Chapter Text
A young woman of one and twenty stared at her reflection in the mirror, the flattened piece of shiny metal reflecting back someone she neither knew or recognised. Several women bustled around behind her, making their final arrangements.
“Here you go, Astrid, all mended.” Her mother held out the flower crown of chamomile flowers that had been crushed by Astrid’s very own hand just a few minutes earlier.
A deep sigh left her body, “And I already told you, I am not wearing it."
Even Astrid had to admit, the flower crown had been carefully woven by some of the village elders and was very beautiful, with dainty chamomile and flowers of yellow bedstraw wound around and through long strands of their native grasses. However, if they thought she would be wearing flowers of healing and fertility as they unwillingly gave her over to a husband they had another thing coming.
Her mother, Helga, swallowed heavily, not withdrawing the hand with the offered crown, “Astrid, the Chief has requested this specifically.”
Astrid felt her jaw clench tightly but made no effort to ease it. The Chief. The man who had worked tirelessly alongside his council to determine a way to rid the skies of the fearsome Dragon Master, and all they had come up with was a Virgin sacrifice.
“Then The Chief can wear it, mother.” Astrid said, her tone final. Her mother finally pulled her hand back.
The room went very silent then. Her father’s sister busied herself with folding Astrid’s remaining clothing into a single bag, her cousin Liv suddenly found the sideboard to be rather dusty.
The silence was broken by a loud clap of hands, “Right then,” Ruffnut exclaimed as she pushed herself off the wall, “We shall leave you two for a moment, I will meet you downstairs, Astrid.” And with one final knowing look and a wink Ruffnut left the room, closely followed by her aunt and cousin.
Her mother did not move for a long moment. Astrid continued to stare at herself in the mirror, the image distorting when she moved too slightly to the left.
“You should not speak of him that way.” Her mother said at last, her voice low.
Astrid let out a humourless breath, “Why? Because he’s Chief? Because he decided I should be dressed up like a bride before I’m handed over to die?”
“Astrid.” Her mother’s voice cracked on her name, and that, more than anything, made Astrid’s chest tighten, “Lower your voice.”
“There’s no one left to hear it,” Astrid shot back, though she did not raise her voice further. “They’ve all gone, or did you notice that this is the first time you have seen me in two weeks?”
Despite the truth in her tone, Helga did not falter. It was exactly the truth. Astrid’s life had been perfectly normal for a viking of her age, until she was taken from the Great Hall by two of the Council and locked in her bedroom for a fortnight whilst they ironed out the final pieces of their barbarous plan.
Still, her mother looked toward the door, as if expecting the others to return, then seemed to think better of it. Her shoulders sagged, “This is not how it was meant to be.” she murmured.
Astrid laughed, a short, brittle sound, “Oh? And how was it meant to be? I walk down there smiling, thank them for the flowers, and let them send me off like some kind of trade gift?”
Helga flinched back, “This is not a gift.”
“No,” Astrid said quietly, her gaze drifting back to the reflection in the metal, “It’s a bargain.”
“You think I do not know that?” her mother said suddenly, more force in her voice now, “You think I do not see what this is?” She took a step forward, lowering the crown onto the nearby table with unsteady hands. “Every night I have prayed they would choose another way. Every morning I have hoped the skies would clear on their own.”
“But they didn’t,” Astrid replied, “So they chose me.”
“They chose someone.” her mother corrected, though the words sounded hollow even to her own ears.
Astrid turned then, fully, meeting her mother’s gaze, “And that someone just happened to be me?”
Her mother said nothing, and that was answer enough.
Astrid’s eyes narrowed then, a thought that had been bouncing around her head for the past fortnight leaving her, “Did you argue for me?” she asked, her tone quiet, “When they sat in their circle and spoke of this… did you say my name?”
Her mother’s breath caught. “I didn’t know…”
“Did you?” Astrid pressed.
“I tried…” she began, but the words faltered under Astrid’s stare, “I told them you were not…” She swallowed hard, “That you were not a… that there were others who…”
“Who were what?” Astrid’s voice hardened, “More worthy? More expendable?”
“That is not what I meant!”
“It is exactly what you meant.”
“No,” Her mother stepped closer, reaching out before stopping herself, her hand hovering uselessly in the space between them, “I meant that you are my daughter.”
“And that was not enough, was it?”
Tears welled in her mother’s eyes, though she blinked them back quickly, as though even that small display might break something already beyond repair, “Nothing was enough,” she whispered. “The dragons take our livestock, our people.”
“That is rubbish and you know it. Not one Viking has been killed or taken since the raids ended five years ago. They are sending me to stop a figure they are scared of despite them doing nothing wrong. Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“It is meant to save lives.”
“And mine doesn’t count?”
Her mother’s composure finally cracked, “Do you think I would choose this?” she demanded, her voice rising, “Do you think I would stand here and dress you for this if there were any other way out of this?”
Astrid didn’t answer straight away. Instead, she took one final look at herself in the mirror before turning to face her.
“No,” she said finally, softer now, “I don’t think you would choose it, but you are letting it happen which is just as bad.”
