Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Thunderous battlecries reverberated through the stone walls of the dragon arena, as vikings charged toward the two wrestling dragons. Smoke poured through the crowds, obscuring the sight of the fight. Astrid stood watching, hands helpless by her sides as flashes of fire revealed the silhouette of the monstrous nightmare. The smoke cleared and the snarling dragons were dragged away from each other, gripped by the savage hands of the vikings.

The scene became a blur as vikings and dragons rushed around, screaming and shouting, mixing as one until Astrid felt as though she was standing in a blizzard. Until Hiccup's cry cut through all that, and she had to hold him back from doing something he’d regret, something so typically… Hiccup.

He watched over her shoulder as his best friend was bound and muzzled. The most dangerous dragon in the archipelago, the revered Night Fury, was reduced to a cowering figure. Astrid found herself in front of him, locking him in between her arms and pushing him back, trying to ignore his feeble cries. He reached for Toothless, but his attempts were flimsy. What was the point?

From where she was standing, Astrid had a clear view of the scene. Toothless captured, the chief furious, and Hiccup trying not to weep into her shoulder. She had a clear view of the future too. Toothless was as good as dead. He’ll be killed, stuffed and mounted as a trophy, the new Pride of Berk. Hiccup would probably be exiled, killed even. She might too. The realisation made her stomach drop. Whether she liked it or not last night when she chose not to go to the chief, to keep this secret. She became an accomplice. For what happened today, she was also responsible.

“Put it with the others,” the chief spat.

Astrid glanced over her shoulder at the bars locked in front of Toothless’ snarling face. Her stomach lurched. In her arms, Hiccup had all but gone limp. She tentatively let him go, watching carefully for any signs of fight left in him. But he seemed… resigned. The thought made her blood curdle.

In a swift movement Stoick picked up his son by the scruff of the neck and dragged Hiccup’s scrambling body out of the arena. Astrid stared after them, her feet stuck between running and staying firmly where she was. She shifted.

“Let ‘em go, lass.” Gobber placed his hook in front of her.

Chewing her lip, Astrid looked from the hook to Toothless to the disappearing pair. She could only imagine the grating silence that Hiccup was enduring right now, it was possible that she could help. At least ease the burden. She’d promised.

“He’ll be fine Astrid.” Gobber's tone left no room for discussion.

That was that then. Gobber knew Stoick better than anyone. What he said on the matter went. It seemed Astrid had no choice but to wait. “Fine.”

“Good Lass.” he clapped her on the shoulder with his good hand. “Right-O you lot, everybody out.

The final dregs of vikings who had been milling around the arena, hoping for another glance at the famed Night Fury, reluctantly shuffled toward the exit, but not without a couple of extra glances over their shoulders. With a frown and heavy feet, Astrid followed them.

“Well that was cool.”

Astrid stifled a groan. The last thing she needed right now was the wisdom of these knuckleheads. She cast a withering glare at the group of teens headed towards her.

“Eh,” Ruffnut shrugged. “I would’ve liked to see more action. More mauling.” She punched her hand with a sadistic grin.

Astrid gritted her teeth so tight she thought she might crack a tooth. It was enough action for her, and Hiccup.

“Not you Astrid, you did great bailing Hiccup out like that.” Snotlout sidled up beside Astrid, a greasy smile wiped across his face.

It took every bit of self control Astrid possessed not to punch him then and there. Instead , she gripped her axe, rubbing her thumb across the embedded crystal that always seemed to help her focus.

"Can you imagine the damage I could do if I had a dragon?" Tuffnut fantasised, eyes shining.

"Uhh you mean we could do," Ruff said, smacking his arm.

Tuffnut shook his head." Nuh-uh sister, everybody knows I'm more destructive."

"No, I am."

"I am." Tuffnut got right up in Ruff's face.

"I am"

Arguments over hypotheticals were common for the twins, everyone had learnt to treat them more as background noise than actual people. They rammed their heads together, steel helmets grinding and clanking. Astrid really didn’t know how they could stand it. She rolled her eyes. "Why don't you let him out and see," She scoffed. Her mind was occupied in matters far from the present.

The twins stopped dead.

"Can you imagine the destruction?" Tuffnut asked, rubbing his hands together.

"The unholy offspring of lightning and death itself on Berk? Uh, yeah I can imagine."

"But can we do it, sister, truly?"

The twins paced around each other.

"I see you point dear brother, it would be the most irresponsible thing we've ever done. And yet the best prank we will ever achieve."

Ruff and Tuff suddenly spun to look at Astrid. "We're in," they chorused.

Snotlout stuck his head in front of them. "No way. What are you two mutton heads thinking, she's not serious." He leaned over to Astrid. "You're not serious, right?"

A plan started to unfold itself in Astrid’s mind. Her lips quirked upwards. She might have a chance to get everyone out of this alive. "You know what, Ruff, Tuff, I am serious.”

The twins looked at each other, blond hair swinging.

"This is weird." Ruff squinted.

Tuff nodded. "You think it's a trap?"

They spoke out of the corners of their mouths, never taking their eyes off astrid as if she were a wild boar they were trying not to scare.

In an unusual burst of emotion Fishlegs refused. “You can’t do this, it's too dangerous. Whatever you’re thinking, don't.”

"Yeah, I'm with Fishface on this one," Snotlout agreed. "I mean can you imagine what my dad would do to me if he found out."

"He's not going to find out," Astrid said firmly. She was certain. This was something she had to do. She could help, she had a plan, nothing would happen to Hiccup and Toothless on her watch. “If you’re too much of a coward to do something fun for once, leave now.”

Neither of the boys took a step.

“Good.” Astrid grinned leaning into a group huddle. “This is what we’re going to do.”

____

Crouched behind the great stone chair, Astrid had a clear view of the arena. She watched Gobber pace through the ring, the mace attached to his hand, pausing every so often only to start walking again. Her hands trembled as she gripped her knife that felt too heavy in her hand. It was a coward's weapon. A Hofferson should always face their enemy like a viking. But today, she was a coward. Not that it mattered of course, she had already broken every rule after last night's flight. Honour seemed to be the least important thing right now.

An explosion echoed across the cavernous arena, and in the distance, Astrid saw plumes of smoke rising above the small cabins in the centre of Berk. Screams and yelling carried across the clifftops before receding to a faint sound that faded to the background, equal to the crashing of the waves. Astrid felt a small flash of guilt for instigating the chaos. The twins had promised not to target anyone’s homes, but who knew who would suffer for this. But Hiccup and Toothless would suffer more if she didn’t do this. She shoved her doubts down and slipped toward the arena. Only Gobber stood guard and he was watching the village carefully.

The dagger was evenly weighted and designed for throwing, but that didn’t stop Astrid from struggling to balance it. The target of the back of Gobber’s neck seemed hazy. She couldn;t get a good sight of it. It was too close and too far, her vision seemed to wobble. Between her racing heart, her shaking hands and swimming vision, Astrid wasn’t sure she could hit a legless yak. She gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut. Toothless was in there all alone. Hiccup would be devastated. And a Hofferson kept her promise. Astrid opened her eyes, aimed, and let it fly. The dagger hit its mark, the nape of Gobbers neck, and he crumbled, falling forward with a heavy thunk and the clatter of metal against stone.

Astrid winced but smoothly dropped into the arena where Gobber lay still. Swiftly, Astrid retrieved her knife, sheathed it, and returned to the thick metal doors that contained a crooning Toothless. The rusty metal lever squealed and groaned as the lock pried itself open. In the darkness, Toothless shook and yanked at his chains with renewed vigour, the light of the morning bursting through the arena.

“It’s okay, bud, I’m here to help.” Astrid approached the dragon slowly, palms out. “Do you remember me, Toothless?”
The dragon tossed its head in an almost human manner. The insult was clear.

“Okay,” She chuckled. “Then you know I’ll help.” She yanked at the chains around his body trying to pull them out of the wood. She had to make it look like Toothless had gotten out himself. The chains slipped out of her sweaty hands and she stumbled back. She swore. She'd given herself an impossible task. Unless... She grabbed the piece of wood around Toothless' neck and pulled while the dragon pulled against her. It split open. Toothless slipped underneath the bars and out of the chains, rushing to the comparative safety of the arena. In a stroke of luck, the first one today, the wooden muzzle clicked neatly underneath the wooden platform to give the illusion of the wooden base splitting the hinge.

Warm dry scales pressed themselves underneath Astrid’s chin. She smiled, giving the dragon a quick scratch. “Glad to see you too, Toothless.” She glanced over the horizon and her smile faded. “We have to keep moving.”

Toothless let out a low growl at the reminder. The sound made Astrid’s breath catch.

"Toothless," she started gently, "I need you to make it look like you broke out of here by yourself okay? Aim for the hinges.” Heat rushed past Astrid’s face as each blast hit its target. The precision of a Night Fury was a force to be reckoned with.

The doors flew off their hinges hitting the ground with a ground-shaking clang. Shards of metal split through the air like the spines of a Nadder. She winced. The resounding echo died out and no vikings came running.

"Okay Toothless, get us out of here,” She breathed.

In a smooth motion, Toothless flicked Astrid into the saddle and took off, sending her flailing and grasping for a handle. He bounded out of the arena, eyes trained on the Great Hall. Astrid yanked back on the saddle, heaving him backward.

"Toothless,” She pulled. “Stop.”

A twitch in the ear was the only sign that she had been heard.

Another attempt. “You can't come to get Hiccup with me."

The dragon didn’t miss a step.

She threw all her weight back. “Toothless, please,” she begged, a new rasp in her voice.

He slowed, slinking into the shadows behind the chief’s house.

"Good." Astrid slid off his back. "Listen to me boy.” She gently scratched beneath his chin, looking into his expressive emerald eyes. “I need you to wait in the cove, I’ll bring you HIccup.”

Toothless growled softly, eyes turning to slits with disdain.

“I know, I know,” she consoled. “I don’t like it either, but you draw too much attention.”

Toothless groaned.

“We don’t have a lot of choice.” Astrid threw up her hands.

One soft coo later, Astrid found herself apologising to the dragon. “I’m sorry, but please, for Hiccup, trust me.”

Toothless stared at her, head tilted. Not aggressively, just curiously. Like he wasn't entirely sure why someone who had been just about ready to kill Hiccup yesterday was putting her life on the line for him today. Just when Astrid thought she'd have to give in he lowered his head and ran off disappearing into the forest.

The plaza was completely deserted, thanks to the distraction caused by the twins. The fire had long been put out but the village was entirely occupied in a search for the double menaces. They’d head down to the docks, search every ship. It was their usual hiding place. One time, after they had filled the great hall with boars, they hid on the chief’s ship for three days. It was a terrible idea of course, it made their punishment worse. No one stows away on Stoick the Vast’s chiefly vessel and escapes unscathed. They spent the rest of the week in the stocks and another week shovelling yak dung. That was when they broke their yak tipping record.

With everyone safely out of sight, Astrid began the second phase of her plan. She crossed the square, crouched low, ducking behind the flaming pillars they used during raids. It was a familiar path to her, every morning she snuck back into the village and into her bed after a hard morning training. She moved deftly, weaving through the rows of houses until she saw the familiar stack of planks she called home.

She paused in the doorway, listening for any signs of her parents. “Mum! Dad!” she called. No reply. Her parents should be out helping clean up the mess the twins had caused. She stumbled up the stairs, heart racing, breathing ragged. In her own house, away from the chaos, Astrid questioned her sanity. Fleeing Berk with the most hated person on Berk escape and the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself seemed like her worst idea yet. This was a point of no return. She could lock herself in her room, and stay there. Everything would move on around her and she wouldn’t have any part in it. But she’d already set everything in motion. Whether she liked it or not, the only way out was forward.

“What do we need to survive?” She whispered. Panic swelled in her chest as she heard voices outside. She’d taken on an impossible task. The room seemed to swim before her eyes. One thing at a time, she reminded herself.

Astrid hauled her thickest winter fur from the box at the end of the bed and crammed it into her basket. It wasn’t too big, surely Toothless would manage. She dragged it down the stairs into her waiting kitchen. The cupboards were mostly empty, but she added bread, cheese and a ceramic flask of water to the basket. It wasn’t a lot but with any luck it would last them long enough to find something real to eat.

The house bellowed a moan as Astrid dragged her kit through the door, although she could barely hear it over the chaos that reigned outside. Ruff and Tuff were begging for their lives. Not a single eye was on her. She struggled through the old overgrown tracks that had been long disregarded until she finally found solace in the shadows behind Hiccup’s house. She dragged the basket into the shadows not a moment too soon, as Stoick came Thundering down the Great Staircase.

“Man the boats,” he ordered from beneath a furrowed brow. “We have one last search.” He stormed toward the docks. “And bring the beast.”

Shouts of agreement came from below and the Vikings scattered in all directions to follow orders. Time was running out. She looked up the staircase to the small figure standing dejected at the top of the staircase. This would be so much quicker with Toothless’ help.

-----

The summit of the grand staircase brought a welcome cooling breeze to Astrid’s sweaty skin. She stumbled up the final steps, limbs heavy with exhaustion. “Hiccup,” she rasped. “Get up.”

He was sitting on the platform, head in his hands, his lanky body folding in on itself in an admission of defeat.

“Get up." She ordered.

He half lifted his head. “Not now Astrid,” he groaned. “I can’t.”

“Shut up and come with me.”

Hiccup’s feeble body tumbled down the stairs, stumbling after Astrid’s racing form. “Astrid, what are you doing? I mean what is this, a rescue?” He grabbed her hand and pulled her back, dropping it instantly under her withering glare.

“Hiccup,” Astrid hissed. “Stop being difficult and follow me.” She gripped his wrist with an iron-tight vice and continued navigating the uneven stone steps.
Despite the whining and scratchy protests from Hiccup, Astrid’s grip didn’t falter, and he trailed after her down the stairs. “You know I’ve had enough of being manhandled today,” he groaned.

The pair made good time as they raced toward the chief’s house. Orders were still safely being barked by Stoick, and clamouring continued in the town centre. The sight of Hiccup’s house, undisturbed from where Astrid had left it filled Astrid with relief.

“Oh yeah, great, you’re trying to push me back into my house too. Great, just great.”

In a hurried motion, Astrid covered Hiccup's mouth, pulling him down into the shadows behind his house. She ducked undercover as a group of Vikings clattered past their position, carrying armfuls of weapons from the forge toward the docks. Silence followed. They hadn’t been spotted. She lay in her position for a moment longer before looking down. Beneath her, Hiccup laid under her weight, face red, holding his own breath.

“They’re gone,” she told him, her voice low. “We have to get to the forest, now. We don't have much time left.” She gripped a handle of the basket of supplies she had stashed and looked down at Hiccup who was still spluttering, bright red on the ground.

“Astrid,” he wheezed. “You haven’t explained anything.”

Biting her lip, Astrid relented. “Toothless is waiting for us in the cove,” she confessed. “We have to leave Berk. They don’t know he’s missing yet, but we have to leave now.” Astrid looked at him with pleading eyes.

The defeat drained from Hiccup’s small form. He stood a new energy in his step. “You know you could’ve led with that.”

Astrid rolled her eyes. “Will you just move?”

Even carrying the basket, they moved quickly, the safety of the treeline fast approaching. Astrid looked over her shoulder quickly, checking for movement as they travelled through the open space. The boats were almost fully loaded, it wouldn’t be long before the chief came to collect the dragon.

She pulled Hiccup into the safety of the trees, slowing her pace to match the uneven ground. "I need you to lead us back into the cove."

He took the lead naturally, stepping deftly over tree roots and rocks that Astrid hadn’t even seen. The forest grew darker as light struggled to fight its way through the thick canopy. They strayed from the main path down an invisible path that only existed in Hiccup’s mind. A sickening scrape shuddered through the basket handle. In a jerky movement, Astrid swung the basket into her arms, knees buckling under the effort. Instantly, Hiccup’s hand reached out to stabilise her, pulling her upright with surprising force. She looked down at him, face slightly red… from the exertion of course. He looked at her intensely, searching her face for signs of strain, until she waved him off.

“It’s fine,” she said around the hard leather. “Keep going.”

This seemed to satisfy him because he continued to pick his path down the slope. In truth, Astrid was struggling under the basket. Not the weight as much as the bulk. The admission didn’t make her feel better.

“Why did you bring that anyway?”

Hiccup’s voice provided a welcome distraction from the growing ache in Astrid’s back.

“We’re going to need a couple of things to keep us going until we can establish some sort of home base.”

The answering silence made Astrid’s stomach twist.

They stumbled down the final slope, dry dirt and grass sliding out from beneath their feet. Hiccup rode the wave a lot more competently than Astrid, skidding to a stop just in time to steady her. With a groan of relief, Astrid dropped the basket onto the ground and collapsed on top of it.

“Are you-” he was interrupted by a mass of black bounding over to him. “Hey bud.” Hiccup scratched the cooing Nightfury under his chin, eliciting a satisfied warble. He licked Hiccup enthusiastically. "Yeah Bud," Hiccup laughed, "I was worried about you too." He scratched his head lightly.

Deciding that Hiccup's attention wasn't enough the dragon bounded over to Astrid. She gave him a quick scratch. "I told you I'd bring him back," she said teasingly, though she almost couldn't force the words out.

The horns sounded. The familiar call echoed across every inch of Berk, making even the rock quiver. "They know Toothless is missing." Astrid picked up the discarded basket. “We have to go now, there’s not enough time.” Her hands trembled as she reached for the back of Toothless’ saddle, adrenaline rushing through her veins. She looked back at Hiccup. "This bag has food and water and a blanket,” She couldn’t keep the shake from her voice as she spoke. “And it shouldn't be too hard to find shelter and you've got Toothless and-"

“Astrid," Hiccup interrupted.

The ensuing seconds of silence made Astrid realise how loud her heart was beating. How ragged her breath was. How heavy she felt. Hiccup slid the basket from her hands, his own warm and steady. He looked at her with a certainty Astrid knew she could never match.

“I appreciate all…this, Astrid.” he gestured vaguely to their surroundings. “But you can’t come with me.”

Astrid's stomach dropped. "What do you mean?"

Hiccup shifted. “It’s going to be dangerous out there, and we’ll be pursued.” He dared to meet Astrid’s glare. “You have the choice, you should stay here, where it's safe.”

The comment made Astrid recoil. She clenched her fists. "I'd be keeping us both safe out there."

Hiccup shifted again, closer to her this time. His hands wandered closer to hers. "I know you could. But I have Toothless.” He looked over to the dragon, who, aware of the seriousness of the situation, was watching the exchange seriously. “Having the Unholy Offspring of Lightning and Death Itself as your friend has to get you somewhere right?” He offered her a wry smile that up until now, Astrid had underappreciated. “You Astrid, you’re a Viking, a true Viking.” He closed the gap and held her hand in his. “You’re going to be the Pride of Berk.”

Astrid clutched at the warmth he offered, the tremble in her hand starting to slow. Something in the way he said it made her believe it. Maybe it was the earnest look in his messy green eyes. Or the way his lips curved into a small smile despite all the chaos that was building outside the cove that made her believe he wouldn’t ever lie to her. Or maybe it was the way that he had seemingly unconsciously squeezed her hand a little tighter when he said those words. Whatever it was, Astrid relented.

She nodded, not sure what to say. Somehow he'd reassured her and made her feel worse. Distantly, the sound of Vikings crashing through the forest began, spurring Astrid into action once more. She sucked in a shallow breath and reached for her axe in a sudden movement that made Hiccup flinch. A small smile threatened to arise at that. She peeled back the rough leather grip, revealing a small compartment, neatly hidden at the base of her axe. Inside was a red stone fastened to a leather necklace. A soft smile graced her face and she ran her thumb over it gently. “I keep it for luck,” she explained. “Although after today who knows if it works.” She’d never been particularly superstitious.

Hiccup shook his head, taking a step back. "Astrid."

She took two steps closer, pressing the necklace into his hand. "It's a carnelian, and this is silver. Use it. Just," she hesitated, "don't let anyone buy it for less than it's worth." She set her jaw looking at his own grim expression.

"I promise, Astrid," he swore.

The smooth sincerity sucked the air from her lungs. She swallowed quickly, taking a step back and clearing her throat.
"I told my dad about the nest,” Hiccup admitted, eyes downcast. He seemed to deflate before her eyes. Astrid didn't know what to do but nod.

"I need you to make sure he doesn't," he said firmly.

Astrid frowned, stepping away. "I can't do that. If we take the nest the war is over." Her face begged him to see sense. “Decades of bloodshed would end, you understand that don’t you?” She thought about what he'd told her last night. "You don't have to protect Toothless anymore."

Hiccup rested his hands back on Toothless' head. "I'm not. I'm protecting them. I was thinking about it all last night. You've seen the size of that thing, it's like nothing we've ever seen. They don't stand a chance."

Visions of her flight with Hiccup had plagued her thoughts the night before. The queen had been massive and the sheer number of dragons that swarmed her could burn the whole of Berk to the ground. She wiped her hands down her shirt. "I- Hiccup," her voice wavered. She sighed. "I will."

The sound of undergrowth being trampled echoed into the cove. Tree’s wobbled and trembled dangerously close to their position.

"Time to go." Hiccup looked at Astrid, a thousand unspoken words printed across his face. “Goodbye Astrid.”

"Goodbye Hiccup."

He turned to swing himself into the saddle but Astrid stopped him. She grabbed a handful of his tunic, pulling him in close enough to smell the smoke stuck to his skin. He looked at her, surprise filling his eyes. Swiftly, she pressed a kiss to his parted lips, quick and fleeting. She drew away hesitantly, looking at him from below the trends of her fringe that had moved to hang over her eye.

They stood like that, staring at each other in a charged silence, until the sounds of Spitelout shouting broke them from their stupor. Hiccup swung into the saddle. “You know you’re going to have to try and stop him. The sound of her drawing her axe gave him confirmation. Toothless's tail fin clicked.

"You know you're going to have to shoot at me."

He paused before nodding. He cast her one last look before Toothless shot into the air, launching into the clouds.

Astrid watched him go, wincing under the powerful wind that flattened the short grass. She braced herself against it, flicking her fringe out of her eyes. When they were well out of range she regripped her axe. She took a breath before drawing her arm back and screaming a battle cry. She hurled it with all her might but there was no point other than spectacle. It wouldn't hurt him if it even reached them. Behind her, pebbles tumbled down the clean rock face as rows of vikings burst into the cove. She watched almost in slow motion as Toothless turned and fired and she couldn't help the fear that bubbled inside her at the sight of the purple flame barrelling towards her.

Chapter Text

A blurry world and the smell of singed leather greeted Astrid upon awakening. Murmurs that she couldn't exactly comprehend rattled around her as she propped herself up, her arms hot and singed from the blast.

"Are you okay? Here I'll help you up." Snotlout's irritating voice cut through the fog, snapping her to attention.
Astrid batted him away, her arms a flimsy attempt. "Get off," she slurred. Eyes drooping closed again.

"Alright everyone, move back! Give the lass some space!" Spitelout ordered. "Let her get up in her own time."

It didn't seem like that would be soon. She groaned, bile rising in her throat and heat burning her up from the inside. Despite that, illness seemed to be the least of her worries. Eventually she found her footing, but not before she had the chance to remember every single exact event that led to that flaming ball of purple hurtling toward her. She swayed on her feet, in a very un-Hofferson like fashion and Snotlout gripped her with his hot clammy hands.

"Are you okay?" He asked, a rare vulnerability shining through his strong man facade.

Resisting the urge to tear herself away, Astrid nodded. "I'm fine," she mumbled. Truthfully she felt anything but fine. Sore, exhausted and emotionally drained. Against every instinct, she leaned against Snotlout, using him to keep herself upright as she faced Spitelout.

There were a million questions on the tip of her tongue but something that told her 'Did Hiccup get away safe?' and 'Did anyone see me help him escape?' weren't going to garner her a lot of favours. "Did you find my axe?"

Spitelout let out a hearty laugh. "Not yet lass. But not to worry, someone will bring it back.”

She nodded, her eyes glossing over in a vacant stare and her eyes drooped closed once more. The axe was the least of her concerns now.

"Get her to Gothi," Spitelout ordered, turning back to his operation. Vikings rushed about the cove, collecting weapons, dragon scales and anything Hiccup had left behind. It seemed like everyone was feeling the rush. There hadn’t been a calm moment for anyone since the twins’ explosion.

Snotlout nodded quickly. "Yeah, Dad." He turned to Astrid. "Let's go."

It was a sign of just how absent Astrid was that she allowed herself to be manhandled and led from the cove, by Snotlout's hand on her elbow. It made Astrid’s stomach churn to leave them in there to scrutinise and destroy every piece of the sanctuary that Hiccup had built. Not that she had much choice. Being injured had helped her escape questioning for now, but one foot out of place and Astrid was certain there would be a spot in gaol with her name on it.

She trudged up the slope, her feet sinking into the soft dirt. She felt her legs protest the movement. Every inch of her body ached and shook. It was amazing that she’d lasted this long frankly. After spending the entire night before thinking about Hiccup and his dragon fiasco and the entire day today trying to save Hiccup, she was running purely on adrenaline. In one day Hiccup had managed to turn her entire life upside down. And then he’d abandoned her and left her on Berk, an island that could turn on her in an instant, with no protection and no way to reach him. She gritted her teeth at the thought, squashing down her anger. There were a lot of consequences she had to face now. Alone.

In an attempt to distract herself from the torrent of thoughts, Astrid turned her attention to their surroundings. The familiar trees and well worn path… that wasn’t there. "Snotlout. This isn't the way to Gothi's Hut."

Snotlout looked up, surprise evident on his face. "It's not?"

Astrid rolled her eyes. Of course he didn’t know, she was expecting too much from a total muttonhead. "No. It's not. I'll lead." She steered them back to the correct path. Slumping with visible relief when the track became wider and flatter.

Silence descended upon the pair, but unlike the one Astrid had experienced minutes prior, it was anything but comfortable. Snotlout fiddled with his hammer, avoiding Astrid’s gaze. Not that she particularly wanted to look at him. The way he opened and closed his mouth made it clear that he had something on his mind.

"So..." He frowned as soon as the word was out of his mouth, looking as if he wished he could take it back. But it was out there now. "What happened after... we...you know." He glanced around nervously. "let out the dragon," he whispered.

Astrid stopped dead, mind racing to come up with an explanation. “Nothing,” she replied shortly.

“Nothing?”

This was not the time for Snotlout to become sceptical, Astrid thought, casting her eyes to the heavens. Thor help me, she pleaded. “He disappeared into the forest, lightning quick.” The lie felt clumsy coming out of her mouth and she held her breath as she watched Snotlout consider it, a twisted frown on his face.
“It just took off?”

An unconvincing nod was the only thing Astrid could muster as her blinding headache returned. “I followed it into the forest- from a distance of course- and I found him and Hiccup.”

“Who’d’ve thought the runt had it in him,” Snotlout marvelled. I’d be impressed if he wasn’t going against everything we stood for.

Astrid gave a halfhearted laugh. “Yeah.”

They continued walking in a silence much more comfortable than the last. Over the pounding in her skull, Astrid could hear the breeze in the trees again, the ocean thundering beneath the cliffs and the distant lowing of yaks. It felt good to have Berk back to normal again.

It was short-lived however, as they emerged from the trees. From their vantage point Astrid could see the smouldering remains of the armada, and the fire bells being run. She’d thought the distant smell of smoke had been her. “What happened?”

Snotlout sneered. “Hiccup and that dragon blew up our entire fleet. They were fully loaded for another search for the nest too. Everything’s gone.”

An awful blend of horror and relief mixed in her stomach. Hiccup had asked her to stop them but it seemed he had done his share of setting them back as well. It would take Berk all winter to recover from this. Although, knowing Hiccup he wouldn’t have touched the stock boats. They just had to hope they weren’t raided any time soon. At least until Gobber could get back to work. Work that would go significantly slower without Hiccup.

“When I get my hands on that twig I swear-” Snotlout punched his fist with an explosive movement.

Astrid couldn’t contain her wince. Her knees buckled, and she found herself on the ground for the third time that day. It wasn’t something she wanted to make a habit of but it seemed that her muscles were in disagreement.

All traces of anger dropped from Snotlout’s face as he rushed to Astrid’s side, carefully lifting her onto her feet and offering her an arm that she reluctantly took. They walked quietly the rest of the way, avoiding sudden movements and picking the easiest paths.

The trip through town was the worst part. Apparently word travelled fast, every viking looked at Astrid with a mix of sympathy and concern that made her gut twist. How different they would look at her if they knew that she was the reason that the square was a charred mess, Hiccup had fled, and the fleet was ashes. She felt sweat bead on the back of her neck. Any minute now someone would notice. Someone would reveal what she had been doing. Someone would see a smudge of Hiccup left on her. They didn’t.

Outside Gothi’s hut Astrid stopped looking at Snotlout carefully. They stood together on the narrow path up the mountain, gripping onto each other for dear life. “No one knows I let the Nightfury out.” She told him. “And no one other than you will ever know.”

Recognition began to dawn in his eyes.

“If the others ask, It broke out by itself, and if the chief asks, the twins were dumb enough to set fire to the town all by themselves.”

“Why did you let it out?” Snotlout looked at her, his usual bluff and bluster gone. Only sincere stupidity lay behind his eyes.

It was lucky Astrid had spent so long hating Hiccup. “I saw him and that Nightfury and I hated it,” she told him, her voice raw from exhaustion that she hoped added authenticity. “I couldn’t believe he had actually hit a Nightfury.” She shook her head. “I was furious, and…” even in a lie she wasn’t sure she could bring herself to actually say the words, “I was jealous. That Haddock had won training all while being some…dragon lover.”

Snotlout nodded quickly, his character returning. “I totally get what you mean babe, I was about to do the same thing.”

“I’ll see you later, Snotlout.” Astrid slipped inside Gothi’s hut, maintaining he exaggerated exhaustion until she heard his steps fade. Then she slumped onto the floor, releasing the tension that had been keeping her upright.

_____

It wasn’t until nightfall that Astrid finally felt strong enough to leave the safety of Gothi’s hut. She’d woken a couple of times during the day, peeking through the crack in the door to the sunlight outside. And every time she did the memory of what she had done rushed back and with it a flood of nausea until she rolled over and fell back asleep. Now, under the cover of darkness, what she had done felt less terrible. Her head had stopped spinning and the ache in her body had subsided.

Gothi checked her over carefully, checking everything from her head to her throat to her elbow. What she was hoping to find there Astrid would never know but the old woman seemed satisfied. She slid Astrid a note written in Gobber’s messy scrawl. It was surprising considering Astrid wasn’t even sure he knew how to write.

Theres nothing else she can do fer you. Go home, get some rest and drink plenty of water.

At the bottom of the mountain lay a lot of questions that she wasn’t sure she could answer. Astrid looked at the door hesitantly, but Gothi was already packing up. All her herbs and remedies were packed into pots and stored on neat shelves ready for the next day of work. She couldn’t overstay her welcome.

With a final thank you and assurances that the old woman didn’t need any help cleaning up, Astrid started her journey down the path with trembling legs. Icy wind skimmed her face, pushing to the jagged edge of the path. In the darkness the shadows stretched, long and treacherous in the night, snarling at her. An eerie silence drifted up from Berk. A quiet that transcended the quietness she knew. Nothing like that day. Nothing like when she had been with Hiccup. They’d been quiet but everything was loud. The trees, the animals, her heartbeat. She flushed, grateful for the late moon. Thoughts like that would get her caught. She turned her focus to the ground in front of her. The pebbles that scuffed at her boots, the way the edge of the path dropped off into nothing, they way the dirt danced and waved beneath the inconsistent light. It leapt and receded like the tides, guiding Astrid toward the village. It reminded her of- she cut herself off knowing where the thought would lead. But it was too late. The idea was firmly in her head. Of how the ground had seemed so close yet so far on the back of a dragon.

Time was a funny thing. Astrid was certain she’d only left Gothi’s a moment ago, but she’d been walking for hours. The sky was telling a different story. The truth perhaps. The truth was the moon was rising, and wisps of cloud bathed in the gentle rays. Astrid itched to reach out and touch them. She leaned against the rock face staring up at the sky. The stars that dotted the sky, burning embers in the night. The bright, simple beauty of the moon hanging over everything, the pale clouds dangling down, teasing those stuck on the ground, taunting them with every twirl.

She thought about how they felt nothing like she thought they should. They felt like early morning mist rather than the soft yak wool. How could it have been just yesterday that she'd been up there soaring around in the sky, arms wrapped around Hiccup, wishing she was on the ground, and today she was on the ground wishing she was in the sky with Hiccup long gone and the wind feeling colder than ever. How could it have been yesterday that she'd been certain dragons were evil and today that she'd risked everything to help one.

The nausea returned and Astrid squeezed her eyes shut, ignoring the spinning sensation that overtook her body. She tried to focus on something small but her thoughts were pulled to Hiccup. There was nothing on the island that didn’t involve him. Instead, she focused on her breathing, slow simple breaths.

With her racing heart calmed and the storm in her mind subdued, Astrid continued down the path. She was close to the bottom now. Not much longer and she’d be able to go to bed and try not to dream.

Eventually, the unavoidable happened. Hiccup’s house was once again, right where she left it, standing on that hill, looking down over the village with an enigmatic self importance that Astrid had come to accept. It didn’t even look different in Hiccup’s absence. She surveyed the village. None of it did. Her blood ran hot, coursing straight to her head and she stormed over to the house. She was close when she regained her senses. Close enough to hear the voices arguing inside.

Moving in rhythm with the wind and shadows, Astrid crept toward the house. Curiosity burned inside her, spurring her forward. She started low to the ground, pressing herself to the side of the house, listening intently.

“He’s a traitor Stoick.” A low voice rumbled through the house. “He destroyed our entire armada.” Astrid winced, ducking further into the grass, as something clattered into the wall above her head.

