyes were darkened with lens caps, his body weak and skinless as he suckled and learned to build his own strength. Walking's easy, you know, when you're fed energy from the outside world. With a player in control, you can sprint like the wind, leap with deer, and skid sideways by the rivers whipping down the hills. But walking takes time (speaking takes time; opening your eyes takes time). Dragon milk's the key to surviving your early days. Milk is energy and energy is life.

I hope the allays get by okay on the substitutes I have.

… Ah. Those went over the cliff with Buzz, didn't they?

I wish my mum were here. I expect the Ender Dragon will tense if she sees me getting close. Dragons view wandering traders as neutral creatures; at least, that's what his mentors taught. In fact, that's the whole reason he stood before Impulse when the Firefly Dragon arrowed through the swamp to snuff at them. But meandering through a dragon's territory without upsetting her is one thing, and sneaking close enough to steal their milk is quite another. My own mother won't let me touch her belly gems.

Gah. Hatching is ugly even when babies are sweet little things. And carting them across Between feels like charging across a volcanic coast biome filled with magma blocks and hot sand, even when passing eggs to grateful new parents is the most rosy feeling in the world. Yet despite the danger, you play your role over and over, because it's in your code and it's beautiful. The urge and the journey and the game.

Mumbo stares at the damp, glowing membrane that kicks beneath the shell. Is the baby allay doing all right? While there's no such thing as an egg turning out a "dud" - there are new accounts created every day, after all, and life will spark in a valid egg eventually - a few conditions must be met for an egg to hatch a hybrid instead of a mob. It must be unbroken. It must not be abandoned in an unloaded chunk for more than moments. When hatching time arrives, it needs to have enough headroom. They can't be in your inventory.

And it must be kept warm.

Vee's still waiting for an answer to that question. Are they warm; are they safe; are we raising simple mobs or children who'll be like us someday? He kept the eggs bundled in his satchel. Carrie sort of had them wrapped in the llama blankets. That might have been enough to stave off the chill of permafrost and wind.

But this past hour hasn't been exactly kind to the eggs, so Mumbo draws unsteady breath. "I don't know. We've been running about. I don't know."

If a mob hatches from the egg, the account meant to sync up to this one will take whatever else it can. Maybe not its first choice of species, but there are other options. If you like allay culture, you might try life as a rascal hybrid- They're classed as fey and just as rare. You still get to gather things and hand out gifts. Or if the size and wings were to your taste, vex are an allay's nearest neighbor (biologically speaking). Heck, plenty of allay get turned into vex before long. It's like that for villagers, too; some become zombies, others witches. There's an old rumor that if you're bitten by a llama on a full moon night, you'll wake up a wandering trader, but that can't possibly be true.

"… Maybe it would be for the best," is Vee's tactical reply. What? If the allays are born mobs? Mumbo flickers his eyes to her. She doesn't look at him, rubbing fabric on fabric to peel off a dirt stain. And she's probably right. She's got keen instincts. They keep her alive.

With the soul spawner out of the equation, a newborn allay hybrid is doomed to a life in Between without taking risks. Avoiding danger. Certain biomes. Certain play. Of course, a slain mob won't respawn either, but at least it's… less aware of everything. Itself. The world.

That its mother's dead.

[Full chapter on AO3 - Link at top]

[haliyas]

hiraya was originally a nameless thing that dwelled within the seas by the gates of the underworld ,   a minor water spirit that had escaped amidst the rage of laho ,  the eclipse - causing dragon. 

they went through three names before arriving at one to live amongst humans by. 

laho. -  a glimpse and miss it. they have found that the name was only invited thoughts of misery and misfortune. 

daluyong. -  after crawling out of a cove to an island port city ,   they were said to ‘emerge from the waves of the sea’. 

hiraya. -  the fruits of one’s hopes and dreams. though they believe humans to be playthings ,  they still were the one who forged a river route safe enough for voyagers’ trade ships to pass. hiraya is a water dragon inspired by a local myth about a water dragon that resides by the river who forged the pasig river in exchange for voyagers’/traders’ souls because they asked for a safer route.  the rest of their characterization is based on my own lore.

[hungrytundras]

The Arbordawn Isles

Arbordawn Archipelego stretches from the Beacon of the Radiant Eye in the south to the Gladeveins in the north, crossing the North Sea and connecting the lands of Nature and Light. The region is defined by its pleasant climate and beautiful scenery as well as its diverse population.

The southern portion of the islands are firmly part of the Sunbeam Ruins and are one of Rusiliika’s seven kingdoms, the Kingdom of Arbordawn. The islands of the south are scattered with settlements, but most hub activity is drawn to the nearby city of Beaconsgate.

The norther portion, simply called North Arbordawn is considered the gateway to the Viridian Labyrinth. The center of Nature aligned power in the region is Arcway, the port through which ships pass on their way in and out.

Being between two flights, the weaker elemental forces are attractive for beastclans settlement. The middle islands are without strong influence from draconic powers. The city of Northsky stands as the neutral stronghold with large populations of Maren, Harpies, and Centaurs. Encroachment from neighbors is difficult to fend off however, and the city has thoroughly been absorbed into Light Flight’s borders. 

Hunters’ Rest serves as the launching point for dragons looking to brave the nearby Kelp Beds. While the village is quite small, it hosts a massive transient population with dragons constantly moving in and out as they do their training and gathering and head home. 

On top of all of this is the flow of tourists and vacationers drawn by the beaches and clear water, as well as the traders moving fruit vegetables and lumber from Viridian to the mainland for sale. Further, the constant presence of wealthy merchants and nobles (be they on getaway or business) brings the eyes, claws, and swords of pirates who hide in the coves and marshes waiting to strike those who let their guard down. 

Arbordawn is home to many and home away from home to all the more. All at once serenely quiet and violently chaotic, not to mention a bit humid for most. 

In summary: 

[jedimaesteryoda]

Asha snatched the axe from the air and slammed it down into the table, splitting his trencher in two and splattering his mantle with drippings. "There's my lord husband." His sister reached down inside her gown and drew a dirk from between her breasts. "And here's my sweet suckling babe."

-A Clash of Kings, Theon II

Asha Greyjoy is very much the Action Girl trope. She commands a ship, fights and never shies from battle, living up to the idealized image of men in Ironborn culture, a misogynistic society whose designations for women are usually only stone wives (traditional wives) and salt wives (concubines and sex slaves).  She embraced the martial ethos of the Ironborn to the point of naming her weapons as her family, and even won the admiration of her father Balon, himself an Ironborn revanchist. 

"Do you want to die old and craven in your bed?"

"How else? Though not till I'm done reading." Lord Rodrik went to the window. 

"You have not asked about your lady mother."

-A Feast for Crows, The Kraken’s Daughter

Of course, Balon’s hardcore embrace of the Old Way ultimately proved to be his undoing. His ill-fated rebellion resulted in his fleet being smashed, his isles scoured, his two eldest sons killed and his youngest son taken as a hostage. His second rebellion was doomed to failure as Tywin wasn’t going to accept his offer since he made the concession before he started bargaining given as @poorquentyn​ pointed out, the Old Way never taught him diplomacy.

Even Asha herself admits “Balon had been blind in some respects. A brave man but a bad lord,” but still insists “Does that mean we must live and die as thralls to the Iron Throne?”  

She is given a choice of going to the kingsmoot to press her claim despite her uncle, the Reader, stating that a woman can never win the kingsmoot, and offers to make her heir to Ten Towers as an alternative. Asha turns that offer down, and goes to the kingsmoot to press her claim. Even with all her skills and accomplishments, she isn’t considered worthy enough to wear the driftwood crown in a heavily male chauvinist culture. 

The result: she loses the kingsmoot, Euron marries her off to Erik Ironmaker and she is forced to leave in exile from the Iron Islands. 

Afterwards, at Deepwood Motte in exile Asha is contemplating what to do. After the news of the fall of Moat Cailin, her male admirer Trisitifer speaks with her. 

"Asha, it is time to go. Moat Cailin was the only thing holding back the tide. If we remain here, the northmen will kill us all, you know that."

"Would you have me run?"

"I would have you live. I love you."

No, she thought, you love some innocent maiden who lives only in your head, a frightened child in need of your protection. "I do not love you," she said bluntly, "and I do not run."

"What's here that you should hold so tight to it but pine and mud and foes? We have our ships. Sail away with me, and we'll make new lives upon the sea."

"As pirates?" It was almost tempting. Let the wolves have back their gloomy woods and retake the open sea.

"As traders," he insisted. "We'll voyage east as the Crow's Eye did, but we'll come back with silks and spices instead of a dragon's horn. One voyage to the Jade Sea and we'll be as rich as gods. We can have a manse in Oldtown or one of the Free Cities."

"You and me and Qarl?" She saw him flinch at the mention of Qarl's name. "Hagen's girl might like to sail the Jade Sea with you. I am still the kraken's daughter. My place is—"

"—where? You cannot return to the isles. Not unless you mean to submit to your lord husband."

. . .

"I have hostages, on Harlaw," she reminded him. "And there is still Sea Dragon Point … if I cannot have my father's kingdom, why not make one of my own?"

"You are clinging to Sea Dragon Point the way a drowning man clings to a bit of wreckage. What does Sea Dragon have that anyone could ever want? There are no mines, no gold, no silver, not even tin or iron. The land is too wet for wheat or corn."

