3,044Prodigal Son 42
Sunlight sparkled across the open sea far below. The wind was cold, but it was a biting, refreshing sort of chill. In truth, no weather conditions could have stifled the warm flame burning merrily away in Astrid's chest. She could feel Hiccup's warmth against her back, his arms wrapped around her, his cheek against hers as Toothless glided them effortlessly across the pure blue cloudless sky. She felt calm. Happy, and calm in a way which life on Berk had never allowed before.
Getting Toothless to carry them both had been a bit of a challenge. The night fury had slunk up to them, taken a sniff at both of them, and then rolled his eyes. He had shot Hiccup a leering, gummy grin with his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. Hiccup, in turn, had awkwardly reprimanded the dragon and earned a slap across the side with the dragon's tail. Things only devolved from there.
It was the teasing bickering of old friends; brothers. Each determined to get the last triumphant strike in. Eventually the night fury deigned to allow his saddle to be attached, but Astrid had a sneaking suspicion the dragon found her presence intrusive, and slightly resented having to carry her as well as his rider. Hiccup had begged and cajoled him, and eventually resorted to bribery with promises of fish buckets. Astrid tried not to feel hurt; the duo had been living together for a very long time, traveling all of Midgard. For Toothless at least, she was a disruption to an old, familiar and comfortable dynamic, but she wanted the night fury to like her. Or to at least approve of her presence in his friend's life.
Astrid had, of course, taken the time to bid a fond farewell to Stormfly. Hiccup had promised that the groggy nadder would be out for another full day at least, and he had let Astrid feed her dragon a few of Toothless' more treasured snacks like chicken jerky, and she had spent a few minutes simply lying with her dragon, listening to her friend's steady breathing, and feeling the warmth of Stormfly's scales.
In the end, Toothless had agreed to carry them both, and they had set off back towards Berk. Astrid was strapped to Toothless' saddle while Hiccup sat behind her in his flight suit.
They had both brought along souvenirs of their own, as well: two of Hiccup's mysterious cylinders, strapped beneath Toothless' saddle.
"What is Lysistrata?" she had asked as she and Hiccup lay together naked on his cot, ensconced in a cocoon of warmth beneath wonderfully soft sheets and a thick, cloudy comforter. Her back was against his chest, and she could feel his heartbeat, and his gentle soft breaths against her hair. Hiccup for his part, seemed a little stunned at the way the situation had developed, and he held her tightly, as if fearing if he let go, she would somehow dissipate like the morning mist or a fading dream. She had to admit, she liked having his arms around her. It made her feel safe and cared for. It was an unfamiliar feeling for the warrior, who was used to being exposed, to being the source of other people's safety. For the first time since she could remember, she felt able to allow herself to truly relax. Her axe and shield were by the sandpit, and she felt no urge to leap for them. No panic at their distance. If anything, she had wanted them further away; out of sight and out of mind so that the site of their presence and the reality it represented wouldn't keep dashing her perfect moment against the rocks of time's ticking clock.
"It's a war comedy," Hiccup had replied. His voice was quiet and drowsy. It was cute, and she had felt compelled to squirm around and kiss him silly again, nearly starting them onto round four, but Hiccup had slowed, seemingly content to lie there with her, simply holding her and staring into her eyes. Besides, her legs had long-since turned to jelly, and her hips ached even worse than before. Hiccup too seemed wrung out after their …activities. Sand had gotten everywhere, and she knew that she'd have to take a cold bath or a swim in a creek at some point soon to wash herself off properly.
Regardless, a seemingly endless hunger for his touch had awoken within her. A gnawing, carnal desire to be with him, to be touching him. Those few moments when his arms weren't around her now caused a disquiet in the back of her mind. A subtle feeling of wrongness which agitated her more than she liked. The emotion was distracting. She both hoped for, and dreaded the day she would no longer have to wrestle and tame it.
"And what's so funny about war?" Astrid asked quietly, stroking his auburn hair and watching his expression grow soft and his eyelids drawing closed as sleep slowly overtook him. She eyed the thin scar across his cheek. There was an arrow mark as well, a pock of rough skin at his shoulder, but Astrid's attention was drawn to the massive, horrible, curved gash in the centre of his chest.
She recognized which weapon had caused his old wound; the Skoldmo had swung enough axes into flesh to know the damage they wrought. She winced in sympathy and wanted to kiss him, to run her finger along the old wound, but she also did not want to draw his attention to the no doubt horrible memories such actions would bring back to him. The fact that it was an axe, her weapon, was particularly troubling. She wondered if he had ever imagined her swinging an axe at him like that. She hoped not. The axe was, to her, a tool. A thing of safety. A means to an end. For him it was pain and nightmares. Probably the same as it was for the few dragons who had survived an encounter with her.
Astrid felt a flood of guilt and wiggled a little closer to him.
Hiccup's voice was slow and thick, "Two tribes, Athens and Sparta, are at war. The women of each tribe are tired of the men in their families dying, and so they all decide to withhold sex until the men stop fighting."
Astrid chewed her lip, considering how many married couples were on Berk. "Do you… do you think that could work here?"
"Mmmm… I doubt it." He murmured, his eyes drifting shut beneath her gentle caresses, "It's a joke story. A fable, not a real plan. Besides… I've met Berkian women. They might be just a little too bloodthirsty…"
Astrid winced. She could hear the humor in his voice, but seeing his scars, evidence of the harm people had caused him, the comment hit a little close to home. He cracked his eyes open and grinned at her, oblivious. She pouted and punched him, but not very hard. In response Hiccup pulled her tightly against him, with her forehead against his shoulder and their arms and legs tangled together. Astrid let out a long sigh and let her own eyes drift closed. It felt so good, so calming just to be touching him like this, chest to chest, and limbs tangled together. She hadn't realized how starved she had been just for basic human contact.
"The funny part is that the roles in the play are all performed by men, and the actors don't want to kiss each other." Hiccup thought for a moment and added, "well... some of them really did, but that's besides the point: the male characters all have to wear fake… y'know-whats, and as the play goes on the Spartans and Athenian men get more and more desperate, and their …bits… get bigger and bigger until they're accidently bumping into each other and hitting each other…"
She laughed.
"As you watch the play, the whole situation devolves into this awkward, slow-moving shipwreck, and you get to sit in the audience and watch it all unfold."
He smiled reminiscently, "it's hilarious. Especially if everyone in the crowd is as drunk as the actors."
"Aaand this is your superior civilization, is it?" Astrid asked dryly.
"We can't all be champion yak punchers, Hofferson." The words were out of his mouth almost before she had finished her sentence, but they both burst out laughing. Despite his reflexive snap-back, Hiccup looked absolutely thrilled by the fact that she had made a joke!
The play was strapped underneath Toothless's harness now, as they flew. Perhaps Lysistrata's strategy wouldn't work as well for Berk as it did for the strange, distant tribes of Athens and Sparta. But there was something to the foreign woman's thinking: a difference in approach between Lysistrata's tactics and Astrid's own.
