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artemisrae · 7 years

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HTTYD - Those Who Know the Storm

Title: Those Who Know the Storm

Rating: T

Fandom: HTTYD

Characters: Hiccup/Astrid

Word Count: 14,275

Summary: A raid on Berk results in the riders having to recover their most valuable resources.... including Astrid.

Note: lol i started this fic in 2014 and just recently went back to it, discovered it was mostly done, and polished it up. My beta didn’t really get an indepth read, so you’re relying on my own proofreading skills soooooo sry abt tht.

Since this is three years old, it does not keep in line with RTE. It’s meant to take place between the two movies and includes a buttload of my personal headcanons.

AO3 Mirror

They sicken of the calm, who know the storm (Dorothy Parker)

It was during a gray, blustery afternoon that Astrid and Hiccup skipped their normal lunchtime flight and elected to eat in the hall. The dark, angry clouds told them rain was coming, and even if they didn’t trust the skies the throb where Hiccup’s leg met his prosthetic had never lied.

They ambled slowly, hand in hand – a romantic gesture at first, and then a little less so as the ache in his leg graduated into a full blown limp and it became clear that they weren’t simply a pair of young lovers but a girl trying to help her boyfriend up the hill. While Astrid never thought any less of him and his old injury (and certainly pushed him just as hard in training as ever before) he couldn’t deny that there were times that it slowed him down.

Behind Hiccup, Toothless plodded along gracelessly, looking put out at the poor weather. They’d done their share of flying in the rain, but the afternoon foretold thunder, and while Hiccup was infamous for courting trouble, not even he tested the gods by flying in a lightning storm with a metal leg.

If he could help it.

“Here, here,” Astrid urged, letting go of Hiccup to pull open the large heavy door to the hall. Despite tossing her head, sodden bangs hung stubbornly in her eyes. The wind pushed back, and she steadied herself against the door to hold it open so Hiccup and Toothless could slip past her. As soon as Toothless’ tail cleared the threshold she let it slam shut and wrung out her braid impatiently.

No one minded the puddle on the floor – the hall was packed, and far worse lay below. Vikings had never been the cleanest eaters. Even though it was the middle of the afternoon there were several bright and cheery fires warming the room, and like a shot Toothless took off for the furthest one, where a brace of Terrible Terrors was flocked.

Hiccup followed suit, intending to clear space near a fire to put some heat back into his bones, but he was distracted when he realized that Astrid wasn’t following him.

For a moment he could only blink at her retreating figure – she was walking away from the fire, she knew he wasn’t feeling well what was she – Oh.

And then he saw where she was headed.

Back in the coldest, emptiest corner, where no one ever sat, Snotlout and Tuffnut were sitting close together, heads bumping as they whispered to one another and scribbling on a piece of parchment.

That explained Astrid’s interest. Snotlout and Tuffnut individually could come up with some truly stupid ideas. Together, they set new standards for idiocy. Together, and acting secretive about it?

Nothing good could come of it.

This was exactly why he was in no hurry to inherit chiefdom from his father. With a sigh he followed, knowing he didn’t have much of a choice. Astrid’s shoulders were squared, and ready for battle, and hastily Hiccup tried to rearrange himself to match.

As they approached Hiccup got a clear view of their project. They were working on a map – not one of Hiccup’s maps, which focused on dragons, but one that Hiccup suspected they’d gotten from trade. Snotlout was also scribbling notes on a piece of parchment.

Astrid leaned over Snotlout’s shoulder and slid the sheet away with a quick jerk of her wrist. “What is this?”

“Hey!” he reflexively tried to grab the parchment back, but only succeeded in catching the corner; it tore noisily and Hiccup winced. Sometimes he really doubted his ability to lead as chief – his initial thought had been to protest that parchment was expensive, and shouldn’t be wasted. He was grateful for Astrid’s presence – at least she thought to ask about what was actually going on. “Do you mind? We’re trying to make plans here?”

“Plans?” Astrid asked, perplexed. “Where are you going?”

“Trader Johann told us that there were men travelling through the archipelago finding wives, and me and Tuffnut decided we needed a backup plan.”

All the air left Hiccups lungs. Astrid smacked herself in the forehead. They made eye contact, having a silent conversation while Tuffnut punched Snotlout in the shoulder. “You need a backup plan, because Ruffnut is never going to get with you because you’re not even her backup plan. And I have no plan, period, since Astrid and Hiccup are a thing.”

“Hey I had dibs on Astrid way before Hiccup,” Snotlout immediately protested, ignoring Tuffnut’s assertions about Ruffnut. “Me and her had a great thing going on before Hiccup swooped in.”

“Well that’s just not true,” Astrid stated plainly, overridden by Hiccup’s high pitched, “What do you mean I swooped in?”

“With Toothless during dragon training!” Snotlout insisted. “I was even winning dragon training to impress Astrid!”

“I was winning dragon training before Hiccup.” Astrid interjected, her eyes hard.

“I was letting Astrid win dragon training to impress her!” Snotlout continued without missing a beat.

Hiccup looked at Astrid, helpless. All he wanted was a drink and a fire and the ability to explain to Snotlout everything that was wrong with what he’d just said. Behind him, vikings continued merrily with their meals, chattering loudly and huddled together, warm. Hiccup was deeply envious of them.

Astrid sat down and smoothed out the map in front of her. “First of all –” She cut herself off and glanced at Hiccup, raising an eyebrow, and with a heavy sigh, he climbed over the seat and sat down across from them.

Once she was convinced Hiccup wasn’t going to find some convenient excuse to slip away, she nodded at him curtly and picked up again. “First of all, Snotlout, we were never a thing, and that’s not even the most completely wrong thing you’ve said since this conversation has started.”

“Trader Johan wasn’t just telling you about these men, he was warning you,” Hiccup pulled the map across the table, sliding his finger along the known route of the barbarians currently crossing the archipelago. They were at a crossroads, and Hiccup hoped fervently that they turned south. If they kept east they were only two days journey from Berk. “He was warning all of us, actually. They’re not hunting for brides, they’re looting villages for all their valuables, including women. To sell.”

Snotlout and Tuffnut blinked.

“They’re pirates.” Astrid filled in.

“That doesn’t mean it’s...” Snotlout trailed off, quailing at the stern looks Hiccup and Astrid were giving him. Tuffnut sat back in his seat and looked disappointed.

“Pirates.” Astrid repeated bluntly.

“They usually haven’t made the best choices in life,” Hiccup explained gently, the sarcastic edge that he just couldn’t shake creeping into his tone. “Maybe not the best group to be getting ideas from.”

Astrid picked up the scolding after that; Hiccup cringed as he remembered his father cornering him after entertaining Johann for dinner – despite the fact that Hiccup had made several transparent excuses to leave, he’d insisted on asking Hiccup his opinions about how to utilize the dragons for defense and who to send out for scouting.

It was an unwelcome change in their relationship. Within the last year he had started to make hints about retiring, had started to force Hiccup to be more involved in the planning and development of the village, and not just in the way that Hiccup preferred, by providing ideas and inventions.

Hiccup had always done his best, felt most comfortable, by being able to work on his own and then presenting perfected ideas. Being brought out into the public governing of the village rubbed him the wrong way and made him feel defensive.

And that wasn’t even touching the not quite thinly veiled hints that he should maybe arrange a meeting with Astrid’s father.

He tuned back in at the end of Astrid’s lecture; it ended with: “And that’s not even mentioning the fact that any woman who finds herself trapped on a ship with the two of you would throw herself overboard!”

Snotlout and Tuffnut sat, looking slightly shocked at the ferocity of Astrid’s admonishment. Hiccup repressed a tiny smile. Sometimes he suspected she’d make a better chief than he would, though she’d never been anything but completely supportive of him.

Silence reigned for a grand total of ten seconds as Astrid scowled.

Finally, Tuffnut spoke up. He pointed to an abandoned plate next to Hiccup’s elbow. Whatever had been on it was half eaten and discarded, but hadn’t been cleaned up yet. “Are you going to eat that?”

***

Once they finished eating and Astrid’s fingers were no longer tingling with cold, she walked Hiccup over to the forge. Gobber had waved him over and mentioned a few things that needed to be done, and Hiccup had a few projects he wanted to work on overnight anyway.

The rain hadn’t abated, and the wind was fierce and pushed them along the path as they tried to pick around the spots that had disintegrated into sludgy mud and slick cobblestones. Hiccup was distant, already thinking ahead to the work he had to do, and thus Astrid led the way with Toothless bringing up the rear.