“You think I don't know that?" The chief roared. A charged silence resounded through the house. Astrid tried to imagine the scene. The chief sitting at his table, Spitelout towering over him, a malicious scowl crossing his face.

“He's still my son." His voice had quietened. It sounded almost… sorrowful, Astrid realised with a start. She felt a twinge of guilt.

"And a Thor damned Lousy one at that," Spitelout spat.

Astrid sneered. He knew nothing about Hiccup.

"He's so much like his mother," Stoick said so softly that she had to strain to hear. She sat up a little straighter. No one ever mentioned Hiccup's mother. Ever. A new level of silence radiated from inside. She sighed. The closest she’d gotten to new information and they decided to be tight lipped.

"You have to do something about him, Stoick. You can't let him get away with any of this." Spitelout said. His heavy footsteps echoed through the house, the front door swung open and shut with a bang. She raised herself from her crouch.

"What am I going to do Gobber?"

She froze. So Gobber was in there too.

"I don't know Stoick." Gobber sighed. "D'you think you might've been a bit hard on him."

"Not after what he did. He's not a Viking." Stoick’s voice lost its edge.

"Don't you think that's why he left?"

Astrid tensed, sinking into the ground. It was a dangerous discussion.

"What was I supposed to do Gobber? He chose dragons."

There was a pause. Astrid imagined that Gobber was stroking his braided moustache.

"Exile him. He's not going to come back anyway."

"That's not going to be enough." Stoick’s voice rumbled, barely audible.

"It'll be enough," Gobber assured him. "The people'll understand."

"They’ll be calling for blood."

"It'll be enough. He won't come anywhere near Berk again." Gobber's tone had shifted. More serious. More definite.

He was probably right. Hiccup would probably never come back. Astrid leaned hard against the wooden walls, heart racing. If Stoick was right, someone might go after him. What if they- no, she cut off her own thoughts. They couldn’t catch Hiccup by boat.

___

Despite her drooping eyelids and screaming muscles, sleep didn’t find Astrid that night. Too many unfinished thoughts roamed her thoughts, Hiccup occupying every one of them. Where was he? What was he doing? Was he sleeping on rock in the harsh spray of the ocean while she lay here, buried under a mountain of furs and still not comfortable. Two days was all it had taken, for her entire life and village to change completely. And she needed answers. She slipped out of bed, slowly easing down the stairs. Whispers came from the fireplace, her parents talking in hushed tones. Astrid paused to listen, but the words made it to her out of order and sounding more like the ocean than anything comprehensible. Sometimes that doesn’t matter, sometimes the tone is all you need to know what they’re talking about. This wasn’t one of them. The tides were washing up fragments of speech and thought of pitch and harshness, blending confusion, anger and fear all into one messy tapestry.

With no chance of making it past them, Astrid crept toward the back door. It creaked when it opened but by that stage she would be long gone. She nudged the door ajar, and snuck out. She heard shuffling and footsteps but Astrid was gone. For the third time in two days, she disappeared into the night. The sound of her parents calling her name breaking before it reached her.

The path to the forge was rocky and overgrown. She stumbled on loose rocks and straw tufts of grass that she swore weren’t there in the daylight. Berk was sleeping. A strange sight from the raucous town. It spent all its time either on fire, or with the streets full of drunk vikings. If it were any other circumstance Astrid might actually stop and appreciate the peace. But it was anything but peaceful. Just inside those wooden cabins, families were pacing, and sharpening their weapons, waiting and itching. The forge couldn’t come soon enough.

Even with no fire it seemed to have a glow. Astrid wandered through, avoiding stray metal and swords, wincing with every crunch of charcoal beneath her boot. She’d never actually set foot in the forge. It was off limits. She stumbled through, hand pressed against the wall until she finally reached a tiny door in the centre of everything. One that Gobber probably wouldn’t fit through. She stepped inside. Without the pale moonlight there was nothing she could do but squint into the blackness.

Well this was stupid,” she muttered. But still she couldn’t quite bring her feet to move and her to leave. She stood there for a minute in silence. The absurdity of her predicament driving home how ridiculous of an idea this had been. There’s nothing there to find. She couldn’t find anything in the dark. But the pictures she’d seen during the day beckoned. They whispered to her from the darkness. She reached out, scooping the papers together. Every single thing that Hiccup had made she hoped. She wanted to see it all.

“What are yer doing here lass.”

Astrid gasped, stumbling backwards. A stool connected with the ground in a horrifying thud and she felt herself pressed up against the edge of the desk. A faint glow from a lantern cast a dull light on the wooden floorboards. She glanced up hesitantly. Gobber stood in the doorway, studying her, an unpleasant twist to his lips that she didn’t see often.

“Gobber, I-” She stammered. “I-Just-” She fumbled behind her for a piece of paper, a book, anything that explained her presence. She came up short. Gobber stood unwavering in the hallway. “I came to look for Hiccup's secrets, - His dragon training secrets,” she amended hastily.

Gobber shook his head slowly. “Don’t lie to me Astrid.”

Astrid felt her feet turn to lead and her hands start to tremble. “I wouldn’t lie to you. Now that Hiccups gone I- I thought I might get an edge in Dragon Training.” She leaned back against the desk, eyes wide and pulse racing. There was only one way out of here and Gobber was blocking it.

“Astrid.” Gobber lifted the lantern and she could see him more clearly, She could see the sad sheen in his eyes, and an old, and frankly poorly made, knife tucked into his belt. “I know something else is going on. You two seemed awfully close today.”

Her blood ran cold.

“It almost seemed like you knew exactly what was going to happen.”

A nervous chuckle pried its way from Astrid’s throat.

“And when you chased after him you got there so quick, it was almost like you knew where to look.”

Astrid’s instincts were screaming at her to run, to flee, to deny everything he said. But her feet stayed fixed on the ground, like she was nailed in place.

“That trick you pulled today, with the knife. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” he shifted closer leaning over her with a menacing glare. He lifted his good hand to rub the back of his neck. “You can’t use something against me that I taught you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She lost the fight to keep the tremble out of her voice.
“I saw you.”

With those three little words, Astrid was sunk. “Gobber- I- It’s not- I just.” She searched for any explanation, any way to make what she had done make sense but it was all just as foggy in her head as she tried to explain.

Gobber held up his hook. “Don’t worry lass. I might almost say I'm proud of you.”
In the dim glow of the lantern the lines and shadows on Gobber’s face seemed to grow.
“I don’t… I don't understand.”

Gobber pushed his way into the nook of the forge that had affectionately been left to Hiccup. “He was always adventurous, that boy, and he never was cut out to fight dragons either.” He shook his head. “Always more like his mother than father.”

For the second time that night, Astrid had all but jumped at the mention of Hiccup’s mother. She didn’t even breathe lest it deter Gobber from the subject. She schooled her face into a neutral expression, only to be disappointed by Gobber’s lack of expansion.

“I’d rather he flee Berk with that beast, than stick around for whatever’s in store. Although blowing up our entire armada seems like overkill.”

Astrid shifted, casting her eyes down. It hadn’t taken her long to figure out exactly why he’d done it. She couldn’t say she approved, but she certainly understood.

Gobber regarded her carefully. “You know something about that dont you.” When she didn’t meet his eye he continued. “It’s not like we can catch a Nightfury with ships that size,” he rubbed his chin, “and Hiccup’s not petty. What exactly is he trying to stop, Astrid?”

She could feel his stare burning through her skull but she couldn’t look up from under her bangs for even a second. She managed a shrug. “I don’t know,” she choked out.

“If you know something, Astrid, you need to tell me.”

The force behind his voice weakened Astrid’s resolve but she held strong. Peering up at him, she watched his figure swim in her glassy eyes. “I don’t know why he would do that,” she whispered. “Maybe-” she cleared her throat- “maybe we don’t know Hiccup that well. Maybe he is that petty. Maybe he just hates Berk.”

Gobber shook his head. “I don’t believe you for a second, lass.” They stared at each other for a moment, seemingly locked in a battle of will. Who would break first? Gobber hadn’t said anything he hadn’t wanted to since his twenties, but Astrid wasn’t going to give up the secret either.

“Whatever happened yesterday that made you risk your life for Hiccup, you don't have to tell me. But if you ever want to tell me what happened, what really happened, with none of these tight lipped lies, the forge is always open to you.”

Astrid nodded hesitantly, regarding the man carefully. Gobber was a straightforward man, he asked his questions directly. Tricks and traps and the element of surprise were always more of Hiccup’s thing, but he was clever. She couldn’t be sure this wasn’t one.

“I’m not the only one who noticed either. The other’s’ll ask you about it soon. You were by Hiccup's side in an instant today and were the only one to find him in the forest. Come up with a good reason, one about honour and bloodlust.”

She chewed her lip. It seemed like genuine advice, from a man who knew his own people far too well. She’d doubted that anyone would remember her presence clearly enough for her to be questioned about her actions, but it never hurt to be prepared. She eyed him warily.
Clearing his throat, Gobber changed the subject. “Do you know anything about what he was working on?” He placed the lantern on the desk, casting light onto the pages that had been shrouded in secrets moments before.

With careful hands, Astrid sorted through the pages, most of them, contraptions and designs that she could barely wrap her head around. Weapons of some sort, she assumed. “I don't really understand these things,” she confessed.

He handed her a rough sketch of Toothless. “Do you understand that?”

Astrid had the grace to blush. “Yeah. That one isn’t difficult.”

“It’s a good likeness isn't it?” The man marvelled. “I taught him everything he knows, you know,” he boasted with a trace of his typical humour.

It would have taken a cold man not to smile back at the Viking, a sense of normality returning to the forge. Astrid chuckled. “I’m sure you did, Gobber.”

They continued sorting, a companionable quiet sitting between them. Softly, regarding the works with a sense of awe. Until Gobber broke it once more.

“Beard of Thor,” he gasped. “Is that-”

Astrid peered over his shoulder, trying not to gag at the sudden stench. “A tail fin,” she confirmed, returning to her own search.

“Impossible. He didn’t actually get this to work did he?”

Frowning, Astrid turned her attention back to him. “It’s a tail Gobber, what is the big deal?”

“Lass, this isn’t just a tail, this is a feat of engineering. Adding a foot pedal to a tail to mimic the turns of a real animal, it’s incredible!” He returned to the sketches in awe, piecing together the papers to get the full image.

Watching Gobber oggle the design in awe, Astrid felt a twinge of guilt. The temptation to give him the answers he was so desperate sat on the tip of her tongue. “Gobber…” she started. He looked to her, with big eyes, a ghost of a smile covering his face. That look was enough to do it. “What I tell you stays in the forge right?”

Excitement spread across his face though marred by an uncertainty. “When it comes to Hiccup, it does.”

Astrid bit her cheek, torn between telling him the unfiltered truth, and just what he needed to know. Keeping a true secret from Gobber wasn’t an option. “Hiccup shot down the Night Fury he was talking about before Dragon training.” She watched, as understanding dawned on his face. “He lost his fin. Hiccup made that as a replacement.” She searched his face. “It works.”

A blazing grin burst across Gobber’s face. “That crafty little toothpick’s done it,” He cackled. “First Viking to take to the skies, eh!” The joy died down from his face, sorrow passing over his face.

The words Hiccup had said to her echoed through Astrid’s mind. “Not that he considers himself a viking,” she muttered. More to herself than anything else but Gobber nodded sagely.

“Aye. Likely got his father to thank for that,” he looked down sadly. “They’re every bit as stubborn as each other.”

Unsure of what to say, Astrid continued to peruse the pictures. Seeing him like this rattled her. One of the most impressive warriors on Berk, talking what could be construed as treason, sat strange in her stomach.

Gobber cleared his throat. “Take anything you want,” he told her, “It’s probably better they don’t find all his dragon work in my forge.” He lumbered out the door, leaving her the lantern. “Goodnight Astrid,” he called, his voice weary once more.

“Goodnight Gobber,” she said softly, watching him disappear into the darkness.

When he was finally out of sight, she turned her attention back to the desk, collecting images that looked like tail mechanisms- not that she could really tell which was which- and all dragon sketches. At the sight of a black, leather-bound book, she paused. There were a lot of reasons why a Viking kept some sort of notebook. Some, not many, but some, like Bork, kept a sort of journal. She flicked it open carefully, letting the pages fall open, realising with relief that it was a drawing of Toothless. Smiling, Astrid continued flicking through the book, looking at the pictures and reading captions written by Hiccup. One in particular caught her eye.

‘Note to self: dragons DO NOT like eels.’

Interesting. She flicked through the book searching for more.

‘Dragons are attracted to light’, ‘Dragon nip relaxes them, ‘Certain spots can be scratched to put them to sleep’.

A triumphant grin broke across her face. So that was how he won Dragon Training. Stoick can never find this. She sobered up at that thought, the smile falling from her face. She tucked the drawings inside and snapped the book shut.

Blowing out the lantern and leaving it on the desk, Astrid slunk away home, following the shadows of the moonless night, avoiding the cabins with light peeking under the doors and the pacing footsteps inside. Until she reached her own house, with shuffling and voices. Not like before though. This time she knew exactly what they were saying. She could hear the fury seeping through the walls. Exactly when she would stop destroying her life for this boy she wasn’t sure.

She hesitated at the back door, the journal in her hands feeling like a golden sword. At that moment she made a decision. She tucked the journal and the papers under the steps, deep deep under the steps where the light never touched, where the grass was always slightly damp. She covered it before steeling her nerves and daring to walk through her door.

Chapter Text

The meade hall had never felt so small. Hundreds of vikings crammed themselves into the space with the sole desire of shouting their hatred through sweaty beards and waving damaged weapons. Despite the expansive room, and the clear vacancy of the outskirts of the room, every viking had decided to press themselves into a small circle surrounding the chief and his council. Astrid excused herself to the peace of a pillar close to the door, eyeing her escape route… Not that she’d get far.

“It’s a disgrace!” “He’s a traitor!”

Indistinct cheers met their claims, thundering through the stone Hall, deafening Astrid, despite the distance she’d put between them. It made her stomach churn to hear them echo the sentiments Spitelout had voiced the night before. The same person whose name they’d been chanting one day ago, who they’d been hailing as Berk’s new ‘Dragon Killer’. The irony wasn’t lost on her that they’d turned on him for the same “way with the beasts” that he’d been praised for. It was a small consolation that Hiccup had always known how this would end, she wasn’t so certain.

Stoick cleared his throat, spreading a hush over the crowd. “Hiccup is to be banished from Berk. Murmurs rippled through the hall. “He is stripped of all his rights as heir and is never to return to our archipelago.” His brow wavered almost imperceptibly. “Tomorrow I will sign and document this decision and send it to the other chiefs, informing Hiccup officially.”

Behind Stoick, Gobber looked grim. An unnatural scowl set across his usually cheerful face, enforcing the words of the Chief. If Astrid hadn’t spoken to his just last night she would’ve fallen for it.

The chatter in the crowd only worsened, building to a consensus until one particularly bold individual spoke up. “That’s not enough.”

Astrid fought to keep her composure. It stung to hear Stoick’s fears from the night before come true. More than that, it certainly seemed like enough for a boy who spent his whole life trying to fit in. There was nothing they could do to Hiccup now anyway, he was long gone.

“He’s fifteen,” Gobber dismissed. “He’s not going to be tried as a man. This one’s up to the Chief's discretion.”

“We do not have the resources to track him down. Hiccup will never bother us here again.”

More protests from the crowd.

“A chief protects his own Stoick,” Spitelout goaded. “He tried to kill Astrid.” A triumphant gleam shone in Spitelout’s eyes. He’d been holding onto that card for a while. “You can't allow an attack on your own.”

It was true. As a matter of principle Vikings stuck together. An attack on one was an attack on the whole tribe. Astrid’s gut wrenched. Her eyes darted to the door, adrenaline spiking through her. She met Gobber’s eye. Any hope she had of him magically telling her what to do died. He was completely impassive.

The chorus of agreement dissolved Astrid’s hesitance. Mustering her loudest call, while maintaining a calm, unbothered veneer she countered, “No he didn’t.” Every eye in the hall turned to her and she remembered that she was supposed to be keeping a low profile.“He was riding a Night Fury,” she emphasised, “and they never miss.” She looked around to see if what she said had sunk in. “If he wanted me dead I would be dead.” She paused, hoping that despite their stubbornness even they would recognise the truth in her words. “I don’t understand why we’re standing around talking about Useless anyway,” she forced the nickname from her mouth, trying not to choke on it. “That Runt is long gone, and he’s never coming back. We should be focusing on rebuilding the fleet that he destroyed.” She jutted her chin out. “We can’t be defenceless over winter.” She struggled against the tremble that she felt in her jaw. It waited just below the surface, waiting to become visible.

Approving whispers rummaged through the crowd. The name Hofferson garnered respect. Her family were known for their tactical minds. They turned away from her, unrest still simmering and Astrid hid her shaking hands.

Stoick picked the meeting back up, dividing tasks. The rest of the meeting passed her by until he dismissed the group. “Get to work,” he said with a clap of his hands. “Ruffnut, Tuffnut, stick around.”

The crowd around the twins dissipated, streaming out of the hall in an exposing rush. A couple lingered, eager to see the telling off they would receive. Astrid took the opportunity to slip, unnoticed into the shadows.

Stoick was a good chief, that’s what everyone in the village said. He was level headed and firm. But like all good vikings, he was stubborn, boar headed, and a terrible listener. Something Hiccup had told her multiple times in their short lived interaction. The thought sent a spike through her heart.

The twins scrambled for an explanation, an excuse of feeling upstaged. They barely managed to confess that it hadn’t even been their plan when the chief silenced them by raising his hand. The following quiet was filled only with the sound of Astrid’s racing pulse. If they gave her up, to save their own skins, he’d surely piece it together. She didn’t miss the glance Gobber flicked in her direction at the claim. Another fact that unsettled her. She thought her presence was entirely unnoticed. Suddenly, an overwhelming sense of gratitude that he was on her side washed over her.

Stoick’s brow was firmly knitted together and a twist of disdain lined his face. The twins knew when they were beat. Throwing Astrid under the bus wasn’t worth arguing with the chief, nor the beating they’d get from her.

“You’ll be helping clean up after your little mess,” he told them with a fixed glare. There were rumours about Stoick. That he split a mountain as a child. That the gods blessed him with the power to level forests. Watching Ruffnut and Tuffnut wither under his glare only strengthened the stories.

As far as punishments go, this was tame. The twins clearly agreed, because their shoulders slumped and the spark of mischief returned to the air around them. After they tipped every yak on the island and terrifying them until they wouldn’t produce milk for a whole month, they had to clean every inch of Berk. Including Gobber’s skivvies.

“Under the supervision of Spitelout,” Stoick finished.

The twins sank further down, this time with defeat. Spitelout was a real drill sergeant. They’d spend the next month waking up at the crack of dawn and doing every task the hard way, or as Spitelout referred to it ‘the Viking way’, which actually just meant the hardest, most gruelling way possible. The entire Jorgenson family was truly a delight.

“Get out of my sight,” he barked.

The few stragglers petered out of the hall leaving the chief, his best friend, and Astrid, who was beginning to regret straying so far from the safety of the crowd. She slunk behind a pillar, her desire to leave quietly, and her curiosity at war. The air clenched, thick with the sense of defeat, pushing Astrid back to her hiding place. The chief let out a heavy sigh that almost sounded remorseful. “What am I going to do Gobber?”

He shrugged in lieu of a response. What was there to say? “Rebuild,” he said simply. Like it was the obvious thing. Which of course it was, but it wasn’t that easy.

“How are we going to survive the winter?” Stoick continued his questioning. His face warped into a strangled frown, the lines of his forehead growing with every new frustration.

“We’ve still got most of our livestock.” Gobber’s reason was again calm and unbothered. It was hard to tell if his sympathy for Hiccup was the reason for his lightness or if he was naturally optimistic.

Hiccup would know.
“What if we’re attacked?” The words fell, heavy from Stoick’s mouth. The threat had crossed her mind. When the cart of mangled weapons had been rolled over to the forge, most people had been struck with the same reflexive fear.

The pleasant look faded from Gobber’s face. “Aye, that might be a problem.”

Stoick sat, his arms heavily on the table, eyes scrunched shut like he could ignore the headache into leaving. Astrid’s lips twisted into a wry smile at the image. Like he did to Hiccup. Her smile dropped. Twisted thoughts tangled through her mind. Two separate entities fought for acceptance. Knowing the truth behind Hiccup’s actions and knowing what it had done to Berk. Hiccup’s words and Stoick’s words sounded so similar in reasoning and different in focus. The comparison made her stomach clench and Astrid gripped the pillar, swallowing the urge to heave.

“Reshaping the metal we’ve salvaged is going to be difficult but that’s all we can do until Johan gets here.”

“How long is that going to take?”

Gobber gesticulated wildly in a manner that resembled a shrug. “Without an assistant…” he trailed off. “It could take all winter.”

His words hung in the air. Tension flickered between the men, an exchange of looks taking the place of unsaid words. Guilt devoured her insides, crawling through Astrid’s stomach, reaching for her chest. She knew her role in possibly dooming her village.

“We need to get you a new assistant,” Stoick said finally.

Gobber laughed. “There’s not a lot to choose from out here. You can’t teach the old vikings new tricks and I’m not working with the teens again, they just about did me in during training.” He rubbed his back absently, a slight grin lingering on his face.

Before Hiccup became a Dragon Master seemingly overnight, the teens had brought Gobber to the brink of death. Between Snotlout’s arrogance and the Twin’s penchant for chaos, the six of them always found themselves in life or death situations. A fact the twins were proud of and Astrid loathed.

“What about the Hofferson girl?” Stoick asked, the possibilities not yet dismissed in his mind. “She’s resourceful, and most importantly responsible. She’s not going to run off.”

Again, Astrid saw Gobber’s gaze flick in her direction and she dropped behind the pillar, pressing tight into the shadow. “She’s more of a warrior than a blacksmith.” Pride flickered through her at his judgement.

Stoick shrugged. “A warrior should know his weapon.”

There was a small pause. “I think Astrid’s a good candidate.”

“Good,” Stoick said grimly. “And if she doesn't want to, tell her it’s the Chief’s orders.”

__

Astrid waited until she was sure the Chief had left, and then she waited some more. The village was occupied with their many duties, and Astrid figured she had some time to figure out her next move. She crept from the hall, slipping between the heavy doors, trying not to think about how Hiccup had been sitting here, not even a full day before. Taking a determined breath She turned to face- Gobber! He looked at her with an innocent grin, unable to keep the amusement from his eyes. Despite his size and wooden leg, Gobber always managed to sneak up on people.

“Now Lass,” he started.

“No.”

“Oh come on, you didn’t even know what I was going to ask.”

She shot him a withering look.

His grin didn’t falter. “Okay, you did, I concede that.” He held up his hands in mock surrender.
“But you heard the chief, you don’t have much of a choice.”

He was right. Ignoring an order from the Chief wasn’t an option. It would destroy her reputation and earn her scrutiny she needed to evade. Nonetheless, the proposition didn’t sit well with her. The forge looked up at her, perched on the cliff, facing the distant forest and boldly facing the Haddock House. Answers were stored in its walls she knew. Answers that she had stashed beneath her step for the moment.

Her thoughts were echoed by Gobber. “It’s better for you if you’re with me. No one’ll ask questions about what you’ve been doing that way, we’ll keep you under the radar for a bit.”

Once again, Astrid felt a surge of relief that the man seemed to have an interest in protecting her. Whether it was genuine or not. He hadn’t told Stoick what she’d said, which she hoped was a good sign. Another thing she wished she could ask Hiccup. She eyed him warily, lips pursed in a frown.

“Don’t look at me like that Lass, I’m not too keen to replace Hiccup so soon either.”

Her gaze softened. Guilt taking root in her stomach. Gobber was experiencing a loss too. Even greater than hers. “Fine,” she conceded. A formality, of course, they’d both known the answer from the start. But there was a new twinkle in Gobber’s eye that gave Astrid the distinct feeling she’d been outmanoeuvred.

___

It was an entire week before Astrid dared bring Hiccup’s journal inside. She smuggled it in the house on a break that Gobber wasn’t technically supposed to give her. The entire island was paranoid and every teenager was kept under supervision to ensure no more ‘incidents’ occurred. But Gobber had made a show of repairing a particularly mangled mace that would take all his attention for quite a while and Astrid could take a hint. She’d slipped out of the forge sneaking through the alleyways that had become second nature fast. Her parents were out, they were always out. There was an endless list that needed completing before winter and her parents had made themselves personally responsible for all of it.

The journal had been waiting for her beneath the step, sinking into the grass and slightly damp, as though Jörd herself was reclaiming the forbidden knowledge. She pried it from the grown over roots, carrying it inside to the safety of her bedroom. It stared at her with a plainess that unsettled her. Hiccup’s secrets lived within its pages. The answers he hadn’t had time to give could live within the book. She turned it over, deliberating staying a little longer and cracking the enigma. But the sun was moving fast and Gobber would only be able to cover for her for so long. Reluctantly, she relinquished the journal, stashing it in her wardrobe. She’d spent the week carving a hole into the back. The thick logs used to make her cabin left plenty of space for her to hide the journal, without damaging the outside of the structure. Then she slipped a light piece of wood in front of the wall, pushing it in tight, successfully concealing the secret. She would love to take credit for the ingenuity, but the idea had been all Gobber’s. She’d asked him for a chest with a lock and he snorted right in her face.

“A chest,” he laughed. “You might as well make a sign, ‘Hiding something here’.”

As much as it stung to admit, he had a point and Astrid was grateful for the advice. The forge had quickly become a comfort for her. She could overlook the perpetual odour of sweat and smoke for the safety it gave her. Even if people had started to avoid her because even by viking standards she was starting to smell a bit ripe. Even if she wasn’t allowed near the grindstone, let alone the anvil. Gobber kept her busy and she was glad for the distraction. Sure, the work had cut into her training time, but in truth, she wasn’t exactly sure what she was training for anymore and Gobber was good company. Well, he was company at the very least. Company that didn’t mind her hesitance to talk about Hiccup or dragon killing.

The Forge remained the same as she left it, with Gobber singing loudly while he pounded away at unwavering metal. Astrid returned to the grindstone. The stack of blunt weapons teetered dangerously beside her. At first it had scared her, it took the entire week to get used to the forge. The piles of discarded metal, half finished hilts and leather abandoned on benches. The clutter drove her mad. Gobber insisted this is the way it was supposed to look.

“This is what it looked like before I took a neat freak nine year old on as an apprentice,” He’d said scornfully. “I’ve got a system.”

Still, Astrid saw him cursing the strips that latched onto his peg leg, kicking them away with a scowl. Saw him swipe at the bric-a-brac on his benches until it fell onto the ground with a resounding clatter. When Gobber had his back turned, she made sure to return anything she could reach to its rightful place. But there was only so much she could do. She was no Hiccup. That truth was becoming more and more apparent. She didn’t know what she was doing. She couldn’t fix a hammer, or an axe, she couldn’t even make a bola. She didn’t have the quick witted replies to fill the silences. He tried to hide it, but Astrid saw Gobber’s face fall every time one of his jokes was met with a scoff in lieu of a sarcastic rebuke. They ignored it, of course they did. How could they talk about it? In a cruel twist of fate, not talking about it made her think about it twice as much. When the village was quiet and all distractions were sitting in the forge, Hiccup forced his way into her thoughts.

__

Astrid couldn’t tear her eyes from the brewing storm, the flashes of lightning that darted from the cloud cover before retreating into the dark husk that had swallowed the horizon. With each strike, her thoughts roamed further away, and her imagination betrayed her, conjuring images of a Night Fury slicing through the haze with unearthly precision.

It wasn’t the first time her eyes had played tricks on her. No matter how many times she saw the shadowy figure of Hiccup and Toothless flying back for her it was always an illusion. No amount of wishful thinking was going to change that. Every Viking knew seeing a Night Fury was a once in a lifetime event. Of course that was because if you even so much as saw one you should say your prayers. Somehow she had escaped half of that rule- at least for now- but it was evident that she would never see a Night Fury again.

It didn’t matter what she wanted to see. Hiccup was out there, somewhere, doing just fine. Exactly like he said he would. He had Toothless, he didn’t need her. That’s what he’d told her. Now he was out there. Darting through sea stacks, wind in his hair, flying through the fluffy wisps of cloud she’d gotten to feel for one heavenly moment before she was grounded. The feeling was embedded in her hands, fossilised in her mind. Taunting her every time she looked up at the sky she was suddenly so far from. That she’d never touch again.

The walls descended up on her with a cruel sneer. Suffocating her, pressing down on her until she collapsed in the thick, indoor air. Outside, the village lay still, continuing its slumber, unaffected by the expanse of water that trapped them on the island. That divided them from the unknown.

Choking through the heat, Astrid retrieved her hook- she’d taken it from Gobber’s the last time she thought Hiccup was rescuing her- and climbed from her window. Her shoes scraped lightly against the thick wooden exterior, slowing her descent as she dropped into the night air. The cold, sticky balm that always came with a storm.

Silence roamed the empty streets seizing control of the night. Yet another product of Hiccup’s hasty departure. The alleyways sunk into the darkness, devoid of the usual night owls who wandered home well after the moon rose. The streets echoed his name, haunting her with whispered curses that followed her like fog. Astrid tried to swallow the paranoia that closed her throat.

She followed the familiar path, weaving through the streets, trying to walk past the memories that lurked in the shadows. Her trailing Hiccup through the village, only to lose him in the forge. Them running for their lives into the forest, when she thought she was leaving for good. Now she was stuck indefinitely.

Every corner she rounded, Astrid expected to see him. In the shadows. Waiting for her. Saying he’d made a mistake. Her own thoughts left a vile taste in her mouth. A shame that was becoming too familiar. It was humiliating, to be so dependent on someone who had left her behind. Still… she couldn’t help the way her eyes darted to the sky, tracing the clouds for a sudden sharpness. Embarrassment flooded her, flushing red in anger. Astrid prayed the Valkyries would take her to Valhalla then and there.

It had been a week since he’d left. An entire week. Seven full days and he still pervaded her every thought. Lingering in her mind like the pungent odour of fish that trailed after Ruffnut. She cared. The fact made her gut twist and her pulse race. She cared too much. It wasn’t unbelievable for her to dismiss the feeling as fear. Her own safety relied on the fact that he wouldn’t be caught and wouldn’t rat her out. But there was no point in lying. Somehow he’d endeared himself, him and his stupid dragon. She just cared way too much.

The path to the cove was charged. It all looked so different in the dark. Soft light filtered through the trees, offering her a palely lit path. Around her, creatures that should have been sleeping were chittering and rustling. They remained blissfully unaware of the tension that reigned so close to them. Disappearing into the trees, Astrid felt as though she could breathe again.

Relief turned to anger as she approached the last place she had seen Hiccup. Staring at the opening in the cove, she could almost see them standing there, arguing. She could see her face fall when he told her she was staying. That he wouldn’t bring her with him. That she had to rebuild Berk. Alone. Before he went off and made her job harder by destroying the Armada. A violent cry tore from her lips as she swung a discarded branch at that stupid rock she had waited for him on. Hot tears spilt down her face as her voice became hoarse. Her throat swelled and she choked down ragged breaths. She sank to her knees and her chokes became sobs. He really had left her here. With nothing. Asking her to take care of Berk like that was her job. Like he wasn’t supposed to be chief.
_____

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

Wiping the sweat from her brow, Astrid looked up from the fire she was furiously stoking. Gobber’s face was serious. The question made her nervous, which of her previous crimes had he discovered this time. “Tell you what?”

“About the nest.”

Oh. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or terrified. “I didn’t want anyone to find out about it.”

“Stoick knows.”

Astrid couldn’t meet his eyes. “Oh?”

“Tell me the truth, lass,” he started. “I’ve been thinking about it since he left.” There was a clatter as Gobber presumably put down whatever he was working on. “The fleet. The Armada.”

It was the question Astrid prayed she would never have to answer. There were too many parts, too many things to explain, too much… Hiccupness that she didn’t understand.

“I thought he was trying to stop us coming after him, but on a Night Fury he’d outrun us easily.” Gobber trailed off again, the agonising pause dragging on. “Is that why he did it? To keep us away from the nest?”

Astrid stared at the ground, shying away from his gaze. She could feel the furnace dying again but she was frozen. Her silence was as good as an answer and Gobber knew it too. He hit the workbench with his hammer hand, growling in frustration. She flinched.

“It’s not what you think.” The words tumbled out of her mouth before Astrid could stop them. She finally looked back at Gobber.

“It’s a line I never thought he’d cross,” Gobber scowled. “Picking them over us. The raids could be over. We would have the first winter in centuries without dragon attacks-” he waved his hammer wildly- “and he threw it all away over that dragon.” He slammed his hands on the bench, rage etched on his face.

This kind of anger was uncharacteristic of Gobber, even in the worst situations he was the first to crack a joke. Seeing this much fury directed at Hiccup made Astrid sick. “He thought he was protecting us,” she pleaded. “It’s not the dragons he wants to protect, it's us. There’s a Queen.”

Silence fell once more. Astrid’s words sinking over the scene. The sun had set, the evening gloom had already blanketed the village, vikings had already returned to their houses after a hard day's work. Encouraged by the quiet, Astrid continued. “It’s like a giant beehive. The dragons that attack us are the workers and there’s a queen. If they don’t bring enough food back she eats them.” Astrid hoped that he could hear her sincerity. “Hiccup didn’t think we could win and he knew the chief would go after it.” The strained desperation in her voice surprised her. “That’s why he destroyed the fleet… and the weapons. He’s trying to stop us.”

The sound of the fire filled the air. Astrid's heart pounded. Gobber stood still, observing her.