Helga’s face crumpled, just for a second, before she forced it still again.
“Sometimes,” she said, her words slow, “we do not get to choose what happens, only how we face it.”
Astrid’s lips pressed into a thin line, “Well, I don’t intend to face it wearing flowers.”
A faint, broken smile touched her mother’s lips at that, gone almost as soon as it appeared, “You always were stubborn.”
“Yeah, and you always told me it would keep me alive. Look how far that has gotten me.” Astrid replied.
Another silence fell then as her mother gathered the rest of the things they would need for the ceremony, leaving Astrid to her reflection once again.
At last, her mother reached for the crown again, turning it gently in her hands, “They will be waiting,” she said, her voice steadier now, “With or without it.”
Astrid glanced at the flowers, then back at her own reflection.
“Then they can keep waiting a moment longer.” she replied shortly.
Her mother did not argue again. Perhaps she knew there was nothing left to say, or perhaps she feared that if she spoke, she might say something that would result in her losing her daughter forever if that wasn’t already the case. Helga refused to see this as goodbye, despite the sharp nagging in her head reminding her that this will likely result in her daughter’s death. So instead, she adjusted Astrid’s cloak with careful hands before pulling away.
“They will be waiting.” she repeated, softer now.
Astrid nodded once before turning to the door.
Astrid didn’t know much of the meeting, only the little she had learned from her few-minute long conversations with Ruffnut over the past few weeks. She had been able to get a few tidbits from Ruffnut via Snotlout, whose father was participating in the meetings. She did know that the meeting would be held at nightfall and that the whole village would be gathered for the spectacle. Despite what she was sure was very hard planning from the Council, they could not be sure that the Dragon Master would make an appearance on this night, his visits to the isle were often sporadic and related to heightened dragon activity. She had no information on if they had sent for him or not, or even if any correspondence would be able to reach him.
When she walked up to the cliff face where the meeting would take place, it was full as expected. Villagers, all that she recognised, parted in the middle to make a path and Astrid and her mother. The thought of it resembling an aisle knocked Astrid sick to her stomach. She spotted council members as she walked by and schooled her expression, not giving them the satisfaction despite the terror that was slowly setting in.
At the far end, the Chief stood with some of his council, Snotlout was notably absent from the group but his father was there. Gobber stood there also, refusing to meet her eyes. Stoick inclined his head as she approached, as though greeting her at some ordinary gathering.
“Astrid.” he said.
She did not bow, only met his steely eyes.
“Stoick.”
A flicker of disapproval passed over the faces behind him, but he only studied her for a moment, his gaze sharp as usual.
“You understand what is being asked of you.”
Astrid held his gaze, “Perfectly.”
“Then you…”
A crash split the air, smoke rising from the tree-line to her left.
“Now!” came a shout.
Ruffnut.
She was the first to break through the trees, shoving her small frame into one of the Council members that had reached for Astrid’s arm. The man, Astrid recognised him as the village baker Haldor, went down hard, but Ruffnut didn’t slow, grabbing Astrid’s arm as she reached her.
“Time to go!”
Snotlout was right behind her, shoving his way through the crowd that was now closing in, “Left!” He snapped, “Go!”
Fishlegs and Tuffnut brought up the rear. Tuff shoved the Chief’s podium into the path of the oncoming villagers, buying them a few seconds.
Astrid wasn’t really thinking as she ran, her feet carrying her down the cliffside and back towards the village where a boat was waiting for them. She could hear the Chief barking orders behind them, but didn’t pay any mind to it, only watching her own feet as they navigated the rocky hillside.
For one fleeting, impossible moment their plan had worked.
Then…
Snotlout cursed as someone slammed into him from behind, tearing his grip from Astrid’s arm. He twisted and let go of her arm.
Tuffnut ducked a swinging arm, only to be caught by another, his wrist was seized and wrenched back.
Ruffnut tried to push through, forcing a path with sheer strength, but she faltered when someone struck her across the back of her legs.
“Keep moving!” Fishlegs shouted, but even as he did, two villagers bore down on him, driving him backward.
Astrid felt fingers close around her arm again, but not Snotlout’s this time. She twisted, striking out on instinct, her elbow connecting with someone’s ribs. A grunt of pain, but it wasn’t enough. Another set of hands caught her arm, holding her still. One of the men behind her placed a heavy foot on the veil she wore, yanking her head back.
“No!” Ruffnut’s voice, somewhere to her right.
“Astrid!”
“Run!”
But there was nowhere left to run.
By the time the struggle ended, Astrid stood right back where she had started, at the bottom of the hill surrounded by the village that had put her there. She hadn’t been allowed to stand alone the second time, her shoulders were held tightly by two men, one of them her very own father.
Her friends were dragged forward one by one. Snotlout had blood on his lip, his head down as to not catch a glance at his father’s face. Ruffnut was held steady by another villager, her arm clasped tightly. Fishlegs was breathing hard, his shoulders tense. Tuffnut was grimacing but upright, a bruise already beginning to appear on the side of his face. They remained silent as they were forced into a line before the Chief.
“This,” the Chief said slowly, his gaze sweeping over them, “was a grave mistake. How could you all be so foolish?”