At first she didn’t hear Hiccup’s voice through the murmuring of the rain. Well, she did, but she assumed he was talking to himself, because that was what he did when he was working out a problem in his head. Then, he asked more clearly, “Does it bother you?”

“Does what bother me?” she called over her shoulder, not actually looking as she hopped over another puddle.

“Snotlout and Tuffnut are thinking about getting married. Snotlout and Tuffnut have thought about marrying you.”

She shrugged, the low orange light of the forge coming into view. Surging forward, she wondered if she should even bother drying off before she went home to her own chores. “I thought about marrying them too.”

When he didn’t respond she chanced a look back at his face, which looked surprised for about five seconds before he missed the edge of a puddle and slipped. Toothless got to him before she could reach, and then they were breathlessly rushing into the forge.

The Night Fury breathed life back into the smoldering embers in the middle of the room. Astrid shivered as heat washed over her skin and stepped closer to the fire. Hiccup brushed past her to get into the little room where he kept his journals and blueprints, picking up a towel and rubbing it over his head.

“It’s weird to imagine you marrying Tuffnut,” he said conversationally.

Astrid’s eyebrows rose involuntarily. She had thought that he’d either forgotten or moved on. “I mean, I didn’t think about it for very long. I also thought about marrying Snotlout. And Fishlegs. And you. Mostly you,” she admitted.

His face brightened, and Astrid felt a stab of guilt. Her father had told her since she was young that she could choose whoever she made a contract with, but had also warned her that it would be nearly impossible to turn down Stoick the Vast. When she was young Astrid had lived in fear of being forced to marry Hiccup, then had daydreamed somewhat ambitiously of the power she could wield through him.

Now the years had passed and the revolution of Dragon Peace hadn’t just shifted the way their society ran – it shifted how Astrid thought, especially about Hiccup. Now she was daydreaming about marrying Hiccup, and wanted desperately for her father to cooperate.

It wasn’t that Axehaft Hofferson no longer approved – it was that he was tired. Astrid’d had two older brothers once. One had died shortly after his wedding, the other, shortly after a contract with a local girl had been decided but before the marriage itself. She had only fuzzy memories of Mattock – she’d only been five when he died – but Geir had been six years older than herself, and she remembered him as a sometimes playmate, sometimes tormentor, and the first person to hand her an axe.

Astrid was eleven when he’d died, and the resulting grief had been poison to her family.

Astrid herself had become quiet, withdrawing from her peers and focusing her efforts on axe throwing and looking forward to dragon training. Her parents, never passionate lovers but good friends who had bonded on the battlefield, rarely spoke now. Her mother had stopped her father from drinking himself to death and as a result he had faded away, never showing ill-will towards Astrid but not showing much interest in her either. The Great Peace with dragons had been hard for them – they never attended the dragon races, and neither had bonded with any particular beast, though they consented to let them haul wood or help with fishing and scouting as had become commonplace in Berk. Both were still tense around Stormfly, which made her sometimes neurotic dragon anxious and jittery - which made her parents that much more nervous, creating a vicious cycle that was difficult for Astrid to mediate.

The result was that now, as an unmarried adult, Astrid had much more freedom than many of her peers, and she and Hiccup had gotten away with things that others certainly hadn’t. Hiccup had much of the same freedom, with Stoick busy as chief, and Astrid knew the two of them had raised eyebrows in the village more than once.

Astrid shivered again, and this time it had nothing to do with the damp, chilly air. She remembered the scouting trip two weeks ago, when they’d flown south to work on Hiccup’s atlas. Hiccup’d had high hopes of discovering Night Furies to the south, and while the trip had been in vain, They’d spent two nights cozied up in a cave while Toothless and Stormfly tried to bury themselves in the sand and frolicked in the ocean, and on the second night Astrid had carefully counted back the days and they had –

Well, they had taken a chance that they’d only risked twice before. She thought it must make Hiccup as nervous as it made her, because he’d never pressured her for sex – and yet every time just felt right and good and a little scared part of Astrid looked forward to the day when it could be a normal experience for them. For something so new to them, how far they’d come was already astonishing to her. She trusted Hiccup with everything now.

When they’d returned late the second day, Astrid’s parents hadn’t seemed to notice how long she’d been gone. Stoick had assumed that Hiccup had spent the majority of the time at the forge, which was common when he was working on a big project, and while Gobber had given her and Hiccup a very severe look, he had also covered for them and hadn’t corrected Stoick. She suspected that Gobber didn’t mind much what they actually got up to, but that he really didn’t like lying to Stoick.

Colors danced in front of her eyes, and Astrid realized that she’d been staring into the fire. Blinking the glare away from her sight, she turned to find Hiccup frowning as he leafed through a stack of blueprints. “I mean, you had to have thought about it too, right?”

Marriage was a fact of life in the Viking community. She’d known from a young age which men she had to pick from, and she’d had frank discussions with Ruffnut that indicated the other girl had thought the same way as well.

When he didn’t respond, she frowned too. “What are you looking for?”

Finally, he mumbled, “I don’t know, I never really thought about marrying anyone. I always liked you, I always wanted your attention, but I didn’t think about marrying you.”

There was a lot more to that statement – how uncertain Hiccup’s youth had been, whether or not Stoick would actually name him heir, how little faith people’d had in him, and how much he had struggled to find his place as a Viking, which had never come naturally to him.

It was also telling that he had never looked at Ruffnut. She and Tuffnut had been Snotlout’s right and left hand growing up, and had led the chorus of Hiccup the Useless. While Astrid had never been Hiccup’s friend, she also hadn’t been cruel to him. Again, she felt a stab of guilt remembering her father telling her not to join in with her taunting peers – “A boy who’s kicked when he’s young will punish his wife later.”

A statement like that also reflected the fundamental difference between them – Astrid most often focused on the practical, had been aware from a young age that she was going to marry one of the boys in her generation one way or another. Hiccup, always thinking up big ideas, had liked her without any thought of whether or not it was a good idea or could possibly work out.

“…And I had two different designs for it and I can only find the earlier one and I promised my dad I would bring the new one to show him after dinner tonight…”

Belatedly, Astrid realized that Hiccup had not only started talking again, but that he was talking about something completely different. “What’s this now?” she asked, coming up behind him and draping an arm around his shoulder.

He shot her an appreciative glance. “Plans for saddle mounted defenses for the scouting parties.”

“Oh yeah, I’m on patrol tomorrow,” Astrid nodded, resting her chin on his shoulder and looking down at the drawings.

“Well I don’t think it’s going to work if I have to use the materials I have here in the forge –” he gestured around him, at the sea of scrap metal and other materials that littered the room. Gobber and Hiccup were talented, and those talents were in high demand both on Berk and in the surrounding area. Astrid knew that a good portion of Berk’s trade came from their hands. “I need something lighter to work with, or else we can only use the Boulder class dragons, which is useless, because we mostly use the tracker class and strike class for patrols –”

“You always figure something out,” Astrid said encouragingly, because it was true.

“I know but those pirates are only a couple days away, and my dad really wants me to help prepare if we’re raided.” Definite anxiety was creeping into his voice, and Astrid’s hands ran soothingly down his arms.

“Your dad has been preparing for raids before you were born, and these aren’t even dragons. He knows what he’s doing already, he just wants to know that you’re thinking about it too.” There was a world of difference in the relationship between Stoick and Hiccup, but old habits died hard. Too often Hiccup still felt pressure to live up to his father when his father was just trying to prepare his son for his future as Berk’s chief.

And Hiccup really didn’t like presenting inventions or ideas before he’d perfected him – too scared being called useless, Astrid had guessed. People had developed an interest in Hiccup, wanted to know what he was working on or planning, especially when he was seen requesting unusual items from traders, but he could get secretive and protective of his projects. Stoick in particular asking to see was stressful for him.

He didn’t respond, and Astrid ducked to kiss him on the cheek. “You’re fine,” she insisted. “Wait ‘til you see him tonight. He’s just going to be thrilled with the idea, he’s not going to demand you have them all finished tomorrow. Besides,” she nodded at the mess around them. “Gobber will throw a fit if you don’t finish out the current task list before you start something new.”

His arm snaked around her waist, and she allowed the gentle pressure to pull her in front of him, her arms winding around his neck. She kissed the point of his chin, and she felt his hands spasm where they sat on the top of her hips.

Though he’d toweled off, his clothes were still wet and his skin was cold and clammy; no bother, as Astrid was in the same state. She kissed him once, chastely, and then trailed a line down to his jaw, biting a small mark at the corner up by his ear where his hair could mostly cover it. He laughed, ticklish and cheered, and his breath was warm where it ghosted across her skin. She looked up at him with a sunny grin on his face, and felt relief when she saw the worry lines were gone between his eyebrows.

