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The Great Hall was alive. The banquets burst with fresh mutton and warm bread, with the distinct tang of mead floating in the orange light. This was a proper viking feast, and Eret’s company, surrounded by the entire village, was an ale.
Hiccup invited him personally, but the chief hadn’t arrived yet. Eret admitted, he was surprised at the invite. He’d gotten into a scrap with one of the chief’s friends earlier that day, over the most ridiculous of things. Eret didn't really care what direction the firewood's bark faced when he stacked it, but someone clearly did. And apparently it was worth throwing fists over right then and there, in the bright morning sunlight outside Gobber's workshop.
Eret huffed at the memory. The sweet ale numbed his freshly bruised cheekbone, but only weighed on his heart. Laughter erupted beside him now, but Eret hadn't caught the joke. Despite the Great Hall being full, the seats around him were empty.
It might have been easier to make friends if his previous title wasn’t the Finest Dragon Trapper Alive , on an island of folk who adored dragons. Drago's attack was still fresh in their minds. Eret didn’t blame them, it had happened not a fortnight ago. Every day since then, Eret helped with rebuilding Berk as much as he could. At best he’d be met with a weary glance from the villagers. At worst, well... perhaps he shouldn't linger. If mead were involved with angry Vikings...
“This seat taken?”
Speaking of.
Eret turned. Pale blue eyes met his dark brown.
“Jorgenson ,” Eret spat, rising from his seat. Remembering their earlier fight, he moved to turn, “All yours. I was just leaving-”
“Hey- hey! Just hear me out!” Snotlout said hastily, and Eret noticed he held a mead in each hand. He raised them, as if in surrender.
Eret paused, narrowing his eyes, “I’m hearing you.”
“I just- okay, this ,” Snotlout placed a mug in front of Eret, “Is yours.” When Snotlout was met with a questioning look, he sighed, “Hiccup told me I had to- that I should apologize for…” he waved at the bruise on Eret’s cheekbone, “That.”
Eret blinked. He’d never seen Snotlout without his helmet before, with dark hair that framed his face, falling into his eyes. Snotlout’s broad fists clenched and unclenched, lips firm. “Hiccup would be right,” Eret nodded sharply. He had to admit, something in him sparked at Snotlout’s demeanour.
“You’ve been helping out a lot around here and still, people keep picking fights with you. So what I’m trying to say is…” Snotlout inhaled, “Iwasajerksorry.”
“...Didn’t catch that last part.”
Snotlout pursed his lips, “I’m sorry. "
Eret’s eyes landed on Snotlout’s split lip. He dipped his head, “We’ll call it even.” He lowered back into the seat, Snotlout settling beside him. Eret gave a look of remorse at Snotlout's bruise, "That wasn’t right of me. I lost my temper. I’m sorry, too."
“This? Barely a scratch.” He grinned, nudging Eret with an elbow, “Didn’t pin you as a brawler though.”
“Impressed?”
“Psh." They shared a chuckle. "So," Snotlout met Eret's eye with an unusually soft expression, “Truce?”
Eret's lips tugged upward a corner, “Truce." Their mugs tapped in finality.
“THEY TAPPED MEADS!” Tuffnut leapt seemingly out of nowhere from behind them, earning a jolt from Eret, "The Bark-War is over!"
“Oh, thank the gods,” Hiccup breathed as he and the other riders started to fill the empty seats around Eret, “Sorry we're late, Eret. Mr Ack's yaks got loose and... well, it's been a day." Eret nodded, still recovering from his startle. Smoothing his hair, he glanced to Snotlout, who'd never even flinched. Hiccup continued, addressing the group, "Hey, great progress on the ice removal today, gang. We’re almost completely free of it, and ready to rebuild on the west side.”
“That’s us for ya,” Snotlout whooped, "Dragon! Riders! Oi, oi, oi!"
Astrid rolled her eyes, but the energy was infectious.
"To Berk," Hiccup raised his drink.
“To Berk!” The group thundered. The cheer rippled through the hall to the other vikings, and everyone clashed their tankards with jubilation.
