Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The night was cold. Dark, not so much. The skies were lit up with the fiery blazes of dozens of dragons scooping up sheep, lighting Berk aflame. The sounds of roaring Vikings and the clang of metal hammers rang through the village. From Hiccup’s vantage point, a clearing hidden behind a few huts, he could spot several Zipplebacks, a few Timberjacks, a whole hoard of Gronckles and Deadly Nadders, and even a few Monstrous Nightmares. He swallowed. No Night Furies tonight. He cursed internally at this thought, but still, hope brewed in his chest. Even just getting a Monstrous Nightmare or even any dragon, really, could at least get Astrid to notice him. And maybe his dad wouldn’t look so sad and embarrassed every time he looked his way. Gods, he just wanted to make the village happy, to make them proud, to make them at least a little less ashamed of him.

He dragged his newest invention behind him, carefully making his way to a clearing. He had a clear view of the village, and he smiled. Tonight would be his night. He carefully adjusted the lever, fidgeting in anticipation. His eyes locked into a lone Nadder that was creeping behind a hut and poking at the dirt. Hiccup furrowed his eyebrows, tongue poking out of the side of his mouth in concentration, and fired, the force from the lever sending him flying backwards. It briefly looked like it was heading in the right direction for a moment, until he realized he had vastly underestimated the strength of the machine’s arm, and he realized the bolas were soaring way past the head of the Nadder and into a large post, wrapping around a torch on top of it, and knocking the flaming mess to the ground. To Hiccup’s great luck, the commotion also managed to scare the Deadly Nadder away. Crap. Hiccup the Useless strikes again! Like usual, his stupid invention had failed. 

Hiccup groaned in exasperation as the fire brigade ran up to the downed torch, yelling. Astrid was the first to arrive, immediately dousing the flames in water. Snotlout was closely following, and the others took a bit longer to arrive. 

“Hurry, before it spreads!” She instructed the others, blue eyes narrowed in fierce determination. Snotlout whispered something into her ear, smirking, but she simply scowled in his direction, brushing him off with ease. Gods, Hiccup wished he could do that as easily as she did whenever Snotlout bothered him. The teens managed to successfully extinguish the fire that Hiccup had caused, and he held his breath, hoping he could get away with it. Astrid began poking through the rubble, and unfortunately for Hiccup, her eyes landed on the bolas that had caused the little predicament. She then turned around, searching for the culprit, and before he had a chance to slip away into the shadows, her eyes found his.

“Hiccuppp,” she growled, and said viking stiffened. He was caught. Hiccup the Useless, at it again. The gods really did hate him, didn’t they? Of course he had to screw this up, and of all people, it had to be Astrid to find his mess. Astrid was supposed to be the person he was impressing tonight! What in Thor’s name was he doing? He sheepishly sulked out of his hiding place, and her eyes trailed to his face.

“Sorry, Astrid, I-”

“What are you doing?” She hissed, “I-”

“Just go back inside, Hiccup. Gods, why do you have to be so Useless?” Snotlout scowled, “You're gonna get someone here killed. I mean, if anyone dies, it should be you. You don’t help this village anyway, we’re all screwed if you become chief!” He smirked, “Everyone knows that I should be the rightful chief, even-“

“Shut up, Snotlout,” Astrid glared at him, turning to Hiccup, she started, “I hate to admit this, but he’s right-“

“He is?” Hiccup’s eyes widened and his face scrunched up in sadness. Did Astrid really think he was Useless? Did Astrid think he’d be better off dead? Well if she thought that, of all people, then maybe-

“No, not about - look, I think you should just go inside, okay?” Oh thank Thor. She just wanted him to go inside. I mean that stung, but to be fair, he was Useless out here. Hiccup the Useless. At least she didn’t want him dead. Wow, that was a low standard. He chuckled dryly to himself.

“Useless, are you deaf or something? You heard what she said! Inside. Now.” Snotlout growled. Astrid elbowed him, muttering something that Hiccup couldn’t hear.

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll go, I’ll go!” Hiccup sighed. Why was everyone else so much better than him at well… everything? He wasn’t strong, or tough, or brave, or really viking-like at all. He was a shame on his father, a shame on Berk. He began to jog back to his house, when he heard Gobber’s voice booming from the forge.

“HICCUP, COME DOWN ‘ERE LAD!”

Thor almighty, Hiccup had forgotten! Gobber was expecting him to help him mend the weapons at the Forge today! Shoot, he had also left his invention at the clearing. He’d have to get that quickly before it got destroyed by a dragon or a fire or Snotlout or something.

“Coming, Gobber,” he shouted, doing exactly the opposite. He quickly sprinted back to the remains of the torch, which the other teens had already abandoned, and into the secret clearing he’d left his machine in. He breathed a sigh of relief. It was still there.

“Oh thank Thor… I didn’t want to have to build a whole new one.” He grabbed it and began dragging it back to the forge. A few paces away, however, the teens emerged from a bout of flames, Astrid still at the lead. Gods, how could someone look so gorgeous while running around with a bucket throwing water on stuff? Astrid, of course, always managed to pull it off. Everyone said that she was the most beautiful girl around her age, and Hiccup definitely agreed. He couldn’t help himself, and began to get lost in her eyes, in the way her golden hair lit up from the light of the dragon fire crisscrossing the night sky, so lost that he didn’t realize he was leaning down on his invention… forgetting how sensitive the calibration was-

BANG

He had accidentally put his hand down on the machine and it sprung out right into Astrid’s face. SHIT. She looked up, momentarily confused, and collapsed onto the ground.

“Oh look what you did you Useless piece of… Hiccup what did you…?” Snotlout spluttered.

“HICCUP,” Stoick’s voice bellowed in his ear. Oh no, oh no, oh no. Was Astrid okay? She was standing up slowly, her confusion slowly turning into anger.

“Hiccup, what the fuck are you doing?” she growled, starting towards him, “I told you to go inside!” 

“I’m sorry Astrid, I- I didn’t- the calibration- I got distract-”

“HICCUP?” Stoick cut him off. “WHAT IN THOR’S NAME DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING? DID YOU JUST KNOCK OUT ASTRID?”

“Uhh… no?” Hiccup tried, but obviously to no avail.

“Gods, what does it take for you to just STAY INSIDE, like I always tell you to? You’re being a damn DISGRACE to the Haddock name, you hear me boy?”

“I… it was an accident…” Hiccup cursed himself. Why did he have to be so stupid? He… he’d hurt Astrid. A nasty red mark was already swelling on her face, and her features were contorted in anger. Gods, the only times she ever paid attention to him was when he did something stupid. Every. Fucking. Time. Why did he do this to himself?