“Ugh, I should go,” she said reluctantly. He momentarily distracted her with a series of kisses that warmed her down to her toes, but the chafing of her still wet leggings against her thighs reminded her that she was going to have to make another trip out in the rain.

“You don’t want to help?” Hiccup asked, and his hands had slipped under the hem of her shirt and rested there, calloused and familiar against her skin.

“I’m on kitchen duty with my mother tonight, I can’t –” he kissed her again, hard and bruising, and somehow his thigh slipped between her legs. When she pulled away, his head dipped as if to chase her lips. “And the last thing you need is Gobber blaming me for shoddy work…” he had developed a habit of teasing Hiccup, asking if he’d been distracted while working. They owed Gobber for the cover story, but it was better not to give him more ammunition.

Hiccup deflated. “Okay. Yes. You’re right.”

Astrid smirked. “I usually am.”

Grudgingly, he released her from the cage of his arms; she twisted around and swiftly kissed him on the cheek. Then, after patting Toothless on the head, she took a deep breath and plunged back outside into the downpour.

***

“And did you get Snaggletooth’s axe sharpened?” Gobber asked, a prosthetic mug attached to the stump of his left hand. “I got his metal teeth to him this morning, but -”

“It’s done,” Hiccup assured him, pushing his stew around his bowl. It was hearty and filling, perfect for the cold weather, but he didn’t have an appetite that evening. He had worked in the forge without a break until Toothless had whined for dinner, and it was then he’d realized how late it had gotten while he hadn’t been paying attention. His father and Gobber had already eaten by the time he’d dragged himself to the Great Hall, and were finishing off great mugs of mead while they watched Hiccup pick at his food.

“What about Mulch’s rigging, did you get that repaired?” Hiccup nodded again. Berk was on high alert, and he’d been working non-stop to make sure everyone’s weapons were in peak condition and that their dragons were outfitted correctly.

Astrid was across the hall from him, a tray of mugs balanced carefully in one hand. She was talking and laughing with the other Vikings, taking away their empty mugs and replacing them with full ones – mead, obviously, and not anything of her own creation, judging by how deeply everyone drank. The warm atmosphere of the hall was helping the tense atmosphere of the village ebb away. It was safe and comfortable in here.

He heard Gobber chuckling, and belatedly realized how pathetic he must have looked. When he tore his eyes away, his father was smiling under his enormous beard, eyes crinkling with humor. “Astrid’s busy tonight, eh?”

Hiccup felt his ears burning. “Kitchen duty tonight, dragon patrol tomorrow night,” he mumbled into a bite of lamb.

Stoick nodded appreciatively. “Volunteered, didn’t she? Stormfly is aptly named.”

He shrugged, despite the words being true. Stormfly did love wet weather, the clouds help disguise her bright coloring from predators, and Astrid had volunteered for patrol. Stormfly was suited to the job, and Astrid was always doing stuff like that anyway – always looking out for the good of Berk overall.

Not to mention she was positively terrifying with her axe if threatened. The threat of pirates to Berk was something she took personally.

His dad was still stroking his beard, a thoughtful look on his face. “Aye, a woman like that –”

“I brought the blueprints you asked for,” Hiccup interrupted, dropping the sheets into the middle of the table. The last thing he needed was another hint about what a model Chief’s wife Astrid would make – especially since his discussion with her this afternoon was still weighing on his mind.

There was no question in his mind that he was devoted to Astrid, and he believed honestly she was to him, but he was in no rush to be married, and didn’t quite understand her matter-of-factness about it. Nor did he understand Snotlout and Tuffnut’s rush to lock down wives of their own.

Stoick’s face lit up. “Excellent! It’s too short notice to outfit the dragon riders now, but we really need to think about for the future.”

Gobber nodded, leaning to look over Stoick’s shoulder. “Hard to consider that the very presence of dragons wouldn’t be enough –”

“Dragons aren’t weapons.” Hiccup stated flatly. He had no problems outfitting the dragons for defense to assist riders, but the dragons couldn’t be considered the weapons themselves. They’d already spent too long laying down their life at the call of the Red Death, and Hiccup wouldn’t do the same.

“Right, right,” His dad waved. “These seem to be using nets and bolas, Hiccup, what happened to the one that shot arrows?”

“Oh yeah.” he sighed. That design. It was a simple barrel that housed several arrows, spitting them all at once using the strength of the dragon’s wings as counterweight for the draw. His dad was excited by the idea, but Hiccup had judged it impractical; way too many variables, requiring the dragon and their rider to be perfectly in synch with the draw of the bow and the risk of the arrows hitting nearby flyers. It had dropped on his list of priorities, and he’d focused on the bola design instead.

“The bola is safer, and better for the strike class dragons. The netting is for boulder class and the larger dragons that can handle the weight. And neither of these weigh the dragon down the same way the barrel that released the arrows would. It’ll help slow invaders down so that we can get to them on the ground.”

Stoick nodded seriously, eyebrows furrowing as he looked at the design in front of him. Hiccup sighed, relieved he was taking them seriously. He glanced up to see Astrid passing through the aisles again, still collecting empty mugs to wash in the kitchen with her mother and others who were on kitchen duty. He made eye contact; she quirked up a corner of her mouth and winked at him. He returned a grimace, then felt his face go hot when he realized Gobber was watching them.

Ever since he’d lied for them, the amount of fun he’d had at the young couple’s expense was almost unbearable. There had been thinly-veiled jokes, innuendo that suggested things that had never occurred to Hiccup, and one very serious inquiry about the safety of their physical relationship (in which Hiccup had learned “But I had Inferno on me the entire time!” was not the correct answer to that particular question). Hiccup had started to suspect it would be less painful to let Stoick knock their heads in and move on.

He looked at his dad, who was humming optimistically. “Uh, dad?”

“Yes son?” Stoick didn’t even look up.

“There is one other thing.”

“What would that be?”

“The cost.”

Gobber sighed. They had discussed this several times at the forge.

“Which is?” Stoick asked quietly.

“Well, Dad, at the rate we’re currently trading, we won’t get all the riders fitted for at least a year. And that’s assuming that it doesn’t grow as more riders grow up and graduate from the academy,” Hiccup explained, trying to keep himself from talking too fast out of nervousness. He knew his dad wouldn’t like what he was about to pitch, but – “If we could increase our profits a little bit –”

“And how do you propose to do that?” Stoick interrupted. “You and Gobber can’t do any more work in that forge, between what Berk needs and what you sell.”

“Dragons, Dad.”

“Hiccup we talked about this.”

“No, Dad just listen! Do you realize that the other tribes have been trying to figure out how to harvest the Zippleback gas? And we’re the only ones that have!” Hiccup, specifically, had been the one to figure it out when he was designing Inferno. It wasn’t just Zippleback gas, either – Astrid frequently traded Stormfly’s spikes, which were strong enough to pierce armor, and the rocks that Gronkles regurgitated were weightier than any cannonball.

“We’ve talked about this Hiccup.” Stoick frowned, glancing over at Gobber and then back down at the designs in front of him. Stoick had a fear of their enemies getting a hold of these items and using them against Berk. Hiccup had faith he can talk them out of it, if it ever came to that.

“I know but,” Hiccup laid a hand on the blueprints and adopted a persuasive tone. “We need to think about our priorities, Dad.”

Stoick was silent. Hiccup chanced a glance at Gobber, who waggled his eyebrows.

“I’ll think about it,” Stoick relented, and, feeling cheered, Hiccup smiled and relaxed back.

It was at these times he felt like he could actually be chief someday. He had a hard time picturing a chief in the world more stubborn than Stoick the Vast, and if he could convince Stoick the Vast that an idea had merit, he could convince anybody.

***

The rain continued well into the next day and carried over into the night as well; Astrid squinted into the dark, trying to make out something, anything. Despite the multiple layers she was wearing – fur lined hood and gloves, thick soled boots, leather lined sleeves and pants - she was soaked completely through. Her hood was drawn tightly forward, as far as the wind would allow, and she could feel the way her braid clung to her shoulders. Where her thighs made contact with Stormfly was warm, but everywhere exposed to the elements felt numb.

Stormfly, on the other hand, was content flying around the island. The cold wasn’t ideal, but she generated heat, and she loved the wet weather. As a result, Astrid had been sent to scout along the eastern half of the island, where forest dominated and where an invasion was unlikely to begin. It was also the longest lap to complete, Luckily, Astrid didn’t mind being suited to a difficult task.