“Have you seen it.”

Astrid looked up sharply. “I- No.” She stumbled over the words. “Hiccup told me about it.” Her mind raced. The idea of admitting that she’d ridden the dragon seemed impossible. “He had some sort of plan I think.” At least that was true.

She waited. Glancing at Gobber and away while he stood.

Finally he said, “Goodnight Lass.” And turned and walked away.

The creaking door was the only sign that anyone had been there. His abrupt departure left Astrid alone in the darkness. Contemplating. She couldn’t push away her fear. He was going to tell Stoick.

That night Astrid packed a bag. She could hide in the woods- they’d find her in a day. There’s always at least one boat tied around the back of the island. Waiting for whatever shady dealing is happening that week. They’d be able to track her down easily, Hiccup left the fast runners. She couldn’t sail either. Where would she go? The question haunted her. Die on the seas, or be outcast- killed, even. What was the difference?

___

Astrid had been avoiding the others since she’d convinced them to help. Any time they swung by the forge she retreated into the back room, leaving Gobber to help them. He never mentioned it and Astrid was grateful. It wasn’t until the teen curfew was lifted that they became inescapable.

As a morale boost, the chief had announced a feast in the Great Hall. After making certain that Hiccup hadn’t touched the food supply and the yaks were still producing milk, the best way to make vikings forget about the gruelling work was mead and a meal. Those who could be spared spent the week preparing for the event, rushing back and forth decorating and cooking until every last thing was perfect. The forge had spared Astrid such tedium but the other teens hadn’t been so lucky. She caught glimpses of them squabbling as they retrieved decorations from the docks and hauled salted meats from Bucket and Mulch’s farm up the dreaded staircase.

The safety of the forge couldn’t protect her forever though. Her absence would be noticed and vikings were notorious gossips. The last thing she needed was a drunken theory rousing actual suspicion. That was how she found herself sitting at a raucous table surrounded by rosy cheeked vikings. She tried to ignore the chunks of food that sprayed from their mouths as they howled with laughter over the viking girl with the woolly igloo. Eventually, after the polite amount of time, Astrid managed to excuse herself to reload her plate. The night had worn thin and the chicken had been reduced to bone. The fish remained, almost untouched. Reluctantly, she piled them onto her plate trying to turn her brain off. But the question lingered, is this what Hiccup was eating every night?

Withdrawing into a quiet corner of the hall, Astrid turned her focus to the mingling vikings. Every person sported a bright smile and full plate, the events of the past month forgotten. Except the Chief. He sat at his head table, talking amiably, but his shoulders were heavy and shadows passed over his face with flickers of something unreadable. Before she could dwell, Astrid was accosted by twin grins.

“Astrid, Dear Astrid,” Tuffnut greeted

Ruffnut sat herself at the table, braids swinging enthusiastically. “You’ve been hard to catch, you know.” She stared at her with an unwavering smile.

Astrid's eyes flicked to the door.

“Come on A,” Tuffnut drawled. She shot him a glare. “Okay fine, As-trid. We’re meeting up in the cove that Hiccup’s stuff was in to see if they left anything. You should come.”

Pulling her brother’s helmet by the horn, Ruffnut slid into view. “Or we can tell Stoick about your plan.” She smiles around the words, an undeserved smugness on her face.

It’s an empty threat, Astrid knows, but she’s cornered. She can’t stay a recluse forever. “I guess I’ll meet you there.”

Satisfied, Ruffnut released her brother. The pair disappeared into the crowd, but not before Tuffnut called a smug,“See ya, A,” over his shoulder.

Laughter bubbled from a distant table, snapping Astrid from her brooding. The party raged on, showing no signs of stopping. As long as the meade was flowing it would continue into the early hours of the morning. From the corner of her eye, she saw Snotlout slip out the door, unnoticed.

Reluctantly, she left her plate in a cleaning tub and headed for the door.
____

Faint arguing echoed up the path from the cove, echoing against the shrouded trees that used to whisper silence. She stepped into the cove, ignoring the twist in her gut at the sight of them. The twins were sizing up the cove, circling around the others bickering about decorative sharks and bedrooms. Snotlout was playing with a knife, occasionally pitching in his ideas for a clubhouse and the necessity of a big S. Slightly removed but still close by, Fishlegs was sitting on a rock, keenly watching their surroundings, a slight tremor in his hand as he kept a hand on the small shield he’d claimed for himself in dragon training. Resigned to her fate, Astrid skidded down the loose dirt into the cove.

Jumping to their feet, Snotlout and Fishlegs approached. The twins on the other hand continued their circling.

“Nice place you got here Astrid,” Ruffnut commented, framing the steep stone walls with her fingers. “Lotta potential.”

“Hiccup’s not going to need it anymore, right?” Tuffnut was moving rocks from a grassy patch.

The question made Astrid flush.

Fishlegs came forward. “We just want to know what actually happened.” He shot the twins a look. “We haven’t been able to talk to you.”

“Yeah, thanks to you -” Ruffnut glared folding her arms- “Spitelout’s been breathing down our necks while you’ve been tucked away in the forge.”

Snotlout pulled a sour face. “My dad has just been getting you two muttonheads to fix the mess you made. I know Astrid said ‘make a distraction’ but you didn’t have to blow up half the town square.”

So that’s what had happened.

Ruffnut’s grinned and she gave Astrid a playful punch. “You’ve gotta at least tell us what it was like.”

“The unholy offspring of lightning and death itself,” Tuffnut mused.

It was hard not to smile at how reliable the twins were. The first priority was always chaos. How bad could it be to tell them something. They’d already kept one secret. They all had. “Up close… the Night Fury is…” Incredible. Sweet. Adorable. Friendly. Like Hiccup. “Terrifying.”

“I totally could have protected you babe.” Snotlout flexed his biceps, twisting his own shoulder in the process. “Ow.”

Astrid couldn’t contain her snort. “Yeah sure, you versus Hiccup's dragon. I’d love to see the outcome of that.”

The comment brought a harsh silence.

“So it’s true then.” Fishlegs looked apprehensive. “That really was Hiccup’s dragon. Like, it was working for him,” he whispered the last part, leaning in like someone would come take him away for suggesting it.

Astrid mentally recounted the story she’d planned. “As soon as I let the dragon out he went straight to the forest. Hiccup was waiting for the dragon here,” She explained carefully.

“I knew Hiccup was weird.” Snotlout proclaimed triumphantly. “Who’d of thought this whole time he could control dragons.”

“What? No -What?” She glanced at the faces around her. “I’m pretty sure that Hiccup and T- the dragon are just, like, friends, he doesn’t control them.”

Another silence followed.

“You haven’t heard.”

“Heard what,” she struggled to keep the snap out of her voice. She looked at Fishlegs pleading. He looked at the ground, scuffing his toe.

“Everyone’s been talking about it. I guess you haven’t heard in the forge.” He looked pained. “They’re calling Hiccup the dragon whisperer. The way he was getting the dragons to back away or drop down in training, the Night Fury. Everyone thinks that he has a kind of mind control over them.”

Even Ruffnut looked sombre. “They think that he was the cause of the raids, like, the dragons were coming to take him back to their nest. To live as their King or something,” she whispered.

“My Dad said that they almost took him once before.”

Ruffnut rolled her eyes. “He was almost getting taken all the time in raids, he couldn’t stay indoors,” she dismissed.

“No, when he was a baby.”

This caught the group’s attention. They looked expectantly as Snotlout shuffled under the scrutiny.

“I’m not supposed to say anything -I’m not even supposed to know.” He played with his fingers. “When he was a baby, a dragon broke into their house, and it took… it took his mother. Stoick got there just in time to watch her get carried off.”

His mother. Maybe that’s what Gobber had meant.

The group was quiet after this revelation. It sounded like it had some truth. That made her nervous.

Eventually, Fishlegs cleared his throat. “There is one more thing.” He hesitated.

Snotlout pulled him back, gripping his fingers tight around Fishlegs’ arm. “No, no there’s not.”

Fishlegs pulled his arm free with a scowl. “Astrid,” he sighed. “This isn’t easy to say… but we think his mind control might extend to more than just dragons.” He battled against the other teens holding him back. “We think that he might have done it to you.”

She stared at him.

“We know you wanted to save him. No one else does, but you let him out. You would never do that. We think your need to save him was him controlling you.”

The declaration knocked the wind out of her. Now that they had stopped fighting she could see how serious they were. Not even a hint of a smirk touched the twins lips.

Mind control? That’s not possible. She’d know if she was mind controlled. She would know. “What?” was all she could think to say. What did they mean? How could they think that? Her head spun.

“We’re not going to tell anyone,” Snotlout rushedly assured her. “It wasn’t your fault and everyone’s moved on from how he got away.” He scowled. “The focus is now on finding that toothpick and breaking him.” He made a snapping gesture with his hands.

Astrid found herself sinking to the ground, processing his words. When she thought about it again it was impossible. She knew Hiccup didn’t control dragons, Toothless was proof. Unless… No he’d been as shocked as she was to find the nest, Toothless had plunged them both repeatedly into icy waters despite Hiccup's plea, the dragon book told her how he had done those tricks in training. Of course it wasn’t true. She wished it was. It would be so much easier. But then there was Hiccup begging her to take care of Berk.

She didn’t realise how long she’d been sitting in silence, until Ruff spoke.

“Uhhh I think we broke Astrid.”

She finally looked up. “I can’t believe I was mind controlled.” She stood and began pacing around the cove. “So easily. You’d think I’d notice.” She was struck with the irony of Hiccup being accused of mind control when not long ago she’d found out the dragon queen was doing that exact thing. That she was causing the raids.

The others were quick to soothe her.

“No, babe, it could have happened to anyone.” Snotlout held out his hands reassuringly. “No one knew what that traitor was capable of.”

Withdrawing from the group, Astrid rubbed her oncoming headache. “I think we’re done tonight.” Her dismissal broke the tension, and the group found the strength to move again. She headed toward the mouth of the cove, before turning. “Thank you.”

Chapter Text

Winter finally set across Berk, coating the island in layers of snow and sleet that slowed the work days. The Great Hall had been converted into the town centre for the coming months. Bakers and farmers sold their wares inside to the weary and cold. Mostly the days were filled with a quiet that set most on edge. It was the same every year, the rush to secure everything before winter, and then, tedium.

Not that Astrid was complaining, the short days gave her a chance to read Hiccup’s journal. Really read it. She poured over it, every night until she was sure she could recite it from memory. Unfortunately, there was only so far she could get without a dragon to test it on. One morning she’d returned from her run with what she hoped was what Hiccup called ‘Dragon Nip’. Without a dragon she had no way of knowing. That’s how the thought started. Research purposes. Curiosity. She wouldn’t actually do it. The days flicked by and the nights dragged on and the idea wouldn’t go away. She knew where she could test it.

That was how Astrid found herself sliding down her sleet covered roof during a storm with nothing but her furs and a bag of tricks. She knew it was a bad idea. Odin Himself was telling her it was a bad idea. But she needed to satiate her curiosity.

Creeping through the empty backstreets proved difficult in the low light. Clouds smothered the moon's rays allowing only a few streaks to touch the ground. She stumbled through the snow, fighting against the ragged wind and rain. If anyone had forgotten to board up their windows they’d see her silhouette against the dim glow on the ice. She moved quickly. Is this what Hiccup was doing? Battling against the winter on terrain that seemed like it was actively trying to kill him.

The descent into the cold gloom seemed the most welcoming part of the journey. Despite the smell of blood and sweat radiating from gouges in the ancient stone, Astrid felt anticipation rising. She swallowed away her hesitation and pried her way under the gate

Five heavy, reinforced doors waited for her. Which was it? A terrible terror would do her the least damage if anything went terribly wrong. She’d already seen Hiccup trick it back into its cage with only a reflection. But…The satchel of dragon nip and chicken lay heavy at her side. If she was going to do this… no point in going half way. She picked her way across the ring, hand gripped firmly on a small bunch of ‘Dragon Nip’. The lever sat confidently on the wall, taunting her. Her hand hovered a moment, before wrenching it downward with an effort.

The dragon didn’t come out firing. In fact, Astrid wasn’t sure it was going to come out at all. Silence met her grand revelation. Then a quiet squawk. The Nadder thudded out with slow steps, looking around the ring with a tossed head. Astrid stood still, watching. How could she have thought it was mindless?

As if it had heard her thought, the Nadder’s head snapped toward her tail spikes raised flame burning in its throat.

That’s how.

She leapt out of the way of a blast, skidding across the ice eyes trained on the dragon. She dodged the spines with a familiarity that surprised her, regaining her position in the dragon's blind spot. Now or never, she grimaced, thrusting out her hand of Dragon Nip. Immediately the dragon stopped its relentless attack, sniffing at the grass. She brought it closer, finger’s reaching out to touch its scales. It was so close. Astrid Fearless Hofferson. She closed the gap, feeling the cool scales mix with the warmth of the dragon's breath. The dragon seemed pleased, rubbing its nose against the grass. Dragon Nip certainly seemed an apt name.

Astrid found herself petting the dragon in a way that was far too relaxed for the situation. It felt so natural, not much different from petting a yak. The scales were smooth but left her fingers with a strange tingle. The dragon yawned, falling to the ground with an almost contented squawk giving her a chance to really look at it. She had light blue scales, reflecting the light of the moon into its spines that seemed to glow a radiant orange. It didn’t quite make sense to her, but the dragon was… beautiful. Powerful and shimmering, like a low sunrise across Berk. She quickly switched tracks, focusing instead on the piece of chicken that hung at her side.

Hiccup’s book said nothing about chicken. Only eel. She would have brought fish but with the seas frozen over it was hard to get a hold of it. The dragon didn’t seem to care about the smell emanating from her bag but she didn’t want to take it home. Hesitantly she drew it from the bag, studying the changes in the dragon’s position. Narrow pupils and tail spiked, it shook off it’s laziness but still it waited. All its attention was on Astrid, studying her as closely as she was studying it.

It was waiting for permission, she realised. Okay then. She tossed the chicken to the dragon, watching as it snapped it out of the air gracefully and settled back onto its haunches contentedly.

“You really aren’t what I thought you’d be.” She placed her hand on the warm scales of the dragon's snout. “I think I need something to call you.” She looked around half considering possibilities. “I don't suppose you feel strongly about storms,” she scoffed, glancing at the wall of white outside. The dragon tossed its head in a way that was almost preening.

Astrid chuckled. “Alright, what about Stormfly.”

____

The next couple of weeks passed too quickly. Astrid would wake up, train in the forest, work in the forge and visit the dragons. She brought whatever she could get her hands on for the dragons. Dragon nip, rocks and the occasional chicken for Stormfly. In Winter the dragons were kept weak until spring training, when the past students would kill the old dragons and trap a new set. She couldn’t give them much but they started to sound pleased when she would drop new things through the food slot. She would spend the night learning new things about Stormfly and struggling to convince her to go back into the cage at the end of the night. Then Astrid would sneak back home and manage a couple hours of sleep until she started again.

Hiccup’s behaviour was making more and more sense as time went on. The longer she spent with Stormfly, the more she thought about her. About all of them. Locked in the arena. Awaiting slaughter instead of soaring through the misty clouds and remembering what the wind felt like over the sea. What else could Stormfly do? Could she really melt a sea stack in thirty seconds?

“Focus Astrid,” Gobbers sharp command snapped her out of her thoughts.

The sword she’d had on the grindstone was dangerously close to developing a weak patch. “Sorry, Gobber,” she winced, turning the sword.

Gobber stopped hammering his current disfigured hunk of metal to scrutinise her. “What’s wrong with you lately?” He squinted. “You’re worse than usual.”

Astrid couldn’t contain her flush. “I’m not-” she cut the argument off. He was right. Yesterday she’d accidentally set a small patch of her bench on fire. “I’m fine, I’ve just been distracted.”

“Distracted? You’ve been searching for trolls,” Gobber scoffed. “Anyone could see you haven’t been sleeping, so what have you been doing?” He glanced at the door. “Is this about Hiccup? I’m always here to listen, Astrid.”

The concern in his voice almost had her spilling everything. Every single half truth she’d told him was on the tip of her tongue. Telling him about Hiccup was one thing, but if she admitted that she had also been sympathising… Gobber had always been a wildcard. To everyone. The one thing she knew for certain was he had loved Hiccup. She was no replacement.

“I just hope he’s surviving the winter.”

“He is.” Gobber nodded knowingly. “Those beasts are made for survival. Hiccup’s going to be just fine.”

____

Astrid was in the arena when it happened. The first raid of winter. Dragons rarely came out in the winter, but when they did it was with full force. She’d been settling Stormfly when she became agitated, standing taught, head cocked, spines raised. An uncanny silence ripped across the island and the wind stood still. The first streak of flame burst through the dark lighting the square. The horn sounded. All hell broke loose. The sound of vikings piling into the street armed to the teeth, clanking through the streets met with the vicious roar of assaulting dragons.

Her adrenaline spiked, she needed to be out there. She turned for the door, already planning her route when Stormfly squawked. She stopped. In the chaos she might actually have a chance of releasing these dragons. If Fishlegs was telling the truth, and everyone thought Hiccup was causing the raids…there was no harm in a couple more dragons being released. Right? Except she’d be releasing more dragons on Berk. Ones who might hold a grudge. The dilemma froze her. Every second she stood still she could hear herself being scolded. Fire patrol was still her primary job. Without her the team would be in disarray. But every time she tried to step toward the door she saw Stormfly trapped in a dark cage, scales dim, spines fragile. She paced back and forth, paralysed with indecision.

Stormfly must have noticed her erratic behaviour because she shook off the tension and padded over to Astrid’s torn body, resting her nose against Astrid's shoulder. That solved it. They were breaking out. She tore open the gates, allowing the dragons to stomp out. The monstrous nightmare stood with narrowed eyes, the smell of gel and smoke already coating it.

“Stormfly, break us out.” She swung herself onto the nadder’s back, shrinking herself down away from the blasts. The gates resisted but eventually crumbled under the pressure of four dragons bearing down on it. Stormfly took off, launching into the sky while Astrid grabbed desperately at her horns shrinking against her neck. Wind soared through her hair, brushing the heat and panic off her skin. For a moment she forgot herself, taking great breaths of air, icy and cold that she never thought she’d have again. Even the peaks of Gothi’s summit didn’t compare to the rush of the sky. Below them, another fire broke out. She pulled Stormfly down, guiding her horns to the ground.

“You’re free now, Stormfly but you have to put me down. I have a job to do.”

The nadder tossed her hands off once before relenting, descending to the dark corner of the forest. Astrid fell to the ground, swaying on the uneven roots.

“Thank you Stormfly.” She pressed her face against the dragon’s nose. “You have been incredible.” She looked up at the dragon, eyes glistening. “But you have to go,” she choked out the words. “You need to be free.” The lump in her throat shouldn’t’ve come as a surprise but it did. Hot tears trickled down her cheeks and she released the dragon. “Go.” She waved her hands. “Go!” Her cry was hoarse and insincere but Stormfly obeyed, disappearing into the night.

Astrid stared into the empty sky, wiping tears from her face. Collecting herself, Astrid started back to Berk. She’d left her axe at home all she had was a useless satchel hanging from her side, thankfully emptied of rocks and dragon nip. Berk blazed. Rows of houses were smothered in flame and smoke. Vikings gathered trying to put them out. Bolas flew through the sky, wrapping themselves around tails and wings, or missing the mark completely and soaring into the ocean. Axes and spears sliced through the chaos, spilling blood and diverting blows. The forge was blowing smoke overtime as piles upon piles of weapons stacked themselves out from. The ones that Astrid and Gobber had only just recovered from the armada. Between the flame and the forge Astrid was torn. Hiccup was supposed to stay in the forge and help Gobber. Astrid was supposed to be on fire patrol. Now what?

The forge was closer.

She slipped inside, dropping her satchel by the door and tying an apron.

“Astrid where have you been,” Gobber looked up from the sword he was reshaping.

“Sorry, Sorry,” She muttered, avoiding eye contact. .

“I swear you’re worse than-” he cut himself off, tossing her an axe. “Sharpen.”

The grindstone sparked to life, glowing hot beneath Astrid’s hands. She listened keenly. Battle cries continued though considerably weaker and the dragons showed no signs of stopping. Gronkle lava dripped slowly from a slanted roof onto the garden below and each hit resounded louder than the last. She moved onto the next axe, watching as the twins walked past the window, fighting over one bucket, then as Snotlout followed, stumbling along with two buckets and trying to pull the twins into line.

“Get out there Astrid,” Gobber said. “I’ll hold down the fort.” He took the axe from her. “If you see the chief tell him I’ll be out there soon.”

Astrid didn’t need to be told twice, she tore off the apron and headed into the thick of it, grabbing a bucket from Snotlout and throwing it onto the fire.

“Let’s move, people come on,” she yelled. “Ruff, Tuff put down the bucket and start moving the wounded. Check for kids.”

They dropped the bucket, quickly splitting into the crowd.

“Snot, you take the west side of the village, Fish, east, i'll stay here.” Another blast exploded behind them, lighting their sweaty faces in an angry glow. “Go.”

They scrambled off to their respective zones, too busy to argue. Astrid headed back to refuel. She hauled bucket after bucket, barely making a dent in the spreading flame. There was a particularly vicious Nightmare that seemed intent on undoing all her hard work. She watched it cross building after building, dripping gel, peering through windows with a nasty glare. It was only when it stopped that Astrid realised it was hunting. Illuminated by the fire Astrid could see three pale faces shining with fear. One girl jaw gritted looking up bravely at the nightmare, with two smaller boys tucked under her arms. She looked it dead in the eye, challenging it. The nightmare inhaled threatening tendrils. Astrid was halfway across the square before it could finish that action. She threw a bucket, hitting it square in the jaw, charging toward its menacing face. As long as it was no longer looking at the children. She swung the other bucket with a familiar warcry that settled her nerves. Just like training. She swung violently, gathering momentum, for another hit. It dodged easily, sweeping her off her feet, she rolled regaining her balance, until it lifted a massive claw, trapping her underneath. This is not how a Hofferson dies. This is not how Astrid Hofferson dies. The dragon curved down, looking under its claw at its prize, long nose, littered with scars. Her heart dropped. The dragon from the arena. The Nightmare Hiccup had fought. It stared her down for a long moment before lifting it’s claw and flying away, leaving her laying in the dirt. Her heart raced. Breath heavy and loud in her ears.

She sat up. “Are you guys okay?”

They nodded stiffly.

Astrid stood and gathered them. “Go to the Great Hall,” she instructed. “Keep your heads down and stay out of trouble.”

The group nodded briefly before the two boys cowered again. The girl turned white, pulling the boys back against her. “Behind you,” she whispered behind quivering lips.

Astrid didn’t have time to think. It was instinct. Muscle Memory. In a second dagger was in hand and Astrid was in the dragon’s blind spot, ducking under the soft part of its belly she plunged the dagger up to its heart and dragged the blade down, spilling gushing red guts all over the ground. She stood back as its limp body crushed against the ground. Only then did her brain catch up with her body.

“Go,” she told the kids again, turning briefly to watch them hurry away.

When she looked back she could finally see what she had done. Felt the blood that caked her hands. A Nadder lay still before her. “Stormfly?” She choked back a sob, standing in the remains. With shaking hands, she examined the dragon’s face. Its spines were too long, nose too short but the final confirmation that it was not came with the glow of a retreating dragon. This nadder was muted green. Nothing like her Stormfly.

Viking cries resounded over the hilltops, and the horn sounded once more. The raid was over. The dragons had been successfully repelled. The fires were extinguished. But Astrid stayed, leaning against her crime. Blood seeping through her boots, staining her clothes, filling her nose. She could almost choke on the metallic tang. If she had’ve been faster, if she had’ve thought earlier, she could’ve used a pressure point she’d tried so many times on Stormfly. She didn’t have to kill it. The Nightmare didn’t even hurt her and she was actively fighting it. But those kids were so scared. Their trembling faces were burnt into her memory.

Astrid didn’t know how long she had been standing there, dagger still clutched in her hand, when she looked up again a small crowd had amassed around her. She looked up at their proud faces, her parents beamed at her from the side. Bile rose in her throat. So much pride for her shame. Even the Chief stood there, weary from the battle, but a smile on his face nonetheless.

“Well done, Astrid,” The Chief clapped her on the back. “Your first kill. The first of many!” He raised his axe and was met with a chorus of vikings doing the same with their own. “You’ve made us proud.”

It might have been the dim light but Astrid could have sworn she saw a glint of sorrow cross his face.

“Let’s get this place cleaned up.”

With that order the crowd dispersed leaving Astrid alone again. She left the carcass, and the fire patrol, heading for the safety of the forge.

Gobber was waiting with an apron when she arrived. “Looks like you had an eventful night,” he grinned, stone tooth slipping over his gum.

She really tried to look pleased.

“Congratulations, Lass.”

“It’s all thanks to your great teaching,” she mumbled, turning back to the grindstone.

“You’re not supposed to be the sarcastic one, you know that Astrid?” Gobber said, moving a pile of weapons inside. He shook his head. “You’re turning out more and more like him every day.”

How true that was. “Maybe it’s the forge,” she scoffed, hoping he couldn’t hear her misery.

“Maybe it’s my charming personality,” he retorted good naturedly. “What’s got you upset then, Lass. This is supposed to be one of the most exciting days of a young viking’s life.”

So there was no hiding it then. She put the sword down on the bench. “I don’t know,” she lied. “I just thought that it would feel different.”

He nodded knowingly. “It’s not how you thought it would happen.”

She chuckled wryly. “No. Not what I thought would happen at all.”

_____

“Where were you?”

Astrid returned to her house in the early hours of the morning to two scowling parents.

“Gothi’s.”

Her father folded his arms looking down with a stern face that made Astrid shrink. “Before that. Before the raid started. You weren’t in your room and your window was open.”

Astrid glanced between her mother and father giving matching glares. “I had a feeling about tonight.”

Ingrid pursed her lips. “A feeling? That’s what you’re going with? You don’t want more time to come up with something more convincing?”

“It’s not a lie,” Astrid snapped defensively. Guilt settled in her stomach. “I couldn’t sleep” This was at least true. Sleep was sparse these days, she was kept awake by a barrage of unsettling ideas. I was looking for dragons-” Toothless- “and I was going to check the watchtower.”

“Without your axe?” Her father remained unperturbed.

Adrenaline spiked and Astrid ducked her gaze. “I didn’t want to seem like a paranoid little girl.” It pained her to admit but truth made for convincing lies.

She waited, unable to meet their eye, struggling to hear their breaths over the thundering in her veins.

Finally her mother sighed. “Go to bed.”

Astrid did not have to be told twice. She headed for the stairs.

“And Astrid-”

Astrid half turned, holding her breath.

“-We are proud of you.”

The tension in the air melted and her parents offered a genuine smile.

Astrid tried to give one back. She hoped she succeeded but her throat constricted painfully. She didn’t trust her voice so she just continued to her bedroom.

The first thing she wanted to do was run to her wardrobe. To find Hiccup’s work, make sure it was safe. Her parents would be looking for whatever she was hiding tomorrow she knew. But the most dangerous thing she could do right now was move it.

Instead she collapsed on her bed, burns hot, cuts stretching. Each small pain was a reminder of what had happened. A few from breaking out the dragons. Breaking out the dragons. The dragons that were now islands away. Probably under the queen's control. Remarkably, none from the Nightmare. A few from the nadder. Most of the blood that covered her after the battle hadn’t even been hers. It’d been its. The nadder that she had slaughtered because she wasn’t quick enough to use another trick. Her stomach squeezed and her throat tightened but somehow she couldn’t bring herself to feel too bad. She wished she’d taken another option, she really did. But the terror on the children’s faces told her everything she needed to know. What was most important was that those kids were safe, no matter how it happened. The thing that did make her sick was the celebration that came from her action. That she had performed her part in a ritual that she didn’t fit into anymore. She didn’t regret killing that dragon but that it was necessary. These creatures that could be intelligent and gentle and kind but were forced into violence by their queen.

___

The next weeks dragged on. Every morning Astrid’s father would accompany her on her morning training before dropping her at the forge. And every evening her mother would collect her and they would eat dinner together. She would go up to her room and stare at the ceiling.

As expected the rumour spread quickly that Hiccup returned to release the dragons. Even the most sensible vikings couldn’t dismiss the theory. Between that and the amount of congratulations Astrid received for her first kill, Astrid was off the hook. Not even her parents seemed to suspect her involvement. She was off the hook. Until Gobber had lunch with her.

He sat her down in Hiccup’s old study. “Astrid.” His voice was firm and low. “Tell me the truth.”

Astrid’s gaze dropped straight to the ground terrified of what was next.

“Did you let out those dragons?”

She couldn’t look at him. She was terrified to see his expression. His anger. He’d already been so mad about the nest.

Her silence was enough.

“Did you really think you could pull the same trick twice? You didn’t even get away with it the first time.”

Her stomach dropped like lead. What was she thinking? Of course Gobber would notice.

“Don’t lie to me,” he warned. “Is Hiccup back?”

Her head snapped up at that. At the wry smile on Gobber’s face she knew she’d given herself away. “No,” she relented. “No he’s not.”

“So it was you.”

She didn’t answer.

Gobber sat back on his stool, waiting. “You’ve got two choices, Astrid. Tell me what happened, honestly or I turn you in.”

Astrid felt the blood drain from her face. This was it. She was finished. She was about to be exiled. She couldn’t even follow Hiccup. They’d send her straight to Outcast Island. But Gobber was offering her a chance to explain. Which was more than Hiccup ever got. Maybe her exile could change something.

“How much time do you have?” She asked half heartedly.

He spread his hands.

So she told him everything, well, most of everything. She told him about how she found Hiccup, about Toothless, about how they found the nest. She told him everything Hiccup had told her about Toothless and dragons. She told him about her promise. She didn’t mention that she was going to flee with them- that somehow seemed worse than any of her other crimes. She told him about everything she had learnt from his journal. About Stormfly. How she couldn’t stand the thought of all of those dragons being kept like lambs for the slaughter over something that wasn’t their fault. That it’s what she knew Hiccup would want. She told him that all those dragons were gone now. They weren’t coming back.

Gobber let her talk. Silently watching.

She half expected him to drag her off when she finished. He didn’t. He just sat there, looking at her.

“Anything else?”

She hesitated. “No.”

Gobber seemed to accept that as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“You’re telling me that Hiccup was going to train that Nightmare in front of the entire village?”

That seemed like an odd thing to fixate on but Astrid nodded.

“Could you?”

The question caught her off guard. “Could I?”

He nodded. “Could you train a dragon like that? A nightmare?”

Astrid thought back to the nightmare from the ring. She thought she’d gotten somewhere with him and then he had her under his claw. “Maybe.”

“But you have trained a nadder? Stormfly, you called her.”

Again Astrid nodded hesitantly.

“Maybe Hiccup really is a dragon whisperer,” he mused.

The shift shattered the tension. “You don’t really believe that do you?” Astrid snorted.

Gober shrugged. “I didn’t but now you’re telling me he shot a Night Fury down destroying half its tailfin and still managed to make it do his bidding and ride off into the sunset with it.”

Astrid frowned. “He’s not making it do his bidding,” she huffed exasperatedly. “It’s- He’s more like Hiccup’s friend. They’re looking out for each other. Weirdly enough I think they like each other's personality. If you can call it that.”

Gobber’s face turned serious again. “Everyone thinks it was Hiccup,” he said meaningfully. “I’ve told Stoick that it probably was. You’re right in saying it’s what he would want.” His face clouded. “I don’t want to give anyone another reason to hate him but what’s done is done. What matters now is keeping you out of trouble.” He eyed her sternly. “Which means you need to keep your head down.”

Astrid nodded quickly, accepting the offer before he could withdraw it.

“But Astrid,” he warned. “You’re safe in the forge but you need to tell me before you do anything.” he gave her a stern look. “I mean it. I need to know what you’re doing and where you’re going at all times.”

Astrid pushed down the resentment at being leashed. He was letting her stay. “I will.” She meant it. No more risks.

Chapter Text

Winter melted away much slower than the freeze had come but the days stretched out a little longer and people ventured out a little more. Unfortunately, this meant the forge was busier than ever. Morning and afternoon Astrid would receive a new armful of weapons for her to sharpen and polish while Gobber worked on things that required actual skill. They had both given up on Astrid learning to reshape after she had set the workbench on fire, twice, which was particularly impressive considering it was metal. Aside from the drastic reduction in fires, it also turned out that the villagers were more than happy to chat with Astrid while she told them the weapons wouldn’t be ready for another day or two. Her incompetence in the forge was forgiven much quicker than Hiccup’s ever was. To them, she was just a promising young Viking who was volunteering her time to help with a much-needed service. All except Mildew.

“What I don’t understand is how you could possibly know anything about the state of my wagon where you haven’t even been to check,” the old man droned. “I have to get my cabbages to the market somehow. I’m just an old man, Astrid.”

Astrid swallowed the building ire. “I’m sorry Mildew,” she said through gritted teeth. “But Gobber’s working on something urgent for the chief at the moment. Everything else has been put on hold.”

“All I want you to do is go check with him, girl,” Mildew snarled. “It can’t be that hard.”

The piece of window Astrid was gripping splintered into her hand. She plastered a pleasant expression across her face. “Okay Mildew, fine.” Walking stiffly to Hiccup’s old room she heard his smug voice. “See, Fungus.” She slammed the door shut behind her.

“Is that old coot still here?” Gobber looked up from the nap he was taking against the wall.

Astrid shot him a murderous glare. “I’m about a Yak’s hair away from taking an axe and turning Fungus into mutton.”

He barked out a laugh. “I have half a mind to let ya.” He sat up. “But as much as I’ve enjoyed having you handle him, I’ll go sort him out.” He moved to stand up.