It had occurred to Astrid, as she lay entangled with Hiccup, that thus far she had been trying to sell the idea of dragons as friendly and helpful to Berks' warriors. It was the only class of Berkian she really knew; everyone else was simply a civilian, but perhaps it was the wrong approach. They had made a dismal amount of progress thus far. Was that because Berk was beyond saving, or had she just been stubbornly striking at the tribe's hardest point; expecting the paradigm shift to come from the faction who would benefit least from a change?
To Astrid's disappointment, the proposition had prompted a suddenly flurry of activity from Hiccup, who had merely blinked at her in momentary shock, and was suddenly wide awake and leaping from the bed, snatching his undergarments from the floor and hopping towards the door, trying to slide his pants on and sprint at the same time.
"Hiccup? Hiccup!" Bemused and annoyed, Astrid followed him, grabbing her own undergarments as she passed. She came to a groaning halt at the door as her legs flared in protest. Even so, she limped down the dark, sloping tunnel, watching his distant, spry shape vanish into the workshop.
When she found him again, he was in one of the countless side rooms, leafing through shelves of scrolls, practically teleporting from shelf to shelf as he muttered to himself in frustrated tongues Astrid did not recognize. She wondered momentarily how many languages the young man spoke. She stared completely shamelessly at the way the muscles on his shoulders and forearms flexed as he ran his long, clever fingers across the shelves, and the way the lines and angles of his chest and slim abdomen shone and flashed in the candlelight above his loose, corded pants.
"Hiccup?" she asked.
"Uh huh." he murmured absently as pulled a scroll down, scanned its label and placed it carefully back on the shelf. He moved to the next section and tapped his long, calloused fingers across the scrolls until he found what he needed. He held up the document triumphantly and turned to her, grinning in victory "I was looking for Marcus Cicero's letter on winning democratic elections, but forgot that it was his brother Quintus who wrote it to him! Cicero didn't write that letter!"
She stared, nonplussed.
He sighed and waved a hand, "…never mind. It's a seminal treatise on how populations and leadership interact when one has to earn the democratic support of the public!" He unrolled the scroll, holding it up for her to see.
It too, was written in a language she didn't recognize. Astrid simply looked up into his green eyes and his awkward smile, shining with enthusiasm, and asked, "I can't read that, Hiccup. Also, what's a democratic election?"
Hiccup stared back, his shoulders drooping, "uh… the language is Greek – a language from an ancient island nation far south of here – the language of Sparta and Athens, from the play, actually. Democratic is Demos meaning ordinary citizens, and Kratos meaning strength or power. In this case, the power of rulership and command of a nation. Instead of getting orders from a chief, the free men of Athens would gather together and voted on what they wanted to do. That's how their societies made decisions. They had no chief. They voted in their leaders and voted on major decisions. Democracy: The power of the people."
No Chief… Astrid mouthed the words, trying to fit the unfamiliar concept into her understanding of the world. She found she couldn't. It sounded like the opposite of a civilized society to her; too much risk of self-interested, uninformed idiots bringing dumb arguments back to the table again and again, and forcing everyone else to live with their bad choices. Surely the inevitable result was that everyone would just carve themselves into little mini tribes and spend all day fighting each other instead of getting anything useful done.
She said, "How does anything get done if no one gives orders and no one follows them? Everyone would argue everything to a standstill! The… the dumbest and most useless man would have the same power as the smartest and best? Snotlout gets the same power I do?"
"Well… technically only adult males who had served in the army could vote…" Hiccup said reluctantly.
Astrid's scowl deepened considerably.
"but… I mean assuming you could vote, keep in mind the fact that Snotlout has the same power as you also means that you have the same power that he does." Hiccup shrugged, "is that so bad?"
"But there's no Chief to override him if he makes a bad call…"
Hiccup stared at her. He glanced hesitantly down at the scroll and said, "…aren't …aren't you and I trying right now to think of a way to override Berk's Chief and his bad calls?"
Astrid blinked and stared up at him in shock. It felt… uncomfortable when he put it like that. She wasn't a traitor! But she also couldn't deny the honesty, or the accuracy of the assessment.
Hiccup said, "I think in every system no matter what, there will always be people who want to get into power and make bad decisions. Maybe the quality of a system of government lies in everyone else's ability to manage the Snotlouts of the world and minimize the damage they can cause." He flashed her a smile, "everyone's better off when the Astrids of the world win. And the Lysistratas."
"You think Berk should have People Power?" Astrid tried to imagine even explaining the idea to the average Berkian. Friendly dragons was bad enough, but friendly dragons and no Chief?"
Now it was Hiccup's turn to pause. He was silent, still, wrapped in his thoughts for a whole four seconds before he said, "I think Berk needs to be able to counter the power of the chief. Whoever he is. We need to spread power out so that the village isn't held hostage to the whims of the ruling clans all the time. We need to keep power in check. For the record: the tribes of Greece weren't immune to bad choices and bad leaders… that was one of Socrates' arguments against the Democratic system." he hesitated, worrying his lower lip as he did whenever his mind was rushing on ahead of his mouth, "there were leaders: the people selected their chiefs every election, and because they agreed on their chief, they were willing to follow his orders." He shrugged unrolling the scroll across the table and planting a weight on either side to keep it down.
"Socrates?"
"Socrates was…" Hiccup paused for a quick second as his mind jumped ahead another hundred miles and skipped back ninety-nine so he could help her catch up, "he was a… a smart man. His own tribe killed him for... Not important right now. Everything is more complicated than I can explain it. The point is…" He tapped the scroll, "To win, Cicero did not want or need the support of the reigning chief or his people. Cicero was campaigning – uhh… that's arguing and fighting with words – to take the current Chief's place by talking to and earning the respect and loyalty and following of others. Through speech and debate he convinced people to switch sides from the first chief to him. Cicero did not try to directly change the minds of his opponents. Instead he collected the support of the rest of the people to overpower the chief and win the election."
Astrid stepped up beside him and they stared down at the blocky alien lettering, "As we have to do to the Jorgensons and Stoick." She ran her eyes across the text, willing the letter to surrender its secrets to her. "And he succeeded?"
"Uhh… yeah," Hiccup murmured distractedly, glancing at her, "kind of."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Cicero was one of Rome's best politicians and he served in the senate until the treacherous tyrant-general Julius Ceasar and his second-in-command Marcus Antonius used populist rhetoric to turn Rome against the Senate. They destroyed democracy forever. Cicero was one of the last vocal defenders of the electoral system, and so Marcus Antonius eventually chopped off his hands and his head and displayed them on the speaker's podium in the centre of the city." He gave Astrid a crooked, brittle smile, "so… y'know… that bodes well for us…"
She bumped his arm with her shoulder, "not all our campaigning is bloodless. We'll make it work. Snotlout tries to take my hands I'll nail his cock to the door of the Great Hall." She nodded at the letter, ignoring Hiccup's instinctive wince, "can you tell me what it says?"
"I'll…" he paused a moment, eyes running across the dense paragraphs of text, and then grunted in frustration, taking the weights off of the letter. "I'll have to translate it for you. The author provides tips on turning the tide of public opinion in one's favor. But the first step is to get back to Berk. I think we ought to bring in Fishlegs on this. This really seems like his territory."
Astrid nodded fervently and a comfortable silence fell over the both of them.
