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Astrid had long since given up on understanding the utility of Hiccup’s inventions. Toothless’s tail was obviously necessary. Designs for village improvements made sense—but any tinkering in the forge for Hiccup’s personal pleasure yielded stranger results. He had created many hybrids between genius and utter lunacy.
At first glance, the Gronckle-iron shield seemed reasonable. Hiccup was accident prone with a talent for attracting enemy attention. A defensive item was only prudent. Plated with nearly indestructible metal and convertible into a crossbow, Astrid would have been envious of his shield–until she discovered the superfluous additions.
What was the point of a miniature catapult and a grappling line? Both, Hiccup insisted, had their uses.
It irritated Astrid to watch him handle thing. He was proud of its complexity that made complete sense to him. Only to him. It was annoying, not because she had a burning need to know how the shield worked, but because she wanted to know how Hiccup worked. She wanted to understand him in all his brilliance and eccentricities.
What made him think a multi-purpose shield was necessary? How did intricate designs form in his head? Why was his unique blend of creativity and oddness so intriguing?
At least one of those questions was more easily answered.
She studied him as they walked together, leaving the academy when the day’s lesson ended. Hiccup was fussing with his shield, brow furrowed as he ran his fingers along the metal rim where it curved back over the wooden base structure. His eyes widened when he tripped the catapult, and it sprung to life with a faint twang. Thankfully, it lacked ammunition.
“I guess the trigger’s still a little sensitive,” he told her with a sheepish grin. “I’m going to have to tweak that.”
Astrid did not know why he still got so flustered around her. His inventions were impressive, whether or not every aspect made sense. Her opinion should have counted for a pittance, yet he was always so mindful of what she thought. But it did not deter her from brutal honesty to spare his feelings.
“What could you possibly need a built-in catapult for?” she asked skeptically. “It seems kind of pointless to me.“
He frowned at her criticism, but it did not give her pause. She was eager to pick apart his thought process–to make his brain less of a mystery.
“So the shield can function both defensively and offensively,” he replied, resetting the catapult. It was a very logical answer, but there was still something lacking in the concept.
“I thought that’s why it’s also a crossbow,” she commented–a design element she could admit was clever.
“Yes, but if I don’t have the time to convert it in battle, the catapult acts as a second form of attack.”
“With such a limited range? Your enemy would have to be close, and I would think you’d be too busy using it as the shield it was intended to be used. Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of the catapult?”
“Maybe it does,” he conceded with a sigh. He pursed his lips, eyes downcast as he mulled over her words. "You know more about combat than I do, but I doesn’t really hurt to be prepared for any situation, right?“
She supposed it was unsurprising that he would have thought to include features that were useless except under a very specific set of circumstances. He did have an aptitude for getting into unusual predicaments. Perhaps that made him a bit paranoid?
“Oh, well in that case, why don’t you go all–out and install some kind of flammable projectile?” she retorted, rolling her eyes.
Hiccup opened his mouth, probably to reject the idea, but he closed it, quirking an eyebrow as he glanced skyward, considering the possibilities. She could practically see his brain fast at work, piecing together a vague concept he would hurry off to sketch. She punched him in the shoulder for daring to take her sarcastic quip seriously.
“Don’t. I was only joking. No, seriously. Hiccup, don’t.”
He smiled and Astrid felt her own lips quirk. His warmheartedness was contagious. There was just something about that dorky gap in Hiccup’s teeth and the way his smile reached his eyes, especially whenever he was looking at her. It was like his entire being brightened up when they were together, and Astrid found herself fascinated by it–another puzzle she had yet to complete.
With Hiccup, she had many fragments and half-pictures of who he was, and how he felt. She knew he was attracted to her, drawn to her by something stronger than friendship, but she did not know how deep those feelings went. Maybe as deep as her own, and maybe not. She could always ask, but there was no way to pose the question without seeming too eager–too exposed. She was not yet ready to have that conversation–to toss around that weighty, significant word that might change whatever vague happiness existed between them.
No, she preferred to collect one piece of him at a time.
So, she asked badgering questions like, “Why a grappling line, too? I suppose for some other completely ludicrous scenario you’ve imagined? Some wild situation where you need to pull your enemies toward you, instead of repelling them?”
Her hands were on her hips, and she took a couple of paces while Hiccup paused, considering her with his head slightly cocked to one side.
“Who said it was just for my enemies?” he replied.
“Oh, what? You’re going to reel in Toothless if he gets too unruly?” she laughed.
“Maybe not Toothless, but someone lighter,” he answered with a shrug. His unburdened hand slipped behind the shield.
Before Astrid could tease him further, the grappling line shot out from the shield’s center hub. It wrapped around her, pinning her arms to her sides. She let out a startled gasp and struggled, flexing her arms beneath the tight cord. It was pointless. She was effectively immobilized and wholly indignant.
“Hiccup!” she snapped. “Let me go, you–!”
She felt the sharp tug as the line retracted, pulling her along despite the way she dug her heels into the ground. Her boots were scuffed and caked with dirt, and she glared at Hiccup, wishing her arms were free to throttle him. She had been reeled in close enough to do so. Her chest and abdomen were pressed firmly against cold Gronckle-iron. She could feel it through her tunic, making her shiver. Hiccup held the shield to his own body.
The two of them stood impossibly close. Astrid was on his feet–flesh and metal–but he was unconcerned. If they had all evening–and if she did not wanted to break free and pummel him–she could have counted all of the freckles on his face. He was not smug about ensnaring her. Instead, he gazed at her with a softness that made her palms a sweaty and her heart skip a beat.
“I guess you’ve made your point,” she grumbled, wriggling. “Though, I’m not sure what the point is, exactly. I still don’t see how this helps you achieve any–mmphf!”
Hiccup interrupted her budding tirade with a sudden kiss. He was gentle and uncertain in the way his lips molded over hers. Astrid could not breathe. For a moment, Hiccup was neither withdrawing from her, nor deepening anything. Every muscle in her body tensed, and she was amazed they could not hear her furious heartbeat rattling against the shield.
Her face flushed, and she wondered if Hiccup could feel the heat she radiated. She was so uncharacteristically ruffled. Her lungs protested the lack of air, but she did not dare break from his lips. Then he pulled away, slowly.
Astrid felt the line around her slacken as he released the tension. She did not step back, even as the rope coiled on the ground around her feet. Hiccup lowered the shield. The only barrier that remained between their bodies was the few inches it would have taken to press into one another again.
“Was…was that alright?” Hiccup asked. His voice was barely above a murmur, but it sounded so loud and clear in the silence around them. The only accompanying sound was the nervous drumming of his fingers against the rim of his shield.
Green eyes searched her face, analyzing micro-expressions that might suggest she felt scandalized by his impulsiveness.That was the first kiss Hiccup had ever initiated, and it had been as insecure, awkward, and completely endearing as he was. Astrid was far from offended, though she had been caught off-guard. On the contrary, her lips still tingled with the need to feel that warmth.
“It was okay,” she replied casually, “but I think you can do better…”
He breathed a sigh of relief. There was less hesitation and more enthusiasm as he pressed his lips to hers again. That time, with more confidence. Astrid relaxed, melding her body into his as the shield rested by his side, fitted to his right arm. Perhaps, as her fingers curled in his other sleeve, she could admit to grappling line did have its uses.
The catapult, however, was still ridiculous.