“No!” She cleared her throat. “I mean, I think he’s finally ready to give up-” definitely not- “and if you came out of hiding I’d have to admit that you weren’t busy working on a super secret project for the chief.” It seemed simple but dealing with the provided much-needed relief to Gobber and she would be damned if she let Mildew ruin that. She couldn’t help the same way Hiccup could but she tried to make things as easy as possible for Gobber. She gave him a nod and slipped out the door before he could say another word

“No luck, Mildew. This project is taking up a bit of time. I’ll bring the wagon to you when it’s done.”

“Oh that is ridiculous.” Mildew shook his head. “I won’t accept this. Go get Gobber. My cabbages need to go to the Market!” He shook his staff.

“What’s going on Mildew?” The chief’s booming voice snapped the pair to attention.

Mildew struggled to regain his standing. “Why- Stoick,” he drawled. “How good to see you.” He gestured back to Astrid. “I was just telling the lovely Astrid here that I need my wagon for my cabbages.”

The chief folded his arms. “It’ll be done when it’s done, Mildew. Gobber’s busy at the moment.” He looked sternly under his brow. “You best let Astrid get back to work.”

“Wha-” Mildew collected Fungus under his arm, muttering and raving. “You bring me that wagon, lass. Tell Gobber.” He stomped off, slouching his way up the hill.

With the annoyance gone, Stoick looked warmly down at Astrid. “How are you, lass.”

The chief had been visiting the forge more often recently, which was…terrifying. “Uh, Fine.” She nodded quickly avoiding his eye.

“Is that you Stoick?” Gobber squeezed himself through the door frame, smiling. “Taking an easy day are we?” He greeted his friend with a firm handshake.

“No easier than yours.” Stoick grinned. “Awful of you to leave Astrid out here with him.”

Gobber shrugged. “She insisted.”

“I’m here to pick up what we discussed.”

“You’re lucky I just finished.” Gobber grabbed his apron and gestured for him to follow.

Astrid leant against the bench. “You’re actually working on something for the chief?”

The pair paused.

“You can take a break while I show him the design. We’ll hold down the fort.”

Stoick grinned. “I’m sure there’s a group of kids in the square waiting eagerly to hear how you fought off a monstrous nightmare and killed a nadder.”

Astrid tried not to blanch and forced a smile. “Yeah, I’ll do that.” Technically she was supposed to be under strict supervision but Astrid was never one to look a gift yak in the mouth. The chief had all but sent her away. She hadn’t had a minute alone since the last raid, it was either her parent’s breathing down her neck, Gobber’s cautious eye or even a group of giggling children daring each other to ask her about the nadder she killed. Every time she turned around there was someone scrutinising her. She headed for the cove. It was easy to lose people in the forest. Ask Hiccup.

It didn’t even occur to her to ask what secret plans Gobber and Stoick were hatching.

___

The cove was just as peaceful as she’d left it, thankfully, the twins hadn’t decided to turn it into their base for ‘Loki-ing’. Winter had washed away her track and if not for the number of times she’d walked this path in her mind, Astrid doubted she’d be able to find her way in. All traces of Hiccup had melted save a few gouges of Toothless’ claws against stone. She wondered if the real Hiccup had been wiped away too. She sat on the sunny boulder staring at the sky. Protected by the forest she felt everything much more clearly.

“I don’t want to do this,” she whispered to the clouds. The clouds looked back, unaffected. “I don’t want to do this,” She told them. “This is stupid. This is so stupid.” She threw a pebble at a rock where it shattered with a light clatter.

The grass rippled under the gentle breeze that carried distant bird calls to her ears. She sat with a stiff upper lip, and crossed arms until the sky dragged the truth from her once more.

“I wish he wanted me to come with him,” she admitted, gloss starting to form over her eyes. “I wish he didn’t leave me alone, trapped with people who would kill me if they found out what I did.” The clouds blotted out the sun. “Okay, fine. I wish he cared. I wish he cared enough about what might happen to me to come back.” Astrid’s confession left her burning with embarrassment. “I wish he would come back… I wish I could go.” It was these thoughts that haunted her. These moments of honesty.

Her words hung in the air smothering her but above her birds chased each other across wind currents chirping with delight and the trees stood strong. “I wish he would come back.” This time she felt the wind sweep across her, carrying her voice away.

Astrid sat a while longer enjoying a sense of peace that had eluded her for months. Just as she decided to head back to work she felt it. The rush of wind, the beating of wings. The form of a dragon blotted out the sun. Her heart jumped. Stormfly settled into the cove, with an affectionate squawk and Astrid couldn’t stop a flicker of disappointment.

“Stormfly!” She rushed over to the nadder, throwing her arms around her neck. The familiar cool scales pressing against her face. “I’ve missed you so much, girl.” She scratched under the dragon's neck, earning a satisfied coo. Her fingers paused over a fresh indent and Stormfly flinched away.

She couldn’t bring herself to ask the question. She was saved from that train of thought by a second flurry of wings as three more dragons descended. The gronkle, zippleback and… the nightmare. She stayed close to Stormfly.

“I don’t have any dragon nip,” she told them, warily eyeing the nightmare.

If Astrid didn’t know any better she might say that the dragons looked… apologetic. The zippleback and nightmare had their heads lowered to the ground seemingly waiting. Stormfly pushed her toward them. Astrid took a hesitant step forward and then another, until she placed a careful hand on the nightmare’s snout. He looked up at her with big eyes and in that moment she understood. She’d seen firsthand the influence of the queen. “It’s okay.”

___

Astrid dragged out the walk back to the forge as long as she could. She had to tell Gobber about the dragons. Of course she did. And she would. She would. The thought just made bile rise in her throat, that’s all. She’d promised. Even still she took the long way back.

The forge came into view around the final house and she steeled her nerves, crossing her arms to hide the shake in her hands.

“Gobber,” she called, then stopped short.

The chief was only just walking out of the forge.

She paused long enough to see Stoick clap Gobber on the back. “Thank you, old friend,” he said solemnly before heading into the square.

“He was here a while,” Astrid said, startling Gobber.

He jumped. “We had a lot to sort out.” He motioned for her to come in.

Astrid grabbed her apron, mulling over the seriousness of their interaction. She silently set to work sharpening a sword. She put it down. “There’s something I have to tell you,” she sighed looking at the ground.

“No lass, there’s something I have to tell you first.” Gobber shifted, seemingly equally uncomfortable. “Now don’t go spreading this around,” he looked at her seriously, “and i know you’re not going to like this, but the reason Stoick has been here so often is because he’s preparing a new expedition for the nest.”

The world went white for a moment. “I’m sorry, what?”

“The armada’s almost complete and we’ve almost finished the weapons pile. I’ve been working on a dragon restraint.”

Astrid couldn’t believe her ears. “A dragon restraint?”

“Quiet.”

Astrid glanced over her shoulders and retreated further into the forge. “You can’t just rush into this, she’s the size of a mountain. She. Will. Kill. You.”

“We’re not rushing into anything, Astrid. Would you rather we just let the raids continue?”

Anger cracked across her skin like lightning. That obviously wasn’t what she meant.

He rubbed a cracked hand over his stubble leaving a trail of soot across his face. “The restraints aren’t for the queen anyway.”

“So they’re for…”

“Hiccup said only another dragon can find the nest.”

“I guess.”

“We need to take one on the boat.”

“Oh for the love of- That’s your plan?”

“We don’t have a choice, Astrid.” Gobber's voice was harsh. “We can’t afford to continue like this. You need to start thinking about Berk.” He turned back to Mildew’s wheel.

“It’s Berk that I’m thinking about. Gobber, we’re not ready,” she pleaded, “ we have nothing that can damage her. No plan. Nothing.”

“We have Big Bertha, and I’ve been modifying other catapults. Harvin’s been adapting ammunition into warheads for them.”

“You don’t know that’ll work. Please, you have to call it off.”

“It’s not up to me.”

“He would listen to you,” she begged. “There has to be another way to figure this out. I could do a scouting mission, I’ve been there before- and- I know it’s risky but I-”

“Astrid,” He cut her off. “It’s done. You’re not even supposed to know. The fleet leaves at the end of the week. Stoick’s decision is final.”

“But-”

“No.”

“I-”

“Astrid.”

A beat passed, she stared at him, pulse racing. “Fine."

____

The rest of the week slipped in the blink of an eye. Berk was a flurry of activity as preparations increased and rumours spread. Those involved kept tight-lipped about the planning by order of the chief. After what had transpired with Hiccup, paranoia had struck him thoroughly and all teens and recent additions to the army were kept busy and well away from the action. All except Astrid, who was busier than ever in the forge. Made harder of course by the fact that she refused to look at Gobber any more than necessary.

Fortunately, the sudden busyness meant Astrid at last had a chance to escape her parents' watchful eye. She had a 30-minute window after her parents left the house and before she was expected in the forge to sneak away to the cove. The dragons hadn’t stopped visiting. Every morning they were there, and the couple of times she stopped by after work they were gone. She couldn’t quite figure out what they wanted but she was grateful for the company. And she was grateful for their help. If she couldn’t stop the Armada from searching for the nest, she could at least take a page out of Hiccup’s book. Every morning she spent time with each dragon, soothing and getting more comfortable with them. There was too much attention to risk a flight but they practised some basic commands. Spine shots, lava blasts and anything else she thought might help. If Stoick was set on bringing down the queen, the least she could provide was some air support.

The end of the week came and the armada was filled with shuffling and sweaty Vikings. The stakes had been made clear but no amount of sorrow could trump viking pride so every capable warrior boarded the boats. Those staying behind stood on the docks waving their goodbyes.

Stoick and Gobber were the last to board.

“I expect you all to do your job of defending Berk while we’re gone. Make us proud.”

The other teens nodded quickly. Astrid could only stare, jaw gritted, swallowing down a final plea on Hiccup’s behalf. For the first time in a week, she risked a glance at Gobber’s solemn face. He held her gaze, features softened with the traces of an apology.

The sight broke her resolve and through the cracks seeped the fear that this would be the last time she ever saw him. She didn’t even say a proper goodbye. “Safe travels,” was all she could manage.

Stoick nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Man the Port.” He turned and boarded, Gobber close to him.

Astrid struggled to swallow the mix of emotions thundering in her stomach as she watched the fleet set sail towards the fight of their lives.

The teens wasted no time rounding on her as soon as the ships disappeared into the mist.

“What do you know?” Snotlout demanded.

“And don’t even think about lying missy.” Tuffnut jabbed a finger at her.

“We’ve all seen you disappearing into the forest,” Ruffnut added.

“You are the only one who doesn’t seem happy about the search for the nest,” Fishlegs ventured.

Astrid took an involuntary step backward. “I’m…excited.” She attempted a smile. “There’s just a lot to take care of here. Speaking of…” She tried to walk past them.

“Not so fast, A.” Tuffnut jumped in front of her.

“We want to know what’s going on.” Snotlout’s face was unusually severe.

"There’s nothing going on".

The group didn’t budge.

Her gaze flicked between the expectant faces, then at the small gap between her and the stairs. “You’ll have to catch me first.” She bolted, leaving the group momentarily stunned.

“Wait, that’s not- Astrid.”

She heard the thundering of footsteps as they tore after her.

They followed her through the city, where she lost them behind the forge.

“Where did she go, Snotlout?” Ruff growled. “This was your idea.”

“It’s not my fault we lost her, blame Ledlegs back there,” he snapped back. “Hey! This wasn’t even my idea.”

Astrid listened, tucked behind the forge as the argument faded. She waited until she was sure they had reached the far side of the island before sneaking around the front and making her way to the forest. She stepped carefully from tree root to tree root avoiding any soft patches that would leave tracks until she finally slipped into the cove sparing one last glance over her shoulder. The others had slowed her down but she should still beat the fleet to the island. She rounded the final boulder and stopped short.

Four disgruntled teenagers stood waiting, arms crossed stern faced.

“Nice try, Astrid,” Ruffnut greeted, “but we all know where you’ve been going.”

“I get why you didn’t want to tell these mutton heads but me? Come on, babe.”

She stiffened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Dear Astrid, you can tell us everything, or we can tell everyone what you’ve been doing when they get back,” Tuffnut supplied helpfully, holding his hand out for a low five from his sister.

Astrid gritted her teeth, staring them down. Her time was running out and her patience wearing thin. “Fine.” As planned, the four dragons began their descent into the cove. “Nobody move,” she instructed. “If you’ve got a weapon DO NOT touch it.”

“If you’re planning on getting eaten, I'd definitely go with the gronkle.”

The dragons landed on the far side of the cove, watching Astrid curiously.

“As long as you're here,” she gritted her teeth. “I guess… I could use your help,” she ground out.

“Of course you do babe, everyone needs help from the Snotman.” Snotlout gave a grin. “What do you need, Astrid? You want me to kill these dragons for you, I can totally do that.” He drew his knife casually. The glint of light flickered with the almost imperceptible tremble of his hands.

The dragons tensed, the nightmare baring into a snarl.

Astrid was on him in a second, tearing the knife from him and throwing it to the ground. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” she soothed looking back at the dragons, hand outstretched. “You scared them,” she snapped, throwing a dirty glare.

“I scared them?” Snoltout replied incredulously. “Helloo, they’re dragons. I’m starting to think you’ve hit your head.” He paused, his face lighting up. “If that’s what happened don’t worry babe I'll take care of you.”

“Stormfly.”

A single spine embedded itself in the ground between Snotlout’s feet.

“You all wanted to know what’s going on. Fine. But you’re part of this now.” She leaned casually against Stormfly. “I’ve seen the queen. She’s massive. It doesn’t matter how many modified catapults they take, they don’t stand a chance without us. When we ride in, we’ll probably get banished. But I'll take banishment over knowingly sending half our tribe to Valhalla.”

“We get to ride dragons?”

___

“We’ve been in the clouds for ages,” Ruffnut whined. “I’m so bored.”

"Ruffnut, we have to stay in the clouds or they'll see us," Astrid said through gritted teeth.

"Why, we're here to help them." The twins had taken to flying quickly, discovering that they could turn the Zippleback’s heads upside down and continue flying dangling from their necks.

The sight of the pair sitting so naturally on the dragon left a bitter taste in her mouth. "If they see us they'll shoot at us,” she explained, dragging out her words. Stormfly tilted her head to the left. Astrid turned with her. The clouds thinned and a massive island with a volcano right in the middle came into view. She pulled back. "Stop."

They paused at the edge of the cloud bank surveying the scene. One side of the mountain had crumbled, cave mouths had opened and filled with rubble and debris. The landslide seemed to have created another hill slumped at the base of the volcano.

“I’m going to check it out, stay here.”

She flew directly into a wall of stifling air. A thick dampness coated her skin and the stench of decay crawled in her mouth griping her lungs tight. Astrid’s heart dropped and she turned to circle the new formation. She could see it clearly now, the ridges of scales, the spread of wings and the cavernous eye sockets. She urged Stormfly back to the sky.

“Astrid? What did you see?” Fishlegs called.

“That’s-” she swallowed down the bile that threatened to rise. “That’s the queen.”

He looked back, examining the still outstretched wings and the holes that tore through them like a flame through paper. The rolling hills of muscle, the clench of her claws. “I’ve never seen a dragon like this,” he breathed.

“Here I was thinking we’d get a good fight.” Snotlout punched his palm.

“A couple explosions at least,” Tuffnut added.

“Did we miss the Armada?”

The rot below them answered that question. If they hadn’t done it there was only one other person that could have been.

Astrid retched, the action racking through her body with a powerful shudder. She gripped Stormfly’s neck.

“Now what?” Snotlout asked.

Tuffnut cut the eerie silence. "An excellent question, a question which I have an answer to. We-"

"We go home," Astrid cut him off. "You guys go back. Stay in the clouds, don’t let them see you. Leave the dragons in the cove and pretend nothing happened.”

“Where are you going?” Fishlegs asked.

She set her jaw. “I’m going down. I need to know what happened.” She descended into the thick air.

“We’re not just leaving you here,” Snotlout argued.

“But-”

“We’re not.”

Without another word Astrid nudged Stormfly toward the ground.

“Giant dragon,” Tuffnut whooped as they soared down to the ground.

Astrid slid off Stormfly, landing on the pebbled ground with an unsteady crunch. Her heart raced and her pulse thrummed in her ears. She could barely hear the arguments of the others behind her. The queen’s hunched form loomed over her, blocking out the strangled rays of sun. Her skin was charred and holes tore through her body wings splayed at a jarring skew, open like netting. It wasn’t the queen she was interested in though. She pushed through the carnage, climbing over hills and ripples of earth, torn apart. From the state of it she guessed it hadn’t happened more than a week ago. The thought tore her apart. Was there a version where she didn’t leave Hiccup to fight the queen alone? She should have gone after him, the second Stormfly gave her a second chance. Stormfly. She turned back to her dragon who was waiting a distance away from the queen. But she didn’t seem rattled. She seemed strangely still.

“Did you know?” she returned to her dragon. “Were you there?”

The dragon turned, revealing the pale scar on her neck.

“Is he here?”

She didn’t move.

“Stormfly,” she hated the way her voice cracked. “Is he still here?” She swung herself onto Stormfly’s back. “Stay low, we’re checking the ground.”

They swept across the surface, washing the uneven charcoal rush by, a complete absence of Hiccup. They did one lap, then a second, then a third until Fishlegs finally intervened. “Astrid please, they'll be here soon.

“You can go. No one’s stopping you,” she bit back, not taking her eyes off the ground.

Snotlout moved his nightmare into their path. Stormfly baulked.

“Snotlout! What are you doing?” She regained her balance, turning Stormfly to the ground.

She marched over to him. “What do you think this is? Some kind of game?”

“None of us want to leave without answers but we have to go. The twins spotted boats.”

“Let them come,” she snarled. “I’m not going anywhere. I might not even go back.”

Snotlout held his hands up. “Think about this Astrid. Whatever’s going on in your head, it isn’t worth all this. Come back with us. Think this through.”

“I’m done thinking. All I’ve done is wait and think. I’m not going back to get exiled and separated from Stormfly forever.”

“I get it, Astrid. I don’t want to leave Meatlug either. We can figure something out. Later. Right now we have to go,” Fishlegs told her, keeping an eye on the twins.

He said it so casually but the sentence rang through her ears. “Meatlug? You named it?” She watched him in disbelief.

Fishlegs spared her a glance in between his scanning of the horizon. “Of course?”

Snotlout shifted his weight. “I don’t want to send Hookfang away either and I think those two knuckleheads are bonded to that zippleback for life now.

“We’re in this together now, Astrid, and we’ll figure it out. Together.”

The sincerity on their faces knocked the wind out of her. “Okay.” She cleared her throat. “Stay in the clouds, I don't want to tell you twice.”

Chapter Text

The armada returned the following afternoon, carrying trophies from their epic conquest. It didn’t matter that they hadn’t killed it, only that it was dead. The nest was destroyed. Astrid doubted anyone spared a thought to the person who did. Who might be bleeding out somewhere. Her throat tightened.

Excitement thrummed through the air as the festivities began to unfold. The Great Hall was being prepared for a week-long feast and the square had been converted into a souvenir market. Shards of the queen’s talons, dragon spines, and even pieces of obsidian that had littered the island had been swiftly shaped into tokens, weapons or jewellery to be passed down through generations.

Astrid, somehow, found herself in the middle of it. Helping cart weapons to and from the forge and setting up booths. Every single ‘souvenir’ gave Astrid a flash of Hiccup, dying on the pebbled island. Sinking into the soft ground, hands burnt and bloody as he catches pieces of obsidian in a feeble attempt to pull himself up. Nearby, the queen is huffing her final breaths before succumbing to her injuries, the smell of charred flesh hot in the air.

As day turned to night and the ale started flowing, Astrid slipped away unnoticed, fleeing to the last safe place she had left. Unfortunately, four mutton heads had the same idea. Now, instead of sneaking into the woods by herself to secretly learn about dragons, there were four people who couldn’t keep a secret to save their lives. Fishlegs dropped whatever he was holding the second anyone even mentioned a dragon, Snotlout had already almost told three people to win an argument - luckily they had all consumed far too much mead to have any memory of his behaviour later and the twins were intent on using Barf ‘n’ Belch to ‘usher in a new era of Loki-ing.’

“So what happens now?”

They paused. From the moment they had set foot on Berk, they’d had to leave their dragons and return to their posts as loyal and responsible Berkians only to be swept up in the excitement and festivities. The weight of what they had done set across the others.

“I guess we can either say goodbye to the dragons-”

“Which we already said isn’t an option so thanks for bringing it up Fishface.” Snotlout put a protective hand on Hookfang’s neck.

“Or we start making a better location to meet up. I don’t know about you guys but every time I come here I feel like I’m being followed.”

“You always feel like you’re being followed, Fish. You’re paranoid,” Snotlout bit back. “You can’t keep freezing every time someone says dragon either.”

Fishlegs frowned. “I’m just saying, everybody knows about this place. If anyone were suspected to be harbouring dragons this would be the first place they look.”

Snotlout opened his mouth but the argument died in his throat. The twins muttered their agreement and a pensive silence set over the group again.

“Do you remember that cave we made our clubhouse in when we were kids?” Tuff asked suddenly. “Our parents could never find us.”

“Yeah or they never actually looked,” Snotlout scoffed.

“No, I’m telling you, those caves under Berk run deep.” Tuffnut looked around with a glint in his eye.

Ruff nodded slowly. “I think they’re a shortcut to the far side of the island. I tried to set a trap for you and Snotlout one time and popped up deep in the forest.”

“We could set up a base in an isolated part of the island.” Tuff was practically buzzing with excitement now.

“As much as I hate to admit it…” Snotlout spoke around his disgust. “I think the twin idiots have a point.”

They all turned to Astrid.

“What?”

“What do you think?” Fishlegs ventured.

“I don’t know”

Ruffnut screwed up her nose. “What do you mean you don’t know? You have an opinion on everything.”

Logically, Astrid knew it was a half-decent idea. It was their only real option. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to care. “I just don’t know if it matters. I’m screwed if they find us.”

“That’s why we’re setting up on the far side of the Island. Sometimes I don’t even think you’re listening, A,” Tuffnut sighed with faux exasperation.

There was another thing too. “I have to tell Gobber.” She had been avoiding him since he’d returned but it was only a matter of time until he sought her out.

The objections were immediate.

“No.”

“You can’t.”

Horror smeared itself across Snotlout’s face. “I know you work with him but you can keep this a secret. You have to.”

Astrid understood the concern but their ignorance made her bristle. “I can’t keep it a secret,” she snapped. “While you mutton heads were talking about mind control-”

“-that was really more Snotlout’s thing-”

“-Gobber was asking me why I let the night fury go.”

“He doesn’t know about these dragons, though.”

Astrid pretended to consider this. “He knows I was training with Stormfly and that I let them all out of the arena.

“These are the same dragons from training?” Fishlegs asked at the same time as the twins asked “That was you?”

Astrid gave him a pointed stare. “You didn’t recognise them? Some Vikings you are.”

Snotlout was staring at Hookfang in awe. “These are the same dragons we fought and they’re...”

“Remember, I trained them.”

“Then how are you so okay with giving up?”

The question pierced her. “It’s not giving up.” The word poured from her too quickly. “It’s not. Gobber made me promise not to lie to him and if we want any chance of staying on Berk, I have to tell him.”

The group exchanged glances, wearing equally sour expressions.

“Just… give us a week. When everyone’s too distracted to notice we’re gone, we should try and set up a base. That way if everything goes wrong with Gobber, we can stash the dragons and pretend nothing happened.”

Astrid considered this. “Fine. But we can’t all be gone at the same time. We need two people in public at all times. We’ll rotate. Every night after dinner when they bring out the mead, we sneak out and meet up as a group. There can be absolutely no discussion of this outside the forest. I don’t even want to hear the word dragon from any of you unless it’s in the trees. Do you understand? I need to hear you say these words, ‘I understand, Astrid.’”

They nodded solemnly.

“Then I guess we’re doing this.”

--

“We’re in the wrong spot.”

“No, it’s not.” Ruff shoved past her brother. “Remember we take a right at the boulder and a left at the bush and we go past the tree that looks like Yakson.”

“How would you even know? It was ‘no girls allowed’.”

“That’s why I know.”

“Just face it, you two mutton heads don’t know where you’re going and now we’re lost and this was a bad idea.” Snotlout leaned against a mossy rock and promptly fell through it leaving a Snotlout-shaped hole in the moss and faint screams punctuated with groans.

“I’m fine.” Came his eventual strangled call.

“Hey, what do you know, Snotlout was good for something,” Fishlegs grinned.

“I heard that.”

“You were meant to.”

Astrid quickly fashioned a torch wishing they’d brought the dragons with them. “Are you ready?” Without waiting she descended into the cave, skidding across the loose pebbles and coming neatly to a stop beside Snotlout's crumpled form. She stepped over him.

“No sure, step over me no problem.”

She walked further into the cave ignoring the clattering and arguing behind her.

The opening was long and narrow, carved in a near-perfect circle through the centre. There were no stalagmites or formations of a natural cave. She paused. “Quiet.”

“Get off-”

“Quiet.”

The group behind her fell silent.

She listened into the tunnel feeling the reverberations. In the silence she could feel her mind playing tricks on her, the sound of a dragon coming closer.

“What are you doing?”

She threw a glare back at him. “I think this might be an old whispering death tunnel. Keep your eyes peeled.”

They continued down the tunnel, hushed until they reached a fork. Multiple identical tunnels diverged more splintering across from each other weaving in alternate patterns.

“Definitely whispering death tunnels. Maybe we should turn back.”

“Relax Fishface, Tuffnut and I have been coming down here since we were kids. If we didn’t get eaten then we won’t now.” He couldn’t quite keep the tremor from his voice.

“Well, which way do we go?”

Ruffnut pulled a knife from her boot, scratching an arrow into the stone wall. “We go straight.” They continued, Ruffnut steering them down specific tunnels until the only way left was up. They scrambled up the path emerging into more forest.

“Great. Now what?” Fishlegs peered into the dark.

“Does anyone know where we are?” Astrid asked.

“Ruffnut?”

“Why is everyone looking at me?”

“You didn’t know where we were going?” Snotlout grimaced.

“I just wanted to get out of that cave. Tuffnut was starting to stink up the place.” Ruffnut brushed them off.

Her nonchalance burned Astrid. “Ruffnut! Do you have any idea how reckless that was? You put us all in danger. You didn’t even stop to think about what we could run into.”

“Well-”

“No. I don’t want to hear it. You can stay here and stay quiet while I figure out where we are.”

“I’m-”

“Not listening.” Astrid set her jaw and headed to a tree, determined to climb her way to the top and get a better view.

“Uhhh, A?”

“What! Tuffnut!” She barked.

“Why don’t you just… you know… call a dragon,” he whispered loudly.

“...Fine.” She slid down the tree, letting out a low consistent droning whistle.

“What the hell was that?”

She glared at him. Waiting. She moved up to a higher point and tried again.

“Can't you just call her name?”

She glared at them.

Finally, Stormfly swept low into the glade. Following the rhythm of the shadow.

She swung over her back. “Take us up, but stay hidden.” On the way up she felt the ire dissipate replaced with the familiar thrill of the sky. They soared into the low-hanging cloud, disguising her form. She leaned out of the cloud, searching for Gothi’s hut. She looped around the cloud. Gothi’s hut faced away from their corner but they weren’t quite on the far side of the mountain. Mildew’s cabbage fields were obscured by the back end of the mountain and the village was about the size of her thumb. If anyone were to try to walk there without the shortcut it would take almost half a day because you have to go around the cliffs at Ravens Point and the trees at Eel Head Rocks almost block out the light.

She touched back to the ground with a thrill, immediately scoping out the ground.

“Do you think we could thicken the scrub here?” she asked, diving into the thicket. The closer she got to the edge of the island the thinner the foliage became and the louder the sound of the waves. This side of the island didn’t have beaches, she knew. The waves crashed hard against a sheer cliff. This was the windy side of the island which at least might disguise their sound.

She reached a clear patch, small grasses stretched thin across shallow dirt. She skidded across the surface landing hard on her back. She might’ve been embarrassed if she hadn’t heard it. The hollow thunk. She brushed the dirt away revealing harsh rock and different pitched resonances. She pulled her hunting knife and slammed the hilt into the stone, small cracks forming until she found the weak point. The brittle rock shattered. She broke away the jagged outcrops, methodically making a circle big enough to put her head through. Her suspicions were confirmed once she could see in. A large cavern lay beneath them.

--

“Well, what do you think?”

The others looked at her dubiously.

“A cave? That’s your big idea?”

“I was hoping for something a little less…” Fishlegs trailed off

“And a little more…” Snotlout finished.

“We can’t do anything underground,” Fishlegs argued.

“We can’t do anything above ground either.” Astrid pointed out. “Down here they’ll be warm, dry and most importantly hidden.”

“There is not enough room down here for four dragons,” Snotlout continued.

“With the property twins over there, I don’t think that’ll be an issue.”

Behind them, the twins had already started mapping out their plans in the dirt and discussing the ‘clubhouse’ furnishings. Expansion was guaranteed.

Snotlout and Fishlegs exchanged an uncertain look.

“Okay. Fine.”
--

The fair was in full swing the next day and Astrid was dutifully standing at her post at the axe throwing. She watched people crow about their axe throwing for hours trying not to let the conversation drill the sense from her brain, until her parents relieved her from her post.

She began her walk around the stalls, pausing every now and then to pretend to look at the wares. As hard as she tried to be impressed with the array of obsidian and dragon jerky, the consistent reminder left a weight in her stomach.

Just when she thought she couldn’t take it any more, the twins marched into town.

“Astrid,” Tuffnut hollered, a severe look on his face.

She bit down her smile. “You’re back. Did you get the changewing scales?”

Ruffnut waved her hands. “You know as well as I do that changewing scales are invisible.”

“Are they? I had no idea.”

“Why you-”

Tuffnut held his sister back.

Ruffnut lunged again, this time managing to get her arms around Astrid’s neck. “You’ll need a pick,” she whispered. “But we made it in.”

Astrid slipped from Ruff’s grip. “Enjoy the boar wrestling.” She walked away to the sound of Tuffnut ‘soothing’ his sister and her still struggling. Once she was behind the alley she allowed herself a chuckle.

____

Astrid slipped through the back entrance to the forge, increasingly grateful for the secrets she had learnt in her apprenticeship. Even with the shutters locked tight she knew the area well enough to avoid the heaps of weapons awaiting repair. Silent Sven had brought in his pickaxe in the week before and with the forge closed for the rest of the festivities he wouldn’t be expecting it any time soon.

“What are you doing here, lass?”

Astrid jumped, bumping back into the sharp corner of the workbench. “Thor,” she cursed.

“Just me.”

She rolled her eyes. “What are you doing?”

“It’s my forge,” he defended.

They looked at each other in silence.

“I’m hiding from Mildew.”

She chuckled. “I’m just grabbing something.”

“Sven’s pick?”

“Yes…” she searched for an excuse. “I… need it,” she finished.

Gobber raised a brow. “Anything you need to tell me?”

She hesitated. “Give me a week?”

“Okay,” he allowed. “Get out of here.”

Astrid didn’t need telling twice.

_______

The twins had made a start of disguising the area but the bushes were half replanted and tracks were left everywhere. It was clear where they had gotten distracted. She stepped past the foliage, she’d never had a green thumb.

The entry into the cave was filed away and a rope ladder awaited them. They’d made their plan the night before. The twins had only managed light damage to the planned dragon entry. Why they hadn’t thought to bring anything to work with was beyond her. Typical.

Dim light filtered through the small opening in the roof, just enough for her to see the wall. She positioned herself facing the wall brandishing the pick and set herself to work allowing the rhythmic blows to relax her. She understood why Gobber liked reshaping metal now. She followed it back and forth. Swing, hit. Swing, hit.

She was pulled from her trance by the sound of someone scrambling down the rope. Snotlout. She stifled a groan.

“Hey babe,” he grinned. “You got here fast.”

“You’re late,” she told him, taking another swing at the wall.

“The market is actually really cool, did you see some of the stuff they’re selling? There was this-”

“Snotlout.” Astrid gripped the axe tighter, knuckles white. “I’m busy.”

“Yeah, right.” he shuffled. “But I’m here to help.” He walked over. “That looks heavy, I do this kind of stuff all the time in my parent's basement let me-”

Astrid held the pick up to his face. “If you want to help, go finish what the twins started outside.”

His smarmy grin dropped. “With the plants? You know I hate plants. Come on, let me do something real.”

She turned back to the wall. “If you want to help you can go back to the village.” She didn’t bother to conceal the threat.

“Whatever.”

All she heard was the sound of dirt hitting rock as he climbed out of the cave. She returned to her work.

She didn’t know how long it had been when Snotlout returned.

“You should take a break, Astrid.”

She turned, setting the axe down. With any luck he wouldn’t be able to see the sweat dripping down her face in the dark.

“What did I say about getting in my way?”

This time he didn’t relent. “It’s been two hours and I haven't heard you stop once. Go get a drink, I’ll keep going.”

“I don’t need-”

“Everyone needs help from the Snotman,” he said but the smug tone lacked conviction.

She regarded him carefully. She was stubborn but this wasn’t a fight she felt like having.

“Fine.” She shoved the pick towards him. “But I’ll be back.”

She climbed from the hole, relishing the feel of daylight on her face once more. She looked around their shelter. Snotlout had dragged over a couple of fallen trees to cover the opening but that was all. She swallowed her disdain and headed for the creek, which luckily for them was only a short walk from camp. Maybe if things shaped up they could even dig a well.

The second she sat by the creek felt the tension in her muscles. The cool creek water soothed the heat from her face but the stiffness in her shoulders was gripping in her. She extended her break, rubbing soothing circles into her shoulders as she watched the water run.

