Astrid was surprised when Hiccup didn't join her at the lookout point at sundown. In the months since he'd started exploring off-island, he'd never once failed to meet her at nightfall.
Yet, after seeing his distress in the ring…she supposed she couldn't blame him for needing some time alone to clear his thoughts. She just wished he'd at least thought to leave a note warning her so she wouldn't waste her time.
It did make her wonder if perhaps she'd been a little too hasty with that kiss. He had already been overwhelmed that night – she may very well have tipped him over the edge.
Even with that small flutter of fear in her heart, she couldn't bring herself to entirely regret her actions. Her timing may have been a little off, but the sentiment of the gesture still held true. She genuinely cared for him – of course she wanted to help him find a way to banish his demons!
Still…it was possible that Hiccup regretted the kiss and was now avoiding her. The very thought of it stung, knowing that her impulsive actions may have altered the dynamic of their friendship. She'd never wanted to risk what they had.
If Hiccup needed space, Astrid would give it to him. If that meant a night to herself, so be it.
Her resolve nearly crumbled when she passed the darkened forge. It was one thing for him to skip out on their nightly meeting…but to blow off his shift? That wasn't like him.
Astrid paused near the closed door, wondering if she ought to go pay the Haddock home a visit. There had to be a perfectly good explanation for his absence and a quick chat with Stoick could dispel all her worries.
No.
It felt like an intrusion. Hiccup may have become her dearest friend, but he didn't owe her anything. Though…she knew she was going to demand an explanation anyway. Whether he gave it or not was up to him.
For now she'd leave it alone. After all, she had no right to go barging into his home life uninvited.
With a disappointed sigh, she set her shoulders and turned up the pathway towards her home. Perhaps it was best to just call it an early night.
Ingrid Hofferson, in addition to being a well respected warrior, was also the finest seamstress in all of Berk. It was a trade that dated back generations in her family, having built up a reputation throughout the village for unbeatable craftsmanship.
Astrid had developed a knack for the work at an early age, though she had little love for it. It was hard not to become an expert, considering her mother had been roping her into projects since she was old enough to competently hold a needle.
In the days of the dragon raids, she'd had plenty of excuses to skip those duties. Nothing took priority over protecting the village, and her help was often needed elsewhere. Now, in a new era of peace, there were fewer days that she could find an acceptable reason to decline Ingrid's requests.
Astrid had always had the heart of a warrior…not that of a seamstress. Though she could find value in practicing her stitches, in her mind the skill would aid far more in stitching up wounds than fabrics.
She'd barely been surprised when Ingrid had intercepted her on her way out of the house. A rush of orders for summer cloaks had come in and her mother wanted to knock them out today. It had been disappointing, since Astrid had really wanted to swing by the forge to ask Gobber about Hiccup's absence, but she couldn't refuse her mother's request.
It grated on her nerves.
The duo sat out on the grassy hill in front of their home, where Ingrid had strung different layers of fabric across a series of clothes lines. A few small work tables were set out around them, topped with various spools of thread and a collection of needles and knives to aid with the task at hand.
Ingrid always insisted on stitching by sunlight, claiming that the shadows cast by flickering torches were more likely to result in uneven rows of stitches. Astrid hadn't seen a difference in her own experience, but it did feel nice to have the sun on her face.
They worked in comfortable silence, finishing the first few orders with ease. It was all very routine – each order called for some small variation of a light, traditional cloak to aid against the chill of the night's wind. At this point, either of the Hofferson women could complete the task in her sleep.
Astrid set aside another finished cloak, mechanically resetting her work station and preparing to ask for her next assignment. The sooner she finished, the sooner she'd be free for the day. Her words died on her lips as she caught sight of an approaching shadow.
Something large and winged was passing overhead.
Though dragons flying over Berk had become a daily occurrence in recent months, the sight of it still set her nerves on edge. She'd never forget the sight of the creatures descending upon the village in a fiery swarm, pillaging their livestock in service of the queen.
Still, a wild dragon hadn't landed in Berk since that monster's defeat. There was no reason to be afraid now. Astrid waited for it to soar past, just like they always did…but to her surprise, the shadow instead began to grow.
For that to happen, it had to be getting closer.
She snapped her neck up, momentarily blinded by the sun. Her muscles tensed, preparing to defend herself if needed as she furiously blinked the white spots out of her vision.
Her axe was back in the house, but there were a few knives within arms reach that she could make use of if needed. It wasn't ideal, but she prided herself in being able to competently wield most weapons. She'd make do.
The dragon landed before her, leaving a cool gust of wind in its wake. Astrid brushed her disheveled bangs out of her eyes, taking in the sight of the Night Fury before her.
Oh.
Thank the gods.
"Hey," she greeted breathlessly, tension dissolving. A part of her wanted to tell him off for frightening her…but that would mean admitting she'd been afraid to begin with, which she refused to do. Instead, she forced a small smile as she allowed her heart rate to return to normal.