Hiccup let out a long, sad sigh, and she realized he was blatantly ogling her naked body. "we… should probably get dressed and go…" his voice was mournful.
The corner of Astrid's mouth curled upwards and she cocked her hip, crossing her arms under her breasts, giving him her own appraising look. The young man was bare-chested, and though he was still tall and lanky, he had filled out. His thin was frame now covered by long, flat muscles, broad shoulders and a sculpted abdomen forming a perfect V down into his low-hanging pants and tight little rear end; a body hardened by a lifetime of riding and travel. He still shone with sweat from their earlier activities. She felt a thrill run through her as she realized underneath his auburn mane, his sharp green eyes were giving her exactly the same wanton look.
She said, "are you sure?"
The scroll rolled up on its own and dropped off the table, forgotten as he engulfed her in a searing, passionate kiss. Before she knew it, she was lifted off her feet and planted upon the reading table. Hiccup's long fingers traced up her spine as he kissed her lips, chin, and worked his way down her neck towards her breasts. In response Astrid ran her hands up and down his abs and then around his waist to squeeze his butt and pull them closer together. She laid her palms on his cheeks and brought his face to hers, forehead to forehead. They were both panting, sharing small, chaste kisses. His hands were strong and comforting, gently massaging her back.
"We do need to go." He murmured into her lips. He looked distraught, and she could feel his hard need, naked and warm against her inner thigh.
Astrid felt the cold winds of the world upon her; the trouble which she knew she would face upon her return. She smiled at him, wrapped her legs around his waist and said, "one more time, first?"
They could keep the world at bay for a few minutes more.
Perhaps they had overindulged. Perhaps they had needed each other more than either of them had expected. The honest truth was that despite the physical aches and pains which ravaged her, Astrid felt more relaxed and happier than she could remember feeling in a very, very long time. The troubles of Berk felt… immaterial… compared with the way Hiccup's arms were wrapped around her. It was all problems and challenges to be sorted out, one step at a time, like Uncle Finn had said.
Now both the scrolls – Lysistrata and the Cicero letter were strapped underneath Toothless, and Astrid couldn't help but look forward to sitting down with Hiccup and Fishlegs. The more she thought about it, the more wisdom she saw in a varied approach to Berk's population. She wanted to read Lysistrata: She had thought so often of the island as a single nation with only two factions: warrior and civilian. The warriors held all the power in Berk, and thus far, her strategy, if it could even be called that, had been a clumsy attempt to sway that power in her direction, so it had made sense to her to approach them with her ideas. But perhaps the situation was more nuanced and complicated than that. Perhaps she had been approaching it all from the wrong direction. Perhaps other people on the island – the womenfolk, the farmers, the fishermen… perhaps they too held power, of a sort; Without the farmers and the fishermen the warriors could not eat. Without the women and families… they had no reason to fight. Perhaps instead of being harnessed, the power of the warriors could be undermined and weakened enough that they could be brought to heel and made to serve the other side of Berk?
They landed in the arena, after taking a scouting flight to ensure the area around it was empty. It was unguarded, as usual. Astrid's stomach dropped as they flitted through the ruined hole in the cage roof, but Hiccup guided them to a flawless whisper of a landing.
There was a layer of snow on the worn, pitted arena floor, thin and melting, but soon to be replaced.
Astrid dismounted, groaning as her hips protested. She was sore between her legs as well, but with every twinge of discomfort she had to fight the impulse to grin like Gobber would three flagons into the mead barrels at Snoggletog.
"so…" Hiccup said, sliding easily off of Toothless and taking her arm, noting her discomfort, "…Sirnir." He absentmindedly tried to rub the back of his neck but ended up just awkwardly grappling with his flight suit and his stupid hood.
"I'll go get him." Astrid told him, grinning, and resisting the impulse to pull his mask down and kiss him silly, "you stay in the Nightmare pen. Leave one door open."
"Yeah…" his voice was hesitant.
Astrid stopped and stared at her lover for a moment. Gods, it was strange to think of him that way. Or rather… the strangeness came from how strange it wasn't. His presence was something familiar. An addition to her life which felt like it had always been there, or perhaps always should have been? The strange tension which had existed between them was gone now, and in its place was something much sturdier. The ground itself felt more solid beneath her feet than it had been the day before. She could see him grimacing beneath his mask at the thought of revealing himself to the old warrior, and she sighed, torn between the promise she had made, and her desire for Hiccup to be happy and comfortable, now that she knew the source of his reluctance.
"Hiccup…"
"Go get him." He tugged his mask down and gave her an awkward slanted grin, but his soul wasn't in it. "Go get him. I'll be here when you come back."
She smiled at him, and turned, slowly walked towards the arena entrance, and to Berk, glancing back at the gate to see Hiccup and Toothless tugging open one of the massive doors to the empty nightmare pen.
Astrid had been dreading reentering Berk itself. She had been dreading the inevitable stares and the whispers. She had been dreading the rumors and call-outs and challenges. Her legs and hips screamed at her, but she ignored them and forced her body to move as naturally as she could, knowing that displaying soreness or discomfort of any kind would only help rumors spread. Perhaps it should have shocked her how little faith she had left in her own tribe after everything she had been through, but cynicism honestly felt like the safer bet.
Yet the village itself was relatively empty; the farmers were at their fields, the fishermen trawling the distant shoals, and the warriors on the defenses, or in their homes, or the great hall. Those few villagers she passed gave her curious glances, or a raised eyebrow, or a familiar nod, but nothing worse. She felt grateful for the subdued nature of her reentry. She kept her head held high, though: she had nothing to be ashamed of, and fuck anyone who said otherwise! Besides, acting as if she had done something wrong would be merely a red flag for others to use. She had every right to be there. Nothing had changed.
Everything had changed, but nothing had changed.
Astrid came to the door of Sirnir's hall and knocked. She heard the sounds of a quiet conversation interrupted, and the shifting of wooden chair across a rough floor. Heavy footsteps creaked and the door swung inwards to reveal Sirnir's fur-clad bulk and a modest homestead. Sirnir stared down at Astrid, his beady eyes widened slightly in surprise, but that faded quickly.
His wife, an older woman with greying hair soft eyes, and a friendly face, sat near the fire at the centre of the hall, and it took Astrid all of a moment to realize that the woman had no legs. Two stumps ended just above the knees, with a long dress carefully tucked around them and a cord across the arms of the chair to help her keep her balance. She was sipping a cup of tea, and smiling at Astrid from across the fire.
Astrid had seen her before sometimes, at Snoggletog and other activities. She was one of the civilians who was always rushed to the depths of the Great Hall during dragon raids, and otherwise absent from Village life. She was quite good at sewing, Astrid knew, and through the skill she brought a little spending money into Sirnir's household.
"Hofferson." Sirnir said, stepping aside to let Astrid in, "I was expecting you earlier."
"I was delayed." She replied, taking a polite step into the hall.
The old warrior ran his eyes up and down her worn clothes, tired eyes, and disintegrating braid. He said, "more than a few people were… delayed… by the Jorgensons last night."
Astrid's gritted her teeth into a snarl, "I know."