“HICCUP. It’s ALWAYS an accident with you! Do you not HEAR yourself?!” Stoick roared, evident rage painted on his face, “You burn down buildings, you can’t pick up a single weapon, you get in the way, you knock things over, you HURT our people!” He gestured to Astrid, “How in Thor’s name are you ever going to be a good viking, nevertheless a good chief?” A decent crowd had gathered around by this point. Hiccup shrank back, trying to hide from all of their curious eyes.

“I guess whoever raised me did a pretty bad job, huh?” he bit back sarcastically, trying to hide the hurt in his eyes that his father’s words had caused. That did it. 

“HICCUP HORRENDOUS HADDOCK THE THIRD. GO HOME, NOW. WE’LL TALK LATER!”

“I-,” he bit back a clever retort, “Okay…” He glanced over at Astrid, who just stared at him sadly now, features having softened, red mark still painfully prudent on her face. Great Odin above, he had done that. He gave her a remorseful look and turned, running back to his house defeatedly. Snotlout was right, his dad was right, everyone in this fucking village was right. Hiccup was Useless.

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His room felt empty. Hiccup felt empty. Though it stung, he could take criticism from Snotlout, from the other teens, from his village. All he wanted, though, was just to make his father look at him and not have a giant disappointed scowl on his face. Whenever he looked at Hiccup like that, it felt like his world was being crushed to tiny splintered pieces; he felt truly… Useless.What was wrong with him? Why was he always screwing up, why was he such a fucking burden on the village? They deserved a better heir. Even Snotlout, who Hiccup doubted even had half a brain cell, would be a more appropriate leader. At least considering looks and strength and Vikingness.

Hiccup was just a scrawny little piece of nobody. He took up space, he cost the village supplies and time and he always caused destruction wherever he went. He'd even managed to hurt Astrid! He couldn’t have gone one fucking night without hurting someone he cared about. 

No one in Berk even actually liked him. Astrid, Fishlegs, and Gobber might’ve tolerated him. Hiccup wondered briefly if after the events of tonight that would only be Gobber and Fishlegs. It didn’t matter anyway, because none of them never really stood up for him anyways. They probably just resented him in secret, or maybe he was too below their notice to even cross their mind. He swallowed. Hiccup realized he was only thinking about Astrid now. Did she even notice him? She never made fun of him like the others did, but that didn’t mean she cared about him. It seemed anytime his name came out of her mouth, it was in irritation because he’d screwed something up. I mean, for Thor’s sake, he’d literally knocked her out. 

‘A chief protects his own’ was what his dad always said. Knocking out one of your own people while they’re helping put out fires was the least chiefly thing anyone could ever do. Hiccup squeezed his eyes shut, trying to control his breathing. He hoped Astrid was okay. She would be, he knew, but he couldn’t help the knot that twisted painfully in his stomach at the thought of her collapsing. Because of him.

Gods, maybe the village would be better off if he just quit. Stoick had been telling him to just lay off it and stay inside for years. He needed to catch a dragon though, that was the only way to prove to the others that he was enough. But what if he’d never be enough? What if he was hurting his village, trying so hard? He knew he was, there was no way constantly burning things down was helping. Anyways, living like this was pure fucking torture. No one liked him, Snotlout and the others were always beating him up, telling him he was worthless. 

Maybe they’re right. He choked back a sob. Would it be better for everyone, including himself, if he could just disappear? He was tempted to pray to Odin that after he fell asleep that night he just wouldn’t wake up. His father might be distraught at first, but after a while, it would be for the better. The village wouldn’t have to suffer anymore, wouldn’t have to have a “shameful excuse of an heir” to worry about, and he wouldn’t have to keep enduring a living hell for every day of his life.

He’d heard about the occasional story of suicide or self sacrifice, and even some of the gods like Brynhildr and even Odin had legends surrounding it, but he’d never considered it to be a truly viable or realistic option. Not until now.

He stared at his hands, fingers shaking, and he pondered the thought. How would he even do it? Drowning? Jumping? His eyes flitted to his desk. A small dagger rested upon it, its steel glinting in the moonlight. Hiccup slowly padded towards it, breath quickening, and wrapped his fingers around the handle. He felt like he was caught in a trance, under some sort of hypnosis. He stared at the dagger and imagined plunging it into his chest. He imagined his dad walking into his room, finding his stiff, cold body leaking blood onto the ground, horrified and caught completely off guard. No. He couldn’t do that to his dad, not now. Not without any warning. 

He snapped out of the trance and let the knife clatter to the floor, a look of horror on his face. Had he almost…? Would he have…? No. He couldn’t think about that. He had to… he had to kill a dragon. He couldn’t give up now, not when he was so close. He had to do this. For his dad… for Astrid.

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A large pile of weapons stood next to Hiccup, and he sighed. He’d have no time today to work on tweaking the bola launcher, but he had to get around to it sometime soon. It was his only chance of ever taking down a dragon, of taking down a Night Fury. Thor almighty, if he killed a Night Fury, all of his problems would be solved. His dad might actually be proud of him for once, the village would love him, Astrid might even give him a chance! Only in Valhalla, he shook his head. It was better to treat those thoughts as just dreams or fairytales, and not something he could actually attain. It’d be less of a let down when he screwed up, then. Not if, but when. He sighed. 

Last night he’d literally knocked Astrid out! For Thor’s sake, if that wasn’t being a screw up, he didn’t know what was. He suddenly perked up. Shit, he hadn’t been by to see if she was alright. I mean of course she was, she always was, but sharpening weapons could wait. He carefully placed the axe he was sharpening down on the table next to him and abruptly stood up, making his way towards the door. He’d just begun to reach for the handle when it suddenly swung open, revealing an all too familiar face. Speak of the-

“Hi, Hiccup,” Astrid pressed her lips into a thin line.

“Oh- oh, Astrid! Hi Astrid, hey Astrid, hi…” Hiccup smiled sheepishly, “Uhh… what brings you here this fine evening?”

“It’s the middle of the day, Hiccup,” she rolled her eyes.

“Oh… yeah no I knew that.”

“My axe is dull,” she thrusted said weapon into his arms, eyes glimmering with a mix of annoyance and amusement.

“Oh, oh yes- I can take care of that for ya, milady,” he flashed her a lopsided grin and she rolled her eyes again, following him inside.

“So whatcha been up to?” she sighed, tired eyes focusing on him. He briefly wondered if her exhaustion was because of him, but pushed the thought to the back of his mind.

“Ahh, just sharpening weapons, minding the forge, you know?”

“Oh heyy Astrid!” Gobber sauntered in, “Fancy seeing you here.” He gave Hiccup a wink, a poor attempt at subtlety. “My manly apprentice here will service all of your needs. I have to go… get… some… I- I’m just going outside.” And with that, Gobber left, chuckling to himself. Astrid raised her eyebrows at this, but didn’t press any further. Hiccup smiled sheepishly, at a loss for words, and he began turning the grindstone.