Eventually, she returned to the cave, wincing as she descended. Snotlout to his credit was still chipping away, but this time she could see light. Light, in the shape of an S.

“Snotlout.”

He jumped. “Oh. Hi, Astrid,” he grinned. “Do you like what I’ve done with the place?”

“No. An S?” She folded her arms with barely contained rage. “What are you doing? This is supposed to be a doorway.”

“And it will be, there’s no harm in having a little fun first.”

“A little fun, you’re making it harder than it needs to be.” She glared at him. “Give me back the pick.”

“What?”

“Give it back.” She tried to hold out a hand.

“You’re not looking too good, Astrid.”

“I’m fine.”

“Oh yeah?” He held out the axe. “Take it.”

She reached for it but Snotlout swiped it away at the last minute.

“Too slow.”

“I’m not playing these games with you Snotlout,” she growled.

“I’m not doing anything, it’s the axe, it’s too fast.”

“Snotlout.”

“Astrid.”

Eventually, the tension in her shoulders won. “Fine,” she spat. “We should probably head back into town anyway, people will start wondering soon.”

“You go back, I’ll follow in a bit, I bought some extra time with my dad.”

Astrid didn’t even want to ask what that meant. “Fine, whatever. Just tell Fishlegs we need to finish disguising the base and finish cutting through. Same time tomorrow.”

He nodded. “Of course, babe, the Snotman’s got this.”

Astrid rolled her eyes and climbed out against her protesting muscles.

--

The next day held much of the same. The teens worked in shifts, making themselves seen while they were in the village. Finally, it was Astrid’s turn to return to base.

When she emerged from the tunnel she was pleasantly surprised. Their tracks weren’t completely covered but it seemed Fishlegs had done a reasonable job of breathing life back into the area. The bushes the twins had left laying haphazardly the day before were neatly replanted, fresh dark soil turned over their roots, the start of vines were encouraged over the fallen logs, and everything was covered in a glossy sheen leftover from the morning dew. She stepped over it carefully, trying to avoid leaving any marks. She slid down the rope ladder with satisfying ease and was immediately struck by the brightness. The last of the rock had been chipped away. Astrid scoffed at the fragments left inside the cave, quicking them over the edge. She listened with satisfaction as they clattered against the sheer cliff face before sinking into oblivion.

Even with Snotlout’s bumbling, the day passed quickly. She removed the jagged edges while Snotlout kept himself busy with god knows what. The dragons wouldn’t have to spend another night outside.

--

The day of the regatta came and the teens were allowed to disappear into the forest. They said they would watch it from the bluff and they were waved off by rosy-cheeked parents, setting up their seats for a long day of racing. While Berkians lined the shores of the bay, the teens scurried into the tunnel.

“This is nice.”

It was the first time the group had been all together since they’d started. They trickled in to fly their dragons at night but the overlap was minimal.

“I love what you’ve done with the place, Fish. That bonsai brings things together,” Tuffnut commented.

“I concur, dear brother, what a magnificent use of our little space. And, if I may say so myself, we did quite a job of clearing out some space.”

“What do you think Hooky, do you think these two mutton heads did a good job? Do you?” Snotlout rubbed his dragon's chin affectionately. “Ha, of course not. This place really needs more S-es.”

Astrid could not have rolled her eyes harder if she had tried.

“You’re still on that?” Fishlegs groaned. “The S is ugly. We should be using this place as a real Zen garden, somewhere where we can unwind after a stressful day at the village.”

“Zen garden? Who wants Zen when we have dragons? This should be a weapons base.”

“Or a testament to Loki.” Fire burned in Ruffnut’s eyes.

The heat rose in Astrid's neck. “Are you stupid?” she blurted, silence filling the room. “Seriously, what is wrong with all of you? I don’t think you understand what’s at stake. We can’t have a zen garden, or a weapons base, or a massive S. If they catch us all five of us will be sent to Outcast Island, or worse. Hiccup was lucky to get out alive.”

Nobody moved.

“Astrid… we don’t want to get caught either,” Fishlegs broke the hush.

“None of us are trying to get exiled,” Snotlout assured.

“I still think this place would benefit from a little bit of Loki,” Tuff said. Ruff elbowed him.

“This is what I’m talking about. Can’t you take anything seriously?”

“Astrid, try to calm down,” Ruffnut held up her hands.

“Calm down? Why? What have any of you done to prove to me that you can handle this?” She spat the question, incredulity growing with each passing second. “I should take all your dragons and leave right now. I made all of this myself. I trained your dragons, I freed your dragons. I found us a base.” She trembled as the words burst from her. “What have any of you done to help me?”

“What have any of us done?” Ruffnut asked incredulously. “What have any of us done?”

Tuffnut tried to pull her back.

“No. If she wants to do this let's do it.” Ruffnut rolled up her sleeves. “What we have done, Astrid is everything. Sure you may have trained our dragons but we flew into battle right next to you. We helped find the cave, we covered for you, we dug out an entire wall.”

“I dug out the wall!”

“Half of it!” Ruffnut cried back. “That’s not even the one I’m talking about.” She gestured to the dark sides of the cave. “I’m talking about everywhere else. Do you know how hard we worked to make this space big enough for four dragons in two days?” She showed her palms. “My blisters have blisters, Astrid.”

“So you lifted a pick for once in your life, did you ever think? Did you consider what might happen if you hit a weak spot? That the entire cave might fall on your heads? Did you ever stop to consider your safety? Or were you too busy breathing in zippleback gas?”

“Do you know what your problem is, Astrid?”

“What, Ruff? What’s my problem? Please, tell me.”

“Allow me to lay it out for you, my flaxen-haired friend. You have no respect for the people around you who are just trying to help and be a part of the team. You have no respect for Fishlegs, certainly none for Snotlout, and you couldn't have less respect for the two of us! I hope this works out for you. Because I’m out. I’m taking Barf ‘n’ Belch and making my own hideout. Because that’s all this is. It’s not a base, it’s a place for you to cower. C’mon, bro.”

With that Ruffnut climbed the ladder and disappeared.

Astrid stared after her, jaw slightly agape. “Well you’re…you’re…”

“Nice, A.” Tuffnut turned to follow his sister.

“I- I… respect you,” she choked the words out.

Tuffnut shook his head. “Please, you can barely even say it.”

Barf ‘n’ Belch looked at each other before flying out of the opening they had spent so much time on.

Astrid clenched her jaw watching them go. She turned back to the other two who had been watching in silence. “Whatever, they can go get caught anyway.”

Fishlegs’ pale face looked back at her. “Astrid… that was… awful.” He looked at his feet.

“No, Fish, I…” She scrambled for the words to explain.

Before she could he was flying out of the cave mouth with Meatlug.

She looked back to the last person she had left, Snotlout.

He was looking at her, pain in his eyes, his lips pressed into a tight line. “That was not cool, Astrid.”

“Are you serious?” she looked at him. “Snotlout, you call them stupid all the time. You know they’re going to get us in trouble.”

He shook his head. “Not like that.”

She looked at him aghast. “Not like that? Snotlout, we need to be tough on them they’re-” Snotlout climbed onto Hookfangs neck “-a liability to us all. Snotlout get down you’re not going to leave-” she was cut off by the nightmare’s powerful wing beat and the pair disappeared into the night leaving Astrid standing alone.

“Whatever,” she muttered. “They were just going to mess it up anyway.” She looked to Stormfly.

“Oh don’t look at me like that.” The nadder just turned and curled up in a corner. Astrid set her jaw, stomping down any flares of guilt.

--

The second day of the regatta sailed around and Astrid was hiding out in the forge. She locked herself in Hiccup’s little room, now bare of all traces of him but she found a sort of comfort knowing that she wasn’t the only one who had hidden in that room. Albeit for opposite reasons. She heard the muffled sounds of music and cheering from outside. When the forge wasn’t lit it turned quite cold quickly. She knew the outside was filled with sun but resigned herself to sit in the dark. After all the nights she’d been spending flying a nap wouldn’t hurt.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been asleep when Gobber came crashing through the door. She sprung bolt upright, wiping her face.

“Gobber, hey.” She cleared her throat. “I wasn’t doing anything.”

“I can see that,” he quipped. “The question is why not? You’ve been everywhere this last week.” He closed the door carefully, sparing a quick peek over his shoulder. “Is this because of Hiccup?”

She shook her head, though the thought had been consuming her nights. One thing at a time. “Not exactly.”

“You remember when you said you had something to tell me at the end of the week?”

She nodded.

“Times up.”

She groaned, dropping her head onto the table.

____

“I don’t like that you’ve dragged me into the middle of nowhere,” Gobber grumbled. “That tunnel was definitely from a whispering death.”

“Are you finished?”

“If you told me where we’re going I might.”

“If I told you I’d have to kill you,” she joked but she couldn’t muster much humour. “Watch your step,” she instructed, stepping over Fishlegs’ plant arrangements.

“Wait here.”

Astrid called down the opening.

In a blink, Stormfly settled herself into the small clearing.

Gobber stumbled back. “Beard of Thor.”

“I know,” Astrid agreed.

“What are you doing, Lass?”

“I don’t know.”

He regarded the nadder carefully. Stormfly was standing calmly watching him in return.

“Explain.”

So she did. She told him about the dragons, and the others and the base and their sudden departure.

“They just suddenly left? That’s the story you’re going with?” Gobber gave her a sceptical look.

She looked at her hands. “Yes. All I did was point out that they need to be careful.”

“That’s all you did.”

“What’s with the interrogation? You asked what I was hiding and that’s it. You’re all caught up.” She crossed her arms. “End of.”

He snorted. “Yeah, sure.” He dropped it anyway. “Do I get to see inside this base?”

Astrid’s mouth twisted. “It’s just a cave, plus we only have a rope ladder, I don’t know that you’ll make it back up.”

“We?”

Astrid huffed. “Whatever.” She turned to her dragon. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Taking the permission, Stormfly disappeared to wherever she spent her days.

“What’s tonight?”

--

The day of celebration came and the banquet was set to last all day. In hindsight it was stupid. Poor judgment. But the food was heaped, and there were baskets of fish, ripe for the taking. And Astrid, like any responsible dragon rider, just wanted to provide something for her dragon… and the others. So she took a basket, and then another. She was halfway to the forest edge with them when Spitelout stopped her.

“What are you doing with that fish, girl?”

One of these days she would have to learn how to lie. A litany of excuses and lies swam in her head but none of them formed into something comprehensive. Her tongue fell heavy in her mouth and she refused to let the basket go for fear they would see how her hands shook. “Nothing.”

“I-”

At that moment the twins swooped in. “Sorry we’re late, Astrid but we were really hoping you’d change your mind about cooking the fish.” Tuff rushed over to her.

“Everyone knows you can’t cook and this fish is already pungent,” Ruff added.

“I can cook,” she replied automatically.

“That’s the spirit, Astrid.” Tuffnut patted her shoulder sympathetically.

“You want some, Spitelout? Tuff and I will try to make sure you don’t get sick.” Ruffnut offered.

Astrid felt her face go red. “I can cook!” she insisted. “Don’t go anywhere, I’m bringing you a steaming plate of fish.” She gripped the baskets, dragging them towards her house. “It’ll be delicious,” she yelled.

She heard the sound of hearty laughter behind her. “Good luck with that, lass.” Then she felt Ruff and Tuff fall into step behind her.

She didn’t dare say a word till they were securely in her house and she had confirmed her parents were out. She set the baskets down, shifting her weight.

“That was a good save,” she said finally. “I thought I was done for.”

The other two looked at each other.

She sighed, leaning against the table. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

The twins exchanged another look.

“I think you should come back.”

She was met with more silence.

“Alright, I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Maybe I’m sorry?” Tuffnut said.

“You were pretty awful to us.”

Her lips twisted. “You weren’t making it easy for me.”

“You still have no idea, do you?”

“I don’t-”

“We did everything. You chose the place but we built it together. We knocked down the wall, saved rocks for Meatlug, and collected fish for our dragons. You don’t notice but we cleared the whispering death tunnel. Snotlout is weaving a camouflage net. You never want to hear our ideas but we can help.”

Astrid felt the irritation subsiding. “You’re right. I’m… sorry.” She forced out. She thought about the look Gobber had given her. “It’s possible I haven’t been handling this well.”

Tuffnut seemed to perk up.

Ruffnut was less ready. “You must be feeling extra guilty,” She suggested with folded arms.

Astrid nodded slowly. “Actually… I am.”

“And you’re going to listen to us from now on?”

“Definitely.”

“And completely one hundred per cent embarrassed and exposed.”

Astrid dropped back to a scowl.

“Too far? Okay.” She held out her hand. “All is forgiven.”

Astrid shook it.

“Let's get cooking.” Ruffnut smiled. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask where you’re disappearing to every night.”

--

The group headed out into the midday sun.

“Come get your fish, delicious cooked fish.”

Astrid held the platter while Ruff and Tuff tried to drum up attention on either side.

A couple of Vikings gave a passing glance before hurrying away from the vile smell wafting from the platter. They continued until they stumbled across Snotlout.

“Snotlout,” Astrid greeted brightly, a silent apology on her face. “Fish?”

His eyes flicked from the twins to Astrid before a smile slid across his face. “Absolutely, babe,” Snotlout announced smugly. A small crowd of Vikings had stopped around the group, shuffling in anticipation. He confidently picked up a piece of fish and took a bite. The crowd watched expectantly as he swallowed, blanched and ran to the side. Chuckles bubbled in the crowd turning into a raucous laugh.

“Good thing she can fight.”

Bjork clapped her on the back. “I’d give up cooking if I were you,” he chortled.

At that moment, Fishlegs rounded the corner. “What is that smell, it’s amazing.” He stopped short upon seeing the crowd and Snotlout hunched on the ground. A slow head shake from Snotlout had him backing away. “I have suddenly, inexplicably changed my mind.”

“Let’s put that in the bin,” Ruff grinned.

Chapter Text

“Ooh, Dibs!” 

Astrid groaned as she sidestepped the twins. It was just her luck that what was supposed to be a quick flight to the North Markets turned into a group activity. 

“Hit me again,” Tuffnut grinned, standing in front of his sister, who was swinging a basket of maces experimentally. 

The twins had been flickering from shop to shop finding various deadly weapons while Fishlegs had stopped a couple of stalls down to examine dragon migrations maps made by dragon hunters. Unfortunately, that left Snotlout hovering around her, picking up every shiny object he saw. 

“What about this one, Astrid? It’s beautiful.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Like you.” 

She scoffed and kept moving. “In case you’ve forgotten, Snotlout, we actually have a job to do.”

“I can do two things!” He objected. “And it’s always a good time for wooing.” He grabbed her hand. “Ooh, soft.” 

Astrid didn’t bother hiding her sneer. She twisted his arm back, listening to the bones in his wrist crack. 

He whined as he went down, hitting the ground like a sack of stones. 

She stepped over his body, continuing her search for the bearing Gobber wanted. “This one,” she gestured to the shopkeep trying to maintain a disinterested air. The man didn’t even look at her. 

“We’re closed.” 

“You’re not.” 

He stepped out and locked the windows. “I am.” He glared down at her under his spiked helmet. “And everyone else is too.” 

On cue all the shop fronts in the alley slammed closed. 

“I only need one thing,” Astrid argued.

Snotlout finally rose from the dirt. “Can’t you listen to her?” He cradled his wrist. “She’ll lose it if we don’t get this thing.” 

The man smirked. “Not my problem.” He joined the crowd of vendors. 

Ruffnut slung a familiar arm over the man’s shoulder. “Say, my dear friend, where is everyone going anyway?” 

He shoved her off. “There’s a show.”

“Good talk, thank you, kind sir.” Ruffnut recovered quickly.

Astrid kicked the closed door. “Damn. Damn. It was right
there
.” 

At that moment, Fishlegs reappeared in the crowd with armfuls of parchment. “Did you guys know that the catastrophic quaken is thought to be the main ancestor of a gronckle? How cool is that? And-”

“Ugh, please do not nerd out right now,” Snotlout groaned

“Why do you guys look so miserable?” 

“That yak bucket closed up shop,” Astrid growled. “And we need that bearing.”  She kicked the door again. 

“For the fight? Apparently the whole island is going. People are coming from all over the archipelago for this Gladiator.” 

“Gladiator?” Ruffnut’s ears perked up. 

“I hoped it would be boar wrestling.” Tuffnut scuffed his toe. 

“Would you mutton heads please focus,” Astrid scowled. 

“Yeesh, Astrid, all you had to do was ask.” With a flourish, Ruff produced a key. 

The others stared at her. 

“Where did you get that?”

She shrugged. “Easy.”

“And you’re only showing us now,” Astrid asked, lips pursed. 

“If you don't want it-” 

“Gimme that.” Snotlout opened the store. “There, problem solved. Now grab what you want and let’s get out of here.” 

Astrid reached over grabbing the bearing and a couple of other familiar items leaving a single silver piece in its stead. “Let’s head back to the dragons. It doesn’t look like there’s anything else we can do here.”

“We could go to the gladiator,” Snotlout mumbled snarkily. 

“Seriously, you want to waste your time watching two meatheads punch each other silly.” Fishlegs jabbed a finger in the twins direction. 

“Point taken.” 

“I want to see the fight,” Tuffnut objected. 

“Me too.” Ruff grinned. “Maybe they’ll have boar wrestling in the intermission. 

Astrid was already shaking her head. “Anything that draws a crowd this big is trouble and Gobber can only cover for us for so long.” 

They dropped the argument. 

“Tuffnut. Where did you get a mace?” 

He lifted his head, an attempted innocent expression on his face. “Oh this old thing…” he tried to play it off. “I stole it.” 

“Oh my Thor.” 

“You can’t take her back,” Tuffnut cried. 

Astrid recoiled at the desperation in his voice. “Okay, fine you can keep it.” 

“Her,” he corrected. “Her name is Macey.”

They walked on in silence.

“Is this gronckle iron?”

---

News of Hiccup’s death travelled slow. Much slower than the Bounty. When it did come, it was in the form of a very somber Trader Johan. Who had docked his boat and headed straight for Stoick, not a single story passing his lips before he disappeared into the chief’s house with Gobber and Stoick. 

Astrid waited outside, part of a small group of shuffling feet and straining ears. The conversation dragged on, anticipation building until Stoick emerged, collected and confident, if a tad pale. 
 
“The bounty on Hiccup’s head has been filled,” he announced, the crowd barely managing a breath. “The North Archipelago Markets sold tickets to the execution of ‘Hiccup the Traitor’ last Tyrsday.” 
 
The news struck Astrid like a blow. Her vision flashed white as her pulse jumped, panic racing through her. Stoick and Gobber disappeared and Johan took their place, launching into a slightly overenthusiastic retelling. The others took turns standing with Astrid, providing jabs at Hiccup that Astrid only needed to laugh along to, which was easy since she couldn’t hear them over the blood in her ears. The story seared itself into her memory after the first telling and Astrid felt the desperate need to disappear. 

Without Gobber the forge was silent and Astrid searched for something to bust herself with.  Since the raids had stopped, orders had decreased, only Gobber’s complex repairs remained. Still, Astrid was desperate to occupy her mind. She dug a rusty old sword out of the scrap pile and ground off the rust, watching the sparks fly and illuminate the cluttered bench. She watched as they flickered and burnt out struggling against the smothering counter while the events of Hiccup’s … execution played in her mind. The word made her shudder. Johan had relayed the events thoroughly. 

Tickets to the execution sold fast, people camped in line, waiting for the chance to see ‘The Death of the Traitor’ for themselves. Midday struck and Hiccup was dragged into a sunbaked arena, weak and sweaty from a week spent in the dungeons. He was deposited next to a weapons array in the interest of a ‘fair fight’. The roar of the crowd could be heard from across the sea as they rattled the chains of the arena. 

The gladiator emerged, a hulking figure soaking up raucous applause. His skin glittered with pale scars as he brandished an axe with confident ease. 

Hiccup never stood a chance, he trembled with the exertion of standing. Still, he found it in him to fight back. 

The gladiator began toying with Hiccup. Circling him with sparks of steel against stone. He feigned an attack, grinning sadistically as Hiccup flinched away. He swung again, this time connecting with the weapons stand, sending wood splintering. Hiccup took a piece of the stand, cowering behind it as he stumbled away. The gladiator pursued, dealing sickening blows to his makeshift shield. Hiccup weakened with each connection. 

With a ruthless grin, the gladiator reached down and wrenched the splinters from Hiccup gouging his palms, and tossed the wood to the side with a lazy flick of the wrist. 

Hiccup scrambled to his feet before launching a quick attack, blade darting back and forth in a flurry of movement before he managed connection, slicing the skin of his shoulder.

Blood trickled from the wound, covering the wraps on his arms. The gladiator paused, fingers dabbing at the blood. He pulled them away, a strained expression on his face.  

Hiccup gulped. 

The gladiator regripped his axe, a sick determination on his face. Hiccup could only back away as the gladiator abandoned his game. He ducked once, twice, three times before his body couldn’t keep up and the flat of the axe slammed into the side of his head. Hiccup stumbled, dazed. The gladiator pressed forward sporting a grin with far too many teeth as he pushed Hiccup to the ground. He stood above the puny figure before him, absorbing the cheers of the frenzied crowd. As his axe climbed the chains reverberated with a new frequency. His arm reached the top, there was silence for a second, then it fell, the axe sinking into Hiccup’s chest, dark blood spilling immediately, gushing from the frail body. Hiccup reached for his knife once, twice and fell limp. The crowd thundered with applause. 

The gladiator turned to the crowd letting the sound die down. “If he loves dragons so much,” his voice echoed around the arena, “he can die by them.” 

The far wall creaked and groaned as the cage rattled open. Anticipation filled the arena as the audience leaned forward in a hush. A zippleback exited creeping forward one head at a time hissing through pointed teeth. The gladiator ripped his axe from Hiccup’s chest, blood still trickling from the wound and dripping down the axe of red stained steel. He dragged Hiccup by the leg, skin scraping against the ground leaving a trail of blood and skin. He left the body at the foot of the dragon. 

Hiccup lifted a feeble arm, reaching for the snarling zippleback, fingers outstretched, trust and desperation in the movement. The dragon reared back, eyes wild, thin with starvation. Hiccup’s arm collapsed, small rasps tearing from his lips. He could only watch as his doom approached. 

Green gas rolled from the dragon, swallowing the arena. Hiccup’s body disappeared into the cloud. From the crowd all that was heard was the beat of wings, the snapping of teeth and the ripping of skin. Two heads surfaced above the gas, flesh dangling from their mouths and blood dripping from their teeth. An occasional chunk was flung to the crowd in the feeding frenzy. Seemingly satiated, the zippleback thickened the gas and sparked it, sending the arena into one big fireball. The crowd ducked, dodging the spray of flame. The zippleback turned its attention to the crowd, snapping through the chains and sending blasts in their direction. A woman walked out brandishing an axe with a green coating and a skirt of silver dragon scales. She backed the zippleback into its cage revealing scraps of charred body, scraps of cloth and a knife. All that remained of Hiccup. Johan brought them all back to the chief. The North Market provided Hiccup’s journal and hunting dagger engraved with Stoick’s crest and Hiccup’s initials as proof. It was an imperfect knife, covered in knicks and blemished, it was poorly weighted. Gobber held tightly when showing the Hooligan tribe. Confirming that it was the first thing Hiccup had ever made. The pair had kept the knife but tossed the book to a rabid crowd who made a show of throwing it into a stoked hearth in the Great Hall. 

Astrid snapped back to reality, looking down at the sword, now thin and teetering on the edge of snapping. She dropped it into the scrap pile not sparing it a second glance.

The night had died down by the time Astrid left the forge. Celebrating the death of a teenager was bound to get old sometime. The hall was empty except for the couple of drunk coots laying on cold benches and snoring like a gronckle. She moved silently, scanning the centre hearths for the charred remains of Hiccup’s journal. Only a corner peeked through the layers of soot and ash. With a quick hand Astrid pinched the edge, dropping the journal on the stone floor with a hiss. She shook the embers from her hand, stomping the last coals out on the leather binding. The room didn’t stir. Astrid grabbed the book and made her escape. 

The usually dark corners almost glowed under the full moon, silver light consuming any traces of shadow. Astrid wandered through the square, exposed and clutching the damaged journal to her stomach, the soot leaving clouds on her skin. The layers of fuel piled on served only to provide insulation, she had the chance to salvage the coated half pages. The days of having to stash Hiccup’s journal under her front step were long gone, now she was stashing Hiccup’s journal in an underground ‘clubhouse’. Habit took her to the cove, it was only when she entered the familiar mouth that her mind caught up, just in time to see Stoick standing in the centre, staring at the sky. 

“Astrid,” he greeted. 

She hid the book behind her back. 

“Come join me.”

She hesitated. Stoick was… an enigma. The pieces from Gobber and Snotlout never fit with what she saw. How could he be a fearless leader, the man that split a rock in two, popped a dragon's head off it’s shoulders as a baby and the man who abandoned his son. A man who stood idly by while a bounty was placed on his son. 

“What brings you here, lass?” 

“Couldn’t sleep.” Her heart stuttered. The words felt like an admission of something more. 

“So you came out here?” 

She hated the way he said it. Like he knew. Like he understood. Like he had any idea what she was looking for. Her jaw twitched. 

Stoick looked at the stars. “He would’ve been the pride of Berk.” His voice rasped in the cold night air. “If he’d never shot down that dragon. If he told me.” 

Astrid didn’t dare breathe. Didn’t dare risk reminding him of who he was speaking to. 

“If even one thing was different we might have a future. He wouldn’t be dead at the hands of Spitelout’s bounty.” 

The revelation didn’t shock Astrid like it should have. It seemed obvious now. The man beside her was no more capable of killing Hiccup than Astrid was. 

“If he’d just killed the dragon.” 

And there it was. The moment everything changed for Stoick. It angered Astrid more than anything else she’d heard today. Like Hiccup was the one that had to change. The argument she’d been itching to have burned in her throat. She tried to swallow the vitriol but she felt the heat rising to her face. 

Stoick cast a sidelong glance. “If you’ve got something to say, Astrid…” 

She clamped her mouth shut, nostril flaring with strain. 

“I know you were… symp-”

“-Hiccup didn’t need to kill the dragon for things to be different.” The words tore from her involuntarily. “If Hiccup hurt that dragon at all he wouldn’t be Hiccup. Not our Hiccup with his morals and feelings and stupid half brained plans.” 

Stoick didn’t bite back. “Aye, but maybe that would be for the best.” 

“For who?” She spat

“He would still be alive.” The admission was rasped so honestly but Astrid couldn’t slow down. 

“And become who? Another Snotlout?” Astrid fought to prevent Hiccup from being entombed in his father’s mind as a failure. “A hiccup was who we needed.” She bit down the insult toward Stoick that threatened to follow. 

Stoick sighed, rubbing his beard. “He’s the worst combination of me and his mother.” 

That stopped Astrid. No one ever mentioned Hiccup’s mother. She had heard her name twice in her life.  

“We were both so stubborn - boar headed. He’s got my smart mouth and Valka’s pacifism but none of my strength and half her charm.” He shook his head. “Valka was against warring with the dragons.”

Astrid couldn’t hide her surprise. 

“She hated the expeditions to find the nest. Always said there was a better way to stop the raids without bloodshed. She wanted to coexist.” 

The familiarity of it all made her stomach churn. 

“She wasn’t a fighter but the people loved her anyway. She was friends with the entire village.” The corners of his mouth twitched upwards briefly. “She kept me grounded.”

Astrid didn’t know how to respond to the revelation. Her heart ached for the man who had lost his entire family yet anger burned for the man who had abandoned his only son. The son who probably didn’t even know how similar he was to his own mother. Who thought he was the first viking in 300 years who wouldn’t kill a dragon. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. 

“Me too.” He didn’t lose the gloss in his eye.  “If I could go back…” He cleared his throat. “ I won’t be here forever.” 

Astrid’s mouth dried. Any ability she had to predict where this conversation was going abandoned her a long time ago. 

“I know the village won’t like it and it’s a lot to ask.” 

Astrid almost couldn’t hear him over the racing of her own heart. 

“Keep an eye on Snotlout-” 

Relief and disappointment coursed through her all at once. 

“-become his right hand, guide him. Do the things I couldn’t.” 

---

“I don’t know, Gobber,” Astrid snapped, throwing a sword on the counter. 

Sven performed a graceful u-turn at the sound. The village had learnt to avoid the forge during one of their ‘spats’. Last time someone had come in for a pick-up Astrid had sent them away with a new axe and a freshly dislocated shoulder. 

“This is not something I ever planned for.” 

Gobber didn’t even glance up. “It’s not that different to what you’re already doing.” It was a position they’d been in a thousand times. Argument after argument about anything and everything that always ended in the same way because Astrid couldn’t admit the real problem. 

“Except that it is.” Astrid leaned against the bench, arms crossed. 

“There is no part of this job that you couldn’t do.”

Astrid stared at him like he’d suggested Odin himself was a yak. “The diplomacy,” she pointed out. “I don’t know how to run a village. I don’t want a life running around after people making sure all the sheep stay in their pens.” She slumped forward. “I was supposed to be a warrior.” 

Sighing, Gobber set down the spearhead. “Stoick’s a warrior too, Astrid. A chief and a viking in equal parts. You know that.” His eyes searched her for understanding. 

“He doesn’t want a warrior,” she argued. “You didn’t hear him. One second we’re talking about-” she lowered her voice, “-Hiccup and Valka,” she returned to normal volume, “and next he’s asking me to keep an eye on Snotlout. What does that tell you?” 

“That you misunderstood him.” Gobber shook his head fondly. “Stoick knows who you are, Astrid. He doesn’t know exactly or everything about you, for that matter, but he knows your spirit. You and Snotlout might make a good team.” He returned his attention to shaping the spearhead. “You’ve managed to work things out with your dragon riders.”

Hearing them mentioned so casually made Astrid’s heart jump to her throat. “I barely manage to wrangle them half the time.” Her latest fight with Ruff and Tuff was permanently seared into her memory. “It’s equal parts threats and begging.” 

“It can be taught,” Gobber assured. Then after a pause. “Probably.” Gobber started trying to reflect light from the spear to Astrid. “No chief is born perfect,” he continued. “Stoick caused three fires and two riots within the first week.” He smiled despite the melancholy that haunted the side of his mouth. He set the spear down again. “So what is it really, Astrid.”

She shook her head. 

“Astrid,” he warned. 

Heat rose through the air, radiating from simmering coals, burning Astrid’s face. This had to end sometime. “I don’t know…” She mustered her courage. “I don’t know if I’m going to stay.”

Gobber deflated, a sad understanding staining his face. “I thought you’d settled in.” 

“I did, but- it’s- and I-” She hid her face in her hands. “If I say yes to this, formality or not, that’s it. I’ll have to stay. This,” she gestured vaguely, “will all be my responsibility. If I get caught then it’s not just ‘reckless teenager sympathises with dragon master’ it’ll be ‘Berk leader, traitor to vikings leaves village in disarray.’”

“That’s a wee bit dramatic don’t you think.” 

Astrid shrugged. “Can you imagine how much a second betrayal by two people that are supposed to be the new generation would hurt? We would be the enemy. Permanently.” 

Gobber turned back to his work. “I can’t tell you what decision to make, but I promise you, I will always be here when you need me.” 

She could only nod a turn back to her work, busing herself with sharpening the discarded sword. Not quickly enough to shut out the voice that told her he’d probably told Hiccup the same thing. 

---

After the appropriate amount of time passed there was nothing left to do except name a new heir. There was no suspense, no build up and no ceremony. They fulfilled their obligation to the gods and spread the news to surrounding tribes in a simple presentation on the steps of the great hall. Snotoutlout stood on the landing in front of the chief’s house with Stoick and Gothi, while the rest of the village stood crowded in the square, the atmosphere somewhere between anticipation and misery. Astrid wished she could see their faces, get a clue as to who would be difficult to win over, but from where she was standing all she could see was Snotlout’s pale face and Spitelout’s blinding grin. Gothi led Snotlout through his oath and that was that. 

The consequences of these happenings followed soon after as Astrid and Snotlout found themselves in Stoick’s house. Before their first day of training they were subject to a thorough lecture that mostly consisted of warnings to “stay quiet and watch”. After that they were dragged across the island from hither to hoist, following banal disputes and ration allocations. Astrid was ready to quit after the first agreement. She had long since discovered that she didn’t have the patience nor the diplomacy to withstand people that were apparently no smarter than the twins. No matter how arduous Astrid found the task of quietly watching the pettiest arguments on Berk, Snotlout was faring worse. His version of quiet was ‘whispering’ jokes that anyone in a 10 meter radius could hear and his version of helping included telling Lars #2 that he was “thicker than a yak in a barrel.” 

Needless to say Stoick ended the day early and headed back to his hut clutching an ice brick and muttering to himself.

---

Astrid and Stormfly swooped into their hangar, surprised to see the door already open. The others were lying in a circle on their dragons, bored brainless. “Is something wrong?” She asked tentatively. 

“Yes!” Tuffnut exclaimed. “I’m so bored.” He flopped back onto his dragon. “We can’t keep living like this, A.” 

“I hate to agree with twin one,” Snotlout supplied from his own spot brushing Hookfang's claws. 

“Why does he get to be twin one?” 

“.. but the dragons are going stir crazy. Two short flights a day isn’t enough.”  

“I know it's not ideal but I don’t have time for anything else,” Astrid said firmly. 

“That’s the problem,” Fishlegs interjected. “It’s not just you. Before people didn’t care where we went; now even the twins are being put to work, none of us can get away.”

“We might be more entertained if you told us where you were going every night,” Ruffnut singsonged. 

The jab didn’t even register, Ruffnut made it so often. Instead, Astrid looked at Fishlegs. “What are you suggesting?” 