It was a surprise to see Hiccup out in the village in broad daylight, but a welcome one. He hadn't been too receptive to the idea in the many times that she'd suggested it. She couldn't help but wonder what had prompted this sudden shift in attitude.
Hiccup shot her a toothless smile, eyes wide and bright. He started warbling something at her, sounds quick and eager as they spilled from his throat.
"Slow down!" She said with a laugh, raising her hands in a gesture for him to stop. "You know I can't understand you like this."
He sat back on his haunches, expression souring at the reminder.
No matter how hard he tried, the Night Fury vocal cords just didn't translate to speaking Norse. The more comfortable he'd gotten as a dragon, the more he seemed to forget that detail. Out of habit, he'd often just try and speak with her...almost like he'd forgotten the language barrier between them. Astrid took some satisfaction in knowing that around her, his walls were down enough that he could forget himself like that, especially knowing how high he kept those walls inside the village. It was sweet, and she valued the vulnerability he trusted her with.
"Tell me tonight?"
He snorted, nodding in response. He'd be patient, if only because he had no other choice in the matter.
"Must be something big to have you so worked up," she remarked. "Haven't seen you this excited since Gobber gave you that new hammer."
He rolled his eyes in response, stiffening when he caught sight of something behind her.
"...Hiccup?"
Oh.
In her relief that it hadn't been an attack, she'd completely forgotten her mother's quiet presence off to the side. Judging by the rapidly narrowing pupils of his eyes, Hiccup hadn't noticed the woman either.
Ingrid Hofferson stood slowly from her stool, depositing her half-finished project on the table beside her in a jumbled heap. For someone who cared so deeply for her craft, the rough treatment spoke to her rattled nerves.
Hiccup's eyes darted back to Astrid, who shot him a look of encouragement.
Ingrid took a few tentative steps towards him, looking wary. Hiccup swallowed hard, but bobbed his head up and down in a defined nod.
"But…it's really you in there?" Ingrid's eyes roamed over his face, searching for signs of the blacksmith's apprentice she'd grown to know. The one she'd heard so much about from her daughter. "You understand me?"
Once more, Hiccup nodded. This time, he purposefully locked eyes with the woman and held her gaze.
Astrid felt a swell of pride for her friend. This was a big step for him – outside of herself, Gobber and his father…he'd avoided interacting with the villagers in this form. While this encounter may not have been his choice, he was handling it remarkably well.
His bravery had pleasantly surprised her – she'd half expected him to flee. Though he'd more than proved his valor to the village, he'd still been skittish in the aftermath.
"By the gods…" Ingrid's voice was full of wonder as she leaned closer.
Astrid couldn't fault her mother for her astonishment. She'd been just as thunderstruck when she'd witnessed the truth, back in the ring. It was a hard concept to wrap one's mind around. It was something that should be unthinkable...something found only in a legend or myth that had been passed down and exaggerated over time. Yet, it was Hiccup's reality – and it was impossible deny, especially once one saw the deep intelligence in his eyes.
Not to mention, her mother had been fighting dragons for several decades…being so close to one she wasn't trying to kill had to be surreal. There had to be a level of instinct Ingrid was holding back, mixed with her own intrigue.
Still…she was getting a little too close to the boy for comfort.
"Mom," cut in Astrid. "You're freaking him out."
Hiccup shuffled in place, shooting Astrid an exasperated glance. He clearly hadn't liked the implication that he was panicking inside. She'd have given him the benefit of the doubt…had his wings not been twitching nervously since her mother's approach.
Ingrid cleared her throat, stepping back. "Forgive me, Hiccup. I didn't mean to offend."
Hiccup raised a paw, trying to wave off the comment. It was a rough gesture, but easy enough to recognize the meaning.
A corner of Ingrid's lip twitched up, a telltale sign that her mother was trying her hardest not to laugh. There was something undeniably funny about seeing one of the most feared species of dragon acting blasé of all things.
"Speaking of offenses…I hope you have a really good explanation for not showing up last night," said Astrid, crossing her arms.
She'd been expecting him to duck his head in shame, or give some sign of regret at being called out. Instead, he bobbed his head up and down vigorously, eyes brightening as his earlier excitement leaked back into his expression.
Interesting.
Astrid hummed, accepting the answer for now.
Stoick was beside himself with worry. Hiccup had never returned home the previous night, and his room remained empty when Stoick awoke from a fitful sleep.
Had the poachers caught sight of a Night Fury? Was Hiccup in some kind of trouble?
His mind was a mess, conjuring up image after image of his son at the mercy of the hunters. He'd explicitly warned Hiccup. He'd tried to stress the danger of their arrival...had he not tried hard enough?
Had he failed his son?