“Okay… razor sharp battle axe comin right up!” He grabbed it from where he’d set it down and began to carry it over to the grindstone, clearly struggling. He nearly dropped it, but managed to steady it at the last second. Astrid gasped.

“Careful… that’s my mother’s” she said quietly, eyes downturned.

“Oh… I’m sorry Astrid, I-” Hiccup frowned, inspecting the axe, “This looks pretty worn, are you sure you just want it sharpened? I don’t know how many more hits it’ll take…”

“I can’t… um,” she stared at her boots, trying to retain somewhat of her pride.

“Oh…” Everyone knew that since Ingrid Hofferson, Astrid’s mother, had been killed in a dragon accident a few years ago, her and her father hadn’t been very well off. Hiccup didn’t realize they were too poor to afford a new axe head, though. He frowned thoughtfully, “Well you know, nobody has to know; I can do it free of charge,” he smiled hopefully, but she shook her head.

“No, Hiccup,” she sighed, “Hoffersons don’t take handouts.” She said the last word like it was disgusting, which for her, it most definitely was.

“Oh, uh… don’t consider it a handout, consider it an apology for… last night,” he gestured to the red mark on her face, and she touched it subconsciously, “Which I am sorry about, by the way, really.”

“Don’t worry about it, I can handle a little pain,” she smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Well… it’s still stupid that I hit you in the head with a bola, I mean…”

“What’s stupid is that I got knocked out by a bola. Thrown by you of all people! Or not thrown… like the machine thingy, I don’t know,” she sighed. 

“Wow, me of all people?” Hiccup snarked.

“That’s not… I just mean… ugh. I mean word gets around and when my dad hears, he’s gonna be pissed. I should’ve trained harder.”

“Astrid, how do you even train for getting hit in the head by a Useless idiot who isn’t paying attention?” he laughed, “You can’t!” She glared at him.

“Shut up.”

“What did I do?”

“All that useless idiot crap. It’s self-demeaning.”

“Come on, Astrid, everyone knows it’s true!”

“Just shut up.”

“Okay, okay,” he rolled his eyes, continuing to sharpen her axe, “I mean, even you said it.” She glanced up at him, eyebrows furrowed. Hiccup smirked, “Gahh, don’t give me that look, you just said it! By Hiccup of all people.”

“I didn’t mean it like that-”

“Then how did you mean it?”

“I…”

“That’s what I thought,” he sighed, returning his focus to his work. She stood still, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. She opened her mouth to say something, but decided against it. After a few moments, seemingly bored, she began wandering around the forge, peering at everything around the room. Hiccup watched her stand up on her tippy toes to touch something on the wall, and in doing so, she caused her skirt to ride up her leg. Hiccup stiffened, willing himself not to act like some perverted creep, but great Odin’s beard, it was distracting. She hummed to herself, lost in thought, but didn’t move from the precarious position, and Hiccup bit his lip, trying to pull his eyes away. 

Suddenly, his grip slipped and he felt a CRACK come from the axe. Shit. His eyes widened in horror at the realization of what he’d done.

 Every Thor forsaken time, he was a giant idiot and stared at her or got distracted some other way and fucked everything up. It had to be true, the gods really did hate him! He had to cover this up, and quickly. He removed the axe head and pulled another from a bin. Shit shit shit shit shit.

“So…” she started, sighing, “Look, I really didn’t mean it like that, I just-”

“Really, don’t worry about it!”

“Huh?” She glanced up, thankfully still not facing him, confused, “But I thought-”

“It’s fine Astrid,” he said calmly, though internally panicking. He could not mess this up, it was her mother’s axe! She began humming again, the entrance to his workshop catching her eye.

“Hmm” she mumbled to herself. Hiccup’s eyes widened.

“Uh, you’re not actually supposed to… uh-“

“What is all of this?” She paused, peering at the sketches and blueprint littering the walls, the failed contraptions scattered around the floor.

“Um… oh, uh, those?” he stuttered as she picked up a drawing, “Nothing, just some stuff I’m workin on. Just… uh… confidential upper-level development. I- I can’t really talk about it, so…”

“Huh… The Mutilator…” She raised an eyebrow.

“Yes… yes” he sighed as he clamped the new axe head that he’d thankfully molded recently into position, “It basically uses twin weighted counter levers to launch cross crossing blades in four different directions.”

“How do you hold it?”

“Well, you don’t… you shoot it.”

“Oh…,” She tossed the sketch aside. “Wait, is this the thing you shot me with?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, and he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

”Well… err…”

”Ah, well,” she said, rolling her eyes, “I’m more of an old fashioned take it down with an axe and then lop its head off kinda girl,” Hiccup shivered, and she smiled, “It’s kinda the Viking way, right?”

“Go Vikings,” Hiccup sarcastically drawled, as he cranked the handle into position, replacing the axe head successfully. She turned towards him at this, eyebrows raised.

“Mhmm,” she smirked. She then noticed the sheepish grin upon his face as he held her axe back from sight, and furrowed her eyebrows, “What?”

“Oh… uh, it’s nothing, really.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be sharpening my axe?” she huffed.

“Ahhh, yes! Thank you Astrid, I really just couldn’t remember what you came here for!” he quipped, slowly backing away from her.

“I dunno, seems like you didn’t,” She gestured towards the grindstone, “You aren’t using the sharpeny thingy.”

“Mmm yes, the sharpeny thingy,” he chuckled, “Thanks, Astrid.” He began winding the grindstone once more, and he successfully sharpened her axe without cracking it. Now it’d be much stabler, though, because her previous axe head had been on its last legs. The balance was better now, too.

“Allll right, Astrid, here ya go.” He flashed her a lopsided grin, handing her the axe. She took it, still suspicious.

“Hmm,” she turned it over in her hands, “This feels different… you didn’t…” she narrowed her eyes at him, “You didn’t actually replace the axe head, did you?”

“No, of course not,” he chuckled nervously, “Why in the world would I do thatttt?”

“Ugh, you’re a terrible liar, you know?” She shook her head, “Hiccup, you know I can’t…”

“Astrid, it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“I told you, Hoffersons don’t-“

“And I told you, it’s not a handout. Just… an apology, okay? And the old one maybe might’ve cracked.” Her eyes widened.

“You broke it?”

“No, no, it just… like I told you, it could only take so many more sharpenings, you know?”

“Okay,” she sighed defeatedly, “See you around, I guess. And stay inside next time.” She narrowed her eyes.