There were no lights on this side of the island, not like the burning columns that were kept lit in Berk’s harbor to guide ships and dragons. With weather like this, not even starlight was visible through the cloud cover. It was hard to tell where the shore started, exactly, especially with the sea so stirred by the storm – the noise was almost deafening.

Astrid flexed her fingers. Her skin was tingling. She was brave, but she also knew it wasn’t safe to stay out here too long. She looped back, thinking to land and get something hot to drink before doing another lap around the island.

She wondered what Hiccup was doing, if he was still up, if he was working tonight or at home, huddled with his father in their little house making plans for battle. They’d had dinner together earlier that night, where he’d chafed her hands between his own, rubbing heat back into them. He’d brought her clean wool socks, freshly mended – “You’ll get more use out of these than I will, no good having a right sock wear out at a different rate from a left one.” – and she was wearing them tucked under her boots. His thoughtfulness made her smile, and it made her feel so silly, because everything they’d done together but wearing his socks felt intimate, and kept him close to her thoughts.

She banked hard, and the hazy orange glow that made up Berk appeared far out in front of her. The distance took her by surprise – unable to see, she had flown further out over the water than she’d originally planned.

There was a small interval where she marveled at the light, feeling fondness for her home, and then she heard the horns and realized that battle had arrived at last. Urging Stormfly on, it felt like a small eternity until she reached the edge of the scrum.

Her dragon belched a flame above everybody’s head, a momentary flash of light to let Astrid assess the situation and had the additional advantage of momentarily blinding those beneath her. There were shouts, though what ones were directed at her she could not tell. She could hear the shrieking of other dragons, but there was no one else in the air with her, and so she guided Stormfly to land.

Axehaft Hofferson still carried the family axe, somewhere out there in the sea of battle, but Astrid had one that had been passed down through her mother’s family, and Hiccup had sharpened it freshly the day before. She passed it from hand to hand as she hopped from the saddle, and then with a two handed grip raised it high above one shoulder and dove into the fray.

Men came at her – a dodge here, a dive here, and she’d taken out two of them at the knee. One stayed down, howling as he clutched his injured leg, but the other rolled around and got back up. Astrid squared her shoulders to face him. He had a short sword, and so Astrid kept her stance close to her body, making sure to block her vulnerable sides. She ducked and swept the axe underneath him, and right when he was going to bring his sword down on top of her head Meathead Fiskersson brought the butt of his own sword down on the invader’s instead.

He didn’t get back up, and Astrid and Meathead nodded at each other before they both turned away, their backs to one another. Three men approaching turned into two as Stormfly dove in and picked one up, dropping him far above Astrid’s head. Just as she steadied herself, readying for attack, Meathead fell backwards into her, and Astrid stumbled forward.

It was the opening they needed; Astrid’s axe thudded into the ground, and Astrid rolled so as to not land on top of it. As she tumbled she pulled the weapon with her; a sharp pain shot from her wrist up her arm as it twisted unnaturally with the handle, but the head of the axe came up in between the legs of one of the approaching men, leaving her with one coming down upon her with a sword.

She twisted, and felt the blade cut through the shoulder of her coat; it nicked skin, but she knew it would be impossible to assess in the heat of battle. It didn’t seem too bad though – she was still numb with cold, and not much warmth seemed to be sinking through. He’d reared back to get a second shot at her, and Astrid kicked out instinctively, aiming for his groin.

The sword came down a second time as he keeled over to grab himself, but she was able to avoid It, scampering to her feet and bringing her axe up to retaliate when a noise rang out over the din that made her blood run cold: it was Stormfly screeching, whether in pain or terror Astrid couldn’t be sure, but she instinctively halted and looked for her dragon.

Her hood had slipped back when she fell; a hand suddenly seized her braid and yanked her head back. In the darkness she caught a glimpse of a snarling face before he struck her across the face with the pommel of his sword.

For a moment, a bright flash of color obscured her vision, and there was a terrible ringing in her ears. Incapable of coherent thought, she was nonetheless gripped by the knowledge that bad this is a bad hit I need to move move move move. Her muscles wouldn’t listen to her thoughts, however, or perhaps her brain was still recovering from the blow and couldn’t order them to move. Either way, her axe was pulled from her limp hands as her neck lolled back.

Rough hands grabbed her, picked her up, and it took several moments before she realized that her feet weren’t on the ground anymore. Once she figured out that she was being carried, she tried half-heartedly to fight, but it was nearly impossible – the man who’d picked was three times her size, and she couldn’t hear her own thoughts through the ringing in her ears.

She was finally gathering her wits when she was handed off to another man – nausea rose as the ground rocked dangerously underneath them, and it suddenly occurred to Astrid that the roaring noise she heard was not in her own head nor the dragons crying out in battle but the sound of the ocean around her. They were putting her in a boat.

“Tie her up,” she heard a gruff voice order, and it was then that Astrid’s legs started to work again. Her knees crumpled beneath her, but the second she felt the first loop of rope around her wrists she twisted – and threw herself right out of the rowboat.

As soon as she hit the water she knew she’d made a mistake. It was cold and dark, and the storm had churned the sea so badly that she was simultaneously dragged down and pulled up as she kicked ineffectually.

She thought of Hiccup, angry and upset while he searched for her, and thought of Stormfly, forever confused about where her rider had disappeared to, and flailed in the darkness. What little breath she’d managed to gasp was running out, and while she kicked hard there was no light to tell her which way she was swimming.

Right when her mouth was forced open in a fruitless search for air, she was suddenly jerked upwards – one of the men had found her hood and was fishing her out of the water. Cold air slapped her in the face, but she’d never before been so grateful for the sensation.

She coughed as they dumped her in the bottom of the boat, still kicking and writhing. One of the men stepped on her shoulder, forcing her arms behind her back as he looped the rope that was still determinedly knotted around one wrist around both of her arms, tying them tight.

“She’s lucky she has fair hair, or else we would have left her,” came a voice from above.

Astrid only got the littlest bit of satisfaction out of throwing up seawater on him.

***

As if the skies themselves had sensed the end of battle, the driving rain had settled down into an irritated drizzle. It remained determinedly gray and overcast, but despite their best efforts the sun was rising anyway and Hiccup was now actually able to see the state of Berk.

It wasn’t pretty, but it wasn’t the worst raid they’d ever endured either. People were rushing around, and every time he turned his head someone else was there, asking him anxiously what to do.

“Can you get a list of everyone whose house is damaged?” Hiccup asked Fishlegs, who was already sputtering percentages about their surplus of wood and what they would need to reserve for winter. When he turned away Hiccup added, “And if you see Astrid, tell her to come find me!”

His father was up at the Great Hall, Spitelout down at the docks, and Gobber over at the forge, each trying to put together how bad the damage had been. The forge had been hit hard, raided for their collection of weapons and scrap metal; Hiccup had been fighting near there and had been surprised to have nearly been gored by a sword of his own making.

Toothless was scavenging the nearby woods, looking for anybody injured and still alive who had crawled out of the battle. He had Snotlout circling on Hookfang, but he wished heartily for Stormfly, who was gentler when picking people up.

He spied Sigr trodding across the field, and flagged her towards him. Though her axe still hung off her belt, the pouch on the other side held bandages and salves and other first aid.

“How many wounded are there?” he asked, already mentally sorting what materials they would have to scout for.

“Ours or theirs?” she returned wryly, picking up the hem of her skirt to wipe down her hands. She tilted her head, inviting him to walk with her, and he followed her across the field, heading towards the great hall where the majority of the injured were being housed.

“How many of theirs were left behind?” he asked, feeling surprised. It would be another chore, figuring out what to do with those that lived and disposing of the dead. They’d always burned dragon carcasses, but he supposed his father, who had lived through many more battles, would know what to do.

“Five are dead, but we’ve found three wounded that are currently being held outside the great hall.” She replied, her eyes tracking the Monstrous Nightmare in the air above them. “Of course, that still depends on what the scouts find. There may be more. The battle stretched across the entire eastern shore of the island.”

“Speaking of which –” he craned back his head, waving to Snotlout. When he flew low, Hiccup cupped his hands around his mouth to shout, “Fly east, and see if Astrid and Stormfly are over there.”

Sigr pulled up and gave Hiccup a curious look. “I’ve seen Stormfly, she’s over by Gothi’s.”

“Stormfly is at Gothi’s?” Hiccup asked in disbelief. His mind raced, putting the pieces together quickly – Gothi helped care for the dragons when they were injured, which meant – “Well, Astrid’s probably up there then. She’ll check in with me, let’s head towards the great hall.”