"They missed my door." Sirnir said, with a small, satisfied smile, "It would be dishonorable to pick on an old warrior, but the young ones… I fear you may have lost some recruits for your cause. Not that there were many to begin with…"
Astrid shrugged confidently, recalling Cicero's strategy, "we have a plan."
The old warrior nodded, his eyes crinkling with amusement, "I thought you might."
His wife clicked her tongue irritably, but her voice was full of warmth, "well let the poor bairn in, Sirnir! She'll catch a chill out there on the doorstep!"
Sirnir glanced back at the old woman and then stepped aside, ushering Astrid through the door, "I believe you know my wife, Freydis?"
Astrid gave her a respectful nod.
"Honeyed water? It's fresh off the fire!" Freydis said jovially, "Sirnir, fetch her some hot, honeyed water, please!"
"That's very kind of you," Astrid began, "but we have -"
"Nonsense! Come here and talk a while!" Freydis' tone was merry, but it also brooked no argument, and Astrid wondered how often people actually came to visit the poor woman.
Sirnir deposited a lumpy, hand-crafted clay cup in Astrid's hands and ushered her into a chair opposite Freydis. The old woman looked her up and down, smiling, "Ooh, she has a wonderful glow to her cheeks, doesn't she, Sirnir?"
"Aye." Sirnir agreed, shooting Astrid an amused shrug over his wife's shoulder as he busied himself with the pot.
"Thank you." Astrid said politely, trying to keep her expression blank. Had she just been called out already?
"You should treasure these times, dear." The woman added, her eyes twinkling as her husband stepped between them, pouring his wife a glass of strong honeyed water, "there'll come a day when the glow of youth fades and the color leaves your hair. You become invisible to all the men on the island."
"Not to everyone, my love." Sirnir planted his hand on her shoulder. He leaned down and gently kissed the top of his wife's head.
"Some of us are lucky." Freydis agreed, squeezing her husband's hand and smiling up at him.
The old giant stepped to Astrid and poured her a cup as well.
"Sirnir's told me all about our new visitor." Freydis said, taking a sip, "he says you have a plan for the island."
"I want to stop the war," Astrid said, "and I think I can."
The old woman scoffed, "stop the war? What war?"
Astrid stared across the fire in shock, wondering for a moment if all was well in the older woman's head.
"Our war," she said carefully, "…with the dragons?"
"Hardly a war at all." Freydis said somberly, "it's our way of life."
"I…" Astrid hesitated, wishing she had Fishlegs' eloquence, "I don't think it has to be. We can make things better."
"When you've lived as long as I have, dear, you find a way to make peace with the way the world is." Freydis told her. The old woman tapped what was left of her legs and said, "a zippleback took these off of me years ago but I made do."
"What if we could make it so that never happens again?"
The old woman was shaking her head again, "you might as well try to stop the rain from falling, or the sun from setting. This is how it is. They attack. We defend. We lose a few, they lose many more. It doesn't end. It is how Berk is." She shrugged. "This is life. You'll find yourself a lot happier if you stop trying to fight reality."
"I am a warrior!" Astrid shot back, sounding far more aggressive than she actually felt, "I shape reality with my axe and my shield!"
"Skald!" Sirnir cheered, thrusting his own glass high into the air.
The older woman smiled up at her husband, but her voice was sombre, "everything has limits."
Astrid stood up and finished her honeyed water, "I'll let you know when I find them."
The old woman nodded slowly, "the young always think they're invincible."
Astrid looked across the fire at Sirnir, "I have an oath to fulfill."
"Yes," he agreed, "we should get going."
Then they were outside, tromping steadily towards the arena.
"She… doesn't seem very keen on changing things." Astrid said after a moment.
He nodded sadly, "when Freydis lost her legs, she… didn't have much choice but to make peace with it. Sometimes life is just that way." Sirnir cast a melancholic glance back at the closed door of his little hall. His voice was old and frail, so very unlike him. "She used to dance. I fell in love with her with her at a cousin's wedding celebration. Freydis was at the center of the circle in a summer dress. Her hair was a blazing red, with blue and yellow flowers, and her smile lit up the great hall. She outshone the bride… I knew that night there was no one else. I needed her so badly I thought I would die."
Astrid nodded slowly, unsure of how to answer. She wondered if that was how Hiccup had seen her.
He smiled down at her, his old eyes crinkling cheerfully, "I am the luckiest man alive you know. And yet…" he grew somber, "every time the dragon raid alarm is called, I feel dread. What if my home is set aflame with her inside? Without her legs…" He winced, staring into nothingness, "she used to dance…"
"We'll make this all stop." Astrid promised.
"Yes." He sighed, "let's go see your stranger."
They strode across the arena, cold air nipping at their cheeks. Astrid took a deep breath, slowing as they reached the open door of the nightmare pen. She could heat hiccup inside, speaking that strange language to Toothless.
"I'm here." She called out, "with Sirnir."
The youth went silent, but she heard his leathers rasp as he rose to his feet.
She stepped around the corner and Sirnir followed.
Hiccup was standing tall and unmasked in the centre of the pen. Astrid stood aside to let Sirnir face the young man directly. The old warrior stared at Hiccup, taking in his sharp jawline, scruffy auburn main and guarded green eyes. His lips twitched beneath his grey beard, but he did not speak.
Hiccup shrugged awkwardly, "it's me…Tah-dah."
Astrid cupped her elbow in one hand and pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Yer not so scarred or ugly as I thought yeh'd be." Sirnir said quietly. He shot a sharp, accusatory glance at Astrid, who valiantly fought the blush spreading across her cheeks. The giant looked back at Hiccup. "What's yer name, boy?"
"I…" Hiccup stared, eyes widened in momentary shock. Astrid saw the relief in his eyes as his face seemed to lose all personality. "Prometheus."
"Try again." The giant challenged.
Hiccup glanced at Astrid. Technically, she had only promised to show Sirnir Hiccup's face. They weren't obligated to reveal his name, or anything else about him.
…but that wasn't the point of the whole exercise. Sirnir and Astrid both damned-well knew what the giant had meant: He wanted to know the truth. He had asked, in Berk's blunt, nonspecific way, to be included in the conspiracy. To be allowed to judge for himself whether or not their plan was worth investing in.
She shot Hiccup a pleading look and he softened immediately, rolling his eyes and pouting. It wasn't his most attractive moment, she had to admit, but he was a gentle soul, fighting against a lifetime's habit of retreating from the world's hostility. It would be a hard battle to bring him back.
When Hiccup said nothing after a moment, Astrid spoke for him, knowing he would forgive her; knowing he already had. "His name is Hiccup Haddock the Third, son of Stoick the Vast, and Prince of Berk."
Sirnir scoffed, gesturing at the young man, "Hiccup's dead, Hofferson. This man's a lia-"
"Try again." Astrid challenged.
They glared at eachother.
"You wanted the truth." She told him.
Sirnir gave her a skeptical look, but he squinted at Hiccup, giving the young man a second inspection, this time pulling from distant memories. His eyes widened, and his mouth slowly dropped open as he took in the familiar shades of auburn hair and green eyes.
"Tah-dah." Hiccup said again, his tone was bone dry.