“Duly noted, milady,” Hiccup grinned. She rolled her eyes again, eyes glimmering with amusement, and left. Maybe he still had a chance with her? Hiccup scoffed to himself. No way. That was the longest conversation he’d had with her for years. And anyways, he couldn’t even sharpen her damn axe without breaking it. Everyone was right, he was Hiccup the Useless, a burden to the village. Snotlout’s words still haunted his mind, ‘If anyone dies, it should be you. You don’t help this village anyway, we’re all screwed if you become chief!’ Was he really right…? Hiccup squeezed his eyes shut, and refused to dwell on the thought any longer. He had to focus on killing a dragon. But first, he thought with an inward sigh, there were weapons to sharpen.

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The sun was already beginning to dip below the horizon by the time she made it back to her house. Astrid gulped, her gut twisting with nervousness. 

“Gods, please say he didn’t hear about last night from one of the villagers,” she muttered to herself. She took a deep breath, held it in, and strutted inside. Her father was sitting lazily in a chair by the fire, the stench of several cups too many of mead on his breath. Fuck.

“Astrid,” he smiled sinisterly, “How’ve you been?”

“Um… just training. A- and I got my axe sharpened.” She cringed. Why did she tell him that? He’d told her not to, he’d told her they were running short on money. His face briefly contorted in anger, ire flashing through his eyes.

“Hmm, Astrid. I thought I recalled telling you to NOT GET YER FUCKIN AXE SHARPENED,” he bellowed, and she flinched in response.

“I’m sorry dad, it’s just… it was dull and then it cracked I think-”

“You broke your axe?” He narrowed his eyes.

“No… it wasn’t my fault, but Hiccup replaced the-” She’d said too much. Bjorn jumped to his feet in rage, weight shifted on his good leg.

“You got yer fucking axe head REPLACED?” he spat, “What do think I am, made o money?”

“No, no, no, it was… free of charge, dad. Hiccup-”

“What did I tell you, Astrid?” Her father hissed, “Hoffersons. Don’t. Take. Handouts. Ever.” She slowly backed away, hands raised.

“He said-“

“I don’t care what the nuisance said, that kid’s a fuckin Useless piece of shit, and anyways, if I heard Boarfoot correctly, Hiccup got a bola thrown at yer head last night, eh?” He took another menacing step towards her, but this time, she stood her ground. 

“It was an accident, dad…”

“Well I also heard that you blacked out and collapsed to the damn ground, am I wrong?” He cocked his head, and she stiffened, “Didn’t think so. So maybe, today, instead of hurtin either our wealth or our pride, you shoulda been out there training, preparing, to make sure that NEVER happens again. Understood?”

“Understood,” she gasped, preparing for the oncoming blow. It wasn’t fair, though, Hiccup was right. How the hel are you supposed to train to not get knocked out by a hunk of metal to the head? He raised his hand, and she closed her eyes, but nothing followed. What…? 

Suddenly, she felt two giant hands latch onto her shoulders and drag her to the back door.

“I wish you’d died instead of yer mother,” he spat, and she cringed, “And you do understand that all of this, all of this is your fault? What kind of pathetic child of mine gets knocked out by Useless? If you acted more like a Viking, then I wouldn’t have to get mad like this. Now make this up to me and train. All. Night. I better not catch you fallin asleep. You know I know when you slack off, Astrid. Tomorrow morning we’ll see if a bola to the head still knocks ya out. Don’t disappointment me again; you’ve already ruined this family enough.” And with that, he shoved her out of the house, throwing her axe along with her, and locking the door before she had any time to react.

She lost her footing for a moment, choking back a sob, and then promptly picked up her axe, half running, half stumbling to the forest. She wished her mother were still here. She wished her dad was… still her dad. What the fuck was wrong with her that she had managed to ruin her entire fucking family? 

She bit back another sob. Hoffersons didn’t cry. She knew that. Her dad knew that. The whole fucking village knew that. Why was she never enough? She’d trained every day of her life to be perfect, and even though idiots like Snotlout insisted she was (even though he was just saying bullshit like that to piss her off or win her over - or both), she knew she was far from it. She was the reason her dad was miserable, she was the reason he’d lost the use of one of his legs, she was the reason her mother was fucking dead.

She gritted her teeth. She was a viking. She was a Hofferson. She was destined to be great, destined to be the best warrior in Berk. Her dad was right, she should’ve just trained harder; it was stupid that a tiny fucking bola shot at her from Hiccup Haddock, of all people, had knocked her out.

She cringed. It seemed to bother him a lot when she had said that. She shouldn’t have said that. She sighed. It didn’t matter. She shouldn’t be talking to him anyway; her dad always insisted he was a screw up Useless piece of junk, even if he was the Chief’s son (which he apparently wouldn’t be for much longer), and if he ever caught them even talking together for more than a brief moment, she was bound to get a few more ribs broken. She winced at the thought. 

It wasn’t really fair, though, the way everyone treated him. He was irresponsible and immature, sure, but no one else would’ve fixed her axe for free like that. No one else would’ve just treated her like a normal person, and not some crazy warrior goddess or the reason for her father’s misery and mother’s death or something. He just needed to realize that dragon fighting wasn’t his thing, then he wouldn’t cause so much destruction, and then maybe the village would hate him less, right?

Shit. Why was she thinking about Hiccup? That was… he was Hiccup. Why was she…? It didn’t matter; she needed to focus. Tonight was going to be a long night, and she just prayed to Odin that it wouldn’t be too bad in the morning.

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The night was in fact long and frankly exhausting. She did drills upon drills, struggling to see in the dark, hands and feet numb from the cold, but never relented. She even practiced banging her head against the trees to try to build up her stamina. That’s what the twins did all the time, and it seemed to work, right? Then again, they were dumb as rocks, but she supposed she didn’t really have another choice, and so no matter how wobbly her vision got, no matter how cold or tired she felt, she pushed on. 

It felt like weeks by the time the sky began to brighten again, and she collapsed onto the ground in exhaustion. No, she had to get home quickly before she fell asleep. If her father found she’d disappointed him again- she tensed, not wanting to entertain that thought. Astrid slowly stood up, aching from the cold, and started shuffling her way towards her house. 

She heard a couple voices in the distance, one she recognized as Snotlout’s, but paid it no mind. The closer she got to her house, however, the louder the voices became. A few of her peers were huddled up into a tight circle, and was that Hiccup in the middle of them? She couldn’t tell, and her brain was too foggy to even process what she was seeing, or any words they were saying. 

She definitely didn’t hear Hiccup call her name, and she didn’t see his face crumple when she didn’t respond.

Chapter Text

They had gotten the jump on him when he wasn’t paying attention, when he was off in the woods trying to distract himself from his dad. His dad, who’d spent the early morning hours ranting about Hiccup ‘not being Chiefly enough’ or something. Snotlout, the twins, and Dogsbreath had seen him sneaking into the woods and followed him, keen to make him feel worse than he already felt.

“What are you even doing out here, Useless, trying to come up with a plan for the next house that you’re gonna burn down?” Snotlout sneered.

