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The storm came fast. Too fast.
The first bolt of lightning cracked across the sky with a deafening roar, and Astrid froze. She had been helping to secure the edge of the stables with Stormfly when the sky turned from brooding grey to pitch black. Wind whipped through the cliffs like an angry dragon, and the thunder—loud, sharp, and relentless—shook her to the bone.
She couldn’t move.
Flashes of memory, too vivid to ignore, slammed into her: the explosion on Dragon’s Edge, the searing heat, the darkness, the hopelessness. Being blind. Helpless.
She stumbled backward, clutching at her chest, her breaths coming in short, ragged bursts. Her axe slipped from her grip, clattering against the stones, but she couldn’t hear it. All she could hear was the pounding of her heart and the rising scream of the storm.
And then—arms.
Warm, steady, familiar.
“Astrid! Hey—Astrid, look at me.”
Hiccup’s voice cut through the panic, not loud, but sure. Grounding. His hands cupped her face gently, thumbs brushing her cheeks.
She couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe.
“It’s just a storm,” he whispered, leaning in closer. “You’re safe. We’re not back there, okay? You’re not alone.”
Her fingers curled into the front of his vest, desperate for something solid, something real.
“I—I can’t—Hiccup—”
“Shh, it’s okay. Just breathe with me.” He pressed his forehead to hers, counting softly. “In… one, two, three… and out.”
She tried. It wasn’t perfect, but the rhythm helped. His presence helped.
The lightning flashed again, but this time, she didn’t flinch as hard. Not with him there.
“You remember when you got your sight back?” he said quietly, brushing a wet strand of hair behind her ear. “You were terrified then too, but you still walked out onto that field like a warrior.”
She gave a weak laugh, her breath hitching. “I was pretending.”
“You were brave. Pretending or not. And you’re brave now.”
They sat in the shelter of the stable, the storm raging around them, but slowly—slowly—it began to feel a little less loud. A little less like the past was going to swallow her whole.
Hiccup didn’t move until her breathing evened out. He just held her.
And she let him.
Because in a world full of dragons and storms and battles yet to come, Hiccup was her calm. Her anchor.
Her home.
And as the thunder rumbled one last time in the distance, Hiccup looked into her eyes and whispered with a soft, unwavering certainty:
“You’re the bravest person I’ve ever known.”