I do not plan on planting wheat or corn. "What's there? I'll tell you. Two long coastlines, a hundred hidden coves, otters in the lakes, salmon in the rivers, clams along the shore, colonies of seals offshore, tall pines for building ships."

"Who will build these ships, my queen? Where will Your Grace find subjects for her kingdom if the northmen let you have it? Or do you mean to rule over a realm of seals and otters?"

-A Dance with Dragons, The Wayward Bride

Asha states her desire to make her own kingdom in the North to which Tristifer gives her the brutally honest truth that her aspiration is a pipe dream. Sea Dragon is thinly peopled and doesn’t have much in the way of resources. That’s not even taking account that the Northmen would never let her carve off a section of the North, and are coming to fight her. She actually proves to be not too far from the tree in that like her father, brother and uncles, she makes an ill-fated and ultimately doomed attempt at a crown, and insists on staying at a castle she cannot hold much like her brother Theon did at Winterfell for which she criticized him. 

Tristifer offers an alternative to her: make life as a trader. This alternative isn’t unusual to the Iron Isles as after the Famine War “Merchants and traders sailing from Lordsport on Pyke and the harbors of Great Wyk, Harlaw, and Orkmont spread out across the seas, calling at Lannisport, Oldtown, and the Free Cities, and returning with treasures their forebears had never dreamed of.” Tristifer actually offers her a viable alternative. 

Of course, Tristifer arguably didn’t need to make the offer to her. The alternative was always there in front of her. By the time they have their talk, Stannis and the mountain clans launch their attack on Deepwood Motte. Outnumbered and taken by surprise, Asha's ships are taken or burned, practically her entire army slain and she is taken prisoner.

We start to see a pattern. Asha is faced with a choice: answering the Call to Adventure or rejecting the Call and choosing a more peaceful, nonconfrontational path. Asha of course chooses the former, and it ultimately just ends up making her situation worse. The first time it results in her losing her bid for the Seastone Chair and being exiled. The second time, it results in her being made a prisoner with her military power destroyed.  

The third and last time might potentially be the Battle of Ice, and she chooses to stay and fight despite a wounded ankle. She could end up getting herself killed. 

She fails to learn from both her father and brother’s experiences that taking the more bold, adventurous path usually ends in disaster, or rather she acknowledges that it did in their cases but fails to apply it to her own situation. Like with Quentyn, it is the case where rejecting the Call is actually the smarter, more preferable thing to do. Asha’s story is effectively a deconstruction of the Action Girl trope.  

[war-at-sea-pirate-rp]

The Four Seas are different territories divided amongst the four lords. The Green Sea, the Tides of Basbron, the Maiddes Sea and the Sea of Disden. Several islands, a mix of small and large, charted and uncharted, litter the waters, four of which offer home to each pirate lord and their crew.

The Green Sea

The Green Sea is the largest territory. It’s borders touch three different main lands, so there’s plenty of merchant and trader ships to capture. It gets its name from the lovely shade of green in some places.

Rumor has it that fishermen and sailors have spotted particularly high activity of merfolk. Be wary, sailor. While hauntingly beautiful and captivating, they will not hesitate to drag an unwary sailor beneath the waves. Right at the border, where the Green Sea and Maiddes sea meet, they grow particularly viscous. As if they are trying to protect something. I wonder what?

High Tide Bay 

High Tide Bay is an island where the Rising Serpent makes berth.

Or at least it did. Before it and its crew disappeared.

The Tides of Basbron

Great storms swell here and have taken the lives of many lesser crews. One must be on their toes, as these storms have a tendency to come out of no where. No one knows why these storms happen, though some speculate magic of some sort is behind it. Only those brave enough, or rather foolish enough, venture out into the deeper waters where the storms. 

They say there is a never ending storm the farther out you go, and at the center of it, a great isle willed with lost riches. Whether this island is real or not, no one will ever know. At least not without the proper protection..

Deadman’s Hangout

Deadman’s Hangout is an island south of Basbron, where the Tainted Dragon makes berth.

Some say the Tainted Dragon has come in possession of a small, unassuming artifact that allows them to sail safely through the storms.

The Maiddes Sea

Many trade routes from three different main lands. As well as the potential mermaid treasure. The Rising Serpent and the Burning Rose oftentimes fight while searching for whatever is being guarded by the merfolk.

Sunken Reef Lagoon

Sunken Reef Lagoon is an island where the Burning Rose makes berth.

The Sea of Disden

There isn’t much in regards to great hidden treasures lurking beneath the depths or on hidden islands. However, there are other treasures to be found. The hunt for it equally as exciting as underwater adventures or magically hidden islands.

Sharks stalk all four seas, but the Sea of Disden is home to an enormous species that call the depths its home. They rise to the surface to hunt, usually feeding on other sharks. Occasionally, the poor unsuspecting merchant ship and its crew.

Sharks are hunted for many things. Several parts of their bodies are extremely valuable, meat, and the oils they produce.

Thunder Cove

Thunder Cove is where the Lost Mayflower makes berth.

Silver Isle

An island that connects all four territories together. A safe haven for all pirates and people alike. Here, pirates come to sell the goods they come across. Purchase supplies such as food, lumber, water and ammunition. The four lords will also meet here occasionally. No blood, no fighting, no killing. Those are the rules.

[inky-duchess]

Hi! Can you tell us a bit about the kingdoms of your story? It's just that i have started reading your posts about the OCs and the kingdoms and I can't wait to know more about them 💕

Kingdom #1: The four islands are the most beautiful in the sea with white sand beaches, tall palm trees, blue-green seas and endless blue skies. Its people are considered the most strikingly beautiful and the land is abundant with shellfish and fruits and sugar cane. The people do not cut down trees to build their houses, but weave grasses and bamboo to create their huts which stand on the strands of each isle. Turquoise and turtle shell are top trading items in the region as well as the famous distilled liqueurs there. The islands have been used as a safe cache for many pirates and cheap traders. Its complacent people have been conquered more than once and have taken it on the cheek each time. They simply bide their time and wait for their enemies to weaken and leave or wait for them to sue for a peace. The islands have been invaded so often that different customs have interwoven with their own.

Kingdom #2: Chivalry and honour are the main attractions of the land. No man can doubt the honour of the kingdom's famous knights or her lords. The kingdom is a sea faring one as well as an agricultural one, the preferred port of many of the merchants from around the world. Its famously large and gentle bay is guarded by the world's longest bridge which spans many miles. The kingdom is nearly always bathed in summer heat and on the seasonal rains, the weather is still warm enough to walk about without one's cloak. The cities of the kingdom are well fortified, being a kingdom born in war and conquest even if the wars are contained in the tourney lists.

Kingdom #3: The kingdom was the greatest power of the time. No other land could build so high or weave such fine cloth or have such a large and skilled army. The kingdom is often cited as the world's first attempt of empire. Glory and power was this kingdom's main trade. Its nobles were the finest and most learned. Its trade the richest. Its palaces the largest. But as many empires do, time crumbled it to a shadow of what it was. As times changed, the land remained trapped in its own past glories, rarely moving on from the memories of the past.

Kingdom #4: Never was there a land as fruitful and fertile as here. The orchards yielded thousands of kinds of fruits, the ground gave bushels of every grain imaginable. The seas gave the people an abundance of fish and the hills and forests offered the finest game. No land was more blessed by the gods but they people do not believe in the gods, only a single goddess of the green, of summer and kindness. The kingdom has always been nicknamed as the "Bread Basket of the World" for so much food can be grown and harvested that it is sold to lands suffering famine or bad times. The kingdom was populous and along with that reason and its fine produce, could have fielded an army that might have dwarfed any forces raised by enemies. But war and violence is not the way of these people.

Kingdom #5: "The land of the dragons is one of fire. The scape is pitted with volcanoes and geysers, that spew molten fire and ash, creating the shiny black stone which is the main export of the land. As rich as the kingdom is, no invader would dare raid it, for fire and dragons in flight are the greatest defense for the land."

Kingdom # 6: "Though rainy and muddy, the land is among the most fertile and beautiful. Lush and green, the land has yielded the best horses. The people are among the best riders in the world. The kingdom is the largest and most populated. It is jested that they would have conquered the world had they not been so interested in horses."

Kingdom #7: "Old and Ancient is the island of warriors. Surrounded by the sea on all sides, the island is jagged and dry and it is said that its people are too. A theocracy, the island is ruled by two kings: the hereditary monarch and the elected voice of their strange god. War flows in the veins of every man and woman, for service to the land and crown in war is the highest honour there could be."

Kingdom #8: This kingdom is a land of colour. Its dyes are famous throughout the world and though its mines yield no diamonds they were ripe with rubies, topaz, emeralds and garnets. The beloved "child" or two mighty empires, the kingdom has since out grown its colonizers and masters and become a great trading power of its own. As the second smallest of the kingdoms, it often suffers hardships for its gems and its weaknesses. Though rich in gems and jewels, the land's trade is minor. Instead of paying off their crippling debts with coin, they offer jewels which many debtors take any way and then look for more repayments

Kingdom #9: The kingdom was the richest of all. From the reaches of all the oceans and tops of the highest mountains, it is storied. It is well known for its fine art, massive wealth, rich wine and ... its treacherous nobility, who are said to have more poison than blood in their veins. No kingdom can match it in trade, for it is the capital of merchants who spill glorious tribute on the canals and docks of the cities. Artists crowd the canals, looking for patrons or drawing for coppers. Musicians are on every corner. The men of the kingdom are prized if they can fight well, ride better and are courtly toward all. Their education is the finest in the world. The women of the realm are less expected upon and the custom of seclusion is heavily enforced. The canals are the very veins of the realm, used just as much as roads. In the day, the cities are baking in the sun, bustling with trade and music but at night, when the moon rules, the sounds of water and lute song can be heard.