They picked their way through the debris left from battle – Hiccup paused once to pick up a sword that had been dropped, thinking of melting down the metal – and discussed what to do with the living, the dead, and what supplies they would need. They would probably need to send emissaries to the neighboring islands for some of the less common herbs, and they would definitely need to weave fresh bandages.

The damage wasn’t as bad as it could have been – the invaders were looking to raid and steal, and not necessarily to destroy. Berk only had three casualties so far, though several were critically injured, Sigr had told him, and they’d had to dip into the honey supply because they’d run out of dressings to hold wounds together.

More to trade for, Hiccup thought absently while Sigr talked. And the forge our main source of income…

His father was shouting order as they approached the hall. From within they could hear the hubbub of many voices blended together – some moaning in pain, others soothing in comfort – and that wasn’t even counting the noise that anxious dragons added as they sought out their owners.

“Hiccup!” his father called him over, dropping a heavy hand onto his shoulder. “Have you gotten a chance to search for any more wounded?”

“Toothless and I haven’t flown yet Dad,” He answered, looking up at the dragons who hovered overhead. “But he’s been searching on the ground, and Snotlout is flying over the island. Once I find Astrid I’m going to get her to cover by air too, she can fly Toothless while Stormfly is injured.”

Out of the corner of his eye he watched as Sigr fashioned a sling for Meathead Fisskerson’s arm. While she tended to the injured one, he gestured wildly with the other; Hiccup watched curiously as he determinedly pointed towards Stoick.

Sigr turned her head to look at them as well, and automatically, Hiccup’s feet started to move towards them. It took a second for his father to realize he was leaving, but once he did he followed, his stomping footsteps echoing after HIccup.

“I’m telling you I saw it!” Meathead was insisting, “I was back to back with her!”

“I’m not arguing with you,” Sigr said calmly, her tone the effortlessly gentle lilt of a healer. “I’m just reminding you that we’re still sorting out who is missing, who is injured, and who is dead.”

Hiccup reached them, and Meathead almost jumped up - it was only Sigr’s steady head, clapped firmly on his shoulder, and the stern look on her face that held him still while she tied his bandages.

“What did you see?” Hiccup asked curiously. “Sigr’s right, we are still sorting out where everyone is -”

“The Hofferson girl!” Meathead said emphatically. “She landed right behind me, saved me from an axe to the back, right enough. They felled both of us at the same time. It was dark and she had her hood pulled up in the rain, they didn’t realize she was a girl until they went in for the kill - and once they did they cracked her across the head and slung her up between two of them and hauled her away. She’s been taken to be sold!”

***

It wasn’t the first time she had woken up - she had a few hazy memories of soft, feminine voices, uncontrollable shaking, and warmth surrounding her. That was what she felt now - heat, buffered up against her sides. For a moment, she felt with all surety that she was home, her mother humming softly, chasing away a fever, and Astrid relaxed into the feeling.

Then the truth slammed into her mind, and she stiffened in alarm. Her eyes flew open, and was met with a ceiling made of dark, dingy planks, only about a foot in front of her face. She was sandwiched between two warm bodies, and when she wriggled, trying to look around, they moved back against her.

“...Er,” Her voice seemed caught in her throat, closed up tight. She had a monstrous headache. Even moving her eyes sent little shocks of pain through her forehead.

Then, a face. A plain, pretty face, giving her a grim smile seemingly of relief.

“You’re really awake this time?” It was a statement phrased like a question.

“Where am I?” Astrid asked immediately, trying to shimmy away, alarmed.

The girl shrugged. “About a day away from wherever they picked you up.” She frowned then. “At least, I think it’s been about a day. It’s hard to tell down here.”

“Wha…?” Astrid blinked, trying to get her bearings. She felt awful. Besides the pain in her head, her chest ached and each breath rattled in her chest. When she coughed it made the sharp pain in her head worse, but when she tried to bring up a hand to prod at the sore spot she found her hands had been bound behind her back.

“Where are you from anyway?” The girl continued. “We were trying to figure out which direction we were headed.”

“Berk,” Astrid answered absently, still wracking her brain to put together her scattered memories. She could remember the blow to her head, and fighting someone and - Stormfly! Stormfly had needed her, and Astrid had gone down before she could get to her. She also remembered darkness, and water, and gasping but finding no air.

“Berk?” The girl’s nose wrinkled while she thought about it. “Never heard of it.”

“North,” another voice broken in. “We’re very very far north. We’re within the archipelago.”

Astrid’s head lolled, looking at the other woman pressed up against her side. It was an older woman - at least, older compared to the others packed in around them. Most of them were teeangers, younger than Astrid, but this woman, despite her young looking face, was clearly several years older. She cast a critical eye on Astrid. “You awake now girl? You were talking out of your head there for a bit. What’s a Stormfly?”

“My dragon,” Astrid answered.

“You’re still talking out of your head then. Dragons are stories.” The first girl dismissed from over Astrid’s shoulder. “They don’t give us any first aid supplies, it was all we could do to keep your warm. You were soaking wet and shivering.”

“Jumped in the water,” Astrid answered, sitting up taller as she tugged experimentally at the ropes tying her hands.

“Why ever would you do that?”

Astrid grunted, lifting her rear end off the ground to slide her bound hands underneath her legs. She held her arms up in front of her face and couldn’t help the victorious grin on her face. “So I can do this,” She answered, and twisted her arms.

As she had hoped, the knot, originally tied when it was swollen with water, had dried - and loosened.

“Here,” she said, shrugging off the ropes and reaching for her older neighbor. Unlike Astrid, her arms were tied in the front. As Astrid worked at the knot, she said almost shyly, “My name is Astrid Hofferson. I was taken from the Hooligans of Berk. My chief is Stoick the Vast.”

“Helgi, from Hogshead Island. I’ve heard of Berk and their dragons.”

Astrid cringed. She and Hiccup had been chased away from Hogshead Island doing research for his map. It had happened less than six moons ago, which explained how she’d heard of them.

“I wish I’d been able to see your dragons though,” Helgi continued wistfully. “I would have thought that they’d make short work of these guys.”

“Dragons aren’t weapons,” Astrid parroted Hiccup’s go-to line automatically. “They help us because they love us and are loyal to us and Berk is their home too, but they aren’t the same as an axe in my hand.”

“Can’t hurt,” Helgi muttered. “I’d like to ride a dragon…”

“It’s the best feeling in the world,” Astrid admitted, The rope slipped free, and Helgi shrugged her shoulders, trying to put feeling back into her arms. “How long have you been tied up?”

“Um…” She turned to free her neighbor, as Astrid turned to the ropes binding the first girl who’d spoken to her “We’ve been fed three times since I’ve been brought on board, and I was taken the last raid before yours which means -”

“Johann said they were three days away before our raid,” Astrid filled in. “So maybe as long as a week?”

“Possibly.” Helgi agreed.

“Where are we headed?” Astrid asked, as more girls started to free one another, all sighing in relief and stretching as much as the cramped space would allow. Now that she was able to look around, she could count as many as thirty girls crammed into the small belly of this ship.

“No one seems sure,” was the answer. “I’ve heard everything from the Celts to the Romans.”

“Well they’re not Roman,” Astrid said immediately, more out loud than to anyone else. “They have the wrong accent. But if they’re taking as all the way down to Londinium -”

“We can be traded over and over again until we very well end up in Rome.” Helgi finished knowledgeably, nodding at Astrid’s logic.

“Well I, for one, don’t intend to be traded at all,” Astrid announced, scanning the room for exits. “Do you have someone waiting at home for you?”

Helgi shook her head. “No. I didn’t have many options in my small village. There weren’t many to contract with… Do you?”

Astrid nodded. “I have a boy and a dragon waiting for me, and if I have to, I’m going to steer this boat back to Berk myself.” She looked around at the girls who were still enjoying their newfound freedom from the ropes, all talking excitedly. “Am I the only one from this raid who was taken or…?”

“There was one other girl,” Helgi said, pointing across the sea of girls.

Astrid felt her heart jump into her throat. Could it be Ruffnut? There were only a couple other girls within a year or two of her who she would expect to be out fighting. Hope crept into her heart.

***

Act like a chief.

Hiccup stared at Meatheat as the words he’d spoken sunk into his brain. Beside him, he heard his father mutter, “Oh for Odin’s sake.” Toothless appeared at his side, nudging at his hip curiously. All his muscles were rigid. He couldn’t think, except for -

Don’t panic. Act like a chief. A chief would not panic.

