Work Text:
one
Stoick likes to tell a lot of stories about his wife.
She’d been carried off not long after Hiccup was born, and it’s been something like twenty years, but that doesn’t seem to bother him. He talks about her like she was this legend – this woman so perfect and so beautiful, she may as well have been a goddess – and most of all, he talks about her like she was – is – the love of his life.
It sounds like a beautiful relationship, and Astrid thinks that, if Hiccup loves her even a little like his father loves his mother, she’s in very good hands.
“I think you would have liked Val,” he tells Astrid, setting a mug down for her. “She was a probably a bit gentler than I was, but she was a warrior if there ever was one. Strong, agile, graceful – so graceful, she could dance around her enemies just as easily as she could dance with me at the Midsummer Festivals.” He sighs dreamily and smiles at her over his tea. “You know how to dance, don’t you, lass?”
“Uh.” Astrid pauses. She’d been so caught up in his stories that she almost hadn’t realized that he’d asked her a question. She slides her elbow off the table and blinks. “D-dance?”
“Yes, dance,” says Stoick. “You know how, don’t you?”
“Uh.” Astrid grins sheepishly. “Not really. I have no sense of rhythm. Like. At all.”
Stoick blinks at her and laughs. “Well then,” he says. “Up you get. I’ll teach you.”
“Pardon me?”
He grins at her and shuffles out of his seat. “I’ll teach you,” he says again. “You’ll have to learn sometime – I imagine you and Hiccup will get married one day soon, you should know at least one.”
“Hahaha-ha.” The laugh is supposed to be genuine, because the idea of having Stoick the Vast teach her how to dance is ridiculous in so many ways, but the grin on his face is so eager that it comes out mirthless and odd. “Are you being serious?”
“’Course I am,” he says earnestly. Sometimes it’s hard to see the relation between Stoick and Hiccup, but it’s clear as day now, and Astrid doesn’t have it in her to refuse. He chortles heartily and tugs her out of her chair. “Come now, it’s easy. You’re a warrior – you’ll pick it up quickly enough. We’ll start with something simple – like this – one-two-three.” He leads her around in a circle, watching her feet and keeping her upright as she stumbles over herself. She steps on his feet twice, but Stoick just chuckles and corrects her footwork. It takes her something like eight tries before she gets one round right. “See, not so hard, is it?”
“Uh – ” She frowns, staring at her shoes as he pulls her around. “It’s – this takes a lot of concentration, honestly.” She giggles a little as her feet begin to catch on. He’s right – it’s not hard at all, and five minutes later, she’s laughing with him as he introduces extra steps and spins.
“You’ll find it much easier with Hiccup,” she hears him say (she’s still watching her feet). “And I know you’re both young yet, but I do hope you’ll decide to get married soon.”
Astrid laughs. “The thought is nice,” she admits. “But one step at a time, okay? I’m still trying to get these steps right.”
“One step at a time, indeed.” Stoick grins at her, spins her out one last time, and bows as the front door swings open.
“You have to curtsey to finish,” says a nasally voice at the door, and Astrid can’t help but laugh again as Hiccup lets himself in. “Actually curtsey, go on.”
“Are you cutting in, son?”
Hiccup grins and shakes his head. “Nah. You guys go ahead.” He sits himself down at the table and sighs as he rests his leg.
“Are you having trouble with your leg again?” asks Astrid.
He shrugs. “A little – enough to not be able to cut in, as much as I’d like to.” He grins though, like he’s pleased that she’s become so comfortable in their home. “Don’t let me interrupt you, though.”
“I’m sure she’d much rather dance with you, my boy.”
It’s subtle, but Astrid catches the way the light in his eyes dims just a little. Stoick and Hiccup are far more alike than they give themselves credit, and the only reason Astrid notices in the first place is because his disappointment is so like Hiccup’s in the way that he tries to hide it. Stoick the Vast likes to dance, she realizes, and he misses the way that he used to with his wife. She doubts that she comes even a little close, but what the heck?
“I can’t dance with him if I don’t know how,” she offers.
The light returns and Stoick laughs. “Well, let’s go again, shall we? One-two-three.”
two
The ceremony is short for a Viking wedding– shorter still given it’s the Chief’s wedding – but then Hiccup has never really been one for holding tightly to traditions.
It goes by in a rush.
Vaguely, Astrid remembers her mother braiding flowers into her hair, grinning and sobbing over the idea of her little girl all grown up. Her father had given her away to Hiccup, who’d been waiting with a grin at the front of the village. They’d read their vows, and Gothi had scratched prayers into the ground for Freyr and Freyja’s blessings, and then Hiccup had kissed her, and she’d giggled against his lips and the idea of being Hiccups, and of Hiccup being hers, had settled in her stomach like a something heavy – something final -- something warm.
They’d moved to the Great Hall for the feast, and now Hiccup is tugging her out of her seat, giddy from the food, the alcohol, and the idea that they’re actually married, as Fishlegs whispers to the band.