Kingdom #10: The kingdom is the coldest region on the continent. Ringed by mountains, it is also the safest. The snow and ice is oft referred to as the knife that cut many natives but also shields them from invasion. The mountains that have protected them have also sustained them, offering up torrents of jewels and precious gems. Its noble inhabitants are the height in terms of glamour and wealth. The palaces of the royal family and nobility are well storied and known. Its people are considered one of the best read and cool. The humour of the kingdom is said to have frozen with its land and rivers. The kingdom is famous for its extravagance where even the poorest wretch can afford to keep themselves from the poverty suffered by others in the same rank in neighbouring lands.

Kingdom #11: The land is treacherous as her people. Its seas are the roughest in the world, its long coastline ragged and full of coves where many a ship can be smashed onto rocks. Pirates are also famous in these waters, just as responsible for the high mortality rate of the ships that fall into the dangerous squalls that befall here. Its forests and roads are laced with outlaws as well, merciless thieves who prey on travellers. The people are rumoured to be thieves and traitors, every man a pirate or outlaw or cheat and every woman a wanton or thief. In truth, these are stories embellished by frightened foreigners. The ways of raiding are the main sport of the people and a summertime event. The women of the land are just as hard as the men, seen as warriors and respected advisers. As immoral as these natives seem, they are deeply religious. Other histories state that a warrior once broke a ten year peace because another man disrespected the sea goddess by befouling one of the sacred streams.

Kingdom #12: "The sun and sands are the two weapons this land wields well. The land is almost entirely desert save for a crescent of fertile land which yields the only crops. The history of the land is well known, written upon the great sandstone palaces and bazaars with blood. Their armies are fierce and their pride legendary."

Kingdom #13: .... well, you'll have to read it to know.

[c-is-for-circinate]

Okay, by popular demand...

(This is not a fic.  This is simply a set of highlights around the prologue/introduction of what would be a fic, if my brain worked and I could write and I actually wanted to bear the shame of having my first an only proper CritRole fic be a crossover with the Dragonriders of Pern.)

There are many, many ways Vox Machina could exist in the 2000+ years of Pern’s known history.  This is what happens when Keyleth of High Reaches Weyr is born, the only daughter of Weyrwoman Vilya, rider of gold Aramenth, and Weyrleader K’rrin, rider of bronze Zephrath, in late fall of the year (or, as they say on Pern, fall of the turn) 998, precisely ten turns before the fifth Pass of the Red Star is expected to send Thread down across the planet for five decades to come.

In 1004, there are four turns to go until Thread is due to fall again, and it feels like forever. 

In the deep tropical heat of Ista Island, Vex and Vax sneak through the deep undergrowth that’s been allowed to spring up in the past two centuries, hide in the tiny narrow places where only a pair of skinny agile little eleven-turn-olds could could go.  They giggle together, and Vex finds the wild redfruit trees and overgrown berry patches, and they sneak back to their mother grinning and covered in dirt and sticky fruit juice at the end of every day. That’s how the look on the day they steal out of the jungle to find an enormous bronze dragon sprawled on the hard-packed dirt around the cothold, and a tall, imposing man they barely recognize talking to their mother in the doorway.  His frown gets even deeper when his eyes settle on them. “I’ll speak to the Lord Holder about seeing that greenery is cleared soon,” the man, who’s bronzerider S’dor, who’s their father, says.  “It’s a hazard that close to a hold, during a Fall.” “It’s not dangerous!” Vax protests, and Vex looks longingly and desperately at their little patch of beloved jungle, and their mother says, “now, children,” and the man who they’ve seen every handful of turns for all their life so far who is their father says, “Elaina, you can’t pretend this isn’t their best chance to become something that matters.” “How do you know they’ll be any good for your dragons at all, if you disapprove so much?” their mother asks quietly, and their father smiles smugly, proudly, and says, “They’re my children.  The dragons will take to them.”

In the high, windy northern peaks of High Reaches Weyr, in the middle of nowhere at the top of the world, Keyleth stands on top of the ridge surrounding the great Weyr bowl, on top of the Eye Rock with her arms raised up to the sky, and closes her eyes, and imagines she can fly. She is not quite six yet, and strong arms catch her easily as she leaps down from the Star Stones, before she can crash and fall.  Her mother chuckles in her ear, and her mother’s dragon chuckles in her head, just as it’s been for her entire life, just as it must always, always be.

In 1005, there are three turns to go, and it feels like the shadows are lurking right around every door, nipping at every heel, hurry-up, hurry-up-get-ready, hurry-up-hurry-up-before-it-goes.

In the tiny little Healercraft cothold outpost a day’s walk out from Telgar Hold, on the edge of the great grassy plains that blanket the middle of the continent, Pike waits for her grandfather to get home with her lip bitten between her teeth and her heart in her throat.  There have been bandits on these plains as long as she can remember--as long as Wilhand can remember, as long as anyone can remember.  What are they going to do when the empty sky opens up and they aren’t safe any more? Pike is fifteen and alone, and she re-labels every pot of numbweed and vial of felis in their stores, and cooks much too much for dinner for even the two of them, and eats almost none of it, and lingers too long packing up the rest to store, and waits, and waits, and-- “Hey, this the one?” asks a deep, rumbling voice she’s never heard before, and there’s a scuffle by the door.  Pike goes to answer it with a bread knife in hand almost as long as her forearm and finds the tallest, broadest boy she’s ever seen, carrying her bloodied grandfather in one arm. “What did you do to him?” Pike demands.  She barely comes up to this boy’s chest, but that just means she’s at good stabbing height for the softer things farther down, and she’s spent half her life learning every detail from her grandfather to tell her what those soft things are. “Nothing!” the boy protests.  “Nothing, I swear it.”  He’s lying, Pike thinks, but there are bruises across his face and he’s slurring his words, and Wilhand is waving weakly at her to put the knife down, and the night is closing in cold and fast. “Well you can’t stay out there,” she says, and sweeps them both inside as if Thread’s due in a few hours instead of a few turns.

In the warm, safe halls of High Reaches Hold, surrounded by fur and velvet and wood and thick, safe stone walls, Percy lays on his stomach under a table in the Lord Holder’s private library, surrounded by scrolls and hides and actual bound-paper books, and reads, and listens, and learns. He is nine, and that is more than old enough to eavesdrop on “Well, if it’s too dangerous even to travel, we’ll never get the younger ones fostered out when they’re old enough,” and lay out his maps of Pern, and plan.  The Smithcraft Hall will be too far to travel overland when Thread starts, if they wait for him to be old enough to apprentice ordinarily.  This safety isn’t forever.  They’ll need to take advantage of what they have while they can.

In 1006, there are two turns to go, and nothing will stay still, not people or dragons or time, not anything.

“Scanlan...” says the Masterharper, exhausted and despairing and not moved one whit by Scanlan’s broad grin.  “Fine.  You’re too good a Harper not to promote you and too terrible an apprentice to let you stay around here and corrupt the younger ones.  You’re a journeyman now.  Go...go journey.  Somewhere.  Anywhere.” “Anywhere?” Scanlan asks, glint of mischief and joy in his eyes.  The Masterharper sighs. “I will make two requests of you, Scanlan, just two,” he says.  “The records all say we have less than two turns of freedom before the Falls start up again, and while the Lord Holders and the Weyrs have been hard at work for a decade making sure the larger holds and crafthalls are ready, the First Dragon only knows what it’s like in the smaller cotholds they’re sure to have lost track of.  When you inevitably slide your way into those little holds, can you please make sure they’re keeping to the Teaching Ballads and understand their duty?” “Secondly, can you check in, just, half a dozen times a Turn, at least, please?” he asks.  “Whenever you come to a Hold or Crafthall large enough to host an actual, stationary Harper, can you send word that you haven’t died terribly in a ditch somewhere?”  He pauses, and then adds, “Or if you have died terribly in a ditch somewhere, so we can at least warn others away from the ditch?” “Your wish is my command, oh Masterharper-of-mine,” Scanlan agrees grandly.  “After all, it’s only my duty as a Harper.” He doesn’t bother to wait for further instruction; the Masterharper knows better than to waste his time giving it.  Scanlan already knows where he’s headed.  There’s a tiny band of traders heading out of Fort this afternoon, too small for anyone as grand and self-important as a Craftsmaster to pay attention to.  Dranzel will be happy to have a Harper along to do a bit of tuning on the road.