“Yeah. why don’t you just curl up and die or something, maybe then you wouldn’t be such a waste of space!” Dogsbreath grinned, cracking his knuckles, “Snotlout’s dad said-”

“Shut up about my dad,” Snotlout hissed, elbowing him, “Anyways, did you see yourself the other day? Launching a bola into Astrid’s face? That’s a new one! How in Thor’s name are you gonna be chief when you're pulling shit like that?”

“I- I was just trying to… as if you’d be a good chief. You’re pathetic and you have fewer brain cells than the twins… and that’s a low fucking bar.”

“Wow, thanks Hiccup,” Tuffnut beamed, but paused for a moment, “Waittt a minute…”

“Oh you’re gonna get it for that you piece of shit!” Snotlout nodded to Dogsbreath, who began cracking his knuckles again.

“W- wait, please, just…” he was interrupted by the snap of a twig from twenty or so paces away. The others stiffened, dragging him up from the ground and trying to act casual. Hiccup squinted his eyes, trying to make out who it was. He caught a glimpse of blonde hair tightly wound into a braid, and his eyes widened. Was that Astrid? What was she doing out here so early? She really pushed herself too hard… he shook his head. She was Astrid. Of course she could handle it. And thank Thor she was here, she’d help him, right? He could get out of this unscathed.

“A- Astrid?” Hiccup called out hopefully. She didn’t respond, “Astrid, please, I’m over here… Astrid?” Her footsteps faltered for a moment, and his face brightened with hope, but then they continued, and as soon as she’d appeared, she was gone. Oh. I guess she couldn’t get caught helping a Useless nobody like me. 

Suddenly, the world slipped out from under him, and the ground met his face… hard. The world erupted into bright colors and he groaned in pain.

“As if, Useless. Why in Thor’s name would Astrid Hofferson help someone like you? After you knocked her out, too? Gods, you’re not only Useless, you’re stupid,” Snotlout jeered.

“Yeah, and if you ever try to weasel your way out of talking to us again, you’ll be fucking sorry!” Dogsbreath pinned him down and slugged him in the stomach while the twins cheered him on.

“Get him!”

“He’ll be sorry for screwing up our village!”

“Here, let me have a go,” Snotlout pushed Dogsbreath aside and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Barely audible, he whispered under his breath, “Like dad told you, okay? You should be chief… your cousin’s Useless… ” And with that, he slammed his knuckles square into Hiccup’s ribcage. 

Fuck. That would definitely leave a mark. Hiccup’s world erupted into bright colors and he just prayed that nothing was broken. He didn’t need any more berating from his father about how he should stand up to himself more often.

“Hopefully that’ll teach you to be more careful during raids, and maybe listen to Astrid. Maybe stay inside,” Snotlout sneered, waving for the others to follow him, leaving a groaning Hiccup curled up on the ground. Ruffnut peered at him for a moment, eyebrows furrowed.

“Maybe just listen to him for once and stay inside during raids, you know. Everyone would be better off, including you. Just try to stay out of trouble and maybe Snot’ll leave you alone.” And with that, she scampered off behind them. At least one of them remotely cared about how he felt, even if she didn’t really seem to care enough to stop them from beating him up. His entire upper body throbbed, and he thought of Astrid. She hadn’t stopped them. She was right there! She could’ve done it; they would’ve listened to her…

He had thought he was finally getting somewhere with her; they had actually talked yesterday, and it wasn’t just her scolding him or him apologizing the whole time. He had broken her axe, but he’d fixed it and it had been okay. He just thought… he’d been mistaken, yet again. Maybe she had just been nice to him to try to get a free axe head. But that wasn’t like her; she wasn’t one to go out of her way to try to get handouts. But… she’d… she’d just left him there. She’d just… a sob racked through him. 

They’d only punched him twice. Usually it was worse than that, but, nevertheless, today everything hurt so much more than it usually did. She’d just left him there… why did she…?

He curled up into an even tighter ball. Snotlout was right, his dad was right. He was a terrible viking and would be an even worse chief. Even Astrid didn’t care about him. Even Astrid… who he cared about so fucking much. It was so self centered to think she’d even remotely notice about him at all, but he’d held onto the tiny little sliver of hope that she did. That sliver had been crushed and twisted into tiny little fragments today, leaving him behind in a pitiful heap, just as she had. 

His thoughts from two nights ago spring back into his mind… would everyone be better off if he was just… dead?

‘Everyone would be better off, including you.’ He knew Ruffnut hadn’t been talking about him dying, but he almost laughed at how accurate it was. She very well could’ve been telling him to off himself! Snotlout and Dogsbreath literally had!

Gods, why did he even try anymore? He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to calm down. He decided he’d try one more time, during the next raid, and if he didn’t get a dragon then, then he’d do it. He’d have to write a note to his dad, and maybe to Gobber or Astrid, and then he’d figure out how to do it. Better not to think about that right now. Better to focus on getting that damn dragon.

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This was it. This was his chance. Tonight was the night; he had a good feeling about it. He was going to kill a Night Fury. He was running through the village, on the way to the forge, where Gobber had instructed him to go. He was still a bit mad that Hiccup hadn’t come during the last raid, but he’d heard about the little incident with Astrid and the yelling match he’d gotten into with Stoick. Well Stoick had been the only one who was really yelling, but details. 

A flame blasted through his vision, inches away from roasting him alive, and he felt a large hand pull him backwards. 

“Hiccup! What is he doing out here agai- what are you doing out? Get inside!” Stoick narrowed his eyes, and Hiccup scurried off, catching his conversation with another man from the village.

“What have we got?” Stoick grunted.

“Gronckles, Nadders, Zipplebacks, oh and Hoark saw a Monstrous Nightmare!”

“Any Night Furies?”

“None so far.”

“Good.”

Hiccup internally cursed at this. It’ll come eventually. It has to. Tonight is the night. I know it.

He heard someone yell, “Hoist the torches!” and watched them ascend into the night sky. He was reminded of his recent failure, of knocking one of them over, and sighed. There was no time to dwell on stupid things like that, however, and he ran to the forge.  

“Oh nice o you to join the party! I thought you’d been carried off!” Gobber chuckled.

“Wha.. who me? Come onn, I’m wayyy too muscular for their taste! They wouldn’t know what to do with… all this,” Hiccup said sarcastically, mock-flexing his bicep.

“Welll, they need toothpicks, don’t they?” Hiccup shook his head, a smile creeping up his lips. Maybe Gobber more than tolerated him. He was the only one who actually treated him like a human being, and the only one who didn’t actually mean the things he said. Maybe Gobber was his only… friend? More like a dad, Hiccup supposed. Gobber was more of a dad than his real dad had ever been. 