“We need a new system.” He said plainly. “This isn’t working.” 

It wasn’t. She knew that. It was supposed to be temporary, a placeholder, until they got a better offer. It never came. Now they were stuck trying to play the hand they were dealt. In the past year, the hangar had turned into a cavern, the dragons had a door to come and go as they pleased and they’d filled the space with various trinkets and dare she say homely touches. They had started spending more time here than they did in their own homes but it never felt like enough. In her dreams, Hiccup came back or Stoick wanted to understand his family’s affinity for dragons. Reality was much harder to reconcile. 

“I-” she cringed. “I don’t know what to do.” It was a painful admission. 

A thoughtful silence followed, though the air in the room started to list. 

“We could start showing people our dragons,” Snotlout suggested. 

The reply was instantaneous. “No,” Fishlegs and Astrid chorused. 

“They can’t banish all of us,” Tuff pointed out. “Can they?” 

Fishlegs pursed his lips. 

“Half the village wants Snotlout replaced as heir, people are waiting for the two of you to mess up and if word gets out that I let Hiccup go I’ll be on the first ship out of here. Fishlegs is the only one with a chance but if they find out he’s with us…” she trailed off. “Even Stoick couldn't save Hiccup. Our only ally is Gobber.” 

“Which is exactly why we need to build more,” Snotlout argued. 

“Not by risking our dragons.”

“We need to start small. Start bringing non-dangerous dragons back to Berk. We could train terrible terrors, make sure they don’t steal food or set anything alight. People could just get used to them.” 

“...That’s actually…”

“That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard, you’re out of the family.” 

“Brilliant.” 

“Welcome back to the family.” 

“We start with terrors and work our way up to the gronckles and nadders. We train small groups. Teach them to stay away from livestock and fish stores. Give them a place in the forest to roost.” Fishlegs was buzzing now. 

-

Fortuitously, the new generation of leaders were not only expected but encouraged to take ‘team building’ excursions. ‘Character building’ Spitelout called it. “Toughen them up.” The chief was all too happy to leave the group under Astrid’s supervision and a strict training regime. 

The dragons made their way to Thor Rock island while the gang piled onto a rickety boat. They landed in the pouring rain, staggering through the heavy fog. The five of them struggling to secure the ship against the unrelenting deluge. 

“Where are those stupid lizards?” Snotlout grumbled. “Hookfang,” he called. “Get over here right now.” 

“They won’t be able to find us in this storm.” Astrid called. She could barely see five meters in front of them. “There’s a cave not far from here where we can wait it out.” She pushed onwards. “The dragons will be doing the same thing.” 

“I can’t see where we’re going.” Fishlegs fumbled for the map, already disintegrating. 

“Keep moving,” she ordered. 

“You’re going to walk us into the trench.”

“Trust me.” She ignored the perplexed, wet faces behind her. “I know what I’m doing.” They continued through the scrub venturing deeper and deeper into the storm until she felt the familiar crook of an opening. They sank inside, protected from the pelting sleet. Sopping layers of furs fell to the floor as the gang took the opportunity to stretch out in their, thankfully dry, underlayers before falling to the group, exhausted. 

After a couple of minutes of silence and heavy breaking Fishlegs asked, “How did you know this was here?” 

Outside, the storm worsened, cracks of thunder and screaming wind echoed through the cave mouth. 

Tuffnut was exploring the cave, feeling along the jagged edges in the dark. He stumbled, hitting the group with a loud slap. 

Ruffnut barked a laugh. 

“Guys,” Tuffnut started, “I think someone lives here.”

The group sat up instantly. 

“No,” Astrid sighed. “It’s mine.” She fumbled for the torch she’d left on an outcrop. 

“What?” 

She raised the flickering light illuminating a straw bed and a wicker basket. “I’ve got a couple of escape routes set up. Nothing fancy, just a warm place to sleep in case things go really wrong.” The other reason hung in the air, hovering just out of reach. “I’ve been scouring islands at night for safe places.” She gave Ruffnut a pointed look. 

The others nodded, a hush falling across the group before they made the unspoken decision to move on. 

Fishlegs unrolled his map of the island which, despite the oil topcoat, was fighting off dampness and Astrid leaned over with the torch.  “If the dragons are on the island they’re probably here,” She gestured at the sheltered section in the middle of the island, punctuated with the titular ‘Thor Rocks’. “Tomorrow we can track down some terrors.”

Chapter Text

March 

Soft mud fell from Astrid’s boots as she stepped inside the low stable opening hauling her fish basket over the threatening splinters she’d told Snotlout to fix a million times. The yaks and chickens awaited her arrival with scratching feet as they always did. The stable hadn’t been her idea but naturally she was the one who had gotten stuck caring for them. Fishlegs suggested that if people thought what they were hiding was a small farm they wouldn’t go digging for dragons. The twins just liked the idea of pets. Tuffnut in particular had taken a shine to one chicken which he creatively dubbed ‘chicken’ that now went with him everywhere. No one in the village questioned the errant forest chicken and if it kept Tuffnut out of trouble it wasn’t worth finding out who it used to belong to. The twins had done most of the work filling the stable, they’d been stowing three yaks from three consecutive birthdays in the forest already. In true twin fashion, they’d been trying to acquire enough yaks to make a boar pit, ‘but with yaks… a yak pit!’ 

Astrid tossed a handful of grain at the clucking chickens before placing the stolen sack back behind the obnoxious shark skin the twins had insisted on ‘livening the place up’ with. Which was probably the reason the chickens didn't lay for the first three months. 

She placed her hand on the back wall and a door opened, seamlessly disguised in the grain of the wood. Gobber had done that part for them, every attempt Astrid made came out with a very clear and very jagged line. She slid inside and closed the door. This, this is where she wanted to be. She descended the stairs, breathing in the smell of singed stone and fish. Disgusting, sure, but comforting. 

“Stormfly,” Astrid grinned. “Hey girl, I’ve missed you.” She scratched under the chin of the cooing dragon. Stormfly lost interest quickly though, instead sniffing the basket. “Okay, okay,” she smiled. She pushed over the basket, fish guts, heads and tails slid over the floor. It was everything she could do not to gag, the repulsion crawling up in her throat. It was one smell she’d never get used to. Three more dragons emerged from the darkness, sniffing curiously through the cave. She watched as they scarfed down their food, unrestrained. 

Stormfly finished her share and cocked her head, intelligent eyes trained on Astrid. She smiled. “Yeah girl, I’m ready.” She swung onto her dragon's neck. “It’s supposed to be a beautiful sunrise this morning.”

—

April

Every part of the island was visible from Gothi’s hut from the boats coming in to dock to the children playing hide and seek in the village. On a clear day, you could see to the sea stack that marked the end of the marina. Unfortunately, that also meant that Astrid could see the brewing situation as Bucket, Mulch, Sven and Stevenson marched to the chief’s house. From the way grey streaks glinted in the sunlight, Astrid could make out Stoick making his way back from the centre village, shoulders slanted in a way that had become characteristic, while Snotlout appeared to have been summoned from Phlegma’s farm. 

It would be easy to pretend that securing Gothi’s hut had taken longer than expected. If she was careful she might even be able to sneak back to her post without getting involved. Instead, Astrid dragged herself back down the mountain where Stoick, upon seeing her, looked relieved.

“It’s your turn,” he told them and retreated inside. 

No one argued. It was almost a surprise that he’d put in half a day. Sometimes Astrid thought the only people he would see in a week were Gobber, Spitelout, Snotlout and herself and she’d never see him in conversation with Spitelout without a frown. 

Turning her attention to the matter at hand, Astrid discovered that it was, what should have been, a simple scheduling issue. Bucket and Mulch were supposed to be on Fish duty but it was yak birthing weeks and Sven was looking after the flock so Toldstad was supposed to be working a double shift. But Toldstad was recovering after a scauldron took his fish. Stevenson could look after Sven’s flock while Bucket and Mulch looked after their own yaks but if either flock started birthing he wouldn’t be able to check on the other one. Starkard was supposed to be the backup but Starkard was tracking the scauldron migration with Fishlegs. 

By the time the four of them had squabbled over each other enough to get the story straight, Astrid felt a headache setting in. She rubbed her temples as Snotlout listed people. “So none of you can do it, Toldstsad’s out, Starkard’s out, Fishlegs is out. Who else can sail?” 

“Magnus, but he’s been puking his guts out all morning after Gobber misread Gothi’s instructions.” 

“Oh my Thor.” Snotlout rubbed his face. 

At this point it would be easier for Astrid to take it herself but Stoick had made it clear that if they started doing that it would never stop. “If I ever see you doing that,” Stoick had said. “I’ll drag you back myself.” Astrid didn’t think she’d recover from the embarrassment. 

While the pair brainstormed, Bucket took the opportunity to start explaining his near miss with a Scauldron that Mulch was quick to point out had been an exceptionally large piece of seaweed that had attached itself to Bucket’s hook nearly dragging him overboard. 

Snotlout’s face screwed tighter and tighter as the drawn out story continued, complete with interruptions and amendments by the others. 

To everyone’s relief, Mrs Larson’s piercing voice provided much needed distraction. “I taught you to sail so you could take your father to the markets, not so you and Hilda could go on a joyride.” She dragged her son behind her, hand clamped on his arm. 

Gustav stumbled after her. “We were just trying to help, ma, honest.””

“By running off?”

Astrid could see the whiteness of her knuckles. 

“We were looking to trade for some oat seeds,” Gustav yowled. “Hilda accidentally burnt a crop. We thought we’d be there and back before anyone noticed.” 

Snotlout’s head snapped up. “That’s what happened to at Phlegma’s.” 

“You are too old to be this juvenile. When will you start working?” She scowled. 

It almost seemed a little too convenient. Astrid caught Snotlout’s eye and shrugged. He wore a matching expression.  

“Mrs. Larson, Gustav, can you come here for a minute,” Snotlout summoned. 

There was a surprised pause and Mrs Larson released her son. The pair walked over tentatively, unsure how to address the acting chief. 

“You can sail?” 

“Yes.” Gustav couldn’t hide the fear on his face. 

“You can fish?”

He glanced at his mother. “Um..” 

“You don’t need to answer that,” Astrid cut in. “You can drop a net, you can lift it, you can fish.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Gustav answered. 

“Good. Gustav, take some help, you’re on fishing duty today.” Snotlout dusted his hands. 

“What?” There was a small pause as Mrs Larson’s gaze flicked across the group, the over the shoulder to the chief’s hut. 

Snotlout continued, “Talk to Toldstad, he’ll explain what you have to do.” He waved a casual hand. “Take whoever you want.”

Mrs Larson regained her footing. “Hilda,” she confirmed. “It’ll keep you both out of trouble. For once.” 

Snotlout nodded along. “To make up for Phlegma’s oats, you two can lock schedule your next two weeks around fishing.”

Satisfied, the farmers returned to their livestock, joking with newfound ease and Astrid stretched out her shoulders. She nodded to Snotlout before reporting for training. 

The arena was always surrounded by Viking hopefuls and people looking for entertainment when the Berk Guard was training. B team had just been released from another onslaught when Astrid returned. 

“Nice going Astrid,” Stick hissed. “Skipping training again.” 

She rolled her eyes, turning her attention to the front. 

“B-team, we’ve had reports of terrible terrors causing a disturbance in the lower village, clear them out.” 

The team groaned. The terror problem had been going on for months and they were much less a problem now than a nuisance. They were always rummaging through bins and lazing on hut rooves. Rounding them up consisted of chasing them across rooftops. It was a tedious process, hence why team B had gotten stuck with it. 

From a dragon training standpoint, however, it was a great success. After a significant number of nights spent training, they had managed a flock of the best worst worst-behaved terrors possible, mostly thanks to the efforts of Fishlegs and Astrid. The twins’ terrors, Butt and Head, could, as their names suggested, butt heads and thankfully not much else. Astrid often found them relaxing on a rooftop or squabbling with each other. Pain, Snotlout’s creation, was surprisingly well behaved for a dragon with such a boar-headed trainer. Pain liked to scamper among the others before settling onto a bed of hot coals, unless Snotlout walked past, in which case he latched onto Snotlout, teeth buried in his calf. At any given opportunity the purple terror was unable to be prised from Snotlout’s skin except by dragon nip. Unsurprisingly, Iggy and Sneaky, Fishlegs’ and Astrid’s terrors respectively provided the best connection with the Vikings. Iggy made himself useful by retrieving lost items while Sneaky entertained the children with her skills in unseen movement. The five main terrors started training the rest of the flock with small adjustments made by the gang and the well-behaved bundle of dragons grew. Astrid supposed that their plan worked a little too well because she was certain terrors that they had not brought back from Thor Rock Island were now happily chirping on rooves. 

“Why do we even bother,” Stick groaned. “They just keep coming back.” He flopped onto the grass at the hopeless scene before him. 

Agnar looked like a strangled cross between chiding him and agreeing. He halfheartedly tried to shoo the terrors before sitting beside Stick. “How did we win the dragon war just to lose to some terrors?” 

As soon as any weapon flashed, bolas, swords, axes, the terrors dispersed, spiraling across the sun with hissing laughter. They never even managed to hit the crafty buggers, not that anyone tried particularly hard anymore. The only thing they would do was shake a tea towel and hope that they got the picture. 

The tigers settled into the grass too, not wanting to clamber onto the roof. Astrid joined them, watching the dragons scurry around. She drew her knife slowly. The terrors froze, examining her, but didn’t leave. She caught the light, shining a dot at the ground in front of them. Butt and Head immediately pounced, slamming into each other. Astrid grinned. She continued to flick the light, weaning between the sitting terrors. Butt and Head stumbled over them as they chased the light, disturbing the peaceful group. Bored, she let the light die. 

“Does anyone have any fish?” She asked. 

“You can’t feed them, they’ll keep coming back,” Agnar warned. 

“They already keep coming back,” Astrid dismissed. “I want to keep one.” She patted down her pockets, finding only a clump of dragon nip. She held it out. The flock of curious pattered towards her. 

—

May

B team found themselves more and more willing to take terror duty as it grew in entertainment. Astrid started taking fish heads and dragon nip that they would place in the middle of the dragons and place bets on which dragon would take it. As much as Astrid found no entertainment in the ‘sport’ the twins had been right. It was gaining favour quickly. 

“Everybody needs a little entertainment, don't they,” Tuffnut whispered sinisterly, Chicken clucking agreement in his arms.

The twins worked hard popularising the activity and it slowly grew until people were following the team for matches. The twins had set the rule of one fight per day and much to Astrid’s surprise, it was being followed. People had even started sneaking ‘their’ dragons extra food to build strength and the terrors had started following other Vikings around without being cursed at. 

“That went well,” Astrid announced definitively one night, their success heightened by the newfound absence of any terrors in their hangar. Maybe the chickens would start laying again. 

“I believe what you mean to say, my dear Astrid, is that Tuffnut and I are geniuses.” Ruffnut wore a practised enigmatic expression.   

“Don’t push it.” 

“Fair enough."

“So what’s next?” Snotlout asked not taking his eyes off the yak skin ball he was throwing. 

“Gronckles I think,” Fishlegs answered. 

“Ugh, boring,” Snotlout yawned. “No one wants those lugs flying around. When do we get to the good stuff.” 

“Don’t listen to him, girl.” Fishlegs covered Meatlug’s ears. “You’re perfect.” 

“Shut up, Snotlout,” Astrid droned. 

“This is taking forever,” Tuffnut groaned. “I thought we’d be blasting through the sky by now.” 

“The gronckles are going to take even longer,” Astrid warned. “Getting people to warm up to Gronckle Iron and keep another flock hidden is going to be difficult. Speaking of, Fish, have you figured out the recipe yet?”

“Yep, 3 parts limestone, two parts sandstone, one part iron ore and one giant spoon of hardened gronckle lava.” 

Snotlout finally looked up. “Does that mean we have to go to Dragon Island now?”

August

‘The Thing’ dragged on. Inane discussion and petty argument raised to Stoick in one of his increasingly rare public appearances. The meetings had gotten longer since Snotlout was acting chief more often than not and no one wanted him to fix their problems. Even though half of them were about who owned an egg or whose yak was damaging the fences. The only relief was that Astrid was never involved. Instead, she sat, chin resting on her palm, chasing the crack of daylight that filtered through the door of the great hall. She tried to stop herself drifting off but Spitelout’s monologuing drove her thoughts away. In the uneven light of the hall, she saw a figure, piercing green eyes slinking away, a smirk on his face. She looked around. No one reacted. She followed him into the night, cool air washing over her. Below, Stoick crossed the square making his nightly trip to the cove. Any passersby turned a blind eye to the grief he wore plainly on his face. Astrid could only sit and wait for her ghost to return. 

She caught the glint of a smile and turned, just in time to see the figure drop down and disappear into the pocket between the stairs and the hall. She followed but the ghost stopped running. 

“Astrid,” the voice is strangled and desperate and unmistakably Hiccup. He reaches out a hand, green eyes begging. 

Astrid watched, mouth dry, heart racing until, against her better judgement, she took it. His skin soft and moving under hers with a gentle intangibility. The touch was cold, a frost that covered her skin like flying through the early morning fog. She suppressed a shiver. It came with a lightness, an ease that showed itself in the way he moved, drifting from place to place. She took a step towards him and the waiting dragon, the familiarity of the movement searing her skin. She hesitated, leaning back. He pulled her closer until they were a fraction apart. One hand on his, the other rested on his arm, poised to push him away. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said, voice soft but not quite a whisper. “You can’t be here.” 

“Is it so bad?” He blinked down at her. 

Her conviction wavered. “Yes,” she breathed, turning her head. 

“Astrid,” he pleaded, tilting her chin back to him. 

She jolted away, the feeling of his hands branded onto her jaw. She tried to shove him back but her hands only met air, thick and charred, leaving a sooty residue on her fingertips. 

Hiccup’s face wavered. “Wait,” he rasped. 

She stumbled further back, retreating against the rough stone of the great hall. He reached for her again and she pressed harder against the wall, eyes squeezed shut, willing him away. Astrid fell back into her chair with a heavy elbow to solid wood. She swallowed a cry. 

Snotlout sent a question look that Astrid replied to with a near imperceptible shake of the head. He settled back in, turning his attention to the newest issue. Astrid knew she should be doing the same. She rubbed her hands, trying to absolve them of their inky stain, of the ice that still ran through her veins. She snuck a glance. They were clean but she could still feel it climbing her arms and coating her in darkness. She felt it crawl across her chest and settle into her lungs. She surreptitiously lifted a hand to check her chin, the scars, the burns. Nothing from him. 

Despite the torches, a draught managed to slink through the hall, laying across her shoulders, whispering against her cheek. She tried to shake it off, to look forward but she couldn't help glancing over her shoulder. 

“Is something wrong Astrid?”

She snapped her attention back to Spitelout who gave her a pointed look. 

“No, sorry,” she gave a final glance over her shoulder. “Just a breeze.”

“Why don’t you share your thoughts on the terror problem, lass,” Spitelout suggested. 

Astrid looked at Snotlout who shrugged. “I think I’ve made my feelings clear,” she dismissed, still contemplating the dream she couldn’t entirely remember. 

Spitelout shrugged. “Enlighten us.” 

Astrid’s eyes flicked around the room, jumping from expectant faces to the glow of green eyes that appeared in shadowy corners. “I don’t know that it’s a problem,” she replied automatically. “They haven’t done any damage, they don’t do anything. People have even started to like them.” She chased the eyes again but the harder her eyes strained the less they appeared. “It’s a waste of time to try to get rid of them.”

“You’re okay with losing to them?” 

Again, Astrid looked at Snotlout. “Losing what?” She was only half interested in the answer. 

“It’s about the premise.” Spitelout slammed his fist on the table. “We let the terrors stay and then what? There’s already been sightings of gronckles.” 

Astrid was taken aback by the aggression. “We are vikings, when it comes down to it, we will always win. But I am not going to waste people's time with a non-issue over a matter of pride,” Astrid snapped back. Snotlout rose beside her. 

“Give it a rest Spitelout,” Agnar droned. “The kids love ‘em.” 

Stoick finally intervened. “That’s enough today. Hold the rest of the items for next month.” 

The hall immediately filled with clamour, the crowd flooding out. Astrid wedged herself safely in the masses, or so she thought. Snotlout appeared next to her dragging her to the side. 

“What happened today?”

“What?” Astrid glanced at her hands. “Nothing,” she dismissed. She could smell fog rolling in. Bucket had been complaining about his head for almost a week now. 

“Seriously, what is this about?” He tried to grab her arm but she slipped away. 

“Nothing! It’s fine.” She darted away. “Leave it,” she called over her shoulder before running directly into Spitelout who stood arms crossed. 

“I know you’re the one who wanted to domesticate the terrors,” he said. 

Astrid stood, trying not to give him the doe eyed, slack jawed look of someone who was guilty.

“You’re making a mistake,” he warned. “I’m not going to stop until everyone is safe from it.” Astrid didn’t breathe. “I will destroy every one of those terrors.” His tone was heavy. He stepped away and Astrid took the opportunity to bolt to the forest, navigating the uneven pathways with a deftness that would have surprised her if she’d been thinking. 

She didn’t stop until she had reached her dragon, legs and lungs burning. Taking advantage of the rolling fog, they shot directly up, the rush of wind filling her lungs so she could finally breathe again. She sat in the cold air, breathing water, catching up with her own heart. Her chest heaved. 

She could almost see Hiccup doing the same, pausing in the sky for a chance to breathe while she watched from below, the words ‘run’ still on her lips. She wondered if he ever looked back to see what happened to her. The memory turned cold, leaving her with the feeling of his hand on hers. Wiping away the fingerprints Spitelout had left on her and beckoning her closer, despite her promise to stay behind. 

The thought burned her up from the inside, heart racing, breath visible against the stormy air, almost glowing amongst the clouds. The possibility of how things might have gone consumed her. How did it go from the war against the dragons to a fight for them. In either case, it was the fight of her life. All because of one moment. One person. Now she kept burning. Alone. Soaked head to toe, hair pressed to her temples and eyes waterlogged. Unable to look at green eyes. Unable to remove the smell of smoke from her clothes. Unable to forget the feel of smooth scales beneath her fingertips. 

When she returned, she’d blame the meeting. The stress, the responsibility. Eyes would watch her from every house and Sneaky would climb through her window but it would never be the eyes she craved. Never the dragon she missed. The ones that would never entirely wash away. 

—

February

The boat back to Berk was quiet, as it always was. The moment they set foot on the dull wood the previous days of camaraderie vanished. They shuffled around each other, avoiding eye contact, arguments twitching on their lips. Emptiness ate at them, festering in the silence. A stark contrast to the previous week of spending every moment together. With the terrors fully adapted to Berk and the gronckles safely tucked away making gronckle iron, Astrid loosened the reins a little. They’d spend the first couple of days with their dragons, exploring whatever caught their interest until inevitably someone got bored or sick of fish dinners and would go looking for the others. Far-off markets satiated their curious spirit, as well as placing a ‘claimy rock’ on various uninhabited islands. For five days they were free. Of course, when they returned they would be expected to smile and Astrid would pretend that the twitch in her eye had disappeared and the twins would hold off on the Loki-ing for a week. They’d do all the things they needed to do to make sure that the council still thought it was their idea the next time. 

When they did land, however, they were met with nothing. Astrid wasn’t expecting fanfare or anything, but when they arrived there was usually something. They unloaded cautiously, waiting. The walk to the village was equally eerie, only the sound of their heavy steps against wood. They paused at the crest, surveying utter carnage. Wet charcoal layered the ground, accented by enormous holes torn through once solid roofs and in the middle of it all, spreading fatigue. 

“What happened?” Fishlegs asked, regaining his voice. 

“What do you think happened, Fishface?” Snotlout snapped back reflexively. He received a glare. 

“I don’t know, Snotlout, why don't you share.”

He opened and closed his mouth dumbly. “It was… it’s… shut up, Fishlegs,” he sulked. 

There hadn’t been this kind of destruction since the raids stopped. They exchanged uneasy glances. 

“You’re back,” Harvin greeted, relief touching her face. “You better go see the chief,” she told them, mouth set in a grim line. 

The group set off again, sharing tight looks between them. They found Stoick in the midst of the bustle, hoisting a new pallet of shingles onto one of the affected houses. “Good. You’re back.” He didn’t take his eyes off the work. “The Outcasts attacked. If I know Alvin, it’s only the first.” He turned, searching for the next task. “They must have been preparing before the winter.” He paused a faraway look in his eye before snapping back. “Ruff, Tuff, help with the cleanup. Fishlegs, help Harvin catalogue what’s left. Astrid, Snotlout, you’re with me.”

Chapter Text

May

“We’re getting destroyed out there,” Spitelout leaned heavily against the table. “We need to take drastic measures.” 

“My guard is doing all they can but we have no resources,” Harvin told them. “They have the upper hand and they know it. “

Phlegma sat forward. “We need fresh eyes. We need to ask Oswald.” 

Spitelout shook his head. “Oswald hasn’t been seen for years and Dagur won’t come anywhere near us ‘after what we did to his brother.’”

“The Bog Burglars then.” 

Again, Spitelout shook his head. “They’re in a stalemate with the Meatheads that we’re unwelcome in.” 

“Who does that leave?” 

“No one,” Harvin scowled. “It leaves no one.” Tension hung thick in the air as Harvin glared daggers. “Maybe if you came to these things you would know that,” she muttered under her breath. 

Phlegma glared back. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’ve been too busy redesigning agriculture.” 

“Like you were too busy to-” 

“Enough-” Stoick stopped them. 

Astrid and Snotlout exchanged a glance. They’d already spent the morning with Stoick rejecting idea after idea. This catastrophe of a meeting was doing nothing to build their confidence as the table took every opportunity to take shots at each other. 

“We’ve sent a request to everyone we can, in the meantime, we need to double our efforts. Phlegma, I want you on the ground when they land, lead the army. Harvin, direct the catapults. Have everyone searching for more ammunition, every field, every side of the island.” He gestured to the map. “Set them up here, here and here. When they attack, extinguish all the torches. I don’t want them to see what they’re aiming for.”

“We won’t be able to see.” 

“We’ll be better off than them,” he continued. “Take our biggest ships and sink them, here, here and here. 

All except Gobber looked at him, stunned. Astrid wondered when the pair had concocted this plan. 

“Alvin isn’t trying to kill us, he’s trying to weaken us. When he thinks we’re defeated he’ll come on the island himself, that's our best chance. Let him think we’re getting desperate.” 

Gobber stepped forward. “We start work on decoy houses tomorrow. Give them something to hit. We’ll look in much worse shape than we are when Alvin shows his ugly face.” 

“If we still had those dragons in the arena, we could harvest them for parts,” Spitelout grumbled. “Some nadder spines or nightmare gel would certainly make things easier.” 

Finally, something Astrid could do. “We’ve come across plenty of dragons on our team-building excursions. We could gather that.” 

Stoick was shaking his head. “We need you and Snotlout here.” 

“What if we sent the twins? Fishlegs can go with them if you’re worried.” She looked at Gobber silently asking for support. 

“It would keep them out of the way,” he suggested. “Just nadder spines would help”. 

Stoick rubbed his beard, shadows dragging on his face. “Nightmare gel is too dangerous, but we need all the extra ammunition we can get.” He turned his stern gaze to Astrid. “You’re sure they can do this?” 

She nodded. “Absolutely.” 

He sat back. “Then I’ll allow it.” He stood. “Get some sleep. We start work tomorrow.” 

— 

The gang stood in the hangar, taking their familiar position around the unlit fireplace as Astrid and Snotlout relayed the situation. 

“We cannot take another attack like that,” Snotlout finished. 

“Stoick said-” 

“Stoick is hoping, Astrid. You know that as well as I do.” Snotlout shook his head. “He’s down to his last resort and Alvin will know that too the second he sees those sunken ships.” His voice bounced around the room. 

Astrid shook the sound away. “It’s a strategy, he’s luring him in, we could mess up everything.”

“They grew up together, Astrid. You think Alvin doesn’t know every strategy Stoick has?”

Astrid pressed her lips together and Tuffnut took his opportunity to jump in. 

“It would be so easy to just blow them up, they’d never see it coming.” 

Back to this argument. Astrid rolled her eyes. “It’s too risky.”

“It’s too risky”

“What’s risky is sticking your head in the sand and pretending this isn’t happening,” Fishlegs snapped. 

Astrid almost stepped back before she felt the fire spring back in her stomach. “You’re going to say that to me? Really?” 

“I’m trying to keep people safe,” he bit back, face twisted in a scowl that was too cruel for his face. 

“We will get through this like Vikings.” 

“You’ve been spending too much time with Stoick,” Snotlout chided. 

She glowered at him. 

“We are supposed to be bridging the gap. Imagine what we could do with the dragons, the siege would be over in a day, dragons would be heroes.” Snotlout implored. 

“You mean you would be a hero.” Tuffnut brought him back to earth. 

“And then what? The moment Alvin stops being a threat we’ll be carted away. Hiccup killed the queen and got nothing but a bounty.” 

“They weren’t supposed to kill him.” Snotlout’s outburst seemed to surprise even him.” It was supposed to bring him back,” he finished quietly. 

Astrid’s pulse was too loud to return to his level. “It said dead or alive.” 

“He didn’t think anyone would actually kill a chief’s son,” Snotlout defended with a pained expression.

“An emancipated chief’s son. Disgraced, disinherited and disowned.” Venom coated her voice.  

“They’ve changed.” 

Astrid sneered at his earnestness. “There’s the Jorgenson naivete you promised to bring,” she scoffed. “Why don’t you run along and ask your dad if he’s changed.” 

Snotlout stepped forward and Astrid did the same. Fishlegs wedged himself between the pair. “Walk it off,” he ordered. 

The group disbanded, each retreating to a corner of the hangar, the sound of calming breaths filling the area. 

Astrid licked her lips. “Spitelout wants you three to bring back nadder spines and nightmare gel from Dragon Island. Between that and the gronckle iron, there’s ways for our dragons to help without revealing them.”

“No matter how we feel about this, we are a team,” Fishlegs stated, giving all parties a stern look . “We’ll take a vote.” 

Astrid walked to one side of the room while Fishlegs and Ruffnut walked to the other. Snotlout and Tuffnut hovered in the middle starting and stopping. 

“Seriously bro?” 

“Don’t get me wrong, I want to use Barf ‘n’ Belch to cause destruction but…” he walked to Astrid’s side. “We’re not ready.” 

Ruffnut threw up her hands. “That’s the whole point of the vote. We’re getting ready, we’re doing what we need to.” She made a strangling motion at her brother, murder in her eyes. 

Chicken clucked before walking to Tuffnut. 

“Ha! See, chicken’s with me. We win.” 

“We are not counting Chicken as a vote.” 

Tuffnut gasped scooping Chicken up. “Don’t listen to her, she doesn't know what she’s talking about.”

They all turned to Snotlout who still hovered in the middle, face cloudy. “I agree with Tuff . We need to fight,” he emphasised, “but not until we have more control over the situation. Right now there are too many variables.” He joined Astrid’s side not looking at her. “Instead we pad the fish stack, we make more gronckle iron and we publicly train the terrors to be scouts.” 

“Fine,” Fishlegs conceded. “Make the suggestion to the chief. 

The filtered from the hangar, discontent hanging in the air. The topic was far from settled but the temporary truce eased Astrid. 

—

The forge hadn’t been this busy in a long time. It would be pleasant if there wasn’t an underlying sense of dread. gronckle iron was difficult to work with. Strong, sharp but fickle. So once again Astrid was relegated to sharpening weapons and repairing bolas. Not that she minded, Gobber was, as always, good company. 

“I need more gronckle iron, Astrid,” he called. 

She shook her head. “I’ve got no more ‘til Fish’s back.” 

Gobber leaned around the pile of broken weapons to look at her. “Can’t one of you do it?” 

She shook her head again. “He’s got a whole chart. They can only produce so much at one time. None of us are allowed anywhere near them. He’s got them colour-coded. The last time I called one orange instead of burnt apricot he almost locked me out of the hangar.” 

Gobber muttered something under his breath returning to his work. 

“Sorry,” she said halfheartedly. “Why don’t you help with the building? I’ll fix up these normal ones.” The day she’d graduated to actual weapons repair had been a great relief to the entire village. Gobber had his first day off in about ten years. 

Gobber stuttered at the bench for a moment before swapping his hand out for another, smaller hammer, better suited to building. “Come get me, the second Fishlegs has more.”

She nodded, waving him away. The gronckle iron had gone down a treat. They’d planted it for Gustav to find on the beach along with some tracks and scales. He’d all but fallen over himself trying to bring it back to the village. The second Gobber made the first sword; it had been the next big thing. 

Once a week, Astrid made a show of dragging a pile from the caves on the far side of the island to Gobber. Enough gronckles had started roosting there that the appearance went relatively unquestioned and no one dared drive them away anymore. It worked so well that she considered bringing nadders back. Just a small flock. But they’d been on defence for too long for that.

As she reached for the next job, Astrid caught a glimpse of a wagon and two twins looking particularly pleased with themselves. 

“What’s going on here?” She asked, peering into the wagon, which was full to the brim with nadder spines of various dazzling colours. 

“Oh, nothing,” replied Tuff. “Just coming to show everyone how smart we are.”

“That’s not all,” Ruff grinned. She jabbed her finger to another wagon rising over the crest dragged by Fishlegs. “Nightmare gel too.” 

Astrid checked the other cart. “Wow.” She looked back at them, then to Fishlegs for confirmation. “I’m impressed. Well done guys.” 

“Not as stupid as we look, huh,” Tuff said smugly. 

She waved him off. “I always knew you could do it.” She ignored the beat of genuine surprise. 

“We also got some scauldron venom,” Fishlegs told her in a low voice, patting his satchel. 