Eret smiled, taking a long drink. In his peripheral, he saw Snotlout gulping down his own mead as well, but he seemed to drink more urgently. He kept casting frantic sideways glances at Eret. Calmly, Eret continued to drink. When he was satisfied, he placed his tankard on the table. “Changing your mind about our truce?”
Snotlout gasped for air. “Already?" He spluttered through coughs. Eret smirked. "Nah, just… was wondering..." Snotlout wiped his lip on the back of his hand, "You have these where you’re from, too?” He waved at the Great Hall, the celebration, “Events? Traditions?”
Ruffnut and Tuffnut bickered on who had the thickest, fullest beard. Hiccup and Fishlegs were giggling to each other, unable to hold their liquor. Astrid watched with a soft smile.
“...We did,” Eret replied, a familiar dull ache twisting his heart. Home, and what happened to it... No. He would remember only the good things. “Although, not as loud. More dancing.”
“Oh, you sweet Son of Eret,” Snotlout smirked, “Berk knows how to dance. Just mention Path of Tomorrow, and-”
“Did someone say Path of Tomorrow?!"
"Play Path of Tomorrow!” Echoed the men from a few chairs down.
The bards in the centre shared a glance and shrugged. Knowing it could not be helped, the rebec player sailed out the introductory notes, the gathering erupting into cheers.
"Oh no," Eret groaned, "Not this one." He took long drink, as if it would in any way drown out the music. Snotlout cocked a brow in question as he swallowed. "It's called Land of Tomorrow in Torsvag. But I've also heard it in Arvengarde, NoWhere and-"
"Okay, we get it, Eret," Snotlout wasn't amused, "You've been places."
"But seriously- this is the song that made it all the way to your archipelago?" Eret said incredulously, earning a shit-eating grin from Snotlout. "Well," He resolved, "I guess there's some things you can't escape. Thank you, Jorgenson. For reminding me of this atrocity."
"You're very welcome, Son of Eret."
By now, nearly the entire hall was on their feet. Vikings hooked their arms and twirled in groups, chanting the lyrics. None as passionate as Tuffnut, who leapt to the center of the dancefloor. He reigned upon the village the most refined choreography Eret had ever seen. It made everyone else's moves seem a cheap imitation. Tuffnut ducked a weaved through the song, finding a new partner after each chorus, eventually exhausting his options and finding himself in a circle of elders. Snotlout barked with laughter, eyes shining with endearment. Eret pursed his lips, biting back a smile. Surprisingly, Berkians were a musical bunch, because even those who couldn’t stand still thumped the tables for a beat. Snotlout was right, they did know how to party.
"O, I went North, I went South, but I'm still searchin',
Searchin' for that Land, Land, Land!
Land of Tomorrow!” The Vikings bellowed as the song ended. Everyone broke into cheers. Snotlout rapped his empty tankard to the wooden table in applause, earning an elbow from Astrid after accidentally hitting a nearby plate, showering bread rolls over the people sat behind them.
"Nice moves as always, Tuff," said Hiccup genuinely as Tuffnut stumbled back to them, panting.
Snotlout leaned in to Eret, murmuring,, "Tuffnut joins the elders' dancing club on Thorsdays."
Their arms brushed. Eret caught the scent of pine wood and smoke. "Oh," was all he could manage with the heat rising to his face. He traced his fingers on his near empty mug. Snotlout's eyes widened and he shifted away.
"Of course," Tuffnut straightened his back at Hiccup's compliment, "One must become acquainted with all such iconic dances if one is to truly appreciate the arts in all its' mediums."
"I could totally do that but I just didn't feel like it," Ruffnut shrugged, winning a glare from her brother, "But I also don't practice in the mirror every night-"
"Add that to the list of things we did not need to know," Astrid said.
Behind them, a few vikings called requests for the band. The man on panpipes answered them with long, somber notes. A roar of approval followed. Couples flocked to the clearing to dance, Astrid leading Hiccup by the hand.
It was Snotlout's turn to groan. “Ugh, they love this sappy one."
“What’s goin’ on?” Eret gave his companion a soft elbow.
“I’ll swim and sail on savage seas,
With ne’er a fear of drowning…”
“Berk original,” Snotlout made a vomit gesture, “For sappy couples.”