He pumped the bellows and lit the forge, ready to get to work, but before he began doing anything, he recognized a head of golden hair wrapped into a terribly familiar braid. Astrid. His heart caught in his throat. She was doing her thing again, putting out fires, acting like everything was perfect. Her life probably is perfect. He sighed, eyes downcast. He still liked her for some reason, even if she’d left him in the woods like that the other day.

Because she’s perfect. Because she’s Astrid. The only way he could fix anything would be if he could get out of here… bring his bola launcher and take down a damn dragon. The nasty thought pooled in the back of his mind again: If not tonight, then never. Then this is it. He turned to Gobber.

“Awww come on, let me out, please. I need to make my mark!”

“Oh you’ve made plenty of marks. All in the wrong places!” Gobber raised an eyebrow.

“Please, two minutes. I’ll kill a dragon and my life will get infinitely better. I might even get…” love from my father, the village to accept me, a date… Astrid?

“Ya can’t lift a hammer, ya can’t swing an axe, ya can’t even throw one o’ these…” he picked up a bola, “Unless it’s at Astrid’s face,” he shook his head chuckling.

“Wow… thanks, that makes me feel better,” he sighed, “If I hit Astrid, then I can hit a dragon anyways, right? With this to throw it for me, I’m destined for success!”

“Sure, sure… you do that. It definitely won’t go horribly wrong, and there’s no way anyone else will be hurt!” He raised his eyebrows, and suddenly his face became serious, “Seriously Hiccup, if you ever want to get out there to fight dragons, you have to stop all… this!” Ouch. That one stung. Gobber had meant it this time.

“But you just pointed to all of me!” It was easy to cover up the sting with a sarcastic reply.

“Yes! that’s it! Stop being… all of you,” Gobber smirked, tone once again playful.

“Ohhhhh”

“Ohhhh yeahh”

“You- you sir are playing a dangerous game. Keeping this much… raw vikingness contained. There will be consequences!”

“I’ll take my chances. Sword. Sharpen. Now.” Hiccup rolled his eyes, but complied, grabbing a sword and beginning to crank the grindstone. Just then, an ear piercing whistle sounded through the village followed by a blast, causing one of the catapults to erupt into flames. Hiccup knew what that meant. 

“NIGHT FURY!”

“GET DOWN!”

YES! He knew tonight was his chance. This was it. Now or never. As if perfectly on cue, Gobber grabbed his axe and started outside.

“Man the fort, Hiccup. They need me out there. Stay. Put. There. You know what I mean. Yahhhhh,” he yelled to the sky, axe raised, running at full speed. This was the perfect opportunity.

Hiccup grabbed the mutilator (the soon to be Night Fury killer!) and rushed into the chaotic mess of his village. 

“Hiccup, what’re doin out here?”

“Go inside!”

“Get back inside, Useless!”

He ignored all of the people yelling at him and continued up the hill, his destination already in mind. The cliffs.

As soon as he reached the top of the hill, in a much better clearing, he decided, he prepared his machine and prayed to any god who could possibly be listening to let him have some luck for once. He narrowed his eyes at the sky, catching a glimpse of a black shape darting past, silhouette barely visible. There it was. 

“Come on, give me something to shoot at, give me something to shoot at.” He narrowed his eyes in concentration, tongue sticking out the side of his mouth.

A sudden purple blast sounded near him, and he caught sight of the beast again, shadow blocking out the stars behind it. There was no time to waste: he fired. He stared in awe as the bolas arched towards the stars, heading straight for the-

Holy shit he actually did it! He actually fucking did it! He hit a Night Fury!

“Oh I hit it,” His voice was a mix of shock and awe, “YES I HIT IT! Did anybody see that?” A monstrous nightmare head suddenly poked up from behind the cliff side. Of course it did. Hiccup sighed, “Except for you…”

The only thing he could think now was RUN, all thoughts of the Night Fury he’d just shot down had since vanished, having been replaced with pure terror. After all this, he couldn’t die from a stupid Monstrous Nightmare. Not after finally achieving his life’s goal. He ran down the cliffside, screaming in fear, until he came across a large pole. He hid behind it, praying someone would find him before he got eaten. He waited for a few seconds, expecting any moment to be his last, until he heard the sound of his dad’s thundering footsteps sound in his direction. Thank Thor for that!

His father had a go at the dragon, eventually scaring him off, and Hiccup stood, cowering, just waiting for the scolding he was about to get. From behind him, he heard the post collapse, knocking over yet another torch onto the docks below. Great. Just great.  

“Sorry, dad…” he paused sheepishly, “Okay, but I hit a Night Fury!” Stoick grunted, yanking on the back of his tunic, “It’s not like the last few times, dad! I mean I really actually hit it! You guys were busy, and I had a very clear shot! It went down just off raven point. Let’s get a search party out there before it-”

“STOP,” Stoick boomed, “Just… stop. Every time you step outside, disaster follows. Can you not see that I have bigger problems? Winter is almost here, and I have an entire village to feed!”

“Eh, between you and me the village could do with a little less feeding, don’t ya think?” Hiccup quipped.

“THIS ISN’T A JOKE, HICCUP! Aghhh, why can’t you follow the simplest orders?

“I- I- I can’t stop myself! I see a dragon and have to just… kill it,” Hiccup made a neck snapping motion with his hands, “You know, it’s who I am, dad.”

“Ahh, you are many things, Hiccup, but a dragon killer is not one of them,” Stoick sighed, “Get back to the house,” he turned to Gobber, “Make sure he gets there. I have his mess to clean up.” Gobber nodded and began leading Hiccup up the hill, back to his house. 

The other teens his age were standing together, off to the side of the path, snickering to themselves.

“Quite the performance!” Tuffnut smirked.

“I’ve never seen anyone mess up that badly! Except for you the other night! I thought I told you to stay inside, Useless!” Snotlout snickered.

“Yeah, thanks Snotlout. I really took your advice to heart didn’t I? I was thinking of you the whole time, don’t worry.”

“What are you even talking about?” Snotlout just shook his head, laughing, “What kind of comeback was that?” Gobber grunted, shoving Snotlout aside, and steered Hiccup back towards the direction of his house. Hiccup caught a glimpse of Astrid sitting down behind the others, staring at the ground sadly. Wow, he was so beneath her, she hadn’t even bothered to look at him. He’d really thought she’d at least cared about him a little; they’d had such a nice conversation the other day. Well… they’d had a conversation the other day. But she left you in the middle of the woods with Snotlout, remember? Hiccup shook his head - blaming everything on her was so stupid, he should’ve been upset at Snotlout or Stoick or Dogsbreath or the twins, not her. It just… it was expected from them. He’d been clinging onto the hope that maybe she felt something, literally anything about him. But it was stupid. Of course it was stupid.

He decided not to try to catch her attention, and simply continued up the hill, trying to keep Snotlout’s words out of his mind. 