Ruffnut laughed, “Yeah? Looked like a pretty good idea from where I was standing. You are offering her up to her death.”
A murmur rippled through the villagers.
The Chief ignored it. His attention shifted to Astrid, something unreadable passing through his expression.
“It seems,” he continued, “that you will not go to your fate alone.”
A chill ran through Astrid, sharper than any blade she’d ever handled.
“No,” she said immediately, struggling against the grip on her arms, “They had nothing to do with this. This was my…”
“They broke the will of the village,” he cut in, “They interfered with a sacred decision.”
“This wasn’t sacred,” Astrid snapped, “It was cowardice.”
“Enough,” the Chief said, his voice cutting sharply through the noise. He turned, addressing the villagers now, “Bind them.”
Astrid fought harder then than she had before, twisting, pulling, trying to break free as they reached for her friends.
“No, don’t. This isn’t…!”
“It’s alright, Astrid” Fishlegs said quietly as they bound his hands, his gaze steady on hers.
Tuff huffed a breath, “…was worth… a shot.”
Snotlout managed a tight, crooked smile, “Still is. We just need another plan.”
Astrid’s throat tightened. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, they weren’t supposed to be here but now they were going to pay the price with her.
“Take them.” Stoick ordered.
The sky was black as they marched back up the hill for a second time, a rare starless night on the Isle of Berk. Walking the procession this time, Astrid noticed that the wind picked up as they climbed, the waves hitting the cliffs several hundred feet down. Astrid no longer held any regard for the intelligence of the Village Council, but this truly was the perfect night for an appearance from the elusive Dragon Master.
The night grew colder as they waited for him, the skirts of Astrid’s dress doing very little in terms of warmth. The moon grew higher and the burning torches in the village started to go out.
Then, there they were.
The Night Fury moved through the night sky stealthily, the only giveaway to their existence the telltale whoosh that followed them.
Stoick stood apart from the crowd, his frame silhouetted against the dying torchlight. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, the knuckles white with tension. Behind him, the village of Berk sprawled in the darkness… his people, his responsibility, his burden.
He'd made this choice, the final word came from him alone, and the weight of it pressed down on his shoulders like the weight of the entire island itself.
Astrid Hofferson. A warrior. A daughter. A young woman with her whole life ahead of her, and he was about to offer her to a stranger in the night. a dragon rider whose intentions were unknown, whose very nature was a mystery.
One person, he told himself, the justification hollow even in his own mind, Just one person could save hundreds.
It was the logic of war and the logic of leadership, the logic that had kept Berk alive through centuries of dragon raids and hardship. You made the hard choices so others didn't have to, you sacrificed the few to save the many.
But Gods, it felt like cowardice.
Stoick's jaw clenched as he thought of Helga Hofferson's face when he'd announced the decision to the council. The way her expression had crumpled, the way she'd looked at him like he'd betrayed something fundamental, and maybe he had.
There had to be another way, a voice whispered in his mind, the voice of doubt… the voice of his wife, the voice he'd spent years trying to ignore. There had to be something else you could have offered. Gold. Weapons. Territory. Anything but…
But what? A girl? A woman? A life?
He'd asked the council for alternatives. Arg had suggested fortifying the village further, but they both knew that wouldn't stop a determined dragon rider. Gobber had been silent, which was worse somehow than any argument. And the others... the others had simply looked at him with the weight of their own families in their eyes, silently grateful it wasn't their daughters standing in that ceremonial dress.
Stoick turned to look back at Astrid, standing between the guards. Even from this distance, he could see the tension in her shoulders, the way she held herself with the dignity of a warrior facing her fate. She wasn't crying. She wasn't begging. She was simply... accepting.
And that made it worse.
I'm sorry, he thought, the words bitter on his tongue, I'm sorry I couldn't find another way. I'm sorry I'm choosing your life over the lives of my people. I'm sorry I'm the kind of man who can make this choice and live with it.
But could he? Could he really?
Stoick took a deep breath, steeling himself. The Night Fury was approaching and the he’d been thinking about for a fortnight was here. He had to be the Chief now, not the man drowning in doubt. He had to be the leader his people needed, even if it meant sacrificing someone else's daughter.
The Chief stepped forward, adjusting his thick belt as he approached the edge of the cliff face, “Dragon Master, I summon you to a meeting to discuss an exchange. Come and meet with us, unless you are too cowardly.”
Astrid felt her heart stop bearing in her chest, and for a few hopeful moments she thought that the Dragon Master was going to ignore the Chief completely. A smile pulled at the side of her mouth as she pictured Stoick’s expression in that moment, stony and frosty she was sure.
The Night Fury landed lightly, fifteen-metres-or-so away from the Chief. The dragon had moved through the night without alerting them to a single direction of movement, the whole village was startled by its appearance. The figure atop its back looked as fearsome as the dragon itself, a sword strapped to their hip and miscellaneous contraptions attached to the dark suit they wore. Astrid narrowed her eyes and leaned forward in her captor’s grasp, recoiling when she realised the suit was made from dragon scales.
