Archive of Our Own

Astrid could work with what she understood.

She was fourteen when all the villagers were gathered to testify Chief Stoick The Vast dishonoring his only son, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third. Back then, she thought she understood: Hiccup was too weak, too clumsy, too problematic. Back then, she thought that a Chief’s place was in the battlefield: that was NOT Hiccups’ place. So, it made perfect sense when he was no longer the heir.

In the same way, it made sense when Gobber stepped in to say that, if Hiccup was no longer Stoick’s son, then he would be his. Hiccup would never become Chief, would never use the Haddock name again, but he would be Gobber’s son, and would be Berk’s Blacksmith. Astrid remembered taking her own axe, recently rebalanced by Hiccup, which was so perfect that fit her hand like a glove, like a part of her arm, and thinking that THAT made way more sense. Hiccup’s place was in the anvil, working with weapons and inventing things.

Her fourteen old self didn’t register the pain in Hiccup’s eyes, when he respectfully accepted his destiny; didn’t see the rage on Gobber’s face, or the surprise in Stoick’s mouth when his old friend took the boy in. Tuffnut, of all people, was the one who would always remember her of those feelings.

Astrid soon realized that a lot of things started to change after that: the chief became more stoic, more serious, and never laughed anymore. Snotlout, who at the beginning was feeling smug and proud of being the new heir, quickly discovered that there was so much to learn that he barely had a minute to himself. Fishlegs got closer to Hiccup, maybe feeling that he needed a friend.

But no one changed more than Hiccup: he almost never left the forge, always smiting, always working. His sarcasm got worse, and there was a permanent wrinkle between his eyebrows – he was always by Gobber’s side and started to avoid the Chief in any way he could. Even when all villagers were summoned for something, or there was a festival, he would never show up – and even though it was a transgression, Stoick never said a word about it, neither did the other villagers – they just let the boy take his time.

Astrid was fifteen when The Thing happened in Berk, the first since the dishonor, and it was an understatement to say that the other heirs took the news well.

Camicazi from the Bog Buglars didn’t make it past the beach – ignoring her mother's (not so insistent) protests, she went straight to the forge, dragging Thuggory with her. They stayed hours locked there with Hiccup, only the three of them, and meanwhile Snotlout was introduced to the other Chiefs as Berk’s new heir. There were some incredulous comments, but the Chiefs knew better than to question that decision – it was not their business, after all.

Astrid remembered lurking around the forge, trying to hear something, but there was no use. Aside from some really loud curses from Cami, no one ever found out what the three talked about. But both Cami and Thuggory treated Snotlout with respect and didn’t mention Hiccup during the meetings.

When The Thing ended, for the first time in months, Hiccup was there, on the beach, where Stoick could see him. Cami gave him an affectionate hug and some slaps in his cheek before leaving, and the always so serious and silent Thuggory held his shoulder like a brother, and departed with a frown in his face and a furious, but silent, look at Stoick.

It was clear then, for everyone, that Hiccup had been able to control the other’s heirs’ personal fury in favor of the Thing and Berk. For the first time, both Astrid and Stoick thought that, maybe, the dishonor had been a mistake.

Hiccup didn’t even look at Stoick before going back to the forge.

After The Thing, she heard her parents talking about the dishonor for the first time – her father was showing her his new axe made by Hiccup, and admiring his fine work. Her mother then said that Stoick was stupid for evicting the boy: he was intelligent and hard working – a Chief should have brains, and not muscles. Her father scolded her, remembering that it was treason to question the Chief’s decisions. She would never forget her mother next words:

“He is a good chief, but is a terrible father. That kid deserved better.”

Astrid felt really stupid for taking so long to realize something so simple:

Hiccup had lost more than his position – he had lost his entire family.

She decided she would help him. She visited the forge, always with an excuse or another, and did her best to talk to Hiccup. At first, he didn’t understand the sudden interest in him, and treated her with education but a cold distance that was so not Hiccup. He seemed to have closed himself for everyone, but Astrid was nothing but stubborn: she made sure that he knew he had a friend on her.

After a few weeks, he got used to her presence, treating her a little more like before. It was still different, though, but it was a start. He went back to taking his meals in the hall with everyone else – but always after Stoick had left – and she was always there keeping him company. Sometimes she would even convince him to help her with her chores, and after a couple of months, she could say they were friends.

Astrid was sixteen when she realized that Hiccup was strong. Physically strong.

She was hanging around the forge, as she had been doing in the last months, when she saw him lift a recently done gigantic hammer, made of stone and iron, like it was nothing. For the first time, she asked him how he could not be able to fight when he was clearly so strong, and the answer he gave was: no one ever taught me.

It was the only invitation she needed.

For the next weeks, months, even, she pushed him to his limits. Strength, speed, accuracy, Astrid worked all of that, and was rewarded: as everything he did, he poured his heart on it. He became strong: one day he thanked her, saying that maybe he would never be able to kill a dragon, but now he felt able to defend Berk from Outcasts or Berserks.