"I remember you!" Sirnir said quietly, stunned. He took a step back, his face growing pale with disbelief and a little fear, "you used to dig holes in my back garden, looking for fae folk. My wife'd chase you with a broom!"
"I remember." The young man replied, his voice equally as soft.
"Wee little fishbone with a weird head…" the giant murmured. Hiccup winced and looked down at his feet. Astrid glared at the warrior, moving up to stand beside her lover.
Sirnir took no notice. He was shaking his head in disbelief, "and now look at you!" he gave the lanky youth a smile, caught up with a strange enthusiasm "yer still thin like your mum, but you've got yer Da's height!" He landed a gently fist against Hiccup's chest, "and his muscle too, by the feel of it." He turned away, laughing. When he turned back he had an enormous grin, "been gone a long time, Fishbone! Been out in the woods hunting for trolls these eight long years?!"
Sensing his rider's discomfort, Toothless reared up behind Hiccup, framing the youth for a moment with shimmering black wings before he folded them over his rider's shoulders, glaring at Sirnir with narrow hostile eyes from over Hiccup's head. The Dragon's growl was a warning they all understood.
"No." Hiccup said shortly, his tone bitter. Astrid desperately wanted to take his hand.
Hiccup said, "I'm here to stop the war."
Sirnir took a few steps back, still shaking his head. His laughter only increased, coming bursts as new dimensions of the situation unfolded for him. A great belly laugh which echoed across the arean, "I should have guessed! I should have bloody guessed!"
Astrid and Hiccup glanced at eachother, nonplussed. He looked distraught.
"We have a plan," she started, but Sirnir waved her into silence. "I'm sure yeh do, Hofferson!" he took a moment to collect himself, "I'm sure it's a good one." Sirnir gave Hiccup a judging gaze, sizing him up for the task. Cheerfully, he said, "I remember what a fool everyone thought you were." Then Sirnir's voice grew dead serious as hiccup's mouth twisted into a grimace. He continued, looking Hiccup straight in the eye, "I also remember how much smarter you were than the rest of us. How differently yeh saw the world. You were the only one who ever tried to build anything new."
Hiccup's jaw dropped. He blinked and swallowed several times, trying to collect himself. Astrid shot him a sly smile.
Sirnir had turned away again, pacing back and forth across the pen, seemgingly lost in his own thoughts, glancing back and forth between Hiccup, Toothless and Astrid; animated in a way Astrid had rarely seen out of any warrior on Berk. The old giant shook his head. He seemed unable to wipe the grin from his face, speaking more to himself than to them, "I still should have bloody guessed…"
"I didn't… I don't… you though I was smart?" Hiccup's question was raw, as swamped in disbelief as anything Sirnir had said.
"nah… you were a bloody fool!" Sirnir said, "burned down half the village… but you were also a Haddock. I should have bloody guessed. Especially now."
"What does that mean?"
Sirnir turned back to Hiccup, addressing both him and Astrid, "when two Jorgensons disagree, chairs get smashed. Drinks get spilled. Some fool gets a bloodied nose."
Astrid nodded; she had seen it a thousand times in the Great hall.
"But when two Haddocks disagree… the whole island quakes."
Hiccup stared at him. Sirnir stared right back with a relaxed confidence, having found some footing, "You weren't here when Alvin and Stoick disagreed on Berk's future. You weren't here the last time Viking spilled Viking blood. There's a reason your clan is in charge, Lad." The old warrior bit his lip pensively, studying Toothless, "…perhaps it's time Berk was reminded again."
Astrid could practically feel the tension leaving Hiccup's body; his shoulders relaxing, color rushing back into his face as he sagged back against Toothless.
Sirnir's eyes twinkled as his gaze flitted merrily from Hiccup to Astrid and back, "and you two… what a pair: the runaway Prince and the Fisherman's daughter…?" he shook his head and looked at Astrid, "you know he is above your station, yes? You're determined to smash every tradition we have, eh, Hofferson?"
"If that's what it takes." She replied, but her gut was suddenly filled with a cold weight; the difference in status between herself and Hiccup – the fact that he was quite literally a Prince, and Heir to Berk's throne – hadn't really sunk in. He was… Hiccup Haddock before all else, and the complications of that alone had proven enough to occupy her thoughts, regardless of his station and titles.
By rights the two of them were something almost forbidden by the norms of Berkian society. In another life, had he stayed on the island, Hiccup should have been searching for a high-born of some-kind. The eldest daughter of the Thorston or Jorgenson clans, or perhaps the daughter, sister, or cousin of a distant, neighboring tribe; a chief's daughter. For someone of his rank, marriage was a political tool-
With a start, Astrid reminded herself that they weren't married. Hel's teeth, they were barely lovers… she felt her heart sink rapidly. She had thrown herself off of that cliff so easily. Just taken the risks – she… she even could be with child! And it would be so easy for him to just…
She shut her eyes against the thought, and heard Hiccup move forward. She opened them again and looked at him in shock; the young man's eyes were blazing with a deep fury. He seemed to tower over her, nearly matching Sirnir in height, and his anger filled the space like the bone-crackling chill of the deepest winter, stealing the very air itself. Astrid instantly recognized the rage in Hiccup's expression: she saw it every time Stoick the Vast laid eyes on a dragon.
Sirnir took a step back.
On Hiccup, it was still unnerving, but also… it was for Astrid. Indignation on her behalf. Anger at the thought of hurting her. She couldn't help but crack a smile, and resolved to kiss him silly again when they had a moment alone.
Behind him, Toothless had picked up on his friend's rage, and had started growling even louder, the dragon's eyes narrowing to slits. But Hiccup was focused entirely on Sirnir. His words were clipped. Cold. "there was never anyone else. There isn't anyone else."
Sirnir put his hands up, "I only-"
"There will never be anyone else." Hiccup said, his fists clenched in outrage, and his voice the calm at the centre of a hurricane. Astrid reached out and entwined her fingers with his, daring Sirnir to comment. As she squeezed his hand, she felt him slowly relax, as if she were siphoning off his anger.
The giant nodded slowly, the corner of his mouth twisting into a half-smile. "My apologies, young Prince Haddock. I understand: it was the same for my wife."
Astrid smiled at Sirnir, and he smiled back.
Mollified, Hiccup relaxed a little. He leaned against the inside of the gigantic wooden door, "The Forever War isn't working. We're taking the island. Berk is going in a new direction. Are you going to be a problem?"
Sirnir nodded, studying the young man's face, "if I was, I would have left the arena with the others yesterday. I wouldn't be standing here, Lad."
It was the truth and all three of them knew it. Berkians had no guile. Except perhaps Fishlegs. They liked who they liked and they hated who they hated.
"have you… have you thought about how this will affect your father?" Sirnir asked.
Hiccup winced, unable to face either of them. He said, "every morning. It's part of my breakfast routine."
The giant nodded thoughtfully, studying the young man's hunched shoulders. He said, "You know you broke Stoick. He was never the same after you disappeared. He thinks you're dead."
"He'd probably prefer that to what's actually happening." Hiccup said. It sounded like a joke, but he couldn't hide the pain beneath his words.
