Chapter Text
"That's it? It can't be over yet!"
The voice pulled the old man from his thoughts and he snapped the book shut with a sigh.
"All stories have to end at some time, bud. Even this one."
He watched with a wrinkled smile as his grandson pouted.
"I guess..."
The old man rested the book on the bedside table and ruffled his grandson's hair.
"C'mon, bud. It's past your bedtime, and I don't want your grandmother scolding us."
As if on command, a knock came at the door and the old woman strode in.
"Ah, speak of the devil." the old man grinned and turned to look at his wife from his chair. "Evening, Milady."
The old woman rested her hand on her hip and leaned against the door frame.
"And just what were you two trouble makers up to?"
"Just a story, Grandma!" the young boy replied. He flashed her a gap toothed grin as she shook her head.
"You both know the rules, and it's way past your bedtime. That goes for you too, Grandpa."
The old man held up his hands in appeasement.
"Okay, okay. Just let me find my leg..."
"Grandpa, it's still attached!" his grandson giggled. The old man ruffled the boy's hair and knocked on his prosthetic leg.
"Indeed it is. Well, you know what they say: I'd lose my head if it weren't screwed on straight. And in this case, my leg!"
The old woman rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of amusement behind them and she offered an arm to the old man.
"C'mon, old man. Let's get you into bed before you misplace another body part."
"Hey, you're six months older than me." the old man huffed, taking his wife's arm. "If anything, you're the old one, not me."
"You keep telling yourself that, babe." She turned out the light and pressed a kiss to her grandson's head before guiding her husband out of the room. His prosthetic was getting more difficult to walk on as he aged, but, being a stubborn man, he refused to use a cane in the house. So he leaned on his wife as she took him out into the hallway, stopping briefly to adjust his bow tie. He smiled down at her, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling, and she brought up a hand to rest against his beard.
"You need a shave." she commented. Her husband shrugged.
"Ah, well. Been a bit preoccupied lately."
The old woman finished smoothing out his tie and rose up to give him a quick kiss.
"C'mon," she spoke tenderly. "Let's go to bed."
The old man winked at his wife and leaned down to murmur against her lips.
"As you wish, Milady."
The old woman scoffed and swatted him lightly on the shoulder.
"Oh, you!" she scolded. Her husband laughed and wrapped her up in his arms, pressing a sloppy kiss to her cheek.
"You love it."
The old woman tried to look annoyed, she really did, but she melted into her husband's arms and kissed the little scar on his chin.
"Yeah, yeah, just wait until I get my hands on an axe."
The old man laughed heartily.
"I'll be ready when that day comes, Milady. For now, you're right, as you always are. Let's go to bed."
(...)
The young boy rolled his eyes as he heard the giggling of his grandparents slowly fade down the hall. They were so mushy all the time, sometimes the young boy found it nauseating. Sometimes their flirting kind of reminded him of Hiccup and Astrid from the book. His grandfather had bright green eyes and a crooked grin, and his grandmother's hair was always done in a braid and though her eyes were often narrowed and scolding (as he usually deserved), they were blue just like Astrid's. Sometimes his grandfather's friends would come to visit, and they reminded him of some people from the book, like Fishlegs and Eret. But they were just stories, people made up from the book his grandfather had read to him. His grandparents were just Grandpa and Grandma, not Hiccup and Astrid like in the book. Those weren't names for grandparents. The boy yawned and turned on his side, and as he fell asleep, he dreamed of thrilling sword fights, hidden identities, battles of wits, daring rescues, and of course. True love. The words swirled in his head as he slept, his grandfather's nasal voice crafting the world around him.
The small island of Berk was cold and stubborn, the people even more so. It rained nine months of the year and snowed the other three. It was made up of small farms and even smaller villages, all surrounding the magnificent castle that belonged to the noble house of Jorgensen. On this small island, on a small farm, resided the Hofferson family...