The rider made no effort to move from the dragon, instead cocking their head to the side as they took in the view before them, their attention pulled to the five young adults bound with rope behind the Chief.
“Stoick the Vast. What exactly is the meaning of this?” The voice said finally. Male, Astrid noted. The rider stood from the dragon then, but didn’t move far from his side. His hand moved to the hilt of the strange sword at his side. He didn’t look like the typical viking, Astrid thought, not at all brawny but rather tall and slender.
Stoick stepped forward two steps, and the Night Fury bared its teeth for the first time. A muffled fear crept over the village as they watched the rider place a hand stop the dragon’s head, calming him in an instant. Although Stoick’s expression could not be seen by the village, Astrid could imagine that it was rather smug in that moment. The rumours that had reached them through letters and traders had been true after all, the rider can control the dragons.
“I have bought you an offering, Dragon Master. You keep dragons away from our shores and you can have what we offer in return.”
The rider wore a mask, but Astrid was sure that he scoffed under it.
“There are no dragons on your shores, Stoick. In case it has escaped your notice, the raids stopped five years ago and there hasn’t been one since.” The rider shook his head, taking a step towards the Chief.
“There may not be raids anymore, but the Dragons are still draining us of our livestock resource.”
“Livestock?” The rider laughed, “You are willing to hand over one of your best fighters to save some livestock.”
“This is about more than livestock, demon. This is about ridding our Isle of you and your kind of vermin. Take the trade.” Stoick growled.
The rider shook his head then and stepped back towards his dragon, reaching for one of the saddle handles to mount.
“So the rumours are true, you are nothing but a coward.” Spitelout scoffed from Stoick’s side, his shoulders straightening.
“If you want to talk about the actions of cowards, I would start right at home with yourselves. You have trussed up one of your people as a bride to offer as a sacrifice, and let me ask, the four behind her in ropes what exactly did they do to deserve your ire?” The rider cast his arm out to where Snotlout, Fishlegs, Ruffnut and Tuffnut were still bound at the wrists.
Stoick locked his jaw and cast his eyes over to the traitorous teens, before facing the Dragon Master once more.
“They disrupted our plans, attempted to get away with the Sacrifice.”
Astrid’s head snapped to Stoick then. The Sacrifice. Her whole life she had dedicated to this village, swearing off relationships and committing herself to her shield maidenship to ensure the village was defended until her last breath, only to become their sacrificial lamb.
“The dragons do no harm to your people, whatever sacrifice your people have cooked up is past unnecessary.” The rider mounted the dragon easily, and Astrid noticed the prosthetic for the first time. Even in the darkness and with her limited movement, she could see that it was advanced beyond anything she had ever seen.
“I don’t believe you understand me, Demon. You will take them, or they will die at your hand.” Stoick nodded his head in the direction of one of his council members, who raised his knife against Ruffnut’s throat.
Astrid was not one to panic. She was always precise in her planning, never one to leave anything until the last moment, and she was certainly not one for the element of surprise. But, she panicked then.
“Wait, I’ll go.” Her voice cleanly cut through the wind atop the hillside.
Stoick turned, his gaze fixed on her, “You already are.”
“You misunderstood me, Stoick. I will walk to them, I will not fight. I will not run. And in return, you let them go.”
Silence fell as the crowd took in her intent.
Stoick studied her for a moment, sure that this was an additional escape attempt, then his eyes shifted to the four figures bound beside her.
Ruffnut scoffed immediately. “No. Absolutely not.”
“Astrid…” Tuffnut started.
“Don’t,” she said, not looking at them. If she did, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to finish this, “Just… don’t.”
“You don’t get to make that call for us.” Snotlout stated.
Astrid turned her head minutely to face him. He had never really been that much of a friend to her, only in the past few weeks since the decision was made. Despite being next in line as heir following the disappearance of the Chief’s son, he had risked it all to save her from her fate.
“I do if it keeps you alive.”
Fishlegs shook his head then, a rare bout of anger flashing across his face, “That’s not a trade, Astrid. That’s you giving up.”
“You don’t have a choice in this. You all risked everything to save me, I’m just doing the same for you,” She turned back to the Chief, “Well?”
He did not answer immediately. Instead, he stepped closer, boots grinding against the dirt and loose stone, his expression unreadable.
“You would surrender yourself,” he said slowly, “for those who defied the will of this village?”
“Yes.”
“No resistance.”
“No.”
“No further attempts to escape.”
“You have my word.”
He considered her, with an expression that she had seen her whole life. His mouth was set in a straight line, eyes narrowed as he thought through her offer.
“Chief…” Spitelout began, stepping forward, but Stoick silenced him with a raised hand, his gaze never leaving Astrid.
“And if I refuse?”
“Then we all go, and word is spread across the archipelago that Chief Stoick the Vast was willing to waste four additional lives when you could have had what you wanted without a fight,” She turned his own words on him then, “You said you wanted this to be clean, for it to mean something. Then let it be what you said it was, a sacrifice, not a slaughter.”
The Chief exhaled slowly. After a few seconds, finally, “Release them.”