Sirnir glanced at Toothless and nodded solemnly, "aye." He tilted his head to the side, "so… what is your plan?" the old warrior asked, "are there others?
"Well," Astrid began, "there's F-"
"You don't need to know their names right now." Hiccup cut her off. Astrid felt a momentary sting of anger at him, but also immediately understood the wisdom in keeping Fishlegs' allegiance a secret. Again, she felt frustration at herself for not thinking that far ahead.
Sirnir raised an eyebrow, looking insulted. But he was hardly a stupid man, and he too understood why the secret was being kept. Even so, Astrid found herself cringing, hoping that Hiccup's rudeness wouldn't drive the man off. A younger warrior, herself included, would have taken grave offense, but Sirnir's pride had been tempered long ago by loss and experience, and Hiccup's words hardly fazed him.
Hiccup added, "we're taking this slowly. Carefully. I don't want Berk to descend into civil war like it did with Stoick and Alvin. The point is to make peace. Peace with the dragons and peace between Vikings. We press where we can, but I don't want anyone getting hurt or killed. On either side."
"And you're bringing these ideas to an island of warriors?" Sirnir chuckled, "the fact that I'm hearing these words of the mouth of the son of Stoick the Vast…" he shook his head in disbelief.
"Sirnir, the island is rotting away," Astrid said, "Berk is dying. We're losing. You know that. People like Snotlout may not recognize it, but we are. You know it's true."
The old warrior's gaze shifted to Astrid. He considered her for a long moment, and then nodded, "Aye." He raised his eyebrows, "but your man here succeeds… and you're out of a job."
"My job is to protect Berk." Astrid said shortly, crossing her arms, "we succeed, and it means I've done my job. What about you? What's your job?"
The old viking stared unseeing across the arena as he considered their words.
"You say any of this in the Great Hall and Stoick the Vast himself would challenge you to a duel to the death. We're Vikings. Perhaps we were meant to die here, fighting to the bitter end. Honor is everything."
"It usually is, when a society has nothing else." Hiccup said, "but we do have another option."
"What happens if we stay the course, Sirnir?" Astrid asked, "it'll be the end of Berk. Is your honor worth more than that?"
"You're Stoick's heir, Hofferson. Hearing you say these things… he miscalculated."
"He made absolutely the right choice!" Hiccup shot back immediately, "Berk needs someone who cares about its future above everything. Even honor! Berk doesn't have to die. Fate isn't written in stone. You can still choose how this ends."
Sirnir took in the three of them, with Toothless peering over his battle-brother's shoulder. He let out a long sigh, stroking his beard with his hand, considering a lifetime of choices. Hiccup opened his mouth to speak, but Astrid grabbed his hand to keep him silent; they had already succeeded. The old warrior was caving. She could see it; balancing his honor and his anger against his love of his wife and his community, and the shock of seeing Hiccup alive, and already partnered with a dragon… Sirnir knew what the right answer was. He had lived long enough to see the decay better than even Astrid.
At last he nodded. "What are your orders, Lord?"
"…Whaa?" Hiccup nearly choked on his own tongue.
The giant grinned; having expected the reaction, "this is all your plan, eh? You and Hofferson. If I'm in it now, then what are your orders?"
Hiccup stared, yet his mouth was moving; lips twitching as he gathered his thoughts from wherever they had scattered.
"We need to collect support." Astrid said firmly, "I doubt there'll be many more warriors like you, but we want to gather support from the Mothers, the Daughters, the Laborers, the Fishing Clans… undermine the Jorgensons' base of support. If we can prove to the rest of the village that there is a better option…"
"Then there will be no need for Warriors." Sirnir gave her a shrewd look.
"Protect Astrid." Hiccup said firmly. She rolled her eyes.
The Giant turned to him, but the young Prince's gaze was steady. Hiccup said, "the Jorgensons attacked a few of our supporters last night."
"Aye."
"And they'll attack Astrid… in a number of ways."
Sirnir nodded in agreement, "that they will." He grinned slyly at the both of them, "and they'll be right, won't they?"
"Oh… Gods…" Astrid hid her face in her hands.
"Protect her." Hiccup ordered, a confidence and conviction in his tone which she had never heard before, "she is not to stand alone anymore."
Sirnir paused as if to speak, eyeing Hiccup's hood, and mask and traveling cloak. He glanced at Astrid, then back at Hiccup and swallowed whatever comment was on his tongue. He gave the lanky prince a graceful nod and said, "it shall be so, Little Prince."
"Sirnir, can you give us a few minutes?" Astrid asked.
The old giant gave her a respectful nod and stepped out of the pen to wait for her.
"Little Prince?" Hiccup groaned.
Astrid couldn't help but grin at him, "considering how well you thought that was going to go…"
He gave her a small smile. He mostly looked relieved. Tired, but relieved.
Astrid paused and asked, "Hiccup… was there never anyone else…?"
"Aaah I didn't mean…" he began awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, "look that may have come across a little… look I tried having a life, it just." He gave her an awkward, gentle smile, "you always somehow just kept… messing up my life."
Astrid's eyebrows shot all the way up and her mouth dropped open. "Your life? I messed up your life?" her mouth flapped opened and closed as she searched for words, "The… the… I… you… how dare…?" she took an aggressive step forward. It was a dangerous thing to say and he knew it. She could see it in the way the corners of his eyes crinkled with suppressed laughter. Hiccup took a step back, hands raised in supplication, even as a teasing grin spread across his face.
"You. Have. No. Idea." She snarled, her heart pounding, despite the equally disbelieving grin spreading across hers. She took another step forward.
"Well.. y'know… the thoughts of you-" he began. She shoved him and Hiccup's back hit the door of the arena.
"I messed up your life?" She demanded, her axe thudding into the door beside his head. He flinched, laughing; they were playing The Game again, and she could see the effect she had on him as she stepped up into his space, "The gall after everything I've been through… you've messed up everything! Then you came back with your stupid dragon and your stupid flight suit and your stupid drawings and your stupid writing and your stupid hair and your stupid abs!"
He shocked her, then, by wrapping an arm around her waist and spinning them to pin her against the cold wooden door. Astrid gasped, feeling him grinding against her
"I'm not done messing up, Hofferson." He whispered in her ear, grinding against her. His voice was soft and teasing, but his body was demanding. Astrid's knees went weak.
"yesss…" she hissed, feeling heat wash through her. Her eyes eased shut and the back of her head gently hit the door as he kissed his way aggressively down her throat. The chill against her back contrasted against the warmth of his embrace and she melted into him.
Toothless let out a sharp bark and she blinked, the world sliding back into a focus she hadn't realized she'd lost. Hiccup tore himself away from her with great difficulty, both of them panting heavily. He looked …apologetic, but there was something animal in his gaze as his eyes ran up and down her body, lingering on her legs and chest before finally settling on her face. She turned a bright red. Toothless was wearing a thunderous, severe expression as he glared at them.
Astrid and Hiccup both began to giggle, and the dragon softened, his eyes going half lidded and his tongue lolling out as he leered at them.
"…fuck you..." Astrid sniffed and rubbed her nose, feeling the slick heat between her legs.
