Chapter Text
She can’t stop pacing, vainly hoping the night air will bring comfort to the relentless burn, hotter than dragon fire, in her cheeks.
This is stupid, she thinks. What could Hiccup tell her that will ease her racing mind? What words could fall from his lips that will wipe away the years of pain stacked on top of her shoulders.
Although, he does always seem to have them. When the dragons left, he persevered until the doors swung shut behind him, and Astrid would pretend not to hear him mufflins sobs into his pillow. When New Berk was hit with a fiercely difficult winter, he managed to solve all the disputes, petty feuds, hungry and cranky viking squabbles, and ration out the food so everyone had enough to last them until the spring came, peeking through the clouds and snow, yellow valiantly piercing white. He will know what to say to something as simple as a nightmare. Even one that runs deep through her like a scar, tracing lines into her bones and settling like a punch in her stomach.
“Astrid?” Hiccup rubs sleep out of his eyes, yawning hilariously like a cat. “What’re you doing up?”
“Oh, uh... just came to, uh...” she scrambles for a feasible lie. “You know, just couldn’t sleep. Went for a walk.”
“Right by my house?” Hiccup raises an eyebrow. His demeanour softens. “Come on in, my love. I’ll make you some yak milk and honey.”
Astrid scowls without any malice behind it. That is her secretly favourite drink, and he damn-well knows it.
He pulls up a chair, and bustles wordlessly around the kitchen. Astrid listens to the small sounds he makes while existing; the sounds she hates herself for ever taking for granted: the step-click of his metal prosthetic leg, the way he breathes softly, the tunes he always hums that sets the beat of his movements. His existence is a symphony, one Astrid could listen to for the rest of her life.
One, she is harshly reminded, almost ended too early too many times.
His lifeless body is trailing smoke as it falls from the sky. His face is limp and unmoving, water dripping from his forehead. He is unreachable, encased in ice. He is giving up his life and his future with her for his best friend.
He is dying time and time again, and this time-
This time, she can't save him.
“-trid, can you hear me?”
It’s a voice. Hiccup’s voice. He is here and he isn’t dying, he is here with her, and his hand is cupping her face, his voice is telling her to breathe breathe breathe , and she tries, and she chokes, but Hiccup kisses her forehead, and she summons the courage to try again.
With many failed attempts, she begins to breathe again. She vaguely thinks Hiccup might’ve held her hand, but thinking feels like trying to swim through cotton, so she stops. Breathe in... and out. In... and out.
“You feeling better?” Hiccup asks, ducking down to meet her eyes. “That looked scary.”
“What... was that?” Astrid says, her voice stilted.
“Well, you seemed like you spaced out a little,” Hiccup says hesitantly. “Then you started breathing really hard. And it looked like you were going to fall over so I lifted you and put you on the sofa.”
“Oh,” Astrid says. His fingers trace the edge of her jaw, a silent ask: look at me. Please let me know you’re ok.
She looks away.
He grows frustrated. “Ast, I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on. Please, tell me.”
“If you don’t know, I’m not-” she starts, and immediately realises how childish she sounds. Regretting it instantly, she stops, and pretends to be thirsty for the yak milk drink he hands to her.
He opens and closes his mouth several times, each time a moment to speak, but ends up closing it, and sitting beside her on his bed. He sighs heavily, with a soft “I- I’m here whenever you’re ready to talk.”
And maybe it’s the stifling silence, maybe it’s the smoothness of the wooden cup in her hands, maybe it’s the warmth of her hand on her knee, but she suddenly isn’t as prepared to let seven years of torment go.
“All those times you almost... I could have lost you.”
“What?” Hiccup turns to look at her. She can almost hear his heart sink.
“Since you found Toothless, you just flew around with no regard for your personal safety, you were -and still are- far too used to getting out of danger and worst of all, you act like it doesn’t even bother you!” A sudden surge of anger seizes her by the throat, coming in pulsing hot waves.
“I’m a viking and a dragon rider. I guess it’s an occupational hazard.”
“But it scares me!” Astrid yells, digging her fingers tighter into Hiccup’s shirt, and he realises, all at once, that Astrid Hofferson is not the fearless warrior she so often makes herself out to be. “I spent years watching you staring down death in the face and walking away like it’s another Tysdagr for you.”
“Astrid, I-”
“No, let me finish.” He nods, his fingers still combing knots out of her fair tresses.
“The other times were bad enough, and the fact I see you die every other night when I sleep is bad enough,” she gasps. Hiccup’s fingers freeze midway through her hair. “But I watched you let go.”
When she doesn’t elaborate, Hiccup asks “what do you mean?”
“Really, Hiccup?” She snaps up from his lap, giving him a withering look. “You really haven’t worked it out, after all this time?”