“No,” Vax says, and only that, only no, and Vex grabs his wrist and his hand and tries not to cry.  Their mother’s cothold and half the jungle around is scorched bare, a clear line of sight cut down straight to the coast and the little cove where the pirates left trash and bodies when they took lives and everything else worth taking.  It must have been so much easier to notice the little settlement from the water, with all the greenery so obediently slashed back. “We’re done,” Vax says, “I’m done, we’re done with dragonmen, they let this--” “No,” Vex says, now, pulling all her grief and horror and despair and fear and fury into a tight, tiny little ball right in the center of her chest, small enough to carry.  He’s right, but it’s the middle of winter, a month before Turn’s End, and they might have the skills to get by on Ista Island for the three days it took a dragon to find them again, but not up north, not right now.  He’s right but they’re thirteen, and Vex only knows so much about surviving away from people, and Vax doesn’t know anything at all besides theft and stealth and secrecy. He’s right, but Thread is due in two turns, maybe one, a turn and a half, who knows?  It will scorch them down to the bone, as dead as Mother, if they’re caught out in it.  It will scorch holds and fields just like this one if there aren’t dragonriders to fly it. “One more clutch,” Vex says.  Weyrwoman Tirelda’s gold is due to fly any day now.  It’ll be spring, by the time the eggs hatch and she and Vax are rejected again.  It’ll be warm enough to go north.  They’ll be fourteen by then.  “Just one more.”

[dungeon-architects]

Legends and Lore - The Spires of Valstrath

“An old sailor has sailed many storms, but never the spires” Sailor’s proverb Off the shallow northern coast of the Ankaris Wastes stand a multitude of sandstone spires, rising from the sea like trees. Beneath the clear blue waters thousands of brass objects litter the seafloor like a great glimmering reef, each object unique. The occasional vessel drifts crew-less, or rests upon the rocks. From coves and flooded caves aquatic kobolds emerge to hunt for fish.  Any vessel that makes passage through the spires shall undoubtedly find itself visited by their master, a keen minded and cruel dragon with bronze scales known as Valstrath The Riddle Trader. Valstrath will demand of the crew a toll for their passage. Each member of the crew must either answer one of the dragons riddles, or provide the dragon with a riddle he does not know the answer to. Those who fail will find themselves transfigured into a brass object that reflects their personality before being flicked into the sea, to spend the rest of time as a trinket in the dragon’s horde.

Without a nearby population center, and little in the way of plant or animal life in the area, Valstrath’s draconic corruption is not very apparent upon the landscape, aside from the occasional Vein of tin or copper in the stone, or rocks that look eerily like a draconic visage. Valstrath holds few kobolds under his sway, most are drawn from shipwrecked sailor's that the dragon refuses to consider trespassers deserving of his riddles, or bards whom seek out the dragon to learn from him.

[rdwyns]

          hey y’all, it’s kit again ! swapping jeyne out for anya, my muse from the last iteration of warofcrowns but with some obvious edits ! if you remember her from the old version, fair warning, she’s gotten significantly worse. her intro is still absurdly, ridiculously long, i am well aware and will not apologize. but if you do manage to read the whole thing you have my eternal gratitude & admiration ! i’d also really, really love plenty of plots and connections for her so if you want to plot, here’s how: like this post if you don’t mind me messaging you, or get a head start and shoot me a message either on IMs or on discord !

⤷ ( kit. cet. 22. she / her. violence against children. ) the courts offer bread and salt to anya caron née redwyne of house caron. many say the twenty-five year old ruling lady of nightsong is known to be poised and insightful, though ill tongues whisper that she is insecure and volatile. when her name is uttered, one is reminded of a faint light in a sea of fog, sweet fruit souring into wine, & a dark stain spreading over silk. may she be blessed and protected in this war of crowns.

        tw - discussions or mentions of alcoholism, childbirth & pregnancy, domestic abuse & neglect, suicide by drowning, food & disordered eating, forced marriage, mental & physical illness, misogyny. ( yeah it’s a lot, don’t mind me. )

basics.

name. anya caron née redwyne. nicknames. age. twenty-five. traits.      + educated, reverent, insightful, poised, curious, resourceful, sentimental.      - guarded, resentful, volatile, insecure, transgressive, dependent. titles. ruling lady of nightsong. loyalty. house targaryen.

family.

desmond redwyne, ruling lord of the arbor. ( father ) viola redwyne née ???, ruling lady of the arbor. ( mother , deceased ) ??? redwyne, heir to the arbor. ( half-brother ) ??? ??? née redwyne, lady of the arbor. ( half-sister )

??? caron, ruling lord of nightsong. ( husband ) amerei caron, lady of nightsong ( sister-in-law )

pre - history ; house & parents .

the redwynes were always military men. had to be, really, being island people, more isolated and often more endangered than their mainland counterparts. really, there was nothing quite so loved as war, except perhaps wine.

an old, proud house, the redwynes and their fleet have fought for targaryen kings for centuries — they stood by aegon in the dance of the dragons, stood by jon & daenerys against cersei lannister, and even stood by maegos against the dornish and northern rebellions.

lord desmond redwyne took his father’s seat in the reign of king aeron. in a prosperous and peaceful time, men drunk on dreams of a glorious war grow restless — so he hunted, and whored, and drank, and none of it so much as touched his reputation. no, lord redwyne was an honorable man, a true servant of the realm, an example to many.

lady viola redwyne might have said otherwise, had anyone asked her. prone to bouts of melancholy, often disagreeable, and with a reputation for refusing suitors, she might have even succeeded had she not been so beautiful. lord redwyne must have her, and her father could not refuse.

his second wife, fifteen years his junior, and unhappy with the match, she could not love him, nor his other children, nor the arbor. a lack of love in such close quarters sours into hate over time, like bad wine. one of her few reliefs was that he already had an heir and a spare. poor health and misery would not have made her a brood-mare of any longevity.

family history & early childhood . 

as it stood, anya was more an unexpected result than a desired outcome, and ultimately even a bone of contention. she bound her mother by love, to the arbor and the man that she hated.

they were left well enough alone, for a time, viola and her daughter, the septa, and the maidservants. even the wet nurse sent away. anya’s infancy brought a modicum of respite, but it would not last more than a handful of years.

by that time it aroused suspicion. lady redwyne would hardly leave her chambers, refuse to let the child out of her sight, would not see her husband and even refused food for periods at a time. it was unhealthy, unnatural, they soon started saying. in inns and winesinks at ryamsport men would murmur ‘poor lord redwyne, imagine a wife that beautiful going mad on you,’ into their cups, laughing at their great fortune to have avoided his.

and perhaps there was something real to it, perhaps there really was something unsettling about the arrangement. perhaps not. but in the end it was only the talk that mattered. once it reached lord redwyne’s ears, red with shame at being laughed at by traders and fishermen, he put his foot down. viola’s whims were not to be indulged or tolerated any longer, and besides, ‘the child’—by this he meant anya—‘must grow to be a fool or a half-wit if left in her care.’

and so anya was removed to the care of a cousin, mostly sheltered from her mother’s influence. there were fights about it for months. the withdrawn lady redwyne who would not speak but to her daughter and her maidservant and looked to the window whenever anyone looked at her had disappeared. she raged, schemed to steal her daughter away, wept, wandered the halls at night, and made trouble.

lord redwyne even tried being gentle, for a time, speaking in soft pleading words for her to be reasonable, but gentle or harsh it made no difference. if she saw anya twice, even three times a day, it was not enough — to her mind, he had stolen her daughter, stolen her life, stolen her freedom and anything else he might think of taking, and she wasn’t wrong. but when she threatened to throw herself from the eastern tower, she sealed her own fate.

on horseshoe rock, one of the smaller islands in the waters surrounding the arbor, a small stout keep was furnished and staffed, and lady redwyne was sent out of sight, out of mind, and certainly out of the way, where she couldn’t cause another such a stir — and most importantly, after a while, the talk died down.

personal history .

with all the difficulties tended to, and all the loose ends and loose canons carefully tied down, anya’s upbringing was left to a succession of septas, servants, and after a time, an aunt, newly widowed  and returned to the arbor.

out of her father’s favor for as long as she could remember, with a rocky relationship with her siblings ( i won’t go into detail in case my wc is picked up ! ), anya found little relief within the castle walls. she attended her lessons dutifully, could sew and sing and smile, recite the houses, their sigils and heroes, and it all meant little and less to her.

she wanted to set sail, she had always insisted — since before she knew what it really meant, just uttering phrases picked up along the way the way one does around seafarers — but desmond redwyne would not suffer any of his daughters to venture so far beyond his control. he knew better than to trust sailors, and certainly never trusted women.

so instead anya spent years at her window, watching sails shrink and disappear over the horizon ; by the sea, swimming in a cove under the watchful eye of the septa ; sneaking in the fields during harvest, stealing grapes ripe to bursting. searching desperately, maybe shiftlessly, for a little bit of sweetness. all the while she visited her mother only rarely, on namedays and holy days and days when, for whatever mysterious reason, her father’s pity won out over his good sense.

she studied too, though silently, mostly unnoticed. the kitchen girls, the household guard, the way people talked when they didn’t think anyone was paying attention. watched her father most of all, and had no illusions about him. even if she still aspired to please him, somehow, to gain his approval, she knew: he was a cruel man, harsh, childish, selfish, drunk on wine and himself, and yet still too clever to let all of that be his ruin.

her betrothal, like any lady’s, was inevitable — on the horizon of her future, marriage appeared to her like a fog, uncertain in all aspects but its impending approach. in the end it was a transaction, as these things almost always are. a dowry of ships, wine, and gold ( but really, mostly ships ) was enough to make anya a desirable bride despite the whispers of madness that clung to her mother, and she was promised to the heir of nightsong without even the illusion of being well-matched.