“I really did hit one, Gobber; it’s not like the other times. I-”

Gobber raised an incredulous eyebrow, “Sure, Hiccup.”

“Ughh, He never listens!”

“It runs in the family.”

“A- and when he does, it’s with this disappointed scowl, like someone skimped on the meat in his sandwich.” Hiccup put on the best version of his father’s heavy accent as he could, “Excuse me, barmaid, I’m afraid you brought me the wrong offspring. I ordered an extra large boy with beefy arms, extra guts, and glory on the side! This here, this is a talkin’ fishbone!” Gobber sighed.

“Now you’re thinking about this all wrong. It’s not so much what you look like; it’s what’s inside that he can’t stand.” Hiccup turned to look at him then, shaking his head.

“Thank you… for summing that up.” He guessed Gobber was right, anyway. With some extra work in the forge, maybe his skinny arms would be fixable. However, no matter how strong he might get in the future, his dad would probably still refuse to look him in the eye, refuse to treat him as a person worthy of any respect, as long as he was ‘all this.’ Getting some muscle definitely wouldn’t hurt, though.

“Look, the point is, stop trying so hard to be something you're not.” Wow. Everyone seemed to be saying that these days. Just stay inside. Stop trying to fight dragons. It'll be better for everyone, including you. If he was too useless for anyone to even consider him fighting dragons as an option, was there even a point to being a viking at all? Was there even a point to… living?

“I just wanna be one of you guys,” Hiccup’s voice cracked as he said it, and he turned and ran inside, trying to bury the pain in his chest that was growing all too familiar. 

All of the chaos that had ensued that night nearly made him forget… holy shit he’d shot down a Night Fury. A real life Night Fury. Maybe after he killed it and brought it back to the village, maybe then they would see him as one of their equals, as someone worthy of living and fighting amongst them. There was no point dwelling on the pain of the soon to be past. This is the last day of your old life, and the first day of a new one.

He had no idea how right he was about that.

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They were going to start dragon training tomorrow. Astrid was so excited, she could barely keep a straight face. As soon as she’d woken up, she’d gone outside to train, and Ruff had found her, telling her the great news. This was the first time Astrid had felt remotely happy in what felt like forever. 

This was her chance to prove to herself, to her dad, to her village that she was capable and worthy of being a great Berkian warrior (and hopefully one day, a shield maiden). This was her chance to really be worth something to Berk, to really contribute and protect, like she was supposed to. Thankfully, so far that day, she hadn’t had to deal with talking to her dad at all. Ruff had said a bunch of the adults were going to go out on a voyage for the Nest, one final time before the ice froze over, but she doubted her dad would be included in that bunch. 

One of his legs was practically lame -because of her… she brushed the thought off- and it would probably do everybody more harm than good if he accompanied them. There was always a sliver of hope, though, that she’d finally get her house to herself, some space to think without having to deal with him.

She hated him. She hated herself for hating him, because all of this was her fault, wasn’t it? No matter how hard she reasoned with herself, though, no matter how hard she tried to justify his actions to herself, she couldn’t stop the resentment from pooling in her stomach, the gut wrenching fear that arose whenever his name was mentioned. Why did he hate her so much? But she knew… it wasn’t even a question.

She should stop wallowing in self pity; it was pathetic. This was all her fault, she knew that. She deserved this. Right? That’s what her dad said, that’s what… she was the reason her mother was dead. This was Odin’s way of making her pay the price.

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“Here you go, Astrid. This is the axe that I had as a child,” Ingrid smiled fondly at her daughter. Astrid squealed with excitement, bursting with eagerness to start training with it as soon as possible. 

It was her tenth birthday, and before, she’d still spent lots of her free time using different (smaller) weapons and training in the woods, but now she had a good, big, real axe. 

“Now Astrid, you know what this means, right?” Her dad huffed. She looked up at him expectantly, knowing what was coming next, “You’re only six years away from becoming an adult. Now that you have your mother’s axe, I expect you to go out training every single day, as to not bring any more shame to the Hofferson name. You must be ready for dragon training when the time comes around, and you must be the one to win it. If you fail, then…” his face began to darken-

“Bjorn, what did we talk about?” Her mother interjected sternly, “You can’t be too hard on her.”

“But he’s supposed to be, right?” Astrid piped up, hoping to gain her father’s approval, “We’re vikings. And we're Hoffersons!”

“Yes honey, that is true, but even vikings have to understand their limits, okay?” She turned to Bjorn, “And vikings care about their family, right? Don’t be so hard on her, now.”

“Yeah, yeah Ingrid. You’re right,” he sighed. Astrid didn’t realize it then, but her mother was the only thing holding their family together.

That night, a dragon raid, worse than usual at that, wracked their village. Ingrid and Bjorn had run out of the house, strictly telling Astrid to stay inside. She, however, had other plans. 

Her parent’s words from earlier that day had gotten to her. Again, not realizing that her mother was helping her at the time, she felt that Ingrid doubted her abilities, that her mother thought she was weak. She didn’t need to be coddled! If she killed a dragon before even going through dragon training, she’d be a hero! Her dad would be so proud! She wanted to prove herself so unbelievably badly. She was going to kill a dragon.

She waited for her parents to leave and enthusiastically ran to her room to grab her brand new axe. Double checking to make sure no one was there, she crept out of her window, practically buzzing with excitement.

She crept around the back of the hut, eyes darting back and forth. She caught sight of a lone Nadder near the edge of a small cliff that was too focused on a sheep to notice her. Perfect. She tiptoed toward it, trying to still her breathing, and began to raise her axe above her head.

After a few moments of trying to conceal the sound of her footsteps, she made it next to the cliff’s edge, only ten paces or so away from the Nadder. Somehow, to her luck, it hadn’t noticed her yet. The gods must’ve been on her side.

“Okay, I got this,” she muttered to herself, as quietly as she could muster, but right before she was about to swing the axe in the dragon’s direction, a booming yell sounded from up ahead, one belonging to Yakbelly the Yobbish. 

He charged towards the Nadder, stealth not even remotely on his mind, and in a panic, it screeched, flying straight towards Astrid’s head.

She gasped and tried to dive out of the way, but she was still a bit inexperienced and clumsy, so she tripped and her axe slipped out of her grip. Her eyes widened as she watched it tumble to the ground and… straight off of the cliff! She also managed to hit her head on the ground, and she touched her forehead. It was wet with fresh blood. Oh no, what was her mother gonna say? She prayed to Odin that she didn’t break the axe; her parents would be so cross. Well nice job redeeming the Hofferson name now, Astrid. It was completely unacceptable. She had to get her axe, and she had to stop being so clumsy. That’s what she was. Axeless and clumsy. 