The order rippled through the crowd like a stone dropped into still water, and the reactions that followed were as varied and complex as the village itself. A cheer erupted from the northern section, warriors and their families who saw only the practical benefit, one life for peace. One life for safety. An older man with a scarred face nodded approvingly, his hand on his son's shoulder, “It's done then. We're protected.”
But the cheer was not universal.
Near the centre of the crowd, a woman, one of the fishwives who'd known Astrid since childhood, made a sound like a wounded animal. Her hand covered her mouth, and tears streamed down her face, “No,” she whispered to no one in particular, “No, that's not right. That's not…” Her companion, another woman of similar age, wrapped an arm around her, but said nothing… what was there left to say?
The younger warriors were divided. Some nodded grimly, accepting the necessity, but others shifted uncomfortably, their expressions troubled. A boy no more than sixteen, one of the boys Astrid had happily trained, stared at her with betrayal in his eyes. He'd looked up to her, and now she was being given away like a piece of tribute.
Helga Hofferson stood frozen, her face draining of colour as the ropes binding her daughter were cut. Her husband reached for her hand, but she pulled away, stepping forward as if to protest. Then she stopped, her shoulders sagging. What could she do? What could any of them do against the Chief's word?
An elder woman, Gothi’s contemporary, shook her head slowly, her weathered face grave, “This is the price of survival,” she said to those around her, but her voice carried doubt, “This is what we must do.” Yet even as she spoke the words, her eyes remained fixed on Astrid, and there was sorrow there… deep, aching sorrow.
Not everyone accepted the logic so easily.
“No, this is wrong,” a merchant's wife said loudly enough to turn heads, “We're sacrificing our own, our own. What does that make us?” Her husband pulled her back, whispering urgently, but the damage was done. Others had heard and thers were thinking it too.
The guards who'd held the four young people released them without ceremony, and there was an awkward shuffle as they were herded away from Astrid. Ruffnut's face was a mask of fury and helplessness. Fishlegs looked like he might be sick. Snotlout's jaw was clenched so tightly it seemed his teeth might crack, and through it all, the crowd stood in a strange, fractured silence. Relief and horror existed side by side. Gratitude and guilt. The knowledge that they were safe, purchased at the cost of a daughter, a friend, a warrior.
An old man near the back simply wept, making no attempt to hide it. Around him, people pretended not to notice, each lost in their own moral calculations, their own justifications and doubts. This was survival. This was the price of peace, and no one in that crowd was entirely comfortable with what they'd just witnessed, even as they accepted it as necessary.
“No!” Ruffnut surged forward, only to be held back by her shoulders once more. In retaliation, she bought her elbow up and slammed it into his nose, a sickly crack sounding.
“Astrid, don’t do this.” Fishlegs’ voice broke through, sharper than she had ever heard.
Snotlout just stared at her, his expression fiery, “This isn’t right, Astrid, and you know it.”
“It is if you’re alive to be angry about it later.” She fired back.
As the Chief had ordered, the ropes were cut and the four were forced away to create a distance between them and her.
Astrid did not look at them again. She couldn’t.
She was released herself, and was shoved in the direction of the Night Fury. The white skirts she wore were longer than anything she had ever become accustomed to, so she was not surprised when the toe of her boot caught in them and she tripped over herself. Unable to catch herself due to her bound wrists, she closed her eyes and accepted her fate as the green grass got closer.
Suddenly, she was caught under her arms and pulled to her feet. The Dragon Master had leapt from his dragon to catch her. He held her arms to keep her steady, his hands loosening around her biceps once she was steady on her feet.
“Are you alright?” His voice was muffled through the mask he wore, his mouth covered by the material it was made from. She could, however, see his eyes. They were wide, green and notably human.
“Yes.” She answered quickly.
He pulled a small knife from a sheath on his arm then, the handle of it intricately carved and the blade shinier than one she had ever seen. She moved to pull away sharply, only to he held still by the ropes around her wrists.
“It’s alright. I’m just going to cut these.” He placed the sharp blade below the ropes and cut through them with ease, freeing her hands. Immediately she bought her hand to her wrist, attempting to soothe the irritation there. She stopped halfway, realising that the rider before her had just cut her restraints without any hesitation.
He was taller than her by almost a head, so when he addressed Stoick again, he didn’t see any reason to move her to the side.
“I will accept your offer. If you do not keep your promise to free those who tried to help her, I will know about it.”
Stoick’s eyes narrowed, “Is that a threat?”
“No, just a warning. As long as they remain free we will have no further issues. Are we understood?”
Instead of answering the Dragon Master, Stoick turned on his heel and moved to confer with the members of his council that approached.
“I will take that as a yes, then.” The rider muttered under his breath as he moved away from Astrid.
Despite the promise she had made, she hesitated. The rider moved towards his dragon, holding out his hand for her to take.
“Astrid. I promise you that as long as you are no threat to myself, my dragons or my people you have no need to fear for your safety. You will be safe with us.”
She met his eyes then, and despite the armour and the mask made from dragon scales, the green eyes that shone brightly through the mask were earnest.