Hiccup stepped back, breathing heavily, "we should probably not do that too often around here..."
He was right, of course; if anyone caught them in a heated moment, if suspicions were confirmed before he revealed himself, it would destroy everything.
And then she'd have to run away with him to his island where they could live together in unbothered peace. What a horrible thought…
Astrid shook her head, smiling at him, "that's too bad, Hiccup." Gods above, was that even her voice?
He groaned.
Astrid straightened up, adjusting her headband, which had come loose. She tried to collect herself and gave him an annoyed look, "I didn't really ruin your life. I was all the way up here in Berk."
"No. No!" he threw his hands up, "I just meant I… you…we…" Hiccup suddenly went crimson and shut his mouth.
Astrid raised an eyebrow, "…really?"
"well, I just…" He tried again.
Astrid let out a frustrated huff, "Hiccup, you've seen me naked. You've lain with me. You…" now it was her turn to blush, and she glanced at Toothless before leaning in and hissing, "you used your mouth on me."
His hand jumped into his hair, "and I am very aware of that."
"Yeah? So was I!" Astrid snapped, rolling her eyes. She stepped forward and punched him, "Spit it out, Whatever it is. I like being with you, but it cannot keep being this hard to talk to you. Okay?"
"I did… meet someone." He muttered, unable to meet her piercing gaze, "out there. A few years ago." His soft expression was mournful, apologetic, "but I couldn't… we never got very far because… I always thought of you." He took another breath and stood up straight, somehow speaking more easily now that the words were out. "There was no one else, Astrid. Not because there was never anyone else, but because you were always in my mind. I always wanted to be with you." He shrugged and gave her a crooked, apologetic grin; the truth was out, whether she liked it or not.
Astrid stared at him, her cold blue eyes boring into his soul. It was so strange to her; the idea that her very presence on the periphery of his childhood ended up having such a profound effect on him. She remembered Sirnir's words, I knew that night there was no one else. I needed her so badly I thought I would die. The men of Berk loved so deeply… how had he been so invisible to her those years ago? How had she not known? How had she not seen? How had she not cared? Hiccup had been… background; like a woodpile or a barrel of water. He was the boy in Gobber's Smithy who sharpened her axe. Nothing more. Even when he was in trouble with Stoick it hadn't been her business. Astrid's business was killing dragons.
"Is that… crazy?" Hiccup asked, shifting uncomfortably.
She smirked, "probably."
Hiccup flinched, but he also caught the teasing in her voice, and smiled back.
"Was it the girl in your sketches?" she asked, feeling a little jealous despite his confession, "the one with dark hair?" a sudden horrible thought struck her, and Astrid tried to keep her voice as gentle as possible, "…is she still alive?"
"Yeah. At least the last I saw of her. I hope so." Hiccup admitted, his voice tinged with bitterness, "I couldn't be with her because of you… but also because she was on the wrong side of a battle, but I also… I hope she's okay. I don't want anyone to die, Astrid. Maybe one day there will be no battles at all and we'll all be on the same side."
And there he was, his heart laid bare, emotions exposed to their cold, biting, punishing world. The Man, the Prince, the Dragon Riding Wanderer whose imagination took him to mad ideas and other worlds beyond the imaginations of everyone around him. And yet also the awkward teenage fishbone she had ignored and forgotten for almost all of their lives.
"What about you?" he asked, "Berk has hundreds of warriors. Was there no one else?"
Astrid shook her head, "I wanted to kill dragons. Protect Berk. Honor my uncle. Train new warriors. Die in battle. Drink at Odin's table." She blinked and looked down at her feet, feeling shame for the narrowness of her world. "Nothing else mattered."
The corner of his mouth twisted into a smile. He stepped forward and took her hands in his, warming her cold fingers in his palms, "you're a Drengr, Astrid."
Drengr… the old norse word for the sea stacks: the great stone pillars on Berk's sea cliffs. Those timeless stones which stood against the lashing rains and the pounding waves and all the hell and fury of the Gods and Jotun.
The word had a different meaning for Viking warriors, and yet in the end it menat the same thing. A Drengr was a True Warrior: courageous, honorable, fearless, unyielding. A person behind whom the helpless sought shelter, and upon whom all the rage and violence of the world, would crash and break and all their efforts come to nothing.
It was a word rarely used on Berk, even by Snotlout; an honored word, carrying the weight, memory and the honor of generations of dead warriors. Perhaps it would be said of Stoick at his funeral. Astrid privately held her Uncle Finn in such high regard as well, but that was it. No one else dared to use the term. It was for the honored dead.
But Hiccup used it, and he meant it. He saw her, and he understood her. who she was, what she aspired to be.
Astrid said nothing at all, staring at him, wide-eyed. Her chest was a raging storm; a hail of emotions, some of them so big that she wanted to cry out, but almost all of them simply beyond her understanding. She stepped forward and thumped into his chest, planting her head against his shoulder. Hiccups arms wrapped around her and she buried her face in the crook of his neck.
He was it, she realized. This was it. If she was ever going to be anything else, anything different than a warrior, it was going to be with him.
It was as if a new path had opened before her in the wilderness of life; one of a great many, but at the end of all others lay cold, painful death. This one had the warmth of hearth and hall and a shared bed. Of living long enough to watch others grow old …or grow up.
If she had that with him, then would it be such a loss, in the end, not to drink at Odin's table? All those things she had decided to throw away for Vengeance, Honor and Death…what were they actually worth? She realized she had never even paused to truly consider the question before. She had always simply dismissed it in the end.
The paths of death she had tread, so carefree and courageous, suddenly held a painful new dimension; that of opportunities missed. Other lives she could have lived.
"Sorry… he whispered, fearing he had hurt her.
Astrid's voice cracked and she realized she was crying, "this is new. And I don't… I don't understand and I don't know what I am… or what I want." She hated how snivelly and wet her voice was. And she hated how petty a thing that was to hate.
"What do you mean?" his whole body tensed up and she slid her hands into his hair, kissing him as passionately as she could manage. Trying to tell him not to worry. Trying to express through action things she was not eloquent enough to say, and did not really understand. She settled against his chest again and felt his arms relax. His cheeks were moist with her tears.
"Astrid I'm sorry," he whispered again. Toothless crooned a sad, empathetic tone and wrapped himself around both of them, staring down at them with big green eyes, so much like Hiccup's. Astrid could feel a rumble deep within the dragon's chest, and both she and Hiccup were suddenly engulfed in warmth as the night fury's wings settled around them both. It was like standing beside a roaring hearthfire.
She tried to gather her thoughts and figure out how to talk to Hiccup. Afterall, he had already made a difficult confession of his own; honor demanded fair play. She laid her cheek on his shoulder and said, "I wanted to die a warrior."
For once, he kept his mouth respectfully closed.
She said, "there was nothing else and I wanted to die. But …now there's you. And that's good, but…"
"But?" he was relaxed; perhaps it was the presence of Toothless, or perhaps he was growing more comfortable with her, but he was less fearful of the things she said.
Astrid smiled up at him, wiping her eyes and her nose on her sleeve, "Hiccup I like this. I like you. And I want more. But if I do this with you. If we stay together… if we see this through, I won't be a drengr anymore. I'll be a… a wife."