Her eyes darted back and forth, astutely taking in her surroundings. Yakbelly was nowhere to be seen now; the idiot had wandered off elsewhere. She cursed his stupid yelling and his stupid lack of stealth. Now she was defenseless. If something went wrong because she didn’t have any weapons to defend herself, she’d never be able to forgive herself. But she couldn’t go back to her house now, then her parents would know she left against their orders and managed to be clumsy enough to drop her axe off of a damn cliff. She didn’t have much of a choice, really.  

Astrid crept towards the ramps that led down to the bottom of the cliff. She peered around, still wary. No dragons nor other vikings had noticed her yet. Thank Thor. She could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears, her blood rushing through her veins. This really was one hel of a night. She wasn’t really sure she even wanted to kill a dragon anymore, she just wanted to get her axe and go home. Hopefully no one would spot her, because they’d surely tell one of her parents. She just hoped if one of them found out first, it would be her mom. Her mom was usually much more forgiving when it came to Astrid screwing up. She knew that wasn’t the viking way, and it angered her a little bit, because it had to be the viking way, but at the same time, it was nice to know that someone cared about her. Maybe having a little bit of someone who didn’t follow the viking way all the way was nice to have in her life. 

She returned her focus back to where the axe had landed. She couldn’t make out exactly where it was in the dark, but it seemed like it had fallen in a small cluster of shrubs.

She was so focused, in fact, that she didn’t notice the group of dragons that landed behind her, and she didn’t notice as they crept toward her exposed back. She didn’t notice when one of the dragons, a gronkle, began baring its teeth, growling.

“ASTRID!” Somehow, her mother had caught sight of this going down. Astrid whipped her head up, processing the dire situation she was in. She was defenseless, small, and completely surrounded. Her eyes briefly widened in fear. 

“WHAT IN THOR’S NAME ARE YOU DOING?” This came from her father. She didn’t have time to think how screwed she was for getting caught, though; she was too busy trying to ignore the sheer terror gripping her chest. Astrid backed up, hands raised, trying to appear non threatening. 

“ASTRID!” her mother shrieked again. Ingrid ran towards the dragons, her axe raised. The dragons thankfully hadn’t tried anything yet, but they were still slowly walking towards Astrid.

“RUN,” Bjorn shouted, throwing a hammer right into the face of the Monstrous Nightmare. It faltered, and Astrid nearly breathed a sigh of relief, but suddenly, its eyes narrowed in fury, and it snarled. It directed its attention back at her, and now, it was much more threatening. Astrid spun and ran as fast as she could, diving through an opening. Unfortunately, her foot caught on a rock, and her face met the ground.

“NO! ASTRID I’M COMING!” Her mother was much closer now. She threw her axe at the Gronkle, and hit it square in the neck. The dragon sputtered for a moment, blood spurting out of the open wound, and then its eyes rolled back into its head, and the ugly beast collapsed to the ground. This caused the Monstrous Nightmare and the two Zipplebacks, which were three of the other the other dragons who had surrounded her, to become purely enraged. 

Ingrid and Bjorn both frantically ran into the fray, both without weapons now. Bjorn slugged the Monstrous Nightmare in the head, and it momentarily stumbled. By this point, several other vikings had seen the commotion, and were running towards the frenzy. 

Ingrid found herself surrounded, taking Astrid’s original place. Her axe was still firmly lodged in the now dead Gronkle’s neck. Astrid slowly crawled background, eyes bulging with terror. She gasped for breath, but her lungs continued closing tighter and tighter. Her mom was trapped. And really trapped now, not like Astrid had been. She’d been lucky enough to find a little opening, lucky enough to escape. Ingrid Hofferson was surrounded and weaponless.  

“Ingrid, I’m coming! Just hold on a moment!!” Bjorn desperately called, trying to hold the attention of the Nightmare, “Come on ya slimy piece of vermin!”

“Oh you aren’t getting me this easy!” Ingrid spat at the dragons. Her eyes were narrowed and her knees were bent in preparation of an attack. Bjorn hollered in anger, charging towards the center of the circle, just as one of the Zipplebacks released a bout of gas. The other head almost looked like it was sneering, devilish eyes glinting, and waited just a moment… until both Bjorn and Ingrid were in the midst of the gas, and it’s mouth sparked. The gas ignited with a fiery blaze, and Astrid screamed. No, no, no, her parents were in there. 

Her father was thrown out, holding his leg and groaning painfully. A yelp was heard from inside the remnants of the smoke. Thank Thor, her mom was alive. For now.

“MOM!” Astrid screamed, charging towards the sound of her voice.

“ASTRID, NO!” Bjorn commanded, but she ignored him. All of the dragons except for the one Zippleback had fled, but the remaining dragon stood there menacingly, an evil grin upon its face. Could dragons even have evil grins? Astrid didn’t know, but it sure looked like one. 

Ingrid was sprawled on the ground, skin charred. Astrid’s eyes widened in horror.

“Mom…?” she weakly sputtered. Ingrid met her gaze.

“Astrid, Astrid you have to leave. Now. I’ll be fine…” she glanced up at the angry beast worriedly.

“No, no mom-” Astrid started, but the Zippleback cut her off with a snarl. She spun and lunged towards it, against her mom’s retorts. One of its heads (Astrid didn’t know which one) suddenly rose in the air and came down with a snap. It opened its jaws wide and barely missed her, instead coming down on her mother. “NO!” Astrid screamed, but the dragon’s jaws had already latched around Ingrid’s leg.

Everything that happened after that was a blur. The other vikings had rushed towards the scene, scaring off the zippleback, dragging her mother to the healer’s hut, frantically yelling. Ingrid and Bjorn had both resided in the healer’s hut for several days, but the venom from the Zippleback and the many burns she’d suffered proved it significantly more difficult for Ingrid to recover. Bjorn was out after a few days, but he’d lost the use of his leg entirely. Astrid’s mother was pronounced dead two days later. The venom had gotten too deep in her system and she just couldn’t recover from the injuries she’d sustained.

The night that Ingrid had died, Bjorn had made it painfully clear to Astrid that it was all her fault. Astrid swore to herself that she’d never let him down again, never let herself go anywhere without her axe, and never stumble again. Her clumsiness was the whole reason this had happened. She forced herself to train all day every single day, so she’d never let down her family again. This was her obligation for the rest of her life, to serve and protect Berk, to never let anything like that happen ever again.

Her dad seemed to feel the same way. His resentment for her grew over time, and he fell into a dark haze, eventually turning to alcohol as the only means of escape. The first time he laid his hands on her, she was twelve years old. He’d been watching her train, and she’d stumbled, missing her target entirely and left completely exposed. He’d become so furious, she thought for a moment that she might join her mother in Valhalla, but he instead raised his fist and struck her across the ribs. Ever since that then, she never went a day without having to cover up her bruises and flinches to the others. 

This was her punishment from the Gods for killing her mom.