demure, docile, even shy, few suspected that, days before she was to leave for her wedding, anya would disappear in the night. would sneak from the castle in the dark, with a torch and one gold dragon, paid to the wife of a fisherman who, in her husband’s small boat, rowed anya to the shores of horseshoe rock to say goodbye to her mother one last time.

it was a mistake, but she couldn’t have known that. she came at night, the only time she could, but to viola, startled from her sleep, she was a ghost in the moonlight. after the truth came, ‘i’m leaving. father says i must,’ her mother, in tears, threw herself in front of the door, on the ground, wept in fits and refused to let her leave. it was the first and last time anya ever truly believed her mad. with promises that she would refuse her marriage and sail home as soon as she could, she left.

she was guilty, of course — so guilty it ate her up, and very nearly killed her, but not so guilty that she turned back. her mother could not bear for her to go, but anya felt she would die — truly die — if she were forced to stay.

the preparations were already well underway by the time word reached them from the arbor. lady redwyne had disappeared. alseep in bed at night, swore the servant, but gone in the morning. the island was searched for weeks, coasts scoured, sailors and captains interrogated, but to no avail. some say she escaped, others that she was kidnapped, and yet others know with conviction that she simply walked into the sea and drowned

though she wore the her house colors instead of black, anya was married in mourning. the wedding was a ridiculous affair, lavish and splendid and festive, and it only made her all the more self-conscious. she was polite, sweet, but in the momentary lull of conversation she looked lost. doe-eyed — not innocent, but wary, reproachful.

( note --- everything that follows may be changed at a later date if / when her husband is applied for ; i’m trying to keep it as vague as possible for that reason, sorry. )

it was a relief to be gone from the arbor, that she could not deny, but things at nightsong were not better. she was withdrawn, in mourning, clumsy in her attempts to draw affection from her husband and all the while mistrusting him ; even at the arbor she knew the household, was familiar with the scullery maids and the maester. here she was a stranger in her own home, and resentment blossomed as easily and intractably as wildflowers.

in the end she found she had traded a familiar prison for one completely alien to her. in the end it was probably worse. she did not sour quickly, no --- it took time, but sour she did. 

tl ; dr , personality .

a traumatic, tense, and lonely childhood, ghost-like and disconnected. mommy and daddy issues, because why not. that and a poor marriage leaves her bitter, withdrawn ; there is a deep, foul darkness in her that she does not have the strength to keep at bay.

haunted by rumors of madness passed down from her mother, hard to disprove when she seems to be turning into her more and more every day. more recently questions of her fidelity have been raised ; she ignores them publicly but remains wary. honestly she’s not ‘mad’ it’s just what they call women with big emotions and opinions, y’know.

despite all that she still seeks sweetness, tenderness --- she is seriously traumatized and seriously sentimental, but not necessarily a good person. she might try to be or think she is, but in the end she’s also very shady and good at lying to herself, or aspiring to goodness. wants intensity above all else, whether good or bad. 

basically what happens when you put a sweet, sensitive girl into the rough, careless hands of men ; even when they do not mean to misuse her some damage is inevitably done. that’s not to say she’s only a victim ; she can be as cruel as she is tender, and hurting only makes her want to hurt more.

very insecure, which manifests itself in a lot of different ways ; does she try to make herself big and powerful ? does she try to turn herself into whatever it is she thinks someone wants ? does she overthink things and say too little end up seeming like an absolute whacko ? does she get overexcited and yes.

poised and image-aware but resents it. she should have been the daughter of a miller or a fisherman or even a knight, but not of a lord ; harbors secret dreams of simple domesticity but she’s been told at every turn that makes her weak or small-minded so she dreams of nothing instead.

plot ideas !

cousins. i haven’t yet decided what house anya’s mother is from, so there are plenty of options for familial attachments there, though probably a house from the reach / southern kingdom ! her father also probably had sisters, although they’d probably be another generation older and have adult grandchildren at this point, so. second cousins ? i think ? 

failed or cancelled betrothal. this is also super open ! again, would probably be someone from the southern kingdom, all things considered. what their relationship would be or whether they had even ever met is all very much up in the air. 

former flings. again i like to keep my plot ideas open to customization and further plotting ! but i also think that she may, probably, arguably, definitely have sought comfort elsewhere after realizing her marriage was not going the places she was hoping. idk man she just wants to be touched. how intense it was or how long it went on or what it meant are all very very open to discussion, i love a little drama but i definitely don’t need this to turn into a ship or anything ! and again this would be open to any gender because all my muses are bi !

enemies. i cannot stress this enough, i love enemy connections. maybe anya’s jealous and petty which she is perfectly capable of being ; she loves herself a backhanded compliment and has a bad habit of lashing out when she’s feeling upset or otherwise justified in her shittiness. could also be enemies due to bad blood between their families, since her dad is fairly shitty also. 

family ward. could go two ways ; either someone who spent some time in their childhood at the arbor or somewhere anya might have been sent for some time in her childhood ? she was fairly isolated at the arbor for most of her childhood but i would love for her to still have some childhood connections or something.

#badreputation friends. anya adores her sister-in-law amerei more than she can express ; both of them have a dark cloud of a bad reputation hanging over their heads. anya’s a madwoman and a whore, and amerei’s killed all three of her husbands, if the rumors are to be believed. which means that anya absolutely adores any lady with a bad reputation, especially if that reputation is only bad because of misogyny. they also don’t necessarily need to be friends, but anya definitely finds them more interesting than most others.

little sibling-ey relationship. yea i’m braindead and not thinking of cool names for these things anymore. anyway, gimme a muse who’s still all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and brings out the very best in anya ; she’s always been the youngest sibling but with an intense need to protecc ( catch her rehabilitating birds with broken wings and defending the baker’s boy from bullies ). also has loads of mostly half-bad advice to pass on ! 

literally anything else ! please ! i just love intense, extensive, or lore-heavy plots but also anything casual and fun i am not picky ! i just ! want plots and connections and muse to write !

[tomswifty-fr]

Ramblings on new lore location: 

Four Lips Kiss is the unofficial name for a place in Shadow where four mountains grew up unusually close to each other. A few dragons make their homes on the slopes and peaks, but most live in the numerous valleys, hollows, and coves. 

There is no town or central seat of government. The closest thing to one is a little cluster of buildings consisting of a general store, forge, tavern and inn located in one of the passes out of the mountain. Traders and travelers pass through here on their way to more interesting places. Locals come when they need to or want some company. 

Culturally, art and craft are very important. Everybody does their best to cultivate some kind of "making” skill, be it woodcarving or embroidery or even coming up with little songs. Anything meant to last is decorated, though not all art is meant to be shared. It’s not uncommon to be walking through the woods and come upon some little sculpture by a riverbank or colored stones hanging from a tree. Disturbing another’s art isn’t done, though adding to a display is acceptable and even encouraged.

Despite being in the Shadowbinder’s domain, there are two minor deities who call these mountains home. Lady is the aspect of freezing spring, the time of year when buds try to grow but are snapped off by the frost that still comes. She walks around openly and lives with dragons who politely pretend not to recognize her. Dragons acknowledge her by throwing a pebble (or if necessary, a piece of twig) across running water before they cross, especially when there’s snow on the ground. The other is Mistmaker, who creates the early morning fog. She’s more aloof. Though fog is considered good luck, catching a glimpse of its source is a sign of great misfortune. Dragons win her fortune through music and song. 

Most dragons in the region farm for their living. Some keep goats for their wool, though many wear clothing made from imported fabric. Glass and plastic goods make their way into the region via various traveling merchants who take metalware, woodcarvings, and preserved fruit to sell in other markets.

[wishtorn]

          heya i’m kit ! i’m going to start this off by apologizing for how obscenely long this intro has turned out to be. i really got caught up … but there’s a summary at the very end, and if you do read the entire thing you get a million brownie points ! message me here or on discord to collect. i’ve also included a handful of general plot ideas if anyone’s interested in them, but i’d also love to think up some more specific ideas. just like this or shoot me a message and i’ll come plot !