Forcing herself to not turn back around, she took his hand. She was reticent to trust him, after all all she had known her whole life was that dragons were harmful and dangerous, never in her wildest thoughts did she think she could ever ride one. The Dragon Master’s grip was firm, but not harsh. He guided her forward, one steady step at a time, until she stood at the Night Fury’s side. Up close, she could see that the scales were what made the rider’s flight suit. The dragon’s eyes were green, bright, and intelligent, and fixed on her.
Astrid froze. Every instinct that she had ever learned screamed at her to step back, to reach for the trusty axe that had been removed from her person two weeks earlier.
The dragon huffed, a warm breath washed over her face.
“He won’t hurt you.” the rider said quietly.
Astrid didn’t respond, her gaze locked with the Night Fury’s.
“He?” she managed eventually.
A faint hint of amusement coloured the rider’s tone, “Yes. And he’s just deciding if he likes you.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
There was a pause, “Then this would have gone very differently already.”
The Night Fury tilted its head, studying her. Then, slowly, it stepped back, providing just enough space for her to move. The rider took that as his answer.
“Up you go.”
Astrid blinked, “Up where?”
He gestured behind him, “You’re not planning on walking, are you?”
She stared at him for a moment, then at the dragon, then back at him again, “You expect me to climb onto that?”
“Unless you have a boat hidden in the layers of your dress?”
“You’re serious.”
“Completely.”
She hesitated, just for a moment, but long enough for the rider to notice. She promised herself that she would not turn around, but her resolve wavered and she turned, just barely.
Her friends were still there, held at a distance, being watched closely but no longer bound. Tuffnut looked ready to charge again despite everything. Fishlegs stood beside him, tense but unmoving. Snotlout’s face was pale, his hands clenched tightly at his sides. Ruffnut was staring straight at her in a way that made her chest ache.
Astrid swallowed hard, then she turned back to the dragon and his rider.
“I suppose,” she said, more to herself than anyone else, “it would be a poor end to all of this if I fell off before we even left the ground.”
“That would be unfortunate.” the rider agreed dryly.
He climbed onto the dragon first with practiced ease, his prosthetic locking into place with a soft, mechanical click. Once settled, he turned back to her, offering his hand again.
“Foot here,” he instructed, tapping a lower part of the saddle rigging with his foot, “Then swing up.”
Astrid eyed it and without giving herself time to think, she moved. Her foot found the hold, her grip tightened on his arm, and with a swift motion, she pulled herself up behind him. The unfamiliar weight of the dress made it awkward, but she managed, settling carefully onto the saddle.
It was… strange. Not uncomfortable, per say, just different.
“Hold on.” he said.
“To what?” she asked immediately.
There was a beat, “…Me.”
Astrid closed her eyes briefly. Of course. Reluctantly, she reached forward, her hands hovering for a moment before settling against his sides. She could feel the armour beneath her fingers, the texture unfamiliar.
“Ready?” he asked.
“If you want an honest answer, the answer is no.” she answered.
“That’s good enough for now.”
Before she could respond, he gave a signal and the Night Fury moved. Power coiled beneath them, muscles shifting, wings unfurling and with a leap the dragon lurched forward and they were airborne.
Astrid gasped, her breath stolen as the wind rushed past them, colder and sharper than before. Her fingers dug into the rider’s armour as the dragon climbed higher and moved faster through the air, Berk shrinking behind them with every passing second.
Astrid dared a glance downward at the sea below and immediately regretted it.
“Eyes up,” the rider called over the wind, as if sensing it, “It’s easier that way at first, I promise.”
She snapped her gaze forward again, her heart pounding wildly in her chest.
“This is insane!” she shouted.
“Most people say that the first time.”
“First time?!” she echoed, “You think there’s going to be a second?!”
There was a hint of laughter in his voice, “We’ll see.”
Astrid tightened her grip again, pressing closer without meaning to as the dragon banked slightly to the left, adjusting its course.
For a while, neither of them spoke, there was only the rush of wind and the overwhelming, undeniable reality that everything Astrid had ever known had just been left behind.
They travelled for minutes, which turned into hours. The wind did not ease, if anything it grew sharper as they got closer to the edge of the archipelago, cutting through Astrid’s thin ceremonial dress as though it were nothing. She shifted slightly behind him instinctively, trying to warm herself against the cold, and, if she was honest, against the unfamiliarity of it all.
Eventually, they crossed a fog bank and then broke out to sunny skies and calm blue seas. Still neither of them spoke, but then, “You can let go a little.” he called back over his shoulder.
Astrid didn’t loosen her grip.
“I’m not going to drop you.”
“That is not the part I am concerned about,” she shot back. “It’s everything else.”
That earned a quiet huff of amusement.
“Fair.”
Another stretch of silence passed, filled only by the rhythmic beat of wings and the crashing of waves below them.
Astrid swallowed, then forced the question out.
“Why did you come?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
“You could have ignored him,” she pressed, “The Chief. You said it yourself, there are no raids, no reason to deal with us. So why come at all?”
The dragon dipped slightly, adjusting to a current, and the rider leaned with it instinctively before replying.
“I wouldn’t usually,” he admitted, “Most of the time, I stay well clear of Berk.”