“Eugh, tell me about it,” Ruffnut moaned from across the table, kicking her boots up next to Fishlegs’s plate, “ Gross. Unless it’s me. ”
"Really?" Eret leaned forward to watch the crowd. This song sounded so sweet and sincere, while vikings seemed so tough and tasteless. “Never heard of it."
“Wh- you don’t know this??” Snotlout snapped, turning fully to Eret now, “You don’t know the Berk song?”
"No one's stopped to mention it, no."
"How do you not know this-" Snotlout caught himself and took a breath, pinching his nose bridge. His cheeks flushed a light rose. Perhaps, like his friends, he too could not hold his mead. “It's legendary!"
“Couldn’t be,” Eret smirked, “Or I would know it.”
"You smug bastard-"
"Ah-ah! We just made a truce, 'Lout."
Snotlout narrowed his eyes. “That’s it,” He grabbed Eret’s arm, "Come on."
"...And gladly ride the waves of life,
If you will marry me..."
“Hey!” Eret protested, reaching for what was left of his drink. He sent a pleading look to what remained of the group, but Fishlegs only shook his head while the twins howled a high pitched 'oooo!' after them. They must have known it, too. There was no going back. Eret accepted his fate to be guided- well, dragged- to the heart of the dancefloor. “What about the truce?"
“Still on! Listen-," Snotlout turned and was suddenly met with a face full of Eret's chest. He grabbed Eret's sides roughly and held the man back at arm's length, tilting his head up. "Eret. You are a cocky, insufferable bastard-"
"Really feeling the peace and love there, Snotlout-"
"-And I'll be damned if I miss an opportunity to show you up."
"...Are you going to hit me again? Because I think we should take that outside-"
"Wh- no!" Snotlout gave a baffled look and released him, "I'm going to teach you the moves."
"The moves?"
"To this song," Snotlout wiggled his shoulders in time with the music, "If you want to fit in here on Berk, you should at least know a thing or two-"
"-About the arts?" Eret finished, jerking his shoulders along with Snotlout.
"The arts!" Snotlout’s eyes lit up, "You catch on quick!"
"No scorching sun, nor freezing cold,
Will stop me on my journey..."
“...Thought you said this song was for sappy couples.”
“Yeah, well, when you find a Gorgeous Berkian Viking Goddess, how’re you gonna pull that? When you can’t even do The Dance? Tell me that, Eret.”
Eret studied Snotlout now, while the village pranced around them. His mind raced through the beginnings of some audacious comeback. Or a joke. Or a correction on the fact that maybe Eret wouldn't have minded a gorgeous Viking God either, or even the mention of how Snotlout's daphne blue eyes twinkled under the fire that made him so uncharacteristically pretty. But Eret could finish none of those thoughts. "If you're fucking with me, Jorgenson..."
"... If you will promise me your heart..."
Snotlout held up his hands, "Not fucking."
Eret huffed, gesturing to his newly found dance partner, “Don't really have a choice here, do I?”
Snotlout hummed, a smirk crossing his lips, "Nope."
"And love me for eternity..."
"Just- okay copy what I do,” Snotlout held out a closed fist. Eret rolled his eyes but did the same, pressing their forearms together. They began to circle each other, joining in with the rest of the Berkians. Eret kept his gaze on Snotlout, anticipating his next move and mirroring as best he could. A memory sparked in his mind of his trapper days, when he gave a Nadder the exact same look of concentration to stay in its' blind spot. His eyes trailed down Snotlout's body. Was he better than a Nadder, or worse? Just this morning, he'd gotten violent over firewood. In the same day, he'd insisted on sharing a pint and getting up to dance together. Dragons were more predictable than this. When Snotlout shifted to switch sides in time with the beat, Eret was ready. Snotlout stepped back suddenly, facing him now with new instructions. “Did you hear me? We gotta hold hands-”
"Hold-?"
"You think we're just going to spin in circles for three minutes? Call it a day?" Snotlout tilted his head.
Eret swallowed. He wouldn't have minded. “I'd usually say 'buy me a drink' first,” He winked, intertwining their fingers together and ignoring the spark that ran down him, “But you’ve already done that.”