⤷ ( kit. cet. 21. she / her. none. ) the courts offer bread and salt to anya targaryen née redwyne of house targaryen. many say the twenty-four year old queen of the southern kingdom is known to be well-intentioned and nurturing, though ill tongues whisper that she is guarded and sentimental. when her name is uttered, one is reminded of sleepless nights, a faint light in the fog, & the smell of sea salt and spring.

         tw - discussions or mentions of alcoholism, childbirth & pregnancy, domestic abuse & neglect, drowning, food & disordered eating, mental & physical illness, misogyny. ( i didn’t realize it was going to be this much of a shitstorm until i sat down and started writing. idk what to say, guess i’m #dramatic ? )

pre - history ( house & parents. )

the redwynes were always military men. had to be, really, being island people, more isolated and often more endangered than their mainland counterparts. really, there was nothing quite so loved as war, except perhaps wine.

an old, proud house, the redwynes and their fleet have fought for targaryen kings for centuries — they stood by aegon in the dance of the dragons, stood by jon & daenerys against cersei lannister, and even stood by maegos against the dornish and northern rebellions.

lord desmond redwyne took his father’s seat in the reign of king aeron. in a prosperous and peaceful time, men drunk on dreams of a glorious war grow restless — so he hunted, and whored, and drank, and none of it so much as touched his reputation. no, lord redwyne was an honorable man, a true servant of the realm, an example to many.

lady viola redwyne might have said otherwise, had anyone asked her. prone to bouts of melancholy, often disagreeable, and with a reputation for refusing suitors, she might have even succeeded had she not been so beautiful. lord redwyne must have her, and her father could not refuse.

his second wife, fifteen years his junior, and unhappy with the match, she could not love him, nor his other children, nor the arbor. a lack of love in such close quarters sours into hate over time, like bad wine. one of her few reliefs was that he already had an heir and a spare. poor health and misery would not have made her a brood-mare of any longevity.

long before her parents ever laid eyes on each other, however, a scandal rocked the redwynes ; lord desmond was then merely the heir, a knight and a naval captain of some repute. his eldest sister was already wed to a lord on the mainland, but the younger was a wilder thing, with a taste for adventure that was indulged by their father. the lord greyjoy’s reputation preceded him, and when she first spotted him, on the deck of a ship off the coast of fair isle, he had already quite captivated her. they met in secret, at sea, where they were not lords or ladies but each king on their own ship. the last time her ship sailed from the arbor, it was under the cover of night, to steal away to pyke, and the shame and scandal of it tore through the redwynes like a hurricane. she was shunned, rarely spoken of, and when the news came from pyke that she had died, no one at the arbor shed a tear. 

family history ( early childhood. )

as it stood, anya was more an unexpected result than a desired outcome, and ultimately even a bone of contention. she bound her mother by love, to the arbor and the man that she hated.

they were left well enough alone, for a time, viola and her daughter, the septa, and the maidservants. even the wet nurse sent away. anya’s infancy brought a modicum of respite, but it would not last more than a handful of years.

by that time it aroused suspicion. lady redwyne would hardly leave her chambers, refuse to let the child out of her sight, would not see her husband and even refused food for periods at a time. it was unhealthy, unnatural, they soon started saying. in inns and winesinks at ryamsport men would murmur ‘poor lord redwyne, imagine a wife that beautiful going mad on you,’ into their cups, laughing at their great fortune to have avoided his.

and perhaps there was something real to it, perhaps there really was something unsettling about the arrangement. perhaps not. but in the end it was only the talk that mattered. once it reached lord redwyne’s ears, red with shame at being laughed at by traders and fishermen, he put his foot down. viola’s whims were not to be indulged or tolerated any longer, and besides, ‘the child’—by this he meant anya—‘must grow to be a fool or a half-wit if left in her care.’

and so anya was removed to the care of a cousin, mostly sheltered from her mother’s influence. there were fights about it for months. the withdrawn lady redwyne who would not speak but to her daughter and her maidservant and looked to the window whenever anyone looked at her had disappeared. she raged, schemed to steal her daughter away, wept, wandered the halls at night, and made trouble.

lord redwyne even tried being gentle, for a time, speaking in soft pleading words for her to be reasonable, but gentle or harsh it made no difference. if she saw anya twice, even three times a day, it was not enough — to her mind, he had stolen her daughter, stolen her life, stolen her freedom and anything else he might think of taking, and she wasn’t wrong. but when she threatened to throw herself from the eastern tower, she sealed her own fate.

on horseshoe rock, one of the smaller islands in the waters surrounding the arbor, a small stout keep was furnished and staffed, and lady redwyne was sent out of sight, out of mind, and certainly out of the way, where she couldn’t cause another such a stir — and most importantly, after a while, the talk died down.

personal history i ( childhood & youth. )

with all the difficulties tended to, and all the loose ends and loose canons carefully tied down, anya’s upbringing was left to a succession of septas, servants, and after a time, an aunt, newly widowed  and returned to the arbor.

out of her father’s favor for as long as she could remember, with a rocky relationship with her siblings ( i won’t go into detail in case my wc is picked up ! ), anya found little relief within the castle walls. she attended her lessons dutifully, could sew and sing and smile, recite the houses, their sigils and heroes, and it all meant little and less to her.

she wanted to set sail, she had always insisted — since before she knew what it really meant, just uttering phrases picked up along the way the way one does around seafarers — but desmond redwyne would not suffer any of his daughters to venture so far beyond his control. he knew better than to trust sailors, and certainly never trusted women.

so instead anya spent years at her window, watching sails shrink and disappear over the horizon ; by the sea, swimming in a cove under the watchful eye of the septa ; sneaking in the fields during harvest, stealing grapes ripe to bursting. searching desperately, maybe shiftlessly, for a little bit of sweetness. all the while she visited her mother only rarely, on namedays and holy days and days when, for whatever mysterious reason, her father’s pity won out over his good sense.

she studied too, though silently, mostly unnoticed. the kitchen girls, the household guard, the way people talked when they didn’t think anyone was paying attention. watched her father most of all, and had no illusions about him. even if she still aspired to please him, somehow, to gain his approval, she knew: he was a cruel man, harsh, childish, selfish, drunk on wine and himself, and yet still too clever to let all of that be his ruin.

her betrothal, like any lady’s, was inevitable — on the horizon of her future, marriage appeared to her like a fog, uncertain in all aspects but its impending approach. in the end it was a transaction, as these things almost always are. ships, wine, and gold ( but really, mostly ships ) were enough to make one of lord redwyne’s daughters a future queen.

demure, docile, even shy, few suspected that, days before she was to leave for king’s landing, anya would disappear in the night. would sneak from the castle in the dark, with a torch and one gold dragon, paid to the wife of a fisherman who, in her husband’s small boat, rowed anya to the shores of horseshoe rock to say goodbye to her mother one last time.

it was a mistake, but she couldn’t have known that. she came at night, the only time she could, but to viola, startled from her sleep, she was a ghost in the moonlight. after the truth came, ‘i’m leaving. father says i must,’ her mother, in tears, threw herself in front of the door, on the ground, wept in fits and refused to let her leave. it was the first and last time anya ever truly believed her mad. with promises that she would refuse the prince and sail home as soon as she could, she left.

she was guilty, of course — so guilty it ate her up, and very nearly killed her, but not so guilty that she turned back. her mother could not bear for her to go, but anya felt she would die — truly die — if she were forced to stay.

the preparations were already well underway by the time word reached them from the arbor. lady redwyne had disappeared. alseep in bed at night, swore the servant, but gone in the morning. the island was searched for weeks, coasts scoured, sailors and captains interrogated, but to no avail. some say she escaped, others that she was kidnapped, and yet others know with conviction that she simply walked into the sea and drowned.

personal history ii ( marriage & rule. )

though she wore the right house colors, anya was married in mourning. the wedding was a ridiculous affair, lavish and splendid and festive, and it only made her all the more self-conscious. she was polite, sweet, but in the momentary lull of conversation she looked lost. doe-eyed — not innocent, but wary, reproachful.

but the rockiness, the uncertainty, if at first seeming insurmountable, soon dissipated. prince daeryon was not her father, nor much like many other lords that had so worried her. no, he was kind, and gentle, and patient, and in need of some kindness himself.

as unlikely as it may be, they tended their happiness like a garden, and it wasn’t long before leaves were sprouting where her fear had been. for a while they lived well, on laughter and sunlight and the thrill of young love.

but of course it doesn’t last — nothing does. when king aeron dies, things change hard and fast. the freedom to walk through the city, ride in the kingswood, or sail to dragonstone for a fortnight on a day’s notice was gone, replaced by a hundred new duties, funeral arrangements to be made, small council meetings to attend.

at that point, the two of them also certainly start feeling the pressure for an heir. the difficulties and delays that had once been only a source of gossip became a source of concern, even as their duties kept them apart more often than ever, as the long nights and tense meetings started to fray his nerves.

they were soon blessed with a son, aeric, though the pregnancy and birth left anya exhausted, weary, and withdrawn just as her husband needed her most. the pressure of the crown which he had borne with such fickle strength was beginning to crush him.

no man, not even the best of them, could carry a kingdom on his own. it certainly wasn’t made easier by the constant jostling from one side or the other, a meddling mother, resentful elder sisters, or grasping, ambitious councillors. anya was forced to admit that however much she loved her husband, however good a man he was, he was not a good king. not good enough.

so she rose to the occasion, as gracefully as her fears and meagre experience let her, sitting in on small council meetings and more private discussions, by his side. she consulted carefully, leaning heavily on the hand of the king, working tirelessly to ensure her husband’s realm remained intact, his rule secure, and their family safe.

present.

her son is nearly four years old now, a happy, healthy child without the slightest clue of the dangers he is in, simply by virtue of his birth. anya worries about him constantly, and spends as much of her time as she can with him.

in king’s landing, she’s often attending meetings, writing letters, keeping busy — all to ease the pressure from her husband, who is only worrying her more and more as each day passes. he grows withdrawn, erratic, unpredictable, but she’s less afraid than sorrowful. he’s in pain, she can tell that much, but how to soothe it ?

very nervous about the trip north. she’s never been so far before, never left her son so long before, and certainly never seen her husband in such an unfamiliar — hostile ? — environment, and is deeply concerned with what issues might arise.

still, the coronation at winterfell is a solid opportunity to strengthen the ties that the previous generation had spent so long binding, to show each other and the realm that two kings intend to continue their fathers’ peace and collaboration.

tl ; dr.