“Then why tonight?”
“Because your Chief is many things,” he said slowly, “but subtle isn’t one of them. When someone starts shouting into the night sky, it tends to draw attention.”
Despite everything, Astrid almost smiled.
“Lucky me.”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“And the… sacrifice?” she asked, “You really didn’t know?”
“We didn’t know fully.”
There was no hesitation in that answer.
“We’d heard rumours,” he continued, “Whispers from traders, just fragments of stories, but nothing solid. I thought it was just that a story. I never expected my… your Chief to be capable of anything like this.”
Despite her attentive nature, Astrid did not catch the slip up.
“Well… definitely not a story.”
“No,” he said quietly, “Clearly not.”
Astrid’s grip tightened again, though this time it had nothing to do with the wind.
“They locked me in my room for two weeks,” she said, the words coming before she could stop them, “Wouldn’t let me train. Wouldn’t let me see anyone except…” She stopped herself.
“Except?” he prompted.
“Ruffnut,” she finished, “She snuck in when she could.”
“The one who elbowed Haldor?”
“That’s her, she’s not one for subtlety.”
A hint of approval coloured his tone, “I like her already.”
Astrid huffed a quiet breath, “She’s going to be insufferable if she finds out I survived this.”
“That implies she won’t come looking for you.”
Astrid stilled slightly at that.
“…She might, all of them might. We had a boat in the harbour ready to go.” she admitted.
“Good.”
That surprised her.
“You don’t mind?”
“If someone has a person willing to come after them,” he said simply, “It usually means they’re worth keeping around.”
Astrid frowned slightly at that, something about the phrasing catching her attention.
“Keeping around?”
He didn’t elaborate. Instead, he shifted slightly in the saddle. “What about you?”
“What about me?” She asked with raised brows.
“You didn’t hesitate," he said, "Back there. When you made the trade yourself.”
Astrid looked out over the dark stretch of sea below them.
“Yes, I did.”
“Not from where I was sitting.”
“That’s because you couldn’t hear my thoughts.”
“And?”
“I was afraid,” she admitted finally, “Not of… this,” She gestured vaguely to the sky, the dragon, everything around them, “Of them. Of what would happen if I didn’t say something.”
He was quiet, letting her continue.
“They weren’t going to stop at me,” she said, “Not once things went wrong. They would have made an example of all of us.”
“Probably.”
“And I couldn’t let that happen.”
The Dragon Master let a few beats pass before answering, "So you chose for them.”
Astrid bristled slightly, “I chose the only option that kept them alive.”
“That doesn’t mean they’ll thank you for it.”
“Good job I don’t need them to.”
Another pause.
“…You might.” he said, softer now.
Astrid didn’t respond to that. Instead, she shifted the conversation.
“You said you have people,” she said, “Back there.”
“I do.”
“Where?”
He tilted his head slightly forward.
“Not far now.”
Astrid followed his line of sight. At first, she saw nothing but darkness, then lights started to appear on the horizon. They were faint at first, and could probably pass as stars, but as they drew closer, they grew brighter, highlighting something solid in the ocean.
An island.
Much larger than anything she had expected. Truth be told, she had half expected a desolate cavern or a makeshift camp stop a sea stack. No, this was alive and enormous. Even though the sun had long set, there was clear movement on the Isle. Figures were moving between organised stone buildings with smoke coming from chimneys and torches burning highlighting larger structures and village pathways. The island was clearly well defended, with high mountainous regions and walls, and the closer they she could make out armed ballistas and guardsmen.
And above all of that were the dragons. Dozens of them. Not attacking or hunting, but living amongst the people that resided here, assisting with the defence of their homeland.
Astrid’s breath caught.
“What… is this?”
“Home. Astrid, welcome to Dragon’s Edge.” he said.
The Night Fury began its descent, wings angling to cut cleanly through the air toward the island below. The closer they got, the more Astrid could make out. People were weaving from what looked like homes to village stores, moving freely amongst the dragons that had landed there. Children were running between them without any fear at all. A Nadder lumbered past a row of huts towards what appeared to be the village town centre, a tradesman threw it a fish, barely sparing it a glance as though he had expected it to appear.
It didn’t make sense to Astrid, none of it.
They landed on a wide wooden platform, clearly used for that purpose. The impact was smooth and controlled, and before Astrid could fully process it, the dragon had already folded its wings.
She didn’t move, her eyes roaming the village now surrounding her.
“You can get off.” he said.
Right. Astrid blinked, then carefully slid down from the saddle, her legs slightly unsteady as her boots hit solid ground again. The rider dismounted more fluidly, his prosthetic releasing with a soft click as he landed beside her.
Up close, closer than before, Astrid found herself staring at him again. At the mask, at the way he moved, at the small, almost unconscious gestures he made as he reached up to pat the Night Fury’s neck. Something about it, something about him, pricked at her memory. Familiar. She frowned slightly.
“Have we met?” she asked before she could stop herself.
He stilled, just for a fraction of a second, then he turned to face her fully.
Through the mask, those green eyes met hers again. There it was. That feeling.
“No,” he said after a moment, “I don’t think so.”