Snotlout's hands had jagged burn scars that licked up his wrists and disappeared under leather arm braces. But when his fingers closed around Eret's, it was with almost a gentleness. Berk mead is strong, he thought fuzzily.
Snotlout snorted. “Just do what I do. I know it’s hard, we can’t all be me, ” He hopped from one foot to another, partner following in shaky concentration.
Eret scowled at him playfully. Snotlout dropped to one knee and stretched the other leg behind him, gesturing his head for Eret to move. Following the other dancers, Eret circled around him, scaling over his leg in a small bound. Were they actually doing it?
Snotlout jumped onto his highest of toe tips in a fervorous attempt to twirl his partner. It was an awkward twist, forcing Eret to duck below his own shoulder height. Their hands were pulled from each other, but they executed the move anyway. Eret recovered with a pivot.
“Shouldn’t I be on the outside?” he asked as Snotlout pulled him in with arms across Eret's waist. He refused to let that distract him, continuing (it was part of the dance, after all), “Since I’m taller, it makes sense.”
“No, I lead. Me,” Snotlout insisted, puffing his chest. "I'm the man. I spin you."
“‘Scuse me?”
“The one with the biggest muscles leads, that's the rules,” Snotlout wiggled his eyebrows to meet Eret's glare “That's right. Number one .”
“So wait," Eret’s eyes glittered, "You’ve been teaching me the lady’s part this whole time?”
“And what’s wrong with lady parts?” Snotlout retorted, earning a smirk from Eret. “That didn’t come out right,” Snotlout growled, clearing his throat, “So what if I have?”
“Well...” Eret snaked one arm around Snotlout's hip to mirror him, lacing his fingers into Snotlout's free hand and pulling them closer still. He towered, forcing the viking to crane his neck upwards, or meet the bulk of Eret's chest. "...Then I'd need to remind you..."
Snotlout's breath hitched in his throat. His next words were a challenge, "Of what?"
That was all Eret needed to swiftly hook a leg behind Snotlout's knee. The viking lost his footing with a startled yelp, desperately straightening his other leg for purchase. He fell backwards, but Eret leaned forward and caught his weight, holding him in a ballroom dip. With a smug expression, Eret growled, "...You can't trap a trapper."
Snotlout glowered. It was Eret’s turn to jut his jaw. “Still won't do the girl bit?"
They froze, Eret’s hand on the small of Snotlout’s back. His heartbeat quickened. The fire from the braziers above turned them a pale gold. Was it a trick of the light, or did the Viking blush? Eret could almost see the cogs in Snotlout's mind turn as his blue gaze turned to ice. Clenching his jaw, he looked away. Eret moved back so they could stand. Snotlout pulled away, creating distance that wasn't there before. A stone dropped cold in Eret's pit. Too far?
“D’you want to learn this stupid dance or not?” Snotlout grumbled with a turn of his heel. Was he leaving? Back to the table, back to the riders, back to the way things were this morning. Back to arguing over fire wood and nights alone wondering why, why him, out of all people, and why turn away now, when he's the one who dragged Eret into this in the first place-
Eret moved.
"Wait!" He barked, Snotlout's wrist now gripped in Eret's hand. "...Wait.. don't..." Eret’s voice softened, as did his grip, tight enough to show he was serious, but loose enough for Snotlout to pull away easily, if that's what he really wanted. Eret forced his face to brighten, despite his feelings, "Song's not over yet." The short man glared up at him expectantly. "Teach me both parts? I... I know it’s not made for us, but… if we both know what to do, we could change it, make it our own. Please, I want to learn.” Snotlout stared into Eret’s eyes, a deep darkness against bronze skin. In that moment, he understood Ruffnut’s infatuation. That’s when Eret twitched an eyebrow, “Or is the girl part too hard for a Jorgenson?”
“Nothing’s too hard for a Jorgenson!” Snotlout snapped. They circled again, locking forearms. “For your information, around these parts, we, the Jorgensons, never lose. I started you off easy, Son of Eret. The girl part's easy compared to the guy part!"
“Is that right, Son of Jorgen?” Eret smirked.
"Am I ever wrong? Don't answer that!" They hopped, tapping each other's boots merrily, "You think the Snot-man didn’t pick up a few secret moves in his time?”
