Chapter Text
The storm had passed, but the world remained dark.
Astrid sat on the edge of her hut’s wooden porch, fingers curled tightly around the warm mug of yak’s milk that Hiccup had brought her earlier. She could feel the heat, the smooth curve of the cup, the breeze brushing her hair aside—but not the sunrise she used to wake up early for. Not the bright blue sky. Not Stormfly circling above.
The sounds had grown louder. Birdsong. Waves. The crunch of boots on the gravel path below. Her friends whispering when they thought she couldn’t hear.
She could.
And it only made the silence inside her chest worse.
⸻
Stormfly nudged her gently, the rough texture of her scales grounding Astrid as she reached up and ran her fingers along her dragon’s snout. Stormfly had barely left her side in days, her chirps more gentle now, her movements more deliberate.
“Hey, girl,” Astrid murmured, voice steadier than she felt. “At least one of us isn’t treating me like I’m going to break.”
Stormfly warbled softly, then bumped her head gently against Astrid’s shoulder, almost like a hug.
⸻
Later, Hiccup found her feeling her way along the side of the clubhouse, one hand brushing the wood, the other holding her axe. She wasn’t ready to put it down yet—even if she couldn’t aim it like she used to.
“Hey,” he said softly, careful not to startle her.
“I heard you coming. You drag your boots,” she replied, lips curling just slightly.
He smiled, though she couldn’t see it. “That bad, huh?”
“No. Just… different.”
She paused. Hiccup didn’t speak. She appreciated that about him lately—he didn’t fill the silence with words that felt like pity.
“I need to learn the layout again. Without sight,” she said, matter-of-fact. “I can’t keep bumping into walls or knocking over buckets. I hate feeling… helpless.”
“You’re not helpless,” he said, gently stepping beside her. “You’re adjusting.”
She turned her face toward him. “So help me adjust. Don’t handle me. Don’t protect me. Help me train.”
Hiccup nodded, already expected this. “Then let’s start. One step at a time.”
⸻
They began simple. Walking the perimeter of the Edge. He guided her hand to key landmarks—trees, rocks, fences. He let her memorize the placement of huts, the slope of the hill to the training area, the steps leading to the watchtower.
When she stumbled, she cursed under her breath—but never asked for help.
He never offered, unless she reached out.
That first day, she made it across the main clearing, around the armory, and back again.
“Progress,” he said, when she sat down with a deep breath.
“I’ll take it,” she replied, head tilted up toward the sun she couldn’t see. “Even if I hate every second of this.”
Hiccup sat next to her. “You don’t have to pretend you’re okay.”
“I’m not,” she admitted, quietly. “But I will be.”
He glanced at her, her expression tight but determined, jaw clenched like it always was before a sparring match. “I believe you,” he said. “You’re still the strongest person I know.”
She turned toward him again. “That’s what I’m afraid of,” she whispered. “That I won’t be anymore.”
He reached over, hand brushing against hers. “You already are, Astrid. Not because of what you can see… but because of what you don’t let stop you.”
There was silence again. But this time, it didn’t feel empty.
Her fingers curled around his, quietly, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And even in the dark, something in her chest lit up again.