Stoick moved through the motions of his day mechanically, struggling to complete even the simplest of tasks until eventually Gobber sent him on his way. He'd tried to protest at first, but after the blacksmith insisted, he'd finally relented. A distracted leader wasn't much of a leader at all.
His mind continued to churn, dread pooling in his belly. If he'd somehow managed to lose his son…it was unthinkable. He'd just gotten used to having his son back in his life. He wasn't sure he'd be able to move on from losing him again.
Stoick was no stranger to heartbreak, but there was only so much a man could stand. The grief of losing his family, piece by piece over the years, had fractured something in him. If he were to lose Hiccup again…he feared he would truly shatter, once and for all.
He wandered the village streets aimlessly, eyes fixed dejectedly on the path ahead of him as he walked. Aside from a few casual greetings to passing tribesmen, he was silent, lost in his thoughts.
Dragging a hand down his face, he exhaled heavily. Dwelling on his fears would do no good – what he needed were answers. Stoick had always been a man of action and it seemed he may have to leave Berk to seek them. If the poachers had taken Hiccup, he vowed he'd raze their post to the ground, leaving no survivors.
He was halfway through drawing up a plan to do just that, when he heard a strange sound.
Low, echo-y and distinct – the unmistakable sound of a Night Fury's laughter. Or, at least, Hiccup's laughter. There really was no telling if real dragons attempted such a sound themselves.
Thank Odin!
The pressure in Stoick's chest finally released and he found himself hurrying up the hill towards the Hofferson residence.
Of course he's with Astrid. Now that he'd tracked down his son, he felt foolish for not thinking to check the warrior's home. It had been clear since Hiccup's return that the boy shared a strong bond with the young woman – it made sense that he'd seek her out.
Another Night Fury laugh reverberated through the air, offering more comfort to the chief. He now felt a bit silly for assuming the worst, grateful he'd discovered the truth before dragging his men into a needless battle. It appeared that there'd been no danger – he'd simply overreacted.
His son had been safe and sound on Berk all along.
Sure enough, when he reached the top of the hill, he caught sight of Hiccup laying on the hill outside the Hofferson home. He was focused on Astrid, who was giving him an amused look.
"Hiccup!" He called, voice somewhat shaky with relief.
His son's head snapped up in alarm at the sound, relaxing when he caught sight of his father. Hiccup inclined his head in greeting as the chief made his way towards them.
"Hello, Stoick," said Ingrid, who was perched a ways away from their children. She had a thick swatch of black fabric draped over her workstation, a sharp knife in hand that was paused mid-slice.
"Hi, Chief," said Astrid, "what brings you by?"
"Afternoon, Ingrid. Astrid. I was looking for Hiccup." Stoick nodded towards his son.
The Night Fury tilted his head in a gesture Stoick had come to assume was an invitation to continue. If it meant something else, his son had never corrected him.
We should really discuss that at some point.
Truthfully, there were many things they needed to discuss, but Hiccup still got a bit slippery when they focused too much on those things.
"He's been keeping us company while we work," said Ingrid, finishing the cut of the fabric. She set it aside, tapping her fingers idly on the table. "Probably wishing he hadn't stopped by at all – I'm sure it gets a bit dull to watch us sew after a few hours."
"It's plenty dull to begin with," muttered Astrid, rolling her eyes.
Hiccup snorted, knocking his snout playfully into her shoulder. She shoved him back with a grin.
"Only fair, I'd say," countered Stoick with a conspiratorial grin, "considering how much time you've spent with him in the forge. Only Hiccup finds that exhilarating."
Hiccup's tail swished, eyes narrowing in warning.
Stoick supposed he may have embarrassed his son enough for one day.
"Well," he relented, "except perhaps Gobber. He did spend an hour telling me about his favorite wrench the other day."
The Hofferson women laughed, and Hiccup rolled his eyes. There was no denying the blacksmith's passion for his job – they'd all been on the receiving end of his rants at one point or another. It was all part of the man's unique charm.
The joke had also reminded him of another matter.
"Oh – and Hiccup? Speaking of Gobber – he's cancelled your training session for tonight – something about a bad batch of stew, though it's strange as no one else seems to have had any issue with it," Stoick shook his head. He suspected an excess of mead was the more likely culprit. "You'll pick up where you left off in two nights. Since you'll have the night off, he's asked that you take an extra shift tonight and complete the projects he was supposed to get to today."
Hiccup looked predictably pleased with the announcement, eyes bright as he hummed in response. It never took much convincing to get his son to the forge. Now that he thought about it…it was likely that was where the boy had been all night. He'd probably fallen asleep at his workbench, like Stoick had done at his own desk on countless occasions.
Thor, I am an overprotective fool. Stoick mused.
It seemed that his worries, much like his temper, had a way of getting away from him in times of stress.
"Right. Well…uh, I'd best be going," he said, clearing his throat. "Hiccup, we can talk over dinner tonight."