That was new. She looked at him. “Do I want to know?” 

He considered for a second. “No.” 

She huffed a laugh. “Put it in the chest so Snotlout doesn’t rub it in his hair.” She turned her mouth from the sight of any onlookers. “When you have the time, Gobber needs more gronckle iron.” 

“Already?” 

Astrid shrugged. “We’ve been working hard.” 

“I’ll see what I can do.” 

She patted him on the back. “Thanks, Fish.” 

—

Even in times of crisis, Astrid found herself haphazardly paired with Snotlout for tasks she could do herself. In a stunning combination of Snotlout’s own incompetence, an effort to maintain the illusion of chiefliness, and the need to unite the Hofferson and Jorgenson houses, Astrid and Snotlout were sent to stocktake the food stores and design ration plans. Which of course meant Astrid checked the stores while Snotlout watched. 

“Astrid, we need to talk about this.” 

“About what Snotlout?” Astrid asked pleasantly, pushing past him. 

Snotlout stumbled back in the dark of the food storage while Astrid double-checked in the inventory. “You know,” he insisted. 

“No, actually, I don’t. What would you like to talk about? The weather? The inventory? I know, maybe the fact that we’re expected to leave this room betrothed?”  She puffed up her shoulders. “Give them something to talk about, Astrid,” she said in a poor imitation of Spitelout and her own parents. 

“This isn’t healthy, Astrid.” 

She slammed the basket lid harder than necessary. At any given opportunity Snotlout was trying to make her ‘see reason’. They’d been having the same argument for weeks. “What do you want me to do, Snotlout?” She leaned heavily on her hands. 

“I want you to move on,” Snotlout replied. “What happened to Hiccup is not going to happen to us.” 

Astrid squeezed her eyes shut. “You can’t know that.” She’d turned every outcome over in her mind three times over. In some they got away with it, in some they didn’t, in some it didn’t matter in the end because Alvin got them first. 

“The terrors are proof.” 

Yes, the terrors, the gronckles, the kids. “We are going in circles.”

“Things are changing because we are changing them,” he continued. “You have to start trusting people. Let them surprise you.” 

Astrid opened another basket, dipping her face out of sight.  

“I don’t want to tell you how to live.” His voice softened. “Thor knows you’re smarter than I’ll ever be.”

She couldn’t help the chuckle, though she couldn’t meet his eye. 

Snotlout placed a hand on her shoulder. “You need to let go of whatever it is you’re not telling us. Stop worrying about who you’re supposed to be.” He took his hand away. “Using dragons is not admitting defeat, either. I don’t know why you’re clinging to the ‘Viking way’ but we don’t need to muscle our way through it.”

Tension drained from Astrid’s shoulders and she managed a smile. “I hate it when you’re kind of wise.”

His eyes twinkled with mirth. “So, is now a good time to ask?”

Astrid couldn’t roll her eyes fast enough. 

“Are you ready to marry me yet?”

She punched him. Hard. Watching in satisfaction as he crumble to the ground. "Thanks, Snotlout. I feel better." 

He raised a finger from where he lay. "I know my place."

---

Astrid disappeared that night, no one batting an eye as she ran a course across the village first. She had covered every inch of the archipelago looking for Hiccup, now she looked for the right place to leave him behind. She sat on an empty sea stack, staring into the night. Stormfly, sensing she needed some space, perched above her. She sat, words swept away by the wind and swallowed by the unending sea. In the dark, it could be as though she didn’t exist. Nothing existed. Nothing mattered. She let it wash over her, relieving her of her responsibilities. Every waking moment for the past year had been consumed by Berk. How to be chief, how to help the chief, how to delegate, to be diplomatic, to organise and when she wasn’t being lectured by Stoick she was lecturing the twins or planning excursions or caring for the dragons. 

As much as it pained her to listen to Snotlout, she let go. “Hiccup,” she sighed. “I guess you’re not coming back. I wish you did. I think we could have figured it out. Figured something out.” She scratched at the moss, building the courage to say what had been weighing on her. “I hope you forgive me for siding with your dad.” She looked up like he could hear her. “I know he started this but I don’t think he did. You haven’t seen what your disappearance did to him. Every day that goes by I understand him more. Maybe you knew that. Maybe that's why you left me behind.” She paused, listening to the waves crash against the stone, chipping away at her grief. “You changed my entire world and just left me to pick up the pieces. I think I’ll always hate you for that.” 

She wished she had something of his to drop. Something tangible to sever her ties. But only a few traces of Hiccup remained on the island. It was like she was the only one who remembered him. Like he didn’t exist to anyone else. Like he never did. No one saw it the way she did. What could have been. What was. Just for a moment. Bringing the dragons into their war was just trying to tame a nightmare in front of the village again. But Hiccup had succeeded. For a second. And they’d done the groundwork. Besides, things had to go wrong sometime. No use waiting around anymore. 

She lingered, letting the sea breeze lay claim to her memories until she felt light enough to fly. She didn’t rush back. No need. They followed the curve of the sky, flying in and out of cloud banks swallowing the traces of silver light. 

For all her calmness Astrid was rewarded with three guilty faces and a pacing Snotlout. 

Wariness crept back in. “What?”

“Don’t get mad,” 

Astrid rounded on Tuffnut. “Those are not my favourite words.”

“We didn’t mean to,” the words stumbled out of his mouth, “but we were out flying and there was this scout ship and we-”

“We sank it,” Ruff finished unapologetically. 

“Did they see you?” Fishlegs asked.

“It’s a fire-breathing dragon, of course they saw it,” Snotlout hissed. 

“I mean,” Fish shot back, “did they see the riders? We may have just lost the element of surprise.” 

“Hard to say. I don't think so.” Ruffnut rubbed her chin. 

“Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?” Snotlout’s face tinged red. 

“We said we’re sorry.” 

“No, actually, you didn’t.” 

There was a pause. 

“Did you seriously want us to say it?” 

“What is your problem?” Ruff picked the argument back up. “You wanted to use dragons.”

“We were supposed to talk about it.” He gestured wildly.  “ Plan. ” He turned to Astrid. “Why are you so calm about this?” 

Astrid shrugged. “I took your advice.” She glanced at the others. “If this is our way forward, that's what we’ll do. If I had to guess, I’d say the twins bought us a week to prepare.” She rummaged through the chest, past Hiccup’s journals and Fishlegs’s updated book of dragons.” I’ve designed a couple of dragon defence plans. Nightmare gel, zippleback gas and artificial sea stacks.” She held the plans up. “We can probably also figure out something for that scauldron venom.” She folded her arms, a gleam in her eye that always came with the thought of violence. “I’ll pick up some night watches so you can work undisturbed.”

The others stared at her. “You’re seriously okay with this?” Fishlegs asked. 

Astrid made a casual gesture. “We’re going to have to be.” 

—

April

“Stop the preparations. “Snotlout thundered down the steps into the clubhouse. 

The trio looked up from their projects, exasperated. Chicken clucked in indignant disbelief, or so Tuffnut told them. 

“Not you too,” Ruffnut groaned. “Snot-lout,” she started slowly. “We already voted.” 

In the week they’d gained they’d managed to arm the sea stacks with a series of traps, half designed by Astrid, half by the twins. She'd never say it out loud but some of the things the twins came up with... they were clever.  

Snotlout waved her off. “You have to. We received a response.” 

“Really?” Astrid raised an eyebrow. “From who?” 

Snotlout looked at the ground, mumbling. 

“Who?” Tuff asked, then went pale. “Oh no, am I going deaf? Can you guys hear me?” 

Chicken clucked. 

“Oh thank Thor.” 

“The Hilvirr tribe,” Snotlout sighed. 

Ruffnut let out an immediate cackle. “There’s no way they’re coming.” 

“It’s not a trick,” Snotlout insisted. 

Astrid sat back, stretching her legs out. “I hate to agree with Ruff but there’s no way. They’re not even in this archipelago. They’re not going to send warriors for the sake of a new treaty.”

“It’s been thirty years. If you were in the village when you were supposed to be, you would have known that.” 

Astrid made a face. 

“They have a new chief. Harridan or something. He seems interested.” Snotlout didn’t get a chance to say anything else as Fishlegs flew into the stable. 

“The Outcasts are coming.” 

“No, Stupid, that was the messenger ship," Snotlout waved a dismissive hand. 

“I know the difference between a messenger boat and the entire Outcast armada,” Fishlegs snapped back. 

This spurred them into action, the twins abandoning their zippleback balloon and heading for their dragons. 

“Get back to the village, the plan’s off,” Snotlout instructed. 

“What?” 

“We can’t leave ourselves defenceless because a tribe who hated us until thirty years ago may or may not be coming,” Ruffnut argued. 

“What?” Fishlegs asked again. Tuff whispered in his ear. 

“Those vultures want us to think help is on the way so they can pick over our carcass,” Astrid grimaced. 

“No," Snotlout said. "As your future chief ,” Snotlout emphasised, voice full of authority they’d never heard before. “I’m putting my foot down.” The group stilled. “If they are coming, we can’t risk destroying the treaty by revealing our dragons. A sincere trade with Hilvirr could change Berk entirely. Did you know their national fruit is a pineapple? I don’t even know what that is. Stoick is getting weaker and weaker. What happens if we destroy the treaty and the village’s trust in the two people who are supposed to lead it?

As much as it irritated Astrid to admit he had a point, though it was hers first. 

“This isn’t what you were saying before,” Ruffnut grumbled. 

“There wasn’t a make-or-break treaty on the line before. This changes everything.” 

The group shifted, half formulated arguments dying in the air. 

“If they don’t show up…” Fishlegs trailed off. 

“We’ll go back to plan A,” he promised. “One way or another this is going to be the last attack.” 

They nodded finally.

---

They broke from the forest together, though everyone was too busy to notice. Evidently the terrible terror early warning system had worked. Iggy was chirping holding one of Fishlegs’ Outcast boat posters. 

The false houses stood, tactfully illuminated by torches and sporting damaged roofs poised to fall at any second. They took their positions loading catapults, just as the main torches were extinguished. There was a pause as their eyes adjusted and a mast appeared through the fog. Astrid hated this part. The waiting. 

The fleet entered range. 

“Fire.” 

A few shots connected, sending wooden splinters through the sails but the armada didn’t falter. It continued its approach, overwhelming the area with nimble landing ships. Stoick had been right, Alvin was ready for a full landing, though, there weren't as many as there should be. 

Harvin barked orders, adjusting their aim as they sent another wave. The fleet returned a fire, a spray of flaming projectiles hurtling toward Berk spread from the catapults to the decoy houses. Astrid ducked, feeling the heat soar above her as the projectile slammed into the ground, coating the grass in oil and flame.  

Gustav and Helga rushed forward, leading the younger teens in to extinguish it, heaving furs and wool over the oil, suffocating it. The backlight light it offered was enough to reveal their position and the armada adjusted, launching another projectile that met its target. 

The pot shattered against the catapult, spraying shrapnel in all directions. Astrid dropped to the ground, covering her head, only daring to look up when she felt the fire creeping closer. She checked the others, also unharmed lying face down in the dirt. The teens rushed in again. 

“No,” Harvin ordered. “Leave it. This one’s gone.” 

Astrid pushed herself up, ignoring the searing scrapes on her arms. 

“Go make yourselves useful,” she instructed. “Fishlegs, you stay here and help calibrate. I’m getting in there.” 

They split up, Astrid retrieving her axe and bow. She set up on the point of the bluff; on crumbly ground and completely exposed to anyone who might look for her. She knelt, smothering the bundle of arrows in nightmare gel and lighting one at a time. Her arrows found their targets. The first, a canvas sail the twins had filled with zippleback gas. The reaction took down three surrounding ships. With the second arrow, she aimed for a bucket, outline barely visible in the dark. The force of the arrow knocked the bucket from its precarious perch and the nightmare gel inside caught, raining fire on the unsuspecting boats below. The outer ocean defences must have done a decent amount of damage because as the fleet drew closer she could see rows of burnt and torn sails. She managed a third shot at another zippleback balloon before a ship returned fire. A boulder hurtled toward her. She dropped the bow and ran as the boulder struck the bluff behind her. The point crumbled as she ran, feet meeting gravel as her standing disappeared faster than she could run. In a last-ditch effort, she threw herself forward, nails digging into the dirt and grassroots as her legs dangled against the disintegrating cliff face. She tensed, waiting for another shot that never came. She scrambled up the cliff, risking a glance over her shoulder. A line of nadder flame bore down on the offending ship. 

“Stormfly,” the cry tore from her throat. She whistled, but the dragon continued, disappearing and reappearing at the back of the armada. Her heart dropped. Stormfly never ignored a call. 

Astrid regained her senses and joined the guard, sparing a final glance at her darting dragon. They manned the smaller landing on the beach, Tuff brandishing Macey, Ruff, a gronckle iron spear and Snotlout his hammer. She’d never seen them so determined. 

The boats landed and Agnar led the charge, meeting the Outcasts with a flurry of steel. They backed up the beach as the onslaught continued. Phlegma and Harvin headed the main attack side by side, puncturing the line. Beside them, Gobber and Stoick fought, tossing attackers like toy dragons. 

Astrid backed up the hill with her team, glancing at Phlegma doing the same. Both groups moved slowly, giving ground, steering the attack into the hidden nadder spines in the sand, and further through the maze until the Outcasts rushed into a spine-lined put. Astrid felt a twisted sense of pleasure. That was based on a cruel Loki Day prank the twins had pulled on each other. For ethical reasons, they decided to leave the snake out of it. 

Across the bay, she saw the other defenders pulling together, the group taking turns securing stages of retreat until they sprung their own trap. From the cliffs, barrels of nightmare gel tumbled into the channel, slicking the wooden planks. As the Outcasts slid down the incline, knocking each other over in their fervour to remain standing, a torch was dropped, igniting the gel in a brilliant orange glow. 

Beside her, Astrid felt Ruffnut apply diluted scauldron venom to her spear tip. Astrid did the same to her axe. By Fishlegs’ calculations, it wouldn’t kill them but it would incapacitate them. For how long they weren’t sure. They fought on, fatigue dragging at Astrid’s limbs as she blocked another attack. Snotlout swooped in, swiftly knocking the man out, face drawn together in a tight frown. No quip passed his lips. 

The end drew closer as more Outcasts fell, Astrid and Ruffnut’s victims doubled over on the ground, but their own ranks thinned too. Injured Hooligans fled up the hill. 

It was the catapults finding the remains of the armada that finally did it. A horn sounded, signaling Outcast retreat. The Berkians held their line but lowered their weapons as the Outcasts hobbled back to their ships and fished their wounded from the pit. Strangely, they didn’t look too defeated, they looked smug. Except for the ones Astrid had gotten her hands on. They looked injured. 

They held their ranks until the armada disappeared over the horizon. All at once the adrenaline dropped and the groups deflated. They sank over the hill collapsing in the safety of the village. Astrid took stock of her surroundings. Gobber and Gothi managed the medical tent, Gobber translating instructions for the temporary assistants though he too looked weary. 

Instead of putting his own medical training into practice, Fishlegs leaned against the last catapult standing, glistening with sweat, staring absently at the horizon. 

“You okay?” She asked. 

He tilted his head toward her. “Yeah,” he answered, still a little breathless. “They left me at the end there. Magnus got hit and everyone else was on the front.” 

Astrid looked at the size of the projectiles that were left, then at the crank, then at Fishlegs. 

“I guess my time with Meatlug helped.”

Astrid could only nod.

They looked at the horizon in companionable silence. 

“That last shot was masterful,” she told him. “You may have single handedly saved us.” She gave him a serious look. “It was getting sloppy down there.” 

He gave a small grunt in return. 

She patted his shoulder. “You did great.” 

“Yeah.”

Chapter Text

May/June

The horn echoed over the island, rolling across the valleys, filling every crevice with dread. Astrid gathered herself at the door, willing herself not to look as green as she felt. She smoothed her hair with shaking hands before resting them on top of her axe, fingers searching for the grove where she used to keep her luck. The village stood quiet, solemn and Astrid forced herself outside, trying to ignore the watchful eyes. Snotlout was late. As usual. She could have strangled him when he finally sauntered down the path, the crafted personification of smugness. 

“Are you ready?” She asked, voice clipped. 

“Of course I am.” He rested his hands behind his head. “I was born for this.” 

Astrid might have pressed the matter if not for the pinch around his eyes. “Come on,” she said. “We’re supposed to be there already.” 

“Relax, Babe, we’ve got plenty of time.” 

She shot him a look, lips curled into a sneer but she let him have it. 

Behind them, the pounding of steps and heavy breathing approached. “Hey, wait up.” Fishlegs charged toward them, body falling slightly faster than he could keep up. One hand clutched at his helmet as he drew to a stop, puffing. “Are you guys ready?”

“Totally,” Snotlout answered, the same indifference in his voice.

“Really?” He asked, still trying to reign in his breathing. “That’s great.” He fell into step beside them. “If I were you guys I’d be terrified.” 

“That’s great Fishface, thanks for sharing.” 

“You know, it’s just… Your first diplomatic treaty with a new tribe-”

Astrid ground her teeth. 

“-who wanted to kill us not long ago, against the Outcasts, who have wanted to wipe us out for years-” 

Snotlout looked to Odin. “We get it, Fishlegs.”

“-and if you mess this up they’ll probably destroy the entire village and kill us all-” 

“Oh for the love of Thor,” Astrid muttered. 

“-and if the Outcasts don’t get to you first, Phlegma will kill you for ruining her chances of growing pineapple.” Fishlegs nodded, seemingly satisfied with his summary. “It’s great that you guys are letting that affect you, just cool as an eel.” 

“Thank you for that, Fishlegs,” Astrid ground out. “I feel soooo much better.” Beside her, Snotlout had gone whiter than the time the twins had dared him to eat jellied eel guts. 

“What are friends for,” Fishlegs said brightly. He paused. “Did you know they’ve asked me to give the tour? I guess Gothi’s impressed with how I’ve been progressing.” 

“Or she’s trying to get rid of you.” 

Astrid snickered. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that no one listened to those. 

“What was that Snotlout?” 

“We’re so … proud of you?” 

“I don’t know what I’m going to say, there’s so many interesting things. For example, did you know-”

“Can you please not nerd out of me right now.” Somehow Snotlout blanched even further. 

Astrid scrambled for a subject change. “Why did they sound the horn? I can’t even see them?” She squinted out at the glistening sea. 

“That’s because you’re looking too far out.” Fishlegs tilted her head down. 

“Odin, they're close.” Astrid broke into a run. “Hurry up,” she called over her shoulder. 

The pair ran after her, barreling down the wooden ramps. Astrid leapt over the splintered pieced and transitioned onto the soft dirt with practiced ease before stopping to watch the other two. They slowed, holding the stone walls for balance as they fought not to get hooked. They made it through with minor scratches though the look on Snotlout’s face made her snicker. Astrid took the pause to fix her hair and straighten her clothes, fanning the red from her face. 

Snotlout rose to his full height, a rare sight given his posture, and set onto the docks, a perfect veneer of confidence that quickly shattered. 

“Where have you been, boyo,” Spitelout hissed. 

Snotlout’s head dropped. “Sorry, Dad.”

Spitelout pulled on his shoulder. “Stand up straight,” he barked. “You’re a chief now.”

The interaction curdled her stomach. “It’s my fault,” Astrid interjected. “I asked Snotlout to wait for me but I was running late.” She held down a grimace. Every time she had to defer to a Jorgenson, a piece of her died. Let alone to Spitelout

“Leave ‘em alone, Spitelout,” Gobber chided. 

Spitelout turned his head, muttering viciously under his breath. 

Gobber was possibly the only person other than Stoick that had to stop one of his tirades. She sent a quick thanks to the god that he was on their side. 

The boat docked. 

Astrid sucked in a breath, unconsciously moving close to Snotlout. 

The first man stepped out, the chief, if the luxurious silver fur that hung from his shoulder was any indication. He wore a thin cured leather chestplate fixed with two impossibly shiny pauldrons over a green tunic held together with a buckle sporting the Hilvirr crest, an artist’s rendition of two Seashockers. An energetic smile spread across his tanned face, crinkling his features with a respite of youth. 

He reached a muscular arm back, helping an equally broad woman from the boat, also in the symbolic green that glowed against her dark skin. Unlike the men, she wore a green top, woven leather skirt that was entirely practical and a fur vest of different colours and textures, sewn together in the style of a quilt. She carried a child on her hip who stared at them with wide eyes, head nestled close to his mother hiding in their matching curls. A younger man stepped onto the dock wearing similar armour, though the pelt around his shoulders was visibly worn, errant strands of fur hanging tightly to the pelt.

The final member stepped from the unstable boat, pausing one foot on the jetty, head tilted to the ground. The hesitance was palpable, what was likely only a couple of seconds felt tedious, waiting for an armoured stranger to make his choice. His other leg finally followed, touching down with a soft squeak that cut through the quiet like Snotlout in the morning. In lieu of a boot, Astrid’s eye met an intricate metal substitute that compressed as the figure shifted his weight. She tried not to stare despite her burning curiosity in the design, instead, she worked across his helmet and chest, taking in the intricately crafted design and the undershirt that sat somewhere between armour and scales. He wore no furs. 

“Chief Harridan,” Snotlout greeted, a smoothness to his voice that Astrid hoped only she knew was manufactured, “it’s nice to meet you. Thank you for joining us on Berk.” He held out his hand. 

Harridan shook it and Astrid almost breathed an audible sigh of relief. 

“Chief Snotlout, I presume,” he responded. “It’s our pleasure.” He gestured to his party. “This is my wife, Revna and our son, Brynjar.” 

“I apologise for the surprise but it was too far to leave him behind,” Revna said with such a good natured smile that it was impossible to consider a response that wasn’t complete acceptance. 

Snotlout smiled. “You are all welcome anytime.” The rehearsed line didn’t come out as stilted as usual. 

“This is my primary advisor, Bjarke,” Harridan continued gesturing to the young man, “and our combat expert, Guardian.” 

The masked man made no move to shake hands, nor remove his helmet and stood firmly behind the chief. The expectant pause fizzled as they realised that no such action would be taken and Astrid cleared her throat. Snotlout snapped back into action. 

“This is my advisor, Astrid-”

She didn’t miss the shared glances. She offered a tight smile. 

“-and our other council members, Spitelout, Gobber, Phlegma - our botanist, and Harvin - our weapons expert.” They nodded polite greetings as Snolout introduced them. 

“And this,” Snotlout continued, “is Fishf-legs. He’ll be leading a quick tour so we can explain the situation.” 

Once the pleasantries were exchanged, Astrid stepped forward, relieving the panicked expression from Snotlout’s eye. “Shall we?” 

Fishlegs commenced his preamble, filling them in on the history of Berk that Astrid, like everyone else, tuned out. To their credit, Harridan and Revna maintained a perfect air of interest. Astrid supposed they had experience. She took the opportunity to study the party. The way Harridan walked, chest first, Revna’s unaffected confidence and uncanny ability to predict and prepare herself for whichever landmark Fishlegs would point to next. Bjarke’s contentedness to watch, moving in and out as others the discussion ebbed and flowed. Then, the one she couldn’t understand at all. The masked mystery. He followed at the back of the group just… watching. 

“Apologies for the state of our ramps,” Fishlegs said, regaining Astrid’s attention. “In the last attack the Outcasts landed. We drove them back and held them off using monstrous nightmare gel but now our stocks are limited and we’re in need of repairs.” 

“Nightmare gel you say?” Harridan showed genuine surprise. “Where did you get that amount?” 

Snotlout’s foot paused mid step. 

“Dragon  Island,” Astrid answered quickly, mentally urging Snotlout to keep moving. “It’s honestly a miracle that the people we sent came back in one piece.”

Snotlout cleared his throat. “Hopefully we won’t have to resort to that again.” 

This time it was Harridan who went quiet. “Hopefully.” 

They continued past the damaged houses and curious faces until they reached the plateau of the town square. The Hilvirr followed, a palpable nervousness that didn’t just come from Berk. 

Fishlegs gestured to his left. “We hope you’ll be comfortable here during your stay. We have limited housing at the moment so we hope you’ll be okay in the same house.” 

They’d better be okay in the same house, Astrid thought, her parents had volunteered quickly to offer up their home for the chiefly party far too quickly. They would stay with her aunt while Astrid had resigned herself to sleeping in the forge… or the clubhouse if she could sneak away. Either option still beat Snotlout’s parent’s basement… or Fishelgs’ room or whatever the twins had going on. 

“The house is lovely,” Revna assured them, distracting from the unconvinced expression on her husband’s face. “But the terrible terrors…” She trailed off. 

“Don’t worry about them.” Fishlegs waved a comforting hand. “They are completely harmless, I promise you.” 

“You haven’t tried to get rid of them?” Harridan asked. 

“We have,” Snotlout replied with a noncommittal shrug. “But it’s really not worth it. They’re pretty Helpful sometimes too. We’ve even managed to get one to warn us about Outcast ships.” 

Fishlegs cleared his throat and Snotllout rolled his eyes. 

“Fishlegs trained one to warn us about Outcast ships.” 

The look the Hilvirr shared did not go unnoticed by Astrid, not that she had any idea what it meant.

—

A charged silence crackled in The Great Hall. On one side of the table, Snotlout, Astrid and their council, on the other, Harridan and his equally imposing representatives. Fishlegs sat in the corner playing with Brynjar, whispering quietly as they poured over Fishlegs’ dragon cards. Snotlout twitched an eyebrow, desperation in his eyes. For once, she felt as lost as he looked. 

“Alvin’s next move is a complete ground assault.” Her voice cut through the room, startling even herself. She tried again. “If you can provide us with troops to put an end to the attacks and ensure he stays on Outcast Island, we will provide your island with furs and weapons,” this time she spoke evenly, controlled and only balked a little bit when Harridan hesitated. 

“I’m not sure that’s … suitable.” 

Tension snapped across the table, Hooligans holding their breaths, even the masked man shifted uncomfortably. Snotlout looked at her nervously. 

“I’m sure you understand that we don’t have a lot to offer at the moment,” he tried. 

“Yes,” Astrid agreed around the tightness in her throat. “But your people need proper furs if they want to venture this far north.” She glanced between Revna’s patchwork coat and Bjarke’s thinning pelt. “Sheepskin boots, yak hair blankets and the occasional bear or wolf pelt. Your people would be able to travel further more comfortably.” She saw the beginnings of assent on Harridan’s face and Revna’s hand moved to the crook of his arm. “Our weapons are made of the strongest iron there is.” She saw the pull of disbelief on their faces and took the chance to reach for her axe as non threateningly as possible, placing it on the table. “Try to break it,” she waved a hand over it invitingly, “they’re nearly indestructible and they’re sharper than any normal weapon.”

The opposing chief reached over, testing the balance of her axe. “It’s light,” he remarked before handing it to the masked man, an unspoken question in the action. One that Astrid couldn’t discern. The man tapped against the axe-head, listening to the reverberation and tracing the ridges. He must have found whatever he was looking for because he passed it back and nodded. 

“Extraordinary,” Harridan muttered, giving a glance back to his council. “Where did you find the material?” 

Astrid tried to turn her attention back to the chief in question but she felt the masked man’s eyes bore into her. “We find it on the island,” she replied, tongue heavy in her mouth. “We think it comes from a flock of gronckles.” She couldn’t stop her gaze from darting between the chief and the unnerving stranger. Beside her, Snotlout was still as stone.

The man sat forward with such pace that she thought he would go through the table. “Do you know how they make it?”

Astrid checked down the table, gauging their reactions. It would seem that they had a bargaining chip after all. Fishlegs’ head peeked over the table as he sat upright at the mention of gronckle iron. “Not yet,” she lied, “but our best dragon scientist thinks he’s close to figuring it out.” She gestured to Fishlegs. “He’s been observing their diet.”

Whatever agreement the Hilvirr came to they did so wordlessly. A series of looks, pursed lips and minuscule twitches from a blank helmet in place of an actual discussion. 

Harridan turned back to Astrid while still having the politeness to pretend to involve Snotlout. “We accept those terms,” he said. 

Relief coursed through Astrid as the readied herself to sign. 

“There’s one thing you need to know first.”

In an instant, her veins flashed with ice, dread clawing through her. She shifted closer to Snotlout fighting down the adrenaline that spiked through her. She saw the chief’s throat bob, a twisted expression on his face. 

“My tribe has long since made peace with the dragons,” he said. 

Astrid almost sagged. That was it?

“As part of that, we live side by side with them, much like you and your terrible terrors and gronckles.” 

Astrid could have laughed.

The chief licked his lips. “The only difference being… we ride them.” 

Oh. 

“Our army is completely composed of dragon riders-” 

Oh. 

“-and we would never dream of asking them to separate from their most trusted companions to fight on the ground.” He didn’t finish the thought but the implication was clear. 

Spoke to soon then. 

“Dragons?” Spitelout asked. “You want us to work with those scaly beasts?” 

The air temperature dropped. 

“Do you control them?” Phlegma asked, ever scientific. “Do you have a dragon master?” She studied the Hilvirr with a newfound interest, possibilities flicking in her mind, piecing together a puzzle. 

Astrid could only cringe. She should have known that rumour would come back to bite her. 

The chief looked taken aback. “Control them? Gods, no! We work with them.”

Phlegma continued her scrutiny. “None of you have the power to control dragons, yet you take them into battle?” She considered this, seeming to dismiss it and pointed to Guardian. “Is it him? Does he control them?” 

The chief opened his mouth but Revna swooped in. “What you’ll find, if you let us,” she started, soothing lilt to her voice, “is that dragons are rather intelligent, and even compassionate.” She made her appeal to a stern faced crowd. “It’s not possible for a human to control a dragon, nor is it necessary.” 

Astrid found herself clutching Snotlout’s arm under the table, only the feel of his pulse beneath her grip grounded her. He tapped three times, rubbing his forearm when she let go. 

“We will need to discuss this… addition.” Snotlout rose, guiding Astrid by the elbow, who could only follow, jaw clenched tight. “We’ll send someone up with refreshments but Astrid and I have to inform the previous chief of this development.” He gave a genial smile, leading Astrid into a huddle with the council. 

“Well?” Snotlout asked, all pretence of self assuredness gone. 

“I think we do it,” Gobber said. “Things have been quiet with the dragons recently, maybe even going well.” He gave the pair a pointed look. “Dragons might be the thing that save the island and change it for the better.” 

Phlegma nodded her agreement.

They looked at Spitelout, waiting for his rebuttal. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted, the disturbance rattling the room. “I don’t know how anyone could work with the beasts after… everything.” 

A silence followed the statement. No one could refute that. There was too much history. 

“But this is our last resort.” Spitelout rubbed his chin. “The dragons are a threat to us but they can be dealt with later. One fight at a time.” A violent gleam shone in his eye and the implication made Astrid’s stomach churn. 

“If the Hilvirr army decides to occupy Berk with dragons we would be powerless to stop them from taking anything. Forget conditions of war and treaties, we wouldn’t stand a chance,” Harvin pointed out. “Our dragon fighting resources are almost non-existent, let alone our food supplies.” 

Astrid was inclined to agree. If they were going to end up with a dragon rider army it might as well be the dragon riders who had lived on Berk their entire lives. 

Snotlout nodded, rubbing his thumb over his palm in a thoughtful action that was usually performative. Not this time. “We will tell Stoick,” he decided. “I’ll see what he says but right now it looks like we have no other options.” 

Astrid caught Fishlegs’ eye and flicked a finger toward the door. Quickly, he sent Brynjar to his mother, disappearing into the shadows. 

“For now, it would be best if no one hears about this,” Astrid told the council. “We’ll send fishlegs up with food or you can send them for another tour of Berk or show them gronckle iron in action. Whatever you do, don’t tell anyone until we get back.” 

The group nodded, uncharacteristically cooperative. The thought sent a chill down her spine. It took until the doors to The Great Hall closed behind them for Astrid to fully shake the feel of the masked man’s eyes tracking her. On the step, Fishlegs and the twins sat huddled, waiting. 

“So?” Ruffnut asked. 

Astrid checked over her shoulders. “Not here.” She dropped down into the tunnel beneath the steps. 

“How did you find this place?” Fishlegs asked. 

“Scratch that, when did you find this place?” Tuffnut took in the arch in the stone. 

Both seemed too absorbed in their location to care about a response. Not that Astrid was complaining. She wanted nothing more than to forget about the last time she’d ‘been’ there. Ruffnut was already pressing her ear to the wall straining for any sign of spy-ability. 

“You can hear everything from here,” she garbled, mouth squished against stone. She pulled away. “How did we not know about this?” 

“Would you mutton heads please focus,” Snotlout snapped.

Chicken, who Astrid hadn’t noticed until now, clucked and Tuffnut nodded sagely. “You’re right, Chicken, that was rude.” 

“The Hilvirr have a dragon rider army.” Astrid cut to the chase. 

They stopped. Tuffnut gave an exaggerated gasp. “And the twists keep coming.” He paced, narration brewing. “Just when the brave dragon riders thought they had a plan, a new flock of riders swooped in. Now, they must decide which riders will take it all.” He brought his fist in, eyes shining with excitement. 

They gave him a sideways glance. 

“Thank you for that, Tuff.” 

“What’s the problem?” Ruffnut asked. “I assume there is a problem,” she continued, “your faces are all…” she scrunched her face in a horrifying rendition of constipation, fear, and teeth. 

“That’s not what we look like.” Astrid swatted at her. Then caught a glimpse of Fishlegs and Snotlout. Maybe it was. “Having an army on Berk that isn’t under our control is one thing,  a dragon riding army is another. It’s twice as risky,” she explained. “But without them…” 

“A whole island living in harmony with dragons,” Fishlegs mused, “imagine what they could teach us.” 

“Or how they could raze our entire village in less than a minute,” Snotlout deadpanned. “Not as exciting now, is it?” The two went head to head. 