      + well-intentioned, nurturing, insightful, gracious, curious, resourceful       - guarded, sentimental, unforgiving, hesitant, volatile, insecure, spoiled

a traumatic, tense, and lonely childhood, ghost-like and disconnected. mommy and daddy issues, because why not.

a betrothal for wealth and power ; naval strength and trade wealth married into royal bloodlines. 

a young son and a marriage that is loving, starts easy, but grows ever more strained under the weight of a crown.

trying desperately to keep her shit ( her kingdom, husband, family ) from falling apart at the seams.

way more responsibility, work, and stress than she signed up for, if we’re being honest, but she makes it work.

stress, anxiety, worry, chaos, fear, all those good things tbh.

and despite it all, at least a conditional kindness, and a sentimental softness that ought to be hidden better than it is.

plot ideas !

lady friends. yes i know how stupid that sounds, but honestly, a girl needs girls around her or she’s bound to lose it. i imagine she’d mostly know other ladies from the souther kingdom, but may have also met and befriended others from the north at the funeral of king aeron, or elsewhere.

almost- or cancelled betrothal. someone whose father was in talks with anya’s to arrange a betrothal, or perhaps one had already been arranged. they could know each other and have met, or have never laid eyes on each other. either way, once a royal prince is on the table, any deal is off.

cousins. i haven’t yet decided what house anya’s mother is from, so there are plenty of options for familial attachments there ! her father also probably had sisters, although they���d probably be another generation older and have adult grandchildren at this point, so. second cousins ? i think ?

enemies of the crown. honestly, i love some drama and animosity, so i’d love any reason for there to be tension and cold looks and only the barest minimum of politeness, with undertones of anger. ugh, wat a dream. could be they disapprove of the targaryens, or of daeryon in particular, or of her personally too i guess, or something went down ?

again these are just vague ideas, but i will come up with tons of more specific ones for anya and your muse(s) if you want me to !

[howtodrawyourdragon]

Lost no More: Chapter 1 - A Malicious Plan

Summary: After three years Hiccup's sudden disappearance remains unsolved. A grieving father is forced to move on for the sake of his village, a blacksmith has yet to choose a new apprentice, children grow up missing the face they've known since birth. The Dragon Master and a fated reunion may finally give them the answers they seek.

Author’s Notes: Decided to post the full chapters now here too. Expect the next one tomorrow.

This was originally just an idea I posted on Tumblr, but I was never sure if I should even turn it into a fic because so many people have already written for the 'Hiccup runs away' trope. So this story pretty much came into existence thanks to @coneygoil, @renkocchi, @softhairstark, @daglout, @just-call-me-emrys, @let-the-wind-carry-us and @only-girl-on-a-dragon on Tumblr, who motivated me to go ahead and turn this idea into a fic. Seriously, thank you guys!

He didn't want to leave.

Even after packing a basket with what he thought were the bare essentials, even after exclaiming to his dragon that they should 'take a vacation... forever!', and even after climbing on Toothless' back and taking off, Hiccup found that they couldn't leave.

They had been flying for well over an hour now after their smooth departure from the cove, the place where their friendship had first blossomed, and the sun was already gradually setting. But instead of choosing a direction and flying off into the distance to then desperately keep from looking back, they had been widely circling the island of Berk.

Occasionally they even soared over the Viking settlement itself and each time Hiccup gazed down at the people going about their day, many still celebrating their heir's winning of the honour to kill a Monstrous Nightmare in the Kill Ring tomorrow, and at the house he grew up in.

Though he doubted it, Hiccup wondered if his father was already home. He wondered if the man was waiting for him and looked forward to seeing his son again.

It made a stabbing pain form in his chest and he began to question his want to leave.

He knew his father loved him. Gods, no matter how strained their relationship was or how little they understood eachother, that was something Hiccup knew for certain. That man would die for him, has even jumped in front of the hot flames of a dragon to protect him, and here he was about to leave.

About to leave Berk and the people who trusted he one day step up as chief to lead them through an uncertain future. His mentor who taught him everything he knew in blacksmithing and was like an uncle to him. The new friends, those who had finally come to see him as more than just the 'troublemaking runt' and who were now seeing and liking him for who he was. And his father, who's heart he'd break by doing something as callous as fleeing from his problems without so much as leaving a note.

Not even the rush of the wind, though usually so soothing even as it caused adrenaline to course through his veins, could do nothing to wash away the guilt he felt.

Hiccup's hold on the saddle he had created with his very own two hands tightened as that awful feeling in his chest grew and suffocated the very life out of him.

That was why he realized he couldn't leave.

The Night Fury he rode gave a warble in question as he looked at his scrawny rider from over his shoulder, wondering why it is that Hiccup insisted they keep flying above the Viking island.

Though night was approaching, a black dragon with wings as big as Toothless' still tended to stand out for now. So it was why, even though he wanted to give Hiccup the time he needed to say goodbye to his human home, the longer they spend flying around Berk all the easier it'll become for them to be spotted.

To fly or to stay, the boy on his back needed to make a decision now.

"I'm sorry, Toothless." And a decision was exactly what had been made.

This had all been to keep the dragon safe. Whatever Hiccup was so afraid would happen tomorrow, Toothless' understanding of the human language wasn't all that great yet, it had something to do with him. Something about their cover being blown, about secrets and lies being exposed. Whatever it was, it scared the Viking boy.

"I know we should go, I really do, but I can't." Hiccup wasn't expecting the dragon to forgive him or to even listen to him, but he still pressed on.

"Can... Can we go back, Bud? Back to the cove?" He asked almost timidly, a strange sound to hear from someone he'd come to know as so straightforward and... sarcastic?

Whatever that scared him so tomorrow, it apparently couldn't win against his want to stay home. For Toothless, who had known only the Dragon Queen's volcano for the longest time prior to ending up on Berk with this peculiar human fledgling, could respect that decision.

Hiccup was smart. He had helped him reach for the high skies again with his surprisingly clever hands. Toothless could trust the boy would find a solution to his problem aswell.

When the dragon gave him an affirming growl, the Viking released a sigh and rubbed the top of his head, laying down carefully.

"Thanks for understanding, Bud. Really!" Toothless warbled again, as if telling him that he needn't to worry.

Changing course, the unlikely human and dragon duo turned to head back to the cove, something that took quite a bit of energy out of Hiccup's sore body. His muscles were rapidly growing stronger with the several attempted and realized flights, but they had been mostly short.

This was the longest Hiccup had ever been in the air. As much as he was quickly coming to enjoy the sky, he was now longing to stand on his own two feet.

But it was while returning to Berk, honestly the boy already felt like he'd been gone for far too long, that one half of the pair noticed something was off.

Toothless, as he veered to the right to find the cove between the tall trees, suddenly stopped mid-flight. It caused Hiccup to change the position of the tailfin in a blind panic, for a moment believing they were about to crash once more.

Some runaway he was.

"Toothless? What's wrong, Bud?" Boy asked dragon, who gestured with his snout that Hiccup better look down there. He figured this was something an inhabitant of this island would want to see.

Said Viking did as he was told and gazed down at the shores of a beach almost completely on the other side of Berk, just out of sight from their farthest watchtowers. He had to somewhat stand in order to have a proper look.

When he spotted what Toothless believed must be important for him to know, bright forest green eyes narrowed in suspicion.

There was a ship down there, two in fact. And there was one that Hiccup had known his entire life.

"Trader Johann? But he isn't supposed to be on Berk for another couple of weeks. And that other ship, I don't recognize that sail from up here." Though his Norse wasn't the best yet, Toothless had gleaned enough to realize that something was not right. Whatever these strangers had come to do on Hiccup's island could hardly be any good.

"Come on, Bud." Without as much as discussing it first did the two decide to go down low enough to get a better look at the uninvited guests, using rock formations and vegetation as cover.

It wasn't long before Hiccup knew he was right. That crest on the sail was indeed one he had never seen before as it was shaped to look like a fist, a red and bloodied fist. As heir, he was expected to know at least a sail or two. It was hard not to with all of the treaties that needed to be signed annually with allied tribes. But this one did not even look in the slightest bit familiar.

As for the people that ship had brought, they were dressed in clothing Hiccup had never seen before. It was almost like a uniform, worn in the different colours that helped him identify the material as dragon hides even from up here. Some of them were such bright colours.

Because meeting Toothless taught him of the true nature of these fire breathing beasts, Hiccup felt a new kind of anger he had never experienced before well up inside him. An anger and a fear. Both were difficult to swallow.

Diverting his attention, Hiccup searched for the trader he'd known for as long as he could remember, a traveler by the name of Johann who once amused him with wild tales about his adventures in faraway lands. Squinting his eyes, he found him eventually and he seemed to be talking to a balding man.

"I should've brought a spyglass with me." He muttered before directing the tailfin to have Toothless land. He needed to get closer, hear what they were saying, and find out if Berk was about to be in trouble or not.

A small part of him nagged him in the back of his mind, telling him how this might be an excellent opportunity to change his father's mind about dragons.

It was a thought quickly rejected.

Change the mind of Stoick the Vast? Sure.

Folding his wings, Toothless swiftly disappeared within the trees and landed on his four paws with barely a sound. He understood his rider's desire to find out more. With stealth only a Night Fury could have, even with a prosthetic tailfin and a human boy on his back, Toothless crept closer to the two ships and the Vikings on the beach.