Astrid wasn’t convinced, but before she could press further, a voice called out from across the landing area.
“Hey! You’re back!”
Two people approached, clearly expecting him. One taller male with his black hair tied back, and a girl with silver armour and her hair tied back into a neat braid that rested over her shoulder. The rider glanced past her, then back again.
“Welcome,” The male said, gesturing lightly to the bustling island around them, “to the place your Chief would say is a myth.”
Astrid turned slowly, taking it all in once more.
“You’re late,” the female addressed the Dragon Master, hands settling on her hips, “And you’re not alone.”
“No, I’m not.” the rider replied simply.
The girl’s brows shot up, “No kidding,” her eyes looked across the dress Astrid wore, her eyes locking onto the thread and beading work usually associated with Berkian garments, “Ceremonial, too. Gods, don’t tell me they actually went through with it.”
Astrid stiffened, “Went through with what?”
The girl’s expression darkened immediately, “Don’t play dumb. The sacrifice. We’ve been hearing whispers about it for weeks.”
“They were going to,” the rider said, his tone flattening slightly, “Until they weren’t.”
That earned him a sharp look.
“You went there?” the male asked, surprise clear in his voice, “Alone?”
“I had Toothless.” he replied, as if that answered everything.
“…Right.” the male muttered.
The girl crossed her arms, “And instead of burning the place to the ground, you brought one of them back?”
Astrid bristled at that, “One of them?”
The girl didn’t look particularly apologetic, “No offence, but your village was about five minutes away from offering you up to a dragon like a roast chicken.”
“That wasn’t exactly my decision.” Astrid snapped.
“No,” the rider cut in, calm but firm, “It wasn’t.”
Silence flickered briefly between them.
The male stepped in before it could stretch too far, “Okay, maybe we start with names before this turns into something else,” He offered Astrid a small, tentative smile, “I’m…”
“Later,” the rider said, his tone not harsh but final.
The girl narrowed her eyes slightly, “That bad?”
The rider glanced back toward the sky they’d come from, “Worse than we thought,” he said, “They weren’t just considering it. They had already chosen her.”
“And the villagers?” the male asked, “Did nobody try to stop it?”
“My friends tried to escape with me, but it didn’t work.” Astrid followed the Dragon Master’s line of sight, her eyes landing on where the Night Fury, Toothless, was nuzzling against a silver metallic dragon Astrid didn’t recognise.
The girl’s eyebrows rose, “Your friends? Are they okay, they aren’t with you?”
“They’re alive,” Astrid said quickly, stepping forward before she could stop herself, “They let them go. That was the deal I made.”
The rider’s gaze flicked to her briefly, something unreadable passing through his eyes, before he gave a small nod.
“For now.” he added.
Astrid’s stomach tightened, “You said that…”
“I said I’d know if Berk didn’t keep their word,” he replied, “I didn’t say they’d suddenly become trustworthy.”
The girl huffed, “Fair.” She uncrossed her arms, studying Astrid again, more carefully this time.
“So,” she said, tilting her head slightly, “you just… agreed to go with them?”
Astrid hesitated, “Yes.”
“Just like that?”
“No,” Astrid said, a little sharper than she intended, “Not just like that.”
The male lifted his hands slightly, “Hey, easy. No one’s saying it was simple.”
“It wasn’t,” Astrid insisted, “They could have killed all of us if I didn’t.”
That landed.
The girl’s expression shifted slightly into something a touch less sharp and a bit more understanding.
“…Right,” she said quietly.
A brief silence followed, filled with the distant sounds of the island, the chirping of dragons and the bustling of people returning to their homes for the evening.
“So, what’s the plan?” The male asked, looking to the Dragon Master.
Astrid realised then, they were looking to him for direction. Both the male and the girl were not just looking for answers to their questions, they wanted instructions on how next to proceed.
The rider didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached up, unfastening part of the harness at his shoulder, his movements practiced and automatic.
“We’ll have to keep an eye on Berk now,” he said, “If they break their word, we’ll need to respond.”
“Respond how?” the girl asked.
His hand stilled briefly, then continued his movements.
“Stupidly, probably.”
The girl nodded once, as if that was answer enough, like she had been expecting that kind of answer from him.
The male shifted his weight, “And her?”
Astrid felt their attention return to her all at once, the rider finally turned fully toward her again. Up close, in the firelight, the mask seemed less like armour and more like something chosen. Something intentional.
“You stay.” he said.
Astrid blinked, “Stay?”
“Yes, for now.”
“You know, that’s not really an explanation.”
“No,” he agreed, “It’s not.”
Her jaw tightened slightly, “You brought me here, I think I deserve a better answer than that.”
For a moment, something flickered across his face that was too quick for her to decipher, and then he reached up and removed his mask.
“Chief, are you sure…” The girl started, her voice fading out as he removed the gear.
Astrid’s breath caught, because she knew that face. Not entirely and not recently, but certainly enough to recognise those features.
“…You," she said, barely above a whisper.
The Dragon Master, Hiccup, held her gaze steadily.
“Yeah,” he said, “Hi, Astrid.”