He tried to process his thoughts. Astrid had been taken, to be sold like produce or livestock. Was she okay? Had she been injured? Astrid was the best fighter he knew, it was hard to imagine circumstances that would allow her to be kidnapped, of all people. She’s pretty, he thought distantly, Someone’s going to pay a lot of money for her. He’d never really thought about it, but his father had hinted that he’d need to offer a significant handsal to secure Astrid’s hand in marriage.

All those thoughts went through his head in the space of two heartbeats.

And then it was like he woke up.

He lifted his head - there were people watching him. His father and Toothless with worry, Sigr with concern, Meathead with obvious, naked fear that Hiccup was going to turn on him, and other villagers who had tuned into a commotion by the Great Hall.

A chief takes charge. A chief does not fall apart. Don’t panic.

The sun was not yet out, the skies grey and angry still, and yet everything seemed brighter and crisper. Hiccup saw clearly. He looked around, his eyes searching across the former field of battle, and taking in the injured men and women still littering the area.

There, behind the Great Hall, parked in the mud, sat three men tied together. The three who’d been left injured by the rest of the crew. As many as five were dead, Hiccup vaguely remembered Sigr telling him. He wondered what kind of dent that had made in their crew as he climbed the hillside to where they rested. Eight men was nothing to laugh at.

Inferno was strapped to his leg, and as he pulled it free he heard Toothless warble in alarm. He was still working on the design, and it didn’t always work in wet weather, but somehow the humidity didn’t prevent the spark from catching, and the blade lit up easily.

He heard footsteps behind him; Stoick was following, but didn’t seem to want to stop Hiccup from - something. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do yet except find out where they were heading.

One man looked up fearfully at the flame as Hiccup approached. He’d never considered himself intimidating before, but objectively he could imagine how a combination of Toothless and Inferno might do so for him. Hiccup stood, silent until he dragged his eyes from the sword and met Hiccup’s.

He took a long moment before he spoke. Not to scare him, not to intimidate, not even to give the regal appearance of a chief, no.

He took a long moment before he spoke in order to make sure his voice wouldn’t crack.

“Where is your ship heading?” Hiccup asked, his voice low and gravelly in a way he only heard when Toothless growled.

“We - Uh -” he stuttered in response, shifting so that he could elbow the men tied to his back. Hiccup’s hand twitched, and he heard Toothless snarl, his teeth extended.

“You’re going to tell us,” Hiccup said flatly. “You’re going to tell us where you’re going, where you came from, how big your ship is, and how many men you have.”

It was strange for him, to feel worried for Astrid. Toothless was his trusted companion, the gatekeeper to the amazing life he now led, but Astrid - Astrid was his rock, the one who kept him grounded. Flying was his greatest pleasure, but right now he felt like he was falling. It was scary, to be missing a piece of himself.

It was hard to imagine her being sold as property to anybody - Astrid would fight and kick and bite and scratch and - and that wasn’t reassuring him. Anybody who was in a position to buy a girl probably wouldn’t have any trouble putting down a rowdy one.

“West,” the man finally said, his eyes now tracking Toothless. “We were heading west. Trying to clear the bad weather. Heard there was a tribe of women that way too.”

A beat, and then Hiccup heard his father bark a laugh behind him. “The Bogs? You were going to head towards the Bogs?!”

“Women are profitable at market,” the man defended, but Stoick was still laughing.

“I’d love to see Bertha get ahold of you whelps.”

Hiccup never took his eyes from the man. “How many men?”

“We lost two after the last raid. We were down to twenty one. Our plan was to raid the Bogs, and head home to market to sell stock and replenish our crew. Always willing young men hanging around the docks.”

Hiccup straightened. “Twelve men then.” He turned and faced his father, and it was with total confidence that he found himself saying, “We’ll send the riders. We’ll get Snot and Fishlegs and the twins and head west. It’ll be faster preparing a ship. We’ll get back Astrid and anyone else they took.”

For a moment no one spoke. His dad looked at him, a strange, unreadable expression on his face. Years later, Hiccup would suspect it was a kind of muted pride, but in the heat of the moment Hiccup just felt exasperated with his silence. Clearly time was of the essence, and letting them keep Astrid was unacceptable. The thought of bearing the Chief’s mantle without her behind him - unthinkable.

Then Stoick’s face crinkled into a smile. “You heard the man!” he announced loudly, clapping Hiccup hard on the shoulder. “Get the riders ready!”

“One slight problem!” Gobber landed, Grump exhaling a small flame as Gobber’s weight eased off of him. His prosthetic hand was still outfitted with his warhammer. “No one has seen the twins. Mulch was fighting near them and saw a blonde carried off - I think we’re on a mission to get both Astrid and Ruffnut back -”

“No we’re not!” Everyone turned towards the sound of a voice calling across the field. Ruffnut stood downwind of everybody, her blond braids matted with red and a bolo strung around her waist. “I’m right here.”

Gobber scratched his head. “Then who?”

***

“TUFFNUT?!”

“Yeah, hey Astrid.” he said disinterestedly, determinedly picking at a scab in his ear.

“Sunnava -” She pressed both fists to her temples, trying to quell the headache that was threatening to reemerge with a vengeance. “Why? Why couldn’t it have been the useful twin?”

“Yeah, I miss Ruffnut.” Tuffnut agreed nonchalantly, eyeing carefully whatever it was that he’d just pulled out of his ear.

“I swear to Odin if you eat that -” Astrid threatened, and Tuffnut stopped and looked up at her, his attention captured. He didn’t look particularly beat up. There was a welt across his neck, like someone had tried to strangle him - Astrid could sympathize - and he appeared to be favoring his left arm over his right, but for the most part, he looked unharmed.

Unharmed, and unfazed by the fact that he’d been forcibly removed from his home.

“Tuffnut,” Astrid asked cautiously, “You do realize what’s going on, right?”

“Well, yeah,” he flicked his finger and pointed it at Astrid. “We fought the invaders and they clearly took the most talented warriors for their own, obviously.”

She stared at him. Sometimes she forgot that once in awhile, Tuffnut had a soft side, and he’d just complimented her in his own oblivious way. However…

“Tuffnut, you’re the only boy here.” Astrid explained. “They kidnapped you to sell you.”

“Nu-uh, that guy over there is a guy.” he said easily, pointing out a young girl on the other side of the room. “He’s got short hair.”

“She has her hair tucked into a scarf.” Astrid resolved to be patient. Tuffnut could be trying, but in this particular instance he wasn’t being willfully stupid, and that was a slightly refreshing change. “They took you because they thought you were a girl.”

“WHAT?” Tuffnut sat up, shock evident on his face. He scanned around the room carefully and came to the same conclusion as Astrid - that he was, indeed, the only male in the room and that more than a few of the girls were eyeing him fearfully. He slumped over. “I can’t believe they thought I was a girl,” he murmured, mostly to himself. “Maybe because of my hair? Maybe if I grew it out into some awesome dreadlocks…”

“Tuffnut you’re missing the point.” Astrid pinched the bridge of her nose. “Which is that none of us are getting sold, girl or boy.”

His face lit up. “Yeah? You thinking about knocking some heads together? I’d be down for that.” He eyed her critically. “Normally me and Ruff knock heads together. Or me and Barf. You’ll probably be okay at it. How are we gonna do this?”

Astrid ignored him. She looked out at the group of young women now staring at them. There were maybe twenty of them total - most were her age, marrying age, though some, she noticed with a sick pit in her stomach, looked to be as young as ten or eleven. They were all pale with lack of sunlight, and some were noticeably thinner than others, depending on when they’d been taken.

Some, such as Helgi, had the fierce expression of those who could hold their own in a fight, and Astrid felt encouraged.

“Anyone been out of here?”She asked, “I was still out when they brought me in. Any one with an idea of how this ship looks? The layout?”

For a long moment there was silence, and Astrid felt an ounce of doubt creep into her confidence. They were getting out of here, there was no doubt in her mind, but whether it could be done now so that she could get home relatively quickly was up in the air. If she had to wait until they stopped and she had to fight her way through a ship full of men and then find passage back to Berk who knew how long it would be before she saw home again. She was sure Hiccup and the others were looking for them, but it would be easier to get back to Berk while they were still in the archipelago and she knew how to navigate.

Then, a voice piped up in the back. “Greta. Greta has served as cupbearer.”

Astrid’s eyebrows rose. Normally the wife of the leader would act as cupbearer during meals.

“Greta?” Astrid called out, eyes roaming across the room. “Is this true?”