To a dragon it was easy to listen in, so Toothless had to remind himself that humans couldn't hear as well as most dragons could, the rare exception being the Thunderdrum. He could only guess it was probably because of all the yelling they could do.

With the sun setting there were plenty of shadows to hide in while amongst the plantlife. Though Hiccup would still make him stand out, Toothless used them to stalk closer. He gave a soft grunt, which his rider thankfully correctly took that he might want to lay down as flat as he could.

It was growing darker and the shadows became longer, but soon enough the Night Fury ran out of space to lurk in. Fortunately, it was just close enough for Hiccup to hear aswell.

Johann, as the boy had called him, was a scrawny man with a thick kind of fur on his chin and jawline. His clothing was also of the sort he hadn't seen any of the Vikings of Berk wear before. It helped him deduce this must be a foreigner. So it wasn't just his ship that told the dragon he wasn't even from the Archipelago.

He was talking to a large, bald man with a differently shaped kind of short dark fur on his face. With his broad shoulders he would've already been an intimidating sight, but there was a worringly dangerous sword on his back, tinted green due to a strange metal. To make matters worse Toothles could see, and smell, that he was wearing the skin of a dragon.

He would've snarled malociously if he wasn't in hiding and protecting that feeble boy on his back.

"Looks like that's the leader, Bud." Hiccup whispered as softly as he could, speaking next to the dragon's left earfin. Both of their gazes were locked on the two arguing men. Johann was angry. The angriest he had ever seen him.

Hiccup strained his hearing to try and catch anything from the conversation, but failed to grasp little besides a few meaningless words.

Stoick, his father.

Runty heir, Hiccup felt a terrible ache clench around his heart. He knew with certainty that they were refering to him now.

And... some kind of king? Of dragons?

A King of Dragons.

"I've worked much too hard to get this far, Ryker..... Dragon's Nest... So close... Stoick will find it for us... Runty heir no problem to deal with..." They were only parts of a rant Trader Johann was apparently giving the stranger, seemingly called Ryker, but it was enough for fear to wrap its cold embrace around Hiccup's heart.

They wanted something from his father, something to do with a king of sorts in the Dragon's Nest. Stoick was supposedly the one to get them there. And after getting it, something would lead to them 'taking care' of his runt of a son. Hiccup knew his life was suddenly in jeopardy and this time not because of dragons or dangerous situations he put himself in.

Toothless sensed the fear as the Viking boy shrunk and half curled up on the saddle with widened eyes. A want to get him out of here sparked within the Night Fury. He could hear his breathing growing ragged, could pretty much smell the fear coming from him in waves, could feel Hiccup's want to just disappear altogether.

This was much different than the time when Hiccup kept his cool as they plummeted out of the sky and almost met a crushing death. Toothless didn’t quite understand why, but he at least understood that whatever was happening was greater than just the two of them.

But whilst they were so caught up in Johann's traitorous ways, boy and dragon failed to notice the predator lurking in the shadows from behind. Knocking an arrow with a suspiciously greenish tip on his bow, the hunter took aim and chose the bigger of the two targets.

"Toothless, we need to go now. My dad needs to know. I'll figure out something to say, but we gotta get out of here." Tapping his dragon's head as he finally managed to somewhat snap out of it, Hiccup spoke and Toothless was more than happy to oblige.

He wasn't all too comfortable with the idea that these two men meant harm to his rider. And he had heard a lot more of the shady conversation than Hiccup did.

But the decision to return was made too late.

As Hiccup positioned the tailfin and Toothless moved to search for a clearing to spread his wings in, the man with the bow let his arrow fly.

The village of Berk was quiet and peaceful while another day came to an end. As the sun slowly set and the moon grew brighter, the celebratory feast in the Great Hall came to an end.

Their heir, Chief Stoick the Vast's only son, had always been an odd boy, much like his late-mother, Valka Haddock. Many might say he had taken after her the most and rightfully so. He was her in both looks and personality.

Yet that same strange and scrawny boy had entered Dragon Training, had excelled in a way they never could've thought possible, and he had become that year's champion. Reason enough to celebrate. The heir finally showed some promise.

The village's only blacksmith was drunkenly laughing amongst friends and boasting about his deceptively frail apprentice. A husky boy read through the Book of Dragons for the eighth or ninth time, eager to see Hiccup again later and ask him if they could study the dragons in the manual together. One pair of twins were recounting their time in training in utter glee, colourfully describing the more violent parts.

A broad shouldered boy, though he did not mention it out loud, felt glad his cousin was acting more like a Viking. Meanwhile a young girl, hoping to one day become a shieldmaiden to fight for her family's reputation, sat seething on her seat at a table with her food untouched. And a father made his way home to his house on a hill, a wide smile of pride present as he looked forward to instill his son with encouraging words and wisdom.

No one had any idea their lives were about to be turned upside down with the disappearance of one young boy.

[yearsofunwrittenfanfiction]

Hiccup leaves berk au

so here goes nothing

Hiccup leaves Berk AU  Part 1                               

Hiccup leaves Berk before his final exam much to the relief of his fellow Vikings However what they don't know is why he left                                                        Or why he will have to return.                                                                               The Red Death has reared it's ugly head and the fishbone is back in business!

Is mostly same at the start except for more off screen moments with Hiccup emphasizing his emotional turmoil and the tribes actions towards him              The story twists when we have a Hiccup who is stopping some of the raids unbeknownst to the Vikings                                                                                    The story deviates mainly when Astrid discovers Toothless: they still take her on that ride but during the flight when they go to the nest the Red Death addresses Hiccup and Toothless and tells them that they have finally caught their scent and that they will hunt them down or something. They escape by the skin of their teeth and fly back to the cove. Then we have that moment instead of pecking him on the cheek and running off, we have a bit more emotional drama and an accidental kiss                                                                                                      They discuss the Red Death and how its possible this is putting the whole of Berk at risk Hiccup decides the safest road for Berk is for Toothless and him to get as far away as possible                                                                                    He fakes him being taken by a dragon w/ scuffle marks and such                    The two exchange a dramatic farewell (yes dramatic and awkward too Toothless almost died from the secondhand embarrassment and pining) and that is the last of Hiccup anyone on Berk sees for five years 

p o vs switch between the two by a series of letters delivered by a terrible terror Hiccup becomes a lot like his mother  and has a smallish island that's pretty decent                                                                                                              Astrid purposely lost to Snotlout in Dragon Training but as he failed to kill the Monstrous Nightmare it didn't really matter she has also made friends with a blue nadder which she pretends to fight every dragon raid                                She is a bit more quiet than before and spends at lot more time with Gobber bonding over Hiccup (Although even Gobber doesn't know about the dragons)    Other things happen like one of Hiccups dragon riders sending Astrid a letter and a drawing of Hiccup and Toothless (The other riders obviously rag Hiccup about Astrid and more romantic of the riders find it adorable how he talks about her) (They keep up to date with each others looks by swapping drawings and such) We have this funny moment when Astrid realizes that she's being tailed by some terrible terrors and promptly rags Hiccup about it in her next letter        They fall into a routine of life letters and dragons                                          Although she doesn't ride or even really train Stormfly they become sort of friends and playfully spar during fights and such, Stormfly does however let her touch her so she learns some of the things Hiccup did like eels and dragon nip and so forth            

Then it happens. News comes from a trader(Johann >:| ) that people have found a way to get to the nest and that a dragon holds the key                                    Stoick decides to attack the nest and invites all the other tribes to join           Astrid has to tame one of the terrible terrors to get a message to Hiccup          Who promptly turns up at the Thing and attempts to convince the Chiefs it's a bad idea (not as himself but as Fury) He tries to get them to see reason but when he is forced into a fight with Dogsbreath over Astrid and he(D) cheats and releases the monstrous nightmare to the amazement of all he(H) calms it and tames it but when Dogsbreath attacks it goes AWOL waking up Toothless who does the whole movie scene When his dragon is revealed to the public Stoick accuses him of "Working with and for the bloody devils" and refuses to take anything he said into account                                                                              Side note: His mask falls askew during the fight and only his chin is revealed showing his scar causing Gobber to realize his identity                                    Stoick in a rage orders their capture and Toothless fights them off almost killing Stoick                                                                                                                      But is stopped at the last second                                                                      Hiccup is jumped and forced to the ground, he pleads for them to listen with line from the movie "You've got to trust me when I say you can't win this one!"  Toothless gets taken off to be the guide to the nest (the gang is going with Stoick to the nest)                                                                                                   And Hiccup gets dragged off to prison where we have another  moment like the movie "So you've been to the nest?" "Did I say nest?..." where Hiccup attempts to appeal to Stoick by claiming to be a Viking, but is rebuffed with the line “You’ve thrown your lot in with them, You’re not a Viking“                         After Stoick leaves Gobber comes in "Not dead huh?" "Last I checked"          

Stoick had left Gobber in charge of Berk so he faces no resistance when he goes to see the “prisoner”                                                                                     Hiccup has given up and is having a breakdown in his cell                             When Gobber comes in and they have a heart to heart Hiccup tells him what happened all those years ago and about the Queen                                         Gobber surprises him by believing him and letting him go... on the condition that he takes him with him                                                                                          After getting Gobber to tame a boulder class that he names Grumpy and releasing the arena dragons he mounts Stormfly and he and Gobber fly to the Nest  

TBC

So whadda you guys think? sound like a good story?

anyone can have the plot as long as they tag me when they write it