“Then tell me!” He explodes too, his tone desperate. “What are y-”
“You were going to die! ” She screams, staring right into his emerald eyes, akin to a wounded animal. “You were going to let yourself fall to your death for Toothless. And I just watched you let go of- of us . Our future. ”
Hiccup looks at her, puzzled.
Then, it clicks.
“Oh my Gods , Astrid. I’m so sorry.” She marches towards him in two quick steps, punches him in the shoulder, and falls into his arms.
“You’d better be.” Hiccup can almost see her scowling.
He lifts her into his arms, and sits down on his bed, rocking her like a baby. “You’re right: I did let go of our future. And I told myself it was for the good of dragonkind to keep the alpha and the last existing Night Fury alive. Plus, I, well... Toothless is- was-” his voice catches “my best friend. I was willing to die for him. But that doesn’t mean it was the right choice.” He kisses her on the forehead to emphasise his point.
“I felt like I didn’t matter as much as him,” she says, her body sinking like a collapsing balloon. He gently lets go, giving her room to breathe. “Every time , Hiccup. Every time I felt like I didn’t matter as much as whatever you were willing to die for.”
All the rage floods out of her body as quickly as it came. Her knees feel joined to her body like paper, and she half-leans, half-crashes back onto his bed. “I could’ve lost you.”
Hiccup hesitantly pulls her into his arms. She doesn’t reciprocate, but doesn't pull away. Her fingers lace into his shirt, gripping for dear life, like even the thought of losing him was enough for him to be gone forever.
“Ssshh,” he whispers, stroking the back of her head.
“I watched you fall from the sky. I watched you drown. I watched you get beaten up, an- and kidnapped, and - Gods - you were frozen in ice. You-” she breaks away, asphyxiated in the stifling heat of his shirt. Her eyes are red and raw.
“D- d- do you ever th- think about how close to death you’ve come?” She asks, gasping for breath on every other word.
“You asked me that once before,” Hiccup said passively.
“And you’d better give me a proper answer,” Astrid mumbled into his shirt.
“Thor, I try not to think about it.” Hiccup lets out a dry, dark chuckle.
“Neither. I- I- I just wish-” Astrid doesn’t finish, breaking down in the noisiest tears she has the courage to cry since her Uncle Finn died.
“Ssshh, my love, please don’t cry for me. I’m quite alright, you know.”
“Shut up.” She is fifteen, in the arms of her best friend, newly woken up from almost-dying. She is twenty two, in the arms of her beloved, who has nearly died too many times, and is worried about her instead. “Shut up , you muttonhead. Please, just... don’t try to make me feel better.”
“I think I’d be a pretty bad betrothed if I didn’t,” Hiccup admits, with a small smile.
“Yeah, you would.”
A spell of silence passes between them. Hiccup stands up to get a cup of water for them both, while Astrid sips her yak milk. It’s slightly salty, probably because she’s cried into it. She doesn’t have the energy to care, so she takes long gulps until she stares at the wooden bottom of the cup.
When he comes back, his eyes are old and tired. He looks decades older than twenty two, Astrid realises. She wonders if she does too, and decides she doesn’t care about that either.
“You know, it’s the same for me too,” he says without looking at her.
“What is?” Her voice is hoarse from crying.
“The feeling of watching your loved ones nearly die, and being helpless to do anything.”
“Name five times,” she says, more out of curiosity than anything else.
“The scourge of Odin, the flightmare, the Slitherwing -which I had to find out about from Fishlegs, of all people-, the training incident when Snotlout knocked you out of the sky, and Viggo holding you hostage,” he says, like a rehearsed line, a repetition of endless thoughts stuck in his head.
He turns to face her, and she can feel her heart begin to race in a very bad way. “And I could name five more easily.” He kisses her on the cheek, slow and gentle, and runs his thumb along where his lips were.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t think about that,” she admits shamefully.
“It’s ok. I mean, I didn’t think about those times too much either.”
“We should tell each other this kind of thing more,” Astrid blurts suddenly. “I think it helps.”
He hugs her warmly, and something soft and yearning inside Astrid feels soothed. “I’m glad it does,” he whispers in her ear.
“But,” she says seriously, breaking away from him, “I want to make a deal.” He nods for her to continue. “No more getting into near-death experiences. For both of us.”
“I’m the chief of Berk-”
“And you’re also my soon-to-be husband,” she adds. “You’re also Valka’s son, and she’s known you properly for two years. You’re someone’s best friend. Maybe, someday, you’ll be a father.” She doesn’t miss the hitch of breath in his throat. Her voice softenes as her heart rate slows. “At least stick around for the wedding.”
“Of course, my love,” he says. “I’ll stick around to become a father.” Astrid doesn’t miss the way her heart flutters. “And I’ll stick around to grow really old with you.”
“You promise?” She sounds not even fifteen, but five, watching Uncle Finn go out on a dragon raid he’d never come back from.
“I promise.” He kisses her on the forehead, and she snuggles into his chest, thinking I can’t wait to spend my life with you.