Hiccup raised an eyebrow, his eyes widening. He stared at her as if she were mad, "or maybe – maybe – and stay with me here – I'd be the husband of a drengr."
Astrid stifled a laugh as that familiar silly, crooked grin spread across Hiccup's face.
"Didn't think of that, did ya, Hofferson?" his grin widened and he waggled his eyebrows, "lucky me."
She opened her mouth to snap back with some comment she hadn't thought up yet and realized that simply kissing him was way more important.
"Oi!" came Sirnir's fed-up call from across the ring, "We're wastin' daylight, Hofferson!"
It was a soldier's call, and Astrid snapped-to, parting from Hiccup with an embarrassing wet pop. She stepped back, Hiccup reluctantly letting his hands drop to his sides.
"I've gotta… I should…" she nodded at the door and he nodded back miserably.
She sighed, collecting her axe and shield as he pulled up his hood. Toothless settled on all fours, ready for the familiar flight checks. She grabbed the Warbreaker play as well, slinging it over her shoulder alongside her axe and shield, and turned back, only to find Hiccup's arms around her as he drew her into a final searing, passionate kiss, one hand around her waist and the other in her hair. She felt her knees go a little weak.
"Tomorrow night," he told her quietly, "the Cove. Bring Fishlegs."
Astrid put her hands on his cheeks, running her thumbs across his lips as she nodded, "Tomorrow night." She turned on her heel and marched away into Sirnir's amused, impatient, judging presence without looking back, knowing if she lingered any further, they would never part at all.
They were walking along the bridge when Sirnir spoke again, Hiccup and Toothless having long since vanished into the pale blue morning.
"He is not ready for leadership."
Astrid turned and poked a finger into the old giant's chest, "you have no idea what he's capable of, Sirnir. You don't know what he's seen, or what he can do."
"But he is no warrior."
"Yeah, well… Berk has more than enough of us."
"I had no idea you had such a low opinion of your battle brothers, Skoldmo." The giant said, half-teasingly.
"I don't," Astrid said shortly, trying not to limp; everything hurt so much and Hiccup wasn't there to soothe her. "but war isn't how we break this cycle."
They kept walking.
"So what do you see in him, then? I know he is a Princeling, but Astrid Hofferson is hardly a swooning barmaid. You're one of the best of us."
She gave him a curt nod of thanks, "then perhaps you ought to give him a second look."
"I did, or I wouldn't be here."
"Then what's the problem?" she tried not to snap, drawing to a halt and turning to face her new ally.
"He cares a great deal for you." Sirnir observed. "and you for him. That is obvious. If you want to keep this a secret you are going to have to work harder to hide it than you did today."
Astrid nodded, "I know that. And?"
Sirnir shifted uncomfortably. Like Astrid, he was a Warrior. He dealt in life's realities more than most. Dancing around words was as dangerous as giving an ally a blunt weapon. The problem, whatever it was, had to be dealt with. "He said you stood alone against the village. That would not be true, had he the courage to stand with you openly."
Astrid glared at him, "Hiccup and I spoke together. We planned together. We chose the course together. We trust each other. This was my plan as much as his. I can stand on my own." In the back of her mind, she had to admit that it wasn't quite the truth. Sirnir had the measure of the situation. Hiccup's reluctance was a choice she hadn't made, but she had chosen to abide by it.
"And yet his only request was for me to stand with you."
Astrid shrugged and added, "he also knows I am tired."
"And yet he does not sta-"
"Enough!" Astrid snapped, "it isn't cowardice, Sirnir, it's… strategy." She turned, noted the way the giant's eyebrows had risen, and softened her tone, "I must be the face of this. Believe me, this island is not ready for Hiccup Haddock and his ideas!" She scowled lip and bitterly added, "it never was."
"That is true." Sirnir laughed, "we thought he was mad, running around with his little… devices. Causing accidents, starting fires and saying the strangest things…" He shrugged easily, grinning, "I remember he once claimed he downed a… night… fury…" The giant stared at Astrid in awe. "How long have you two been planning this?"
She just grinned up at him, "I told you… you don't know Hiccup Haddock. He downed the Night Fury. He tamed it. Then he left. He leaned, and he came back. I have seen his home. Like Odin, he has traveled the world, Sirnir. He's built… devices, too. He learned how to give life to metal and make it move like animals. He has the crafting skill of the dwarves of Ivaldi. He speaks many languages and has the wisdom of ancient tribes from all over Midgard written on great scrolls." She reached across her chest and tapped the cylinder containing the Lysistrata play. "He's seen villages the size of our island, and buildings as tall as mountains with great fires in the top to signal passing ships. War fleets big enough to surround all of Berk! Armies so vast they could cover an island. He has also been in battle. I saw his scars!"
"Did you?" It was a question, but also, it very much wasn't.
Astrid blushed and gaped at him, and Sirnir grinned back, his eyes twinkling merrily, "I told you, Skoldmo. I understand the passion. I was young once too, but you must hide this… thing… you and he are sharing."
Astrid could have slit her own thrice-damned throat, but the words were already out. Besides, he had already suspected. But… Gods above, she had to watch herself! She set her jaw and stared up at him defiantly, "I wanted it. I wanted him."
"And your maidenhead…?"
"Shut up. Not your business. And I'd rather take my chances with him than…" she found herself suddenly short of breath, huffing angrily at the entire damned world.
"Than Snotlout," Sirnir finished, "…or any of Berk's Warriors." He chuckled again, mostly to himself, "to Astrid Hofferson, what is a humble Berkian warrior next to a wayward, dragon-riding, scholar witch-Prince?"
"I am the Warrior, Sirnir! I've fought on the wall with you and the others!" Astrid hissed, trying to force her pounding heart to settle, "…and he is Berkian too. It's not like I leapt into the bed of Trader Johann!"
The giant sighed, giving her a sympathetic look, "true. And he is your Lord besides… I suppose I can understand that."
"Sirnir: Do. Not. Disrespect. Him." She told him defiantly.
The old warrior chuckled and laid a meaty arm across her shoulders, "come, Skoldmo. Rest at my Hall." He squeezed her gently across the shoulders, "Drink my wine. Eat my food. Endure my sullen wife. Rest your anger, and rest your legs as well." He waggled his eyebrows and added, "come the dawn, you can't be seen limping as you are."
Astrid deflated, her anger sapped away by his good cheer, and they walked together.
"Thank you, Sirnir." She said, quietly, and felt much better. Hiccup was right; she was no longer facing Berk alone.
Sirnir had asked how he could help their cause. Astrid had jumped to the strategy and tactics of the battles ahead. Hiccup had thought first of her well-being. He wasn't using her to further his goals: she was his equal, and an ally. The thought that he could have simply used her would probably never even occur to him. All of his experience had not resulted in cold cynicism, but rather a wounded, stubborn innocence. He was a disappointed optimist, not a cynic, and his care was a warm candle, glowing within her heart. Whatever the giant thought of Hiccup, and of their relationship, Astrid knew better.
It was a long time before the giant spoke again, and when he did it was the last thought they shared with each other as they walked back into the village.
"This will destroy Stoick."