“You guys are looking at this all wrong,” Tuffnut interrupted. 

Ruffnut rubbed her hands gleefully. “I concur, dear brother.” 

“You say this is a problem…” 

“But this has given us a solution to all our problems on a silver platter.”

The pair walked in a circle around the group, hands behind their backs, noses in the air. 

“I hate when they do this.” 

“It doesn’t have to be an invasion…” Tuffnut continued, ignoring their impatience.

“If we get dragons too.” 

“What?” Tuffnut whipped around to look at his sister, braids swinging, landing against her with a thwap. “That is not what I was going to say.” 

“That’s actually…” Fishlegs started, rubbing his chin. 

Tuffnut shook his head. “The worst idea you’ve ever heard you’re out of the family.” 

“Brilliant,” Fishlegs finished. 

“Say what now?” Tuffnut and Snotlout gaped at Fishlegs who was squinting like he could see his planning board back at the base. 

“Yeah, we say they can only have as many dragon riders on Berk as we do.” He counted on his fingers. “There’s four of them and five of us so we’re already basically even and the twins count as one-”

“-hey-” 

“-Then, they bring out their next group of riders and we train another group of our own. That way if and I mean if they decide to turn on us, we’re one for one in terms of dragons.” Fishlegs crossed his arms almost smugly. “And let’s face it, there’s no way they’ve been riding as long as we have.” 

She considered it. It was a decent plan… and they had the home field advantage. Astrid nodded slowly. “Okay, we say we’ll only allow it if they teach us to ride dragons, then the five of us volunteer.” 

Tuffnut was quick to turn back to his sister. “Welcome back to the family.” He stuck out his hand, which Ruff batted away with a scowl. 

The storm of Snotlout’s face cleared. “This is actually a really good plan. This could work.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Ruffnut grumbled. 

“We have to go see Stoick. Fishlegs, take them some refreshments. You two,” Snotout jabbed a harsh finger at the twins. “Not a word to anybody,” he ordered. They nodded solemnly before disbanding, scattering different directions. 

The chief’s grand hut had become familiar to Astrid, even as it fell into various states of dilapidation, and the pair pushed through the door without knocking. 

“Stoick,” Snotlout called. “We’re here.” 

It wasn’t uncommon for Stoick to pull them inside for a lecture, or sometimes just a cup of tea. The house had become a sort of comfort to both of them. Astrid had never seen it like this. The little light that fought through the joints and cracks fell on a barricade of chairs, clothes, and weapons strewn across the floor. The boards covering the windows from the last raid remained firmly in place forcing the room into darkness. The hearth in the dining room remained unlit, and from the smell of it, hadn’t been lit for quite some time. 

“Snotlout, Astrid.” The chief sat on his ornate armchair whittling the same duck he always did. “What brings you here?” 

The pair exchanged another look. 

“We have the treaty to sign today.” 

“Of course I remember.” He didn’t take his eyes off his project. 

Snotlout cleared his throat. “Right. Well… the thing is… they’ve given a strange stipulation.”

Stoick continued whittling. 

“Their warriors ride dragons.” 

His hands stilled. Stoick looked up. “What was his name again?” 

“Harridan.” 

“And this… dragon army?”

Snotlout made a small noise of disagreement. “Not so much an army of dragons as an army of people who happen to be friends with dragons.” 

Stoick’s eyebrow raised almost imperceptibly. “Dragon riders? Like-” He cut himself off, returning to his whittling. 

Astrid’s eyes bounced around the scene, between Snotlout and Stoick and the mess that surrounded them. She moved to open the back window, stepping over another mound. 

“What do you think?” Snotlout asked. 

In the new light Astrid could see the terse lines and the hollows that marred his face. 

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter what I think anymore. What do you think?”

Astrid returned with a cup of water that Snotlout forced into the chief’s hand. “We think it’s a good idea,” she told him. “Provided that we have as many dragon riders as they do.” 

He drank the water without a fight. “Then it’s a good idea.” 

Sorting the piles on the floor became very interesting. She picked through the piles while Snotlout sucked in a stilted breath. All their conversations seemed to go like this lately. Circles. 

“That’s it?” 

She returned the chairs and weapons to their rightful places. 

“What do you want me to say, Snotlout?” He asked, tone devoid of any real irritation. Devoid of anything. “I trusted this to you, and now I must trust you.” 

It clawed at Astrid’s insides to hear her great leader so passive, though her certainty of his grandeur had long since waned. 

“You don’t want to hear our reasons? Anything? What if we’re making the wrong decision?” Snotlout’s voice rose in pitch and desperation. 

Astrid lifted another pile of clothes from the floor, far too small to be Stoick’s. Far too small to be anyones. Except… she placed them delicately on the table, picking up the blanket, boots and hand sewn dragon that rested with it. She felt her throat tighten, from the dust no doubt and blinked away the burn behind her eyes. She didn’t look at Stoick. 

“Come on Snotlout. We’ve got a treaty to sign.”  

They didn’t speak a word on the way back. The silence might have been a relief if each other's thoughts weren’t so loud. The second they pushed those doors back open the staring started again. The buzzing conversations flickered to a stop and all pretense of interest in the stale bread Fishlegs could scrounge up was abandoned. 

Snotlout had barely sat down before the words were out of his mouth. “We accept that your army is dragon riders.” The static dropped from the air, grounding with a sickening zap. “Given that you train us in dragon riding,” Snotlout clarified, “and only have as many dragon riders on Berk as we do.” 

They tensed, lips returning to what appeared to be their resting state of pursed. Harridan looked to his advisors who once again seemed to have mastered the art of silent conversation. The expressions between the chief, Bjarke and Revna were completely unreadable, just a series of twitches and quick looks. Somehow, the only look that made sense was the masked man, who nodded, shoulders in an easy line, chest open as he leant back in his chair. 

“Then it’s settled.” Harridan held out his hand. 

Chapter Text

Negotiations dragged on through the day. Discussions of stables, barracks, food supplies, lessons, weapons and gronckle iron until every possible issue was settled and inked on the ever-growing parchment. Astrid studied Harridan’s relaxed manner as he passed the issues over to Guardian, the only evidence he was listening, light touches to his wife’s elbow, who made adjustments to the document with neat print. Questions bounced across the table, challenges met with equally steeled answers until Guardian and Astrid found themselves locked in a competition of minutiae, swapping items until they fell into a stalemate and there was nothing left to discuss. 

Finally, the treaty was signed, all hundred pages of it, and all matters of discussion temporarily put to bed. They ventured outside, meeting the crowd that had gathered somewhere in the hours of negotiation. Expectant faces blinked up at them, impatient for the inevitable good news. Their salvation. 

Snotlout stepped onto the landing, addressing the crowd in the afternoon sun, the portrait of a concerned chief. “The treaty has been signed,” he announced, “With the assistance of Chief Harridan and the Hilvirr army,” he continued, hushing the crowd. “Berk will be defending herself with a new dragon riding army.” 

The crowd erupted again, this time in harsh whispers. Amongst it all, Astrid heard the twins’ muffled cheers. “

We need volunteers to be part of the first team of Berk dragon riders.” Before Snotlout had even finished his sentence, the twins were tearing to the front, elbowing through the crowd, bowling over unsuspecting vikings and children. “We volunteer.” They ran up the steps, stumbling on the cobblestone and walking with their hands until they stopped in front of Astrid, who shook her head halfheartedly and batted them off to the side. 

Fishlegs stepped forward. “Me too.” He took his place next to the twins. 

They were so close to success until more hands shot up in the crowd. After a moment's hesitation, Spitelout and Harvin were echoing their support, and Gustav and Helga pushed to the front fervently. Even Agnar. The group exchanged a look. The possibility of support for the experiment hadn’t even crossed Astrid’s mind. She felt the thrum of her heart in her ears. 

“We can only have five,” she told the crowd. “The rest of you will have to wait for the second round of recruits.” 

Gustav and Helga continued to wave their hands desperately. 

Astrid looked at Snotlout, who could only shrug. “Snotlout and I,” she annunciated, “will join Fishlegs and the Twins in dragon training with the aid of the Hilvirr riders.” She gestured to Guardian, who stood rather unassumingly at the edge of the group. 

“You’re picking the twins and Fishlegs over us?” Agnar bellowed, rallying support from the other dragon-riding hopefuls. 

Behind her, Spitelout agreed. “I should be doing this, lass, you know I should.” There was a warning in his tone that bit into her. 

The arguments grew, competing voices surging as Astrid shook her head, palms out in an attempt to placate the growing dissent. “If we don’t work with the twins on this, they’ll go behind our backs,” she told them. 

Ruffnut and Tuffnut nodded emphatically, their faith in the plan unwavering. 

“We are getting that dragon one way or another.” 

“We were made for this.” 

Astrid gave the crowd a pointed look, clinging to a perfected performance of certainty. “And Fishlegs knows more about dragons than the rest of us combined.” 

He preened. 

“I am confident that this is the right choice.”

“Who put you in charge?” Agnar snarked back.

Astrid rounded on him, fury burning as Agnar didn’t even have the decency to backpedal. He just stood in the safety of the crowd, challenging up at her. She would show him. She started forward, pulling against the sweaty hand that had latched onto her bicep. 

“If you’re going to act like a child, Agnar, you won't get a chance with the dragons at all,” Snotlout glared down at him. The coldness in his voice paused the scene, Agnar’s fight draining. 

“You can’t do that,” he argued, though he didn’t sound sure. “It’s the Hilvirr who control the dragons.”

“Do you want to find out?” Astrid hissed, leaning as close as Snotlout would let her. 

Finally, Guardian decided it was time to intervene. “If you have any reservations about dragons at all, or fears about the plan, don’t volunteer.” 

The respite gave Astrid a moment to quell her anger, calming herself until Snotlout’s hand withdrew. 

“Dragons are skittish and wild. Especially the ones on Berk.” The crowd hung on his every word, and bitterness flared in Astrid’s throat. “They will sense your fear and react accordingly.” He looked back at their eclectic group. “Are you sure?”

There was no keeping the delight from their faces. “We’re sure,” Astrid answered for them. 

Guardian gave one last sceptical look before letting out a whistle that was surprisingly piercing for something that was trapped under a helmet. 

They waited, anticipation slowly dying. Guardian kept his eyes trained on the sky while Snotlout turned his face from the crowd, whispering an argument with Fishlegs. Just as Astrid opened her mouth to ask, she saw it. Or them. Five dragons swooped around the mountain, wings beating heavily as they paused above the crowd. 

Guardian gestured to the empty bank beside them, and they obliged, landing heavily on the grass. A nightmare, a thunderdrum, and three dragons Astrid couldn’t pinpoint. She heard the village shuffle behind her. 

A figure that Astrid hadn’t noticed at first slid from a glistering silver dragon, wearing a skirt of matching scales. She slid the hood from her head and Astrid caught Snotlout’s shameless jaw drop in her periphery. She elbowed him. Hard. Though a quick glance showed he wasn’t the only one. 

“Heather,” Guardian stepped forward, a forced cheer in his voice. 

How had- “Were they here the whole time?” Astrid didn’t bother keeping the accusation from her voice. 

“No, no,” he assured hurriedly. “I sent a message using terror mail. 

“Terror what now?” Tuffnut’s head snapped to them. 

A green terrible terror perched on Guardian’s arm. “We’ve trained our terrible terrors to carry mail. When the treaty was signed, I sent for Heather to bring our dragons.” He scratched the dragon under the chin, who cooed and sighed, settling happily around Guardian’s neck. 

The display twisted Astrid’s lips into something sour. 

“That. Is. Genius!” Fishlegs exclaimed. “Why didn’t I think of that! That's so cool.” He gave the terror that had landed on his own shoulder an apologetic look. “Oh, no offence, Iggy.” The dragon gave a toothy nip in response. 

“Please,” Harridan broke the exchange, “we’d love for you to meet the dragons.” He beckoned them over as the Hilvirr moved to stand with their dragons. Harridan beside a green thunderdrum, Bjarke a fiery blue nightmare and Revna a flat-headed dragon that Astrid didn’t recognise. If she had to guess, she would say it boulder class based on the markings and set of the jaw. Astrid almost shuddered. Definitely too much time with Fishlegs, who, to his credit, somehow managed to identify the dragon from one of the two hundred pages of his incomplete recording of every dragon species known to man. 

“Is that a shovelheim?” He asked, eyes shining. He stepped closer, examining the dragon. “I’ve only read about these dragons.” He circled it. “They’re boulder class with a talent for building.” He stepped closer, placing a careful hand on her neck before moving to the face. “And this one,” he cooed, “look at the jaw on her, perfect for digging.” The dragon preened under the attention. He continued down the line of unfamiliar dragons. “And a dramillion.” Again, he scanned every inch of the dragon, committing it to memory like it might disappear before he had the chance to return with his ‘geek-out’ book, as Snotlout called it. The dragon swivelled, keeping a wary eye on him. “Can they really mimic any type of dragon fire?”

Guardian chuckled, and the sound filled Astrid with such vitriol that she thought it might burn her. 

“She does,” he answered. “We’ll have to show you.” The dragon chirped and nuzzled into Guardian’s open palm, a far cry from the suspicion Fishlegs had received. 

“I’ve never seen one of these before?” Fishelgs said finally. “What is he?” 

The newcomer turned on a smile so bright Astrid prayed Thor would send down a storm. 

“This is Windshear,” the woman answered, though Astrid suspected Fishlegs had been dazed. “She’s a razorwhip.” She put a possessive hand on the dragon's neck. 

“A razorwhip?” Astrid questioned aloud. She racked her brain. She’d never even heard of that species before. 

The woman- Heather- nodded. “They’re only on a couple of islands,” she told them, a smugness that Astrid couldn’t prove in her tone, “they’re well protected.”

“That’s cool,” Tuffnut started, tossing a braid over his shoulder, “but not as cool as… say, I don't know, a zippleback.”

Heather smirked. “Would you feel differently if I told you her spines could slice through stone?”

The dragon flicked her tail, and sure enough, the nearby rock split into two neat halves. 

“Or if I told you her tears could kill you in twenty-four hours?” 

Tuffnut’s eyes all but glowed with excitement. “I want one.” He turned to Guardian. “Please,” he dropped to his knees, “I need one, it’s beautiful, the destruction.” 

Ruffnut rolled her eyes and kicked him over. “Get up,” she told him. “You’re making me look bad.” She dropped the facade. “I think we should at least test that the tears work first.” She rubbed her hands together, a scheming grin across her face. 

Unfortunately, Astrid was unfazed by their antics. Harridan’s face, however, bore a unique combination of amusement and concern that the twins were skilled at eliciting. Beneath the helmet, Astrid could only imagine that Guardian looked similar; the thought gave her a sense of satisfaction. Sure, everyone else might be wrapped around his finger, but the twins… they didn’t listen to anyone. 

“Now that you’re … acquainted,” Harridan said. “We would like to show you Berk from a new angle.” 

Astrid coughed to hide her chuckle. 

“Dibs on Windshear,” Tuffnut blurted. 

“What? No Way,” Ruff argued. 

“I said it first.” 

“That’s not fair!” 

“Life’s not fair.” 

The bickering continued as the scene escalated to wild punches and full-blown wrestling. Yeah, this is what they needed to convince the village they were the best dragon-riding candidates. “Thor, give me strength,” she whispered before wrenching the pair back by the collars. They slouched sullenly, avoiding eye contact. “Would you two quit it?” she snapped. “Tuffnut, you’re with Guardian, Ruffnut, you can go with Heather.” She shoved them in the direction of the respective riders. 

“Yes,” Ruffnut fist pumped as Tuffnut objected.

“What!” He folded his arms petulantly. “You always take her side,” he grumbled. 

“I am trying to prevent you from scaring off our new allies,” she corrected, “but sure, Tuff, I’m out to get you.” 

“Ha! I knew it!”

Astrid rolled her eyes. She would never admit it, but she got a sick satisfaction in sticking the marginally more annoying twin with Guardian. “If you keep this up, I’m going to ground you.” 

Panic flashed in his eyes. “You can’t do that.” 

“Want to bet?” She stared him down. “You. Dragon. Now.”

“Okay, okay.” He backed over to Guardian. “Fine, A. I’ll go with the infinitely less cool dramillion.”  

The dragon snorted, tendrils of smoke rolling over Tuffnut’s arm. 

Fishlegs resumed his position beside Revna and her son while Snotlout lingered longingly by the nightmare. Astrid took her place beside Bjarke, giving Snotlout a light shove to Harridan, who, despite the shuffle, remained in high spirits.

“Just a quick flight across the island,” Harridan told them. 

The riders mounted, turning to pull the gang up. 

“You’re going to want to hold on tight,” Bjarke warned, eyes crinkling with a warmth so earnest that Astrid couldn’t fault his confidence. They followed Guardian into the sky, wind rushing through them with each steady wing beat that Astrid knew had been toned down for their sake. There was something surreal about flying over Berk during the day. The top of the village glinting in the sun, the vikings looking up at them in bewilderment. It stung to admit, but it was a first. 

“It’s… amazing up here.” 

“It’s certainly something,” Bjarke agreed with the ease of a man who hadn’t spent the last three years of his life hiding in caves. Even his geniality couldn’t assuage the bitterness that came with that thought. 

They fell into a strange, mismatched flock. Guardian and his slender dramillion lead the way, Heather to his right, Astrid and Bjarke falling into the back of the vaguely V-shaped cluster, somehow barely keeping pace with Revna and Fishlegs. The unfamiliarity sat heavy in her stomach, and she craned her neck in a fruitless effort to see what was happening at the front. 

“Hey!” She heard. 

“I’m at the front!” Tuff called. “This is amazing! Is this what you feel like all the time?” He puffed up his chest. “You must all follow me.” 

Astrid pinched the bridge of her nose. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” came Guardian’s pitched warning. “NO, NO.” A blur of blue dipped below the flock plummeting toward the water. “Tuffnuuuuuuuuuuuuuut!” The man’s voice faded as the trio plummeted to the sea, disappearing into the seaspray. No one followed. A visibly irritated Guardian returned moments later, gripping Tuffnut’s wrists with one hand and soothing his dragon with the other. Astrid saw a flash of her own experience plunging into the icy ocean. Another thought immediately soured by the memory of what came after. 

Evidently sick of Astrid’s straining, Bjarke broke from the back of the pack, joining the front in a wall of wings. 

“Tuffnut,” she scolded. “What the hell was that?”

He met her gaze with a pathetic eye roll. “This is so boring,” he whined. “When are we going to do something cool? With our own dragons.”  

Astrid sighed, turning her attention to the Hilvirr that were listening. “We should return to the ground. There’s plenty to do down there. Plus, you don’t want to be stuck with these yak brains-” she sent a glare- “much longer. Trust me, the smell of fish oil does not wash out easily.”

“Hey, that’s only Ruffnut.” 

Guardian chuckled low beneath his helmet. “Of course,” he said. “We’d better get settled in for the night, too.” He guided the dragons in a smooth loop. “Back to base.” Once again, the others followed without question, falling back into proper V formation, which, of course, meant Astrid went right back to the end. Somehow, they’d found themselves in what seemed like… comfort. Fishlegs chattered on, asking questions about the shovelheim diet, wingspan and propensity for high-speed wings that Brynjar was more than happy to contribute to answering, sitting in his child seat at the front. He peered around his mother, giving gap-toothed grins, and Fishlegs nodded studiously. He’d be poring over their book of dragons tonight. She’d bet her house on it. Not that she had one tonight. Ruffnut was pestering Heather about seeing Windshear’s spines. Everyone had a breaking point, and it seemed that Heather had hit hers, attacking a nearby seastack and giving Ruff the dislodged spine as a tool to shut her up. Snotlout, of course, was admiring the “power of the thunderdrum, though obviously, it couldn’t compare to a monstrous nightmare.” And Tuff was sitting quietly, wrists still held captive by one of Guardian’s hands and facing directly into the back of the man's helmet. Relatively quietly. Astrid suspected that he was fluctuating between asking purposely irritating questions and blowing on the crack that exposed Guardian’s neck. She didn’t want to jinx it, but things might have even gone… well. 

“You worry about them,” Bjarke observed. “A lot.” 

Astrid snapped back to the watchful expression in front of her. “No, they’re… they’re capable.”

“That’s not what I said.”

Wasn’t it? 

“There’s just…” she hesitated. “A lot to worry about.” There was always a lot to worry about. That had been true for years. Every time it seemed to calm, a new set of problems sprung up. And right now, they were teetering dangerously close to calm. And this time, there wasn’t a backup plan. This time, running away wouldn’t solve it. 

“One step at a time,” he said. 

Not for the first time, Astrid looked at Bjarke closely. The worn lines of his face, the open understanding that it wore. An ever-present invitation. So she asked, “How long have you been riding dragons?” 

“Two years.” 

Astrid almost fell from the nightmare. “Only two years?” She spluttered. “And you’re here? Trying to convince a rival tribe with a proud history of dragon killing to ride them?” 

“We weren’t going to ask you to ride them; that was your idea.” 

“Two years and you’re going to risk life and limb for some strangers?” 

“Is that surprising to you?”

The question almost made her laugh out loud. “I figured it was part of some grand plan to spread peace with dragons… Or a trap.” 

Bjarke shook his head. “We only want to help your people.”

The statement lingered, hanging in the quiet evening air. 

“We do appreciate it,” she said finally. 

The touchdown on Berk carried a certain triumph, a worthy celebration. A crowd remained, watching as they dismounted. Uncertain whispers carried around the group before they erupted into cheers as they discovered something that they had been sorely lacking. Hope. True, unyielding, hope. Astrid caught a glimpse of Stoick, standing on his verandah. He nodded before disappearing inside. The simple gesture filled Astrid with relief, lightening her shoulders a touch. 

The crowd died down, and arrangements were made for the night. Guardian and Heather were to stay with the dragons overnight. They insisted. While Harridan, Revna, Brynjar and Bjarke would sleep in the ‘spare’ house. Astrid oversaw the arrangements as Snotlout orbited Heather and Guardian hovered outside as the others unpacked, bringing their baskets to the door but never venturing past the frame.  

____

Night fell, and one by one, the members of their group disappeared to the admittedly thinning forest, citing the need for an early night. Astrid was the last to go, met in the stables by smiling faces and irritable dragons. 

“Things are going well,” Ruffnut said, in lieu of a greeting. “Is now the right time to remind you that I’m a genius?” 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” Astrid brushed past them, opening Stormfly’s stall. 

“Relax, Astrid. Soon this will all be over.” Tuffnut leaned against his dragon. “We’ll have our dragons, they’ll have theirs, and we’ll crush Alvin's fleet like bugs.” He shrugged. “Easy.” 

Astrid shook her head, looking desperately at Stormfly. 

“And,” Fishlegs continued, “we’ll have so much more dragon knowledge. You would not believe what I learnt today-”

“No,” they groaned in unison. 

“Save it for someone who cares, Fishface.” 

Miffed, but unsurprised, Fishlegs turned to Meatlug, who was looking at him excitedly, tongue lolling outside her mouth. He whispered to her while she ate. The relationship those two had… well, it wasn’t any weirder than the rest of them. 

She focused on her own dragon, returning the saddle to its place on the wall. “Sorry, I’m late, it’s been a weird day.” She scratched under the dragon’s chin, and Stormfly gave a forgiving squawk. “We’re letting you out.” 

Stormfly tossed her head indignantly, poking at her rider. 

“Not like that,” Astrid assured. “These people, they ride dragons,” she petted her neck, “and with any luck we’ll be able to ride you too,” she explained. “In public. But they have to find you first.” She led her dragon to the hangar door. “Off you go.” 

They paused for a moment in the moonlight, exchanging a final look before Stormfly cut through the sky, blotting out the pale starlight. Astrid took a moment watching her go, mouth dry. Behind her, Fishlegs was still singing Meatlug’s lullaby, the twins were struggling to get Baf ‘n’ Belch off their comfortable bed and away from their fish basket, and Snotlout was having serious words with Hookfang. 

“I mean it, Hookfang,” he pointed at the smug dragon, “don’t embarrass me tomorrow.” 

Which, of course, was Snotlout’s way of asking to come back. 

Hookfang snorted, smoke gliding across Snotlout’s hand, and scooped him up. A giggle echoed through the stable before Snotlout remembered where he was and shushed him. 

She shook her head, leaving the group to their bedtime routines and disobedient dragons. 

—

Under the blanket of the night, Astrid allowed herself a pause. Silence radiated through the sprawling trees that led away from the stable, covering the roosting birds and nesting terrible terrors in a reassuring coolness. She stood, letting it settle on her, not quite relaxed, but half as tense as she had been. She didn’t hurry back. The filth of the forge wasn’t something she was particularly eager to return to. Instead, she emerged from their tunnel, disguising the entrance with keen attention, and took the trail past the cove. She stumbled down the muddy path, scrabbling across rocks that were once so familiar to her. More than once, the clouds provided opposition, swallowing the little light she had until it was nothing more than muscle memory and a hand trailed across bowed branches that kept her moving forward. 

Astrid always approached carefully, always half expecting to see Stoick sitting on the boulder, face ashen and dimly lit. This time, she was met with the sound of raucous laughter echoing through the narrow opening. She peered around the rockface, hands pressed into the sharp shards of gravel that lurked beneath the moss. 

Heather sat, leaning against her shiny dragon, her shoulders carefree, her hair falling across her face as she snorted with giggles, while Guardian lay, turned away from the entrance, only his feet visible past the wing of his dragon, his metal foot glinting with the pale moonlight beside the severe outline of his helmet. Astrid couldn’t resist. She leaned forward, craning her neck around the boulder as more of him came into view. Then her hand skidded, and the pebbles clattered, and the laughter stopped. Heather’s eyes zeroed in on Astrid, her lips moved, and Guardian was kicking his helmet up with his metal foot, fast as lightning. He sat up, spotlighting her beneath his helmet. 

Caught. 

Astrid slid easily into the cove, determined not to feel like a stranger on her own island. A losing battle. Between Guardian’s complete unreadability and Heather’s perpetual smirk, Astrid was on the outside. 

“Hi…” he fumbled for her name, “Astrid. Hi, Astrid.” he composed himself. “Hi.” He struggled to shrug away the lingering awkwardness. 

Again, Astrid wasn’t sure what to make of the confident nervousness that radiated from the masked figure. So she ignored it. “This is where you’ve decided to set up?” She glanced at the dragons sprawled across the cove with a lazy air, though all kept one eye fixed on her. It twisted her stomach a little. 

“Is that a problem?” 

Her gaze snapped back to Guardian. “No.” There wasn’t supposed to be. There wasn’t to anyone else. The pair watched her, waiting for an explanation. She didn’t give it. “Goodnight,” she said, heading back to the forge. 

A quiet “goodnight” followed her out. She didn’t turn. 

At least Stormfly was having a night of unabashed freedom. 

—  

Astrid's lungs burned by the time she broke from the forest. The familiar ache in her muscles did little to pry her mind from the embarrassment that followed her. It had to be the cove. She barreled down the path, throwing herself at the sanctity of the back door, stumbling up the steps. But instead of the dying hearth and the sound of her parents settling in for the night, Astrid found herself face to face with a woman. Revna. 

Great. “Revna,” she greeted, “hi.” Gods, she sounded like Guardian. “I was just coming to check if you need anything.” 

Revna gave her that knowing expression that she’d seen far too much today. “Is that so, dear?” 

Astrid retreated down the stairs, feet sinking into the waterlogged grass. “Now that I’ve checked, I can go to bed knowing.” She backed down the path. “Goodnight.” She spun in a hurry, but she didn’t get far. 

“Astrid,” Revna called. 

She cringed. “Yes?” she turned, painstakingly slow. 

“Have a seat.” 

Despite the warmth that radiated as Revna patted the top step, Astrid thought she might heave. “There’s not really enough room,” she tried. Revna fixed her with a look, and she sat, squished up against the matronly woman. 

“Do you have everything you need?” Revna asked. “It’s not easy being booted from your own house.” 

Astrid blinked. “I- yes-” She remembered herself. “This isn’t my house.” Smooth. 

Revna’s answering laugh didn’t fill her with confidence. “Of course not. And it wasn’t my house either when Harridan’s family first made the trip. I slept among the trees because I liked it.” She paused, then chuckled softly. “I did like it,” she admitted. “I might have liked it more if my parents didn’t spring it on me the day before.” 

A couple of questions arose in Astrid’s mind. Somehow, they didn’t seem quite appropriate. So she settled. “Is that how you met?”

“No.” Revna looked out into the darkness. “I was determined to stay away the entire visit. Good thing too.” 

“You don’t wish you had more time together?” That was the kind of nonsense couples spouted. Especially ones with a vested interest in seeing her wed. Astrid didn’t believe in it, of course. 

“No.” She leaned back against the door, wrapped up in thought. “I was different when I was young. He was different. Together…” She let her sentence fade into the night. “I can’t say for certain where we’d be, but it can’t be any better than where we re now.” 

More sappy sentiments. 

“So who is it?” 

“Who is what?” She should not be talking about this. 

“Who are your parents hoping you’ll snag?” She leant in as if it were a party game. “Bjarke? He’s a bit old for you. Guardian was a surprise, and it’s certainly not Har, ” she listed, eyes gleaming with the challenge. “Fishlegs?” 

Astrid must have made a face because Revna was laughing. 

“Okay, not Fishlegs. Then it must be … Snotlout.” She savoured the name, preening in a way that gave Astrid the feeling that she’d known from the start. 

Astrid didn’t answer. 

“Oldest trick in the book.” When she glanced at Astrid’s ashen face, she was quick to amend. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell the others. They don’t know anything about what it’s like.” 

Astrid couldn’t look at her, but Revna wasn’t done digging. 

“Should I be expecting a wedding invitation?” From anyone else, the question would have sent Astrid flying as far from them as she could get. From a foreign chieftess, Astrid should have been smiling and diverting the conversation under a pretence of good sensibilities. From Revna, with the warmth and genuine concern that spread so earnestly across her face, Astrid spilled her guts before she could even realise what had happened. 

“If everyone had their way, you would. Snotlout and I have been arranged beside each other for so long now that I almost forget what choice feels like.” She kicked at a clump of grass. “It’s not going to happen. I couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t either.” Clarity burst through her from Thor himself. “Not that I don’t think he’s a good person, he is. And a good chief. But we’d kill each other.” Before she could explain herself any further, Revna was laughing. 

“Believe me, dear, I understand.” She cast a glance over her shoulder. “When Harridan and I married, I worked with him on everything. I loved him, I truly did, but I also spent more time with him than anyone ever should. Remembering why I chose him and all the things he does well kept me looking past the boots scattered by the door, and the dozen half-finished projects leaning against the house. Without that, it’s not marriage, it’s a partnership.” 

By now, the things that Revna said shouldn’t surprise her, but yet again, Astrid found herself slack-jawed at the ease with which she dismissed tradition. She supposed it was that same  stubbornness that made her a formidable dragon rider. 

Revna yawned, bringing the conversation to a close. “It’s getting late, do you have somewhere to stay?” She asked. “Not with Snotlout.” Her eyes twinkled. 

 “The forge.”

“Lucky you.” 

Astrid stood, hiding her smile. “Goodnight.” 

“Astrid.”

She turned once more. 

“I haven’t been exactly where you are, but I know how you’re feeling.” She placed an affectionate hand on her shoulder. “There’s a lot of responsibility on your shoulders.” She looked at her, almost sadly, years of experiences carved into her face and swimming before her eyes. “If there’s anything you need, just ask.” 

 Astrid shrugged away, aware of herself. “I think that’s what I’m supposed to say to you.” 

“Perhaps.” 

— 

Muffled shouting and thunderous footsteps broke through the heavy doors of the forge. Astrid moved before she’d even woken up, hand finding her axe against the cold wooden boards. She was in the night before she had a chance to rub the sleep from her eyes. Fire from crumbling buildings licked into the dark of the night as flickering pyres cast uneven light on the pale outline of Outcast sails. Astrid took her place among the few hurriedly reconstructed catapults. The others arrived swiftly after as Harvin directed teams, lining shots for the fleetship as the boats raced closer. Above them, the beat of wings and clink of scales whistled onto the scene. 

“Hold,” Astrid shouted, heart racing as she searched the sky. 

“Stand down, Astrid.” 

The riders darted overhead, razorwhip and dramillion slicing through the chaos. White hot flame streamed onto the unsuspecting fleet from all directions. Behind them, three more riders entered the fray, each slotting into their role. Revna on her shovelheim provided well-placed cover fire from the back while Guardian and Heather disappeared and reappeared across the armada, leaving splinters in their wake. Harridan and Bjarke followed close behind, obliterating the remainder of the off-kilter ships. They moved with precision. The Outcast fleet didn’t stand a chance. 

Fishlegs joined them at the cliff, hand clamped in Brynjar’s. They watched as the riders made quick work of the fleet, Brynjar cheering the entire time. The riders took mercy on the final ships as they scooped the survivors from the water, allowing a shameful retreat. 

The Berkians watched on, relieved as they survived an island-conquering armada with minimal damage. There was a silence as the final boats disappeared into the smoke and mist, and the first rays of light crept over the horizon. The adrenaline subsided, and relief covered the village. Then, the celebration started. Uproarious cheers reverberated through the ground as the dragon riders touched down. Relieved warriors surged forward, shouting their gratitude at the weary riders. Interest doubled in the dragons, and those that didn’t fit around the new ‘heroes’ took to baiting the terrors forward and having them attack splinters of damaged huts, reenacting the battle.

Astrid watched the scene, fighting the heaviness of her eyelids until she was sure the threat of a second attack had passed. She pushed past the still celebrating vikings slinking into the refuge of the forge. The door swung closed, filling the room with a balm of silence. Astrid rested her head against the door, eyes closed. This was good. This was good.