“What are we doing?”
“You’ll see.”
And the band begins to play something lively – Astrid only kind of recognises the tune – it’s an old folk song, she thinks – and what Hiccup wants is suddenly very clear.
“Uh – Hiccup – you know I don’t –”
“I know you’re nervous,” he says, dragging her out onto the floor with a smile. “But I know you know this one, and… I know he’s not here but Dad would have wanted to see us do it.”
The reminder that he’s not hits Astrid like a ton of bricks. Stoick had bothered them about getting married for almost an entire year – he’d been so excited at the prospect of seeing Hiccup settled and happy, and the fact that he’s not here today hurts almost as much as the day Hiccup had lost him.
“I don’t know it very well,” she murmurs, but Hiccup squeezes her hand gently and smiles.
“Just watch me,” he says, tugging her closer. “Remember, one-two-three.”
Astrid does remember, but it’s been a long while and she almost trips over her dress as Hiccup begins to lead. He holds her close though, counting the beats under his breath. “Look at me,” he says. “I’ve got you, I won’t let you trip – just look at me.” He smiles at her, and Astrid can’t help it – she smiles back.
The steps come almost naturally. He steps forward, she steps back. He spins her in once, and suddenly she’s laughing, and the crowd is gone and it’s just them.
Her and him.
Together, as they should be.
It’s a flurry of steps. Astrid thinks she gets (almost) all of them, and she only steps on Hiccup’s toes once, but he takes it all in stride. When they slow at last as an applause crescendos around them, and Hiccup holds her close and presses his lips to her forehead. It’s a small gesture, but she understands. He loves her now and he always will; he is hers – all hers, for now and forever; and he can never lose her the way he’s lost others.
“I’m sorry he couldn’t be here,” she says quietly.
“Me too,” says Hiccup. For a moment, his voice shakes, but he kisses her again like she’s all he needs to give him strength. “He’d be happy, though. Wouldn’t he?”
“Yeah,” says Astrid, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. “He would.”
three
Stoick is fussy tonight, and nothing seems to soothe him.
He’s not hungry, because he’s just been fed, and he’s not uncomfortable because Astrid had made sure she’d burped him before she’d put him in the crib, but he fusses still and she’s beginning to worry.
“Perhaps he just wants to be held,” says Valka, peering over the crib at him. “Up we go, dearie.”
But Stoick gurgles and fidgets and wriggles against her as she lifts him against him. “What’s the matter, love?” Valka asks. “Do you want mama? Is that it? Let’s go to mama.” She offers Astrid an apologetic grin. “Sorry, Astrid – I know you’re tired.”
“It’s fine,” chuckles Astrid, taking her little boy from Valka. She jostles him a little and kisses his forehead. “Hey there, bubba. How about some cuddles with me, huh? Or is it papa you want? I know, I know. He’ll be home soon.” She hums under her breath, knowing she can’t carry a tune to save her life, but it seems to soothe him and that’s all that really matters. She rocks him gently, and her feet step to one side, and then another, and unconsciously, she slips into a rhythm and she starts to count under her breath.
“We go one-two-three,” she murmurs, touching his nose. The baby giggles, and Astrid can’t help but grin. “One-two-three, one-two-three – just like that, see? Isn’t that nice? You know, I don’t like to dance often, but your grandpa taught me this one, and I danced it with your dad at our wedding. It’d be so unfair if you missed out, huh?”
On the other side of the room, Valka chuckles and begins to sing. “White sheep, white sheep, on a blue hill. When the wind stops, you all stand still. When the wind blows, you walk away slow. White sheep, white sheep, where do you go?"
Stoick yawns widely as Astrid steps to and fro. “That’s a good bub,” she murmurs. “There we go. Sleeps now.” She sighs, relieved, but she sits herself down with Valka, almost afraid to put the baby down again in case he wakes.
“He always did like to dance,” says Valka wistfully. “He taught you?”
Astrid flushes a little, but she chuckles and nods. “He did, yeah. Said I had to learn how to do it sometime. I’ve – uh – never been very good though.”
“Well, between you and me, neither have I.” Valka smiles. “Never seemed to bother him, though. He liked to dance with me regardless. I think it was one of those things he never wanted to admit out loud but if you knew him well enough, you knew.”
Astrid pauses and raises an eyebrow at her. “He always said you were the more graceful one.”
“Dearie, I could have fallen on my face in front of him and Stoick would have thought it was graceful,” says Valka dryly. “That man was a bit too in love, I think - not that that’s a bad thing, of course. I only wish he could have met his grandson.”
“He would have spoiled him silly,” says Astrid with a smile. “He told us he would long before Hiccup and I even made an announcement. He was definitely excited about the idea, that’s for sure.” The baby stirs a little in her arms, and Astrid sighs softly and kisses his forehead. “One more round, huh? One more dance with mama, and then you have to go to sleep. Okay?” She gets to her feet with a tired huff and slips into the rhythm again, counting the steps for Stoick as she rocks him back to sleep.