“Well, I did show you mine, it's only fair if you show me yours."”
“I-!!” It was no denying it, the viking definitely blushed, “Sh-shut up, Eret!”
A few paces away, Hiccup glanced over Astrid’s shoulder. He whispered to her, "Are those two fighting again? After they just made up?”
Astrid shrugged, pullling him into a spin as the music quickened.
"...To love and kiss to sweetly hold,
For the dancing and the dreaming,
Through all life's sorrows and delights,
I'll keep your laugh inside me...."
In that moment, the crowd melted away. Just them two, hands on each other's hips, spinning slowly under the torchlight. This was it, the final notes.
Eret cast is honeyed eyes on Snotlout, and knew he'd been bluffing about the secret move. He'd never be able to pull it off, not so late into the song. Not with Eret watching, mirroring every motion, every tilt of his head that revealed a beautifully dark mole on his collarbone. Upon closer look, pale scars- bitemarks?- climbed over Snotlout’s pale skin. Eret took a moment to appreciate the square of his partner’s jaw as he unapologetically bared his teeth into a grin. The way his nose crinkled when he smiled, or those perfectly kissable freckles dotting his face. The way the strings on his already low-cut shirt were looser still, lowering it dangerously. That dark hair across his chest, a perfect contrast to his smooth skin, provoking Eret to wonder; did it trail further? And gods, those eyes. Their usual blue turned to emerald in the amber light. Pretty.
Eret cursed himself for not noticing these before. Because now, he couldn't unsee it, couldn't un-feel it. His hand slipped into the curve of Snotlout’s hip with ease. Had it always meant to fit like that? This, he thought definitively, is where I'll stay.
The music swelled, final notes sailing through the air.
"I'll swim and sail on savage seas
With ne'er a fear of drowning
And gladly ride the waves of life
If you will marry me!"
With glittering eyes, the feeling of Snotlout's leg wrapping around Eret’s only registered once it was kicked out from under him, his weight shifting backwards. The sudden weightlessness tore a gasp from his throat. Eret flinched, bracing to hit the stone floor with a thud, but the impact never came.
Thick, stocky arms caught him. Eret looked up.
There he was; Snotlout Jorgenson. In all his muscle and fur and arrogance. And he'd dipped Eret. Eret might have protested, had his eyes not wandered up to Snotlout's parted lips. What would it be like, he thought, to lean forward and...
"I showed you mine," Snotlout panted, “The secret move, I mean." Eret hadn't even realised he was slack-jawed until Snotlout closed it, the one arm now supporting his partner wavering only for a moment. He wiggled an eyebrow with that stupid, teeth-baring grin, "Which means; I won.”
"It was a tie, at best!"
"...Don't make me drop you."
The crowd's roar brought them both back to the Great Hall, on the little Island of Berk in this crazy archipelago. Snotlout helped Eret to his feet, that strange gentleness appearing again. And then it was gone when Snotlout glanced over his shoulder and sniffed. The crowd jumped into the next song.
Perhaps this was it.
“Well, not the most elaborate secret move ever, Jorgenson,” Eret rubbed his chin absently, "I honestly expected more."
"What?! It was genius! Pure whit! Trapping a trapper in his own trap, I mean, the irony alone!" Snotlout shrieked. Eret thought of the time a Terror had vehemently sworn to protect the mail it was originally sent to deliver. It puffed itself up and yapped, as if it didn't know its' own size, or perhaps it never cared to begin with. Snotlout and that Terror bore a strange resemblance. The Viking's face dropped when he noticed Eret's self-satisfied smirk. "Besides, I... I couldn't let you fall," He murmured, rubbing his neck. This earned a softer look from Eret, until Snotlout's face lit up, "And anyways, it's not the size of the secret move that matters, it's what you do with it."
Eret's face fell, "Y'know, you were nearly a sweetheart for a whole two seconds, there."
“Sweetheart?” Snotlout winked, “I think you mean winner.”
"It was a tie."
"But I lifted something heavier, so I win."
"I ain't that heavy!"
"You are!" Snotlout scoffed, "Well, to others, maybe. Not me, though."
"Looks like there's only one way to settle this, then," Eret extended a hand, "Rematch?"
"Oh, you're going down."