A girl stood up. Astrid studied her. She was tall for her age, but her face still had that layer of baby fat rounding her cheeks. Astrid guessed she was twelve or thirteen. “Yes miss,” she answered, her voice quiet and sweet.

Astrid stood. She had to stoop with the low ceiling. Slowly, she picked her way across the scattered limbs of the other girls until she was face to face with the younger girl.

“They’ve used you as cupbearer?” She asked quietly, as though every other person in the room wasn’t listening.

“Yes. Captain says I’m not to be sold when we get to market.”

Astrid stared at her. So the captain intended to keep this one. She was still young, but Astrid could see the potential that he must have seen - her hair was paler than Astrid’s, her eyes a piercing golden brown, and her face, while drawn tight with fear and anxiety, was heart-shaped and sweet.

“Has he taken you to bed?” she blurted out, and when Greta flinched away, Astrid softened her tone and tried again: “Have you bled yet?”

“No miss, but before I was taken Mama said it wouldn’t be much longer.” She answered, her voice quiet but confident, her eyes meeting Astrid’s easily. Astrid decided she liked her.

“Do you want to go home to your mother?” Astrid asked, her mind racing with possibilities.

Her little face lit up. “Yes! More than anything.”

“Then,” Astrid reached out and took her hand, clearing a space for them to sit on the ground facing one another. A spell had fallen over the room. No one spoke. “I need you to tell me everything you know about this ship.”

***

The storm had broken, but the air was still chilly and Hiccup pressed himself close to Toothless, looking for both speed and warmth.

They had good cloud cover, which Hiccup found to be in their favor. Any lookouts on the ship wouldn’t see them coming - although there was no guarantee that they wouldn’t hear them, given the way Ruffnut was shouting abuse at a distracted, rider-less Barf.

He hadn’t seen Astrid in two days at this point. They’d flown toward the Bogs, fanning south in case the crew decided to cut their losses and head home to market instead.

Worry and anger took turns gnawing at his stomach, and when they’d had to stop at dark to rest Hiccup hadn’t been able to sleep. Everyone seemed keen to optimistically remind him that Astrid could take care of herself - which was true, and the only thing quieting the dark nasty voice in back of his mind, whispering ugly things to him. Astrid could take care of herself, and was capable of fighting against multiple men larger than herself - when she was healthy and armed, that voice reminded him.

The truth was he didn’t know what state she’d been in when she was hauled away, he didn’t know what conditions she’d been put in, and he didn’t know what she’d look like when he found her - and he would find her, of that he was certain.

In the two days since he’d last seen Astrid, he’d gotten a good look at what his life would be like without her, and he didn’t like it one bit.

There was the physical loneliness, yes - he had never paid attention to just how often she’d grabbed his hand, ran her hands down his arm, nudged his shoulder with hers. All little things she in public to make sure he knew she was always behind him.

And that was the least of the touches he missed - there were sweet kisses, braiding his hair, resting her hand on his thigh - his life was missing a certain intimacy that he’d become accustomed to, that he’d come to crave from her.

Astrid had always been so practical about it - marriage was almost an inevitability on Berk, and they were lucky to both fall in love and be able to marry one another.

But to him - it was so different for Hiccup, who had found himself fantasizing about her, and wishing for her attention for so long; it had shaken him to get it, and then to find that she was different, fallible, instead of the goddess he’d built up in his mind. It had been a shock to realize he was in love with Astrid, actually Astrid, and not merely hypnotized by her legs.

That was when the fear had set in.

Yes, he would marry her, because there was no one else he wanted, but the fact was, he was happy, and getting married would change so much. Both of their duties, for one. At the first sight of settling down Stoick would groom Hiccup even more actively to be chief, and Astrid in the duties of a chief’s wife, and how to help run the village.

Hiccup liked helping, but he also liked being able to travel and explore and invent. He wanted to work on his map, and perfect Inferno, and find more Night Furies before he gave all that up to run Berk.

And all of that fear didn’t even include the new amount of pressure their physical relationship would endure - no point in getting married if they weren’t going to produce an heir, and Hiccup was nowhere near ready for that. He suspected that Astrid, for all of her pragmatism, felt the same.

But just because he wasn’t ready now, wanted to enjoy what was good now, didn’t mean he never wanted it, and he didn’t mean he wanted it with anyone else.

Only Astrid.

And if he had to fly halfway around the world to do it, then that’s what he’d do.

He found it almost strange how calm he acted, how very prepared he felt for battle. Hiccup didn’t like fighting, had felt ever since the Great Peace with dragons that talking, negotiating, could solve anything, but not this time. These men had taken two of their citizens, they’d stolen valuable weapons and materials from forge, damaging Berk’s income. It was effortless for him to give the orders: find them, attack, take no prisoners. It was a confidence he wasn’t used to enjoying.

It was well after midday when Snotlout waved him down; Hiccup sighed, sure he was going to suggest scouting for a place to rest, to let the dragons eat, or even eat themselves, so what came out of Snot’s mouth when he flew close surprised him:

“There’s a ship southwest of here! I’m not sure it’s them though… they’re heading back towards us.”

Hiccup frowned, lifting the front of his mask to look at Snot. “Maybe it’s someone who has run into them?”

He shrugged. “It’s the right flags though. At this rate we’ll meet them in another hour’s flight.”

As they approached, he found that Snotlout was right - it was the correct size, correct flags, but most definitely heading in the wrong direction. He looked around as he descended, and saw Snotlout at his back, Ruffnut closing in from the east and Fishlegs not far behind her. Since the others were not far behind, he drew Inferno from its holster and directed Toothless to aim for the deck.

As he drew close, however, he could tell something was definitely wrong with the scene - the deck was a visible mess, and the workers on it didn’t look right. They looked…. smaller, than the men Hiccup remembered fighting just a couple days before.

They never took a shot at him, even after they had obviously sighted him. He had caused a commotion on deck, with a group crowding at the rails to point at him, but they didn’t appear to be readying defenses, which confused Hiccup and alarmed Toothless, who was tense until they got close enough for them to realize that everybody on deck was a woman.

They gave him space as he landed. Hiccup still had Inferno in his hand, but it was no longer lit, while Toothless’ ears were perked and his smile gummy. The fact that he was so relaxed put Hiccup at ease, though he still remained cautions as he dismounted. None of the girls seemed alarmed, and Hiccup wondered if he had just flown directly into a trap.

“Um,” he said, scratching the back of his head as he looked around.

“Hiccup!” His spine stiffened at the sound of his name, and Hiccup turned and looked down the deck as his heart started to race in his chest. Somewhere behind him he heard an uproar as Snotlout landed on deck next to Toothless but ignored them completely as he took off towards Astrid.

She looked - well she looked beat up. Both of her eyes were black and swollen, and there was a wound by her hairline, scabbed over and popping out of her profile like a large egg. There were mottled bruises on her arms and neck, some fresh and dark, others older, green and yellow, but she was standing of her own volition and the her face was split in a wide, toothy smile.

“You missed the fun part!” she called teasingly as he neared, and he could tell that she was leaning a little too hard on the wheel - it was supporting her as much as she was actually steering, but Hiccup suspected that was exhaustion rather than injury.

“You look like you had fun,” He agreed prudently, hands twitching to reach out to her.

She raised an arm and gestured around her. “This is mine now. Do you like my ship?”

A grin tugged at his face. Astrid could drink him and Snotlout under the table and walk home without stumbling or slurring a single word, but Astrid after a good fight was drunk on adrenaline, with a temperament to match.

“I like your ship,” Hiccup nodded, hands on his hips as he watched the girls converging upon Snotlout and the dragons, now fully convinced of their safety in the middle of the sea.

“I’m calling it The Hiccup,”Astrid said proudly, and when Hiccup raised his eyebrows she added, “That’s what the sailors do! They name their ships after their women!”

“I don’t think it works that way,” He intoned blandly, the smile on his face now broad and silly like hers.

She raised a finger at him, pointing threateningly, “Hey! You don’t get to argue with the captain of the ship! Just ask the last guys who tried.”

“Yeah, where are those guys-MMPH.” He couldn’t even finish the question; she’d grabbed him by the buckles of his flight suit and dragged him closer, pulling him down to kiss her.

He allowed himself to enjoy the kiss for only one second - ten - okay, thirty seconds before he pulled away, lips smacking the taste of blood off of hers. “Are there any men left? Where are they?”

Astrid shrugged. “Some are passed out on wine and locked below decks. The ones who tried to fight are a day’s trip south of here, if they’re still treading water.”

The others were closing in now. Astrid transferred her weight from the wheel to Hiccup, and he slipped an arm around her waist to support her. “We have to get these girls home.”