For some reason, Hiccup as a defender of Berk made perfectly sense.

But something was still missing. Astrid was not a sensible person, she didn’t work with details. And truth be told, before everything happened, they were not close, so it was not surprising that it took her a while to realize what was bothering her:

Hiccup didn’t smile anymore.

He was still hard working, smart, caring, gentle, even, but he didn’t laugh anymore, and his sarcasm was only getting worse. That bothered her, and anything that bothered Astrid Hofferson must be cut into pieces.

She decided that Hiccup would laugh again.

But even after asking the twins and Fishlegs for help, there was no change – Hiccup seemed to have closed his heart once for all. Finally, she asked Gobber’s opinion, and his answer couldn’t be simpler: give it time, lass.

Astrid didn’t like when things were not over her control, but she accepted it.

At this point, she didn’t do things just because she felt sorry for him: Hiccup had become a close, important friend, and it was a pleasure being part of his day, his life. Not for the first time, she asked herself how Stoic could have been able to kick him out from home, from his life. And every time that question popped into her head, she only had one answer: maybe, just maybe, the chief had no idea what his decision would cost him.

Astrid was seventeen when she finally saw him laughing again.

After almost a year training together, he was finally able to win against her. She was pinned in the ground, her axe fallen five feet away from her. He was breathing hard, so was she.

And then he smiled, closed his eyes, and slowly lowered his head.

She stopped breathing.

“Hiccup…?”

But he only rested his head on her shoulder and didn’t say a word. Unsure, she petted his hair.

“Are you ok…?”

He took a single deep breath. “After all these years…”. He lifted his head, looking deep into her eyes. The hand that was petting his hair slowly slid to his cheek, and he closed his eyes again, leaning his head into her touch. “Hiccup…?’’ she tried again.

“Thank you,” was all he said, suddenly getting up and offering his hand to her. She was sure as Hel’s breath that he was hiding something, but she didn’t push: he had smiled again, and it was enough.

It was a beginning.

He slowly started to smile more, even laugh sometimes. Sometimes he would sing together with Gobber in the forge, but would always stop every time she arrived. He still avoided Stoick like he was Hel herself, but that was something Astrid knew she had no right to interfere: and honestly, the more time she spent with him, the more she resented Stoick. Hiccup was… Hiccup was special.

Her favorite thing about him was how he poured his heart in everything he did. He was just too precious for words: he made her feel so happy and proud of being his friend. Finally, everything in her life made perfect sense again.

And then her parents had to go and screw everything.

Astrid was eighteen years old when her parents had the nerve to ask her if they should prepare for a visit from Gobber and Hiccup, bringing a marriage proposal.

As calmly as she could, she explained they were just friends. That answer did not please them, and her mother talked a lot about her name and her honor and spending too much time alone in the woods with a boy. Astrid knew she was right, but that made her furious anyway.

She never thought about getting married; not with Hiccup, not with anyone.

She couldn’t talk about that with him: it would be just too embarrassing. So, she went to Ruffnut, hoping she could vent about it, but didn’t like what the blond had to say in the matter:

“You do spend a lot of time together. Everyone is expecting you two to get married.” Astrid denied again, and liked even less what Ruff said next. “So, can I marry him? ‘Cause he’s hot.”

“Absolutely not!” Her answer only made Ruff’s smile grow.

“Well, he’s probably getting married to someone, if you don’t want to, might as well be me.”

Astrid left the Thorston’s Hall more furious that she thought it was possible. She didn’t stop until she arrived at the Raven Point, where they used to have their training sessions. She walked nervously in circles, kicking rocks and thinking about what Ruff had said. She knew her friend was right: Hiccup would probably want to have a family again, and that didn’t set well with her, somehow.

If, or better, when he got married, she would not be able to occupy the same place in his life anymore. She would miss spending time in the forge, just watching him; she would miss their training sessions, their patrols, their meals together in the Great Hall. He would have another person to do the same things with him: of course, they could still be friends, but there were traditions and customs to follow in the tribe.

Traditions, customs. Astrid took a long, deep breath.

The woman who Hiccup would marry would have the right to care for him, to live with him, wake up in his arms, share his bath on washday and…

She was so not going down that path.

But what really, really bothered her, was knowing that someone else would be the receiving end of his rare smiles, which one a victory, a proof that he was getting over the horrible thing his own Dad did to him. And Astrid was smart enough to know that she was part of that victory. It was not fair that after spending so much time helping him, someone else would just appear and take him away from her. It was infuriating.

That’s it. That was the name of the feeling crushing her heart: fury. She was furious, and when Astrid Hofferson is furious, someone must pay for that.

Gobber wasn’t at the forge when she arrived, her battle axe in hands. Hiccup, shirtless, was smiting a scrap of metal in the anvil. He gave her one of his