He cast a critical eye across the deck; judging by how thin and pale some of the girls were, he suspected they’d been on the ship for weeks. They were all enamored with Toothless, who was showing off playfully, twitching his tail and smiling. “I wonder if they’ll let us fly them on the dragons. Do you need to sit down?”

“Never!” She answered, waving an arm impatiently and swaying off balance as she did so. “And we have to get my ship back to Berk. Because this is my ship now.”

He sighed, and tightened his grip. “What do you want to do with the rest of the men?"

“You don’t think we can get a good price for them at market?” she mused, tapping her chin with one outstretched finger thoughtfully.

“Astrid.” He couldn’t help the scolding note creeping into his tone.

“Can we throw them overboard with the rest of their crew?” She asked hopefully.

He blanched, and a shrill, happy giggle tore from her throat.

“Well we’ll keep them all locked together in the bottom like we were, but I want them off my boat. They upset the girls.” Astrid insisted, and Hiccup found himself nodding in agreement.

“We’ll take off and fly ahead back to Berk and get another ship to meet you.” Ruffnut and Fishlegs had landed at this point, and Tuffnut was facing an enthusiastic greeting from his dragon. “Once we meet up with my dad we’ll ask him what to do with the rest of them.

They turned, Astrid still leaning hard against him, and took in the scene before them. The riders were charming the girls, and to Hiccup’s eye none appeared older than 16. They didn’t seem scared of the dragons, who were always greedy for attention. Meatlug had rolled onto her back and was letting them scratch her belly. Snotlout, naturally, had puffed his chest up and was in the midst of making several boastful claims - did he just claim to be next in line for chiefdom I should really shut that down - but the girls were much more focused on Hookfang than him.

Hiccup pictured them tied up in close quarters, lined up in a market to be picked out like a bolt of cloth, and felt a fresh wave of anger wash over him.

“Come on,” he said, using the arm wrapped around her waist to take more of her weight. “We’ll get Fishlegs to steer. The twins and Snotlout can fly ahead back to Berk. I want to make sure everyone is bandaged up properly and inventory the supplies below decks.”

***

It was to her dismay a full two weeks after their arrival back at Berk before she got to be alone with Hiccup again. There had been much to clean up in the aftermath of the raid - girls had to be returned home, and in some cases, safe places had to be found for some who had no home to go back to. More than a few had decided to stay on Berk, and Astrid had taken responsibility for getting them settled and integrated into Berk’s society.

There had also been the matter of the stolen treasures and material on the ships - Stoick had ended up mediating what belonged to who. It was still an ongoing process, but Astrid had been made to understand that the ordeal had come out as a net gain for Berk - which meant that Hiccup and Gobber would be busier than ever.

It was at their little forge that she finally got a chance to be alone with him. As ever, it was dark and pouring rain in Berk, and there was something welcome and inviting about the cramped, warm space . Hiccup was dry, having been there working since his daylight ride with Toothless, and as soon as Astrid burst through the door after dinner he made a tremendous show of taking her sodden cloak and dragging her closer to the hot furnace.

Stormfly had gone off to her covered stall near her house in order to ride out the rain, but Toothless was there, and he raised an ear and wriggled his tail in greeting as Astrid settled, using Hiccups dry cloak as a blanket.

“I brought you food,” she said, gesturing to the canvas bag that he’d practically tossed aside in his haste to attend to her. “When was the last time you ate?”

“I’m not that hungry,” he dismissed, but as soon as he bit into a piece of bread she saw his face change, as if he was surprised by how hungry he actually was, and they chatting amicably while he ate and she warmed up: about what he was working on, about how their new citizens were adjusting, about Stormfly and how clingy she had been since the raid, about her parents and his father.

“He was really worried about you, you know.” He said, tone casual, as he flicked a hunk of potato at Toothless. Instead of eating it, the dragon discovered that batting it around was great fun and immediately knocked over a bench trying to chase it.

“Yeah, he told me,” Astrid replied, working to keep the thrill out of her voice. Early on, right when they had first gotten back to Berk, he’d given her a warmer hug than her own parents, asking if she was alright, how she and Tuffnut had taken over the boat, and if anything untoward had happened with her or any of the other girls, since he was very much in charge of figuring out the fate of the men still on board.

Her own parents had been happy to see her, but Astrid could read in their body language, the way they’d held her at arms length - they had both been resigned to losing their last child, and whatever joy they’d felt at her return had not done much to break through the preemptive grief they’d already put themselves through. Still, her room hadn’t been touched, no funeral preparations made, and so Astrid found herself accepting that it was simply the best her parents could do.

Was it any wonder that she found herself attracted to Hiccup, who only ever seemed in awe of her abilities, who listened to her, who frequently remembered things she didn’t even remember telling him?

She wanted to kiss him then, and so she did, cutting him off in the middle of a sentence. He clearly hadn’t been expecting such an action; he grunted a surprised noise into her mouth and Astrid felt a shiver go down to her toes - she loved drawing such noises from Hiccup. She pushed him back on the bench, his hands coming up to rest on her waist, slipping under her shirt and pushing higher towards her breast. Her mind was racing, counting back but - no. Not a good time. No matter, as there were plenty of other ways to make each other feel good, which is all she wanted at that point.

It was much to her surprise then, to feel Hiccup’s hands at her shoulders, pushing her back. She’d been expecting him to slide his hands down, not up, and he laughed when she pulled away, mouth open and eyebrows up in surprised.

“Hold on, I just need to say his and then we can do anything you want…” he trailed off, thought for a second, and then nodded. “Yeah, anything you want. But - but first -”

She sat back, giving him her full attention, and he took both of her hands in his and held them tight. He liked to do that, she had noticed. It gave him something to anchor himself to, something else to look at while he worked through his thoughts - always so careful with his words, this one.

“Me and Dad talked about you.” A blush started to color his cheeks, and he looked down, not making eye contact with her. “And - I mean - we talked about a lot of things - but one of those things was you - and another one of those things were - well. He told me - I asked, I asked first, just, kind of trying to feel out - we talked about what I would need. Handsal. So I can approach your parents.”

Whatever he’d been about to say, she hadn’t been expecting that. It had always been enough to know that there was no one else Hiccup had ever looked at, understanding that Hiccup had other duties and expectations to live up to without adding the weight of her impatience to his burden.

She blinked at him, pleased beyond words and surprised at this turn of events. While she groped for words, however, Hiccup rushed on:

“I’m not - I’m not asking now, or even - I don’t know when. But I’ve talked to Dad about it and I’m working on a proper, uh, offer.”

She knew what he was really trying to say. The same as any one of his projects or his inventions, he didn’t want everyone to know until it was perfect. And while she could try, she didn’t need sit there and explain that this, right now, trapped with him and his dragon in the comfort of the forge, wrapped up in a cloak that smelled like him to stave off the cold rain outside was the most perfect moment she could imagine.

They’d already had thousands of perfect moments - moonlit flights, dragon races, scouting trips, and even more mundane than that: decorating for Snoggletog, mucking the dragon’s barn stalls, sharing a picnic lunch. She wondered how many more perfect moments they’d share before he decided it was the one he was waiting for.

Then she thought abruptly of Hiccup, two weeks ago, presenting her with a pair of freshly mended socks to help ward off the chill while she was on patrol, and knew that it didn’t matter how long it took. She would wait for him as long as he needed.

“Astrid?” he broke her reverie. Somehow she’d drifted away from him, thinking about socks. There was a tremble to his voice; he thought she was angry with him.

“Ya - Yes. Yes. Good.” she swallowed hard. Outside it was dark as night, and somehow things had never looked brighter. A slow smile unfurled across her face - she could feel it, and judging by the apprehensive look on Hiccup’s face, he could see the shift. “Now, I think you promised me anything I wanted?”

The flush on his face instantly deepened. He scratched the back of his head. “I mean yeah - if you - OW!”

That was as far as he got before she pounced; she tackled him backwards and they tumbled from the workbench they’d been straddling onto the hard floor of the forge, too close to the fire. Her arms locked around his neck, her lips found his, and they remained locked together for several minutes before Astrid straightened, folding up his cloak for him to use as a pillow.

“Was that necessary?” He asked, rubbing his shoulder where he’d hit the floor.

“You love it,” she teased, her fingertips brushing the waistband of his trousers.

“Yeah,” the smile on his face was exasperated, teasing, but genuine nonetheless. “I kind of do.”

#how to train your dragon #hiccup horrendous haddock iii #Astrid Hofferson #hiccup/astrid #hiccstrid #this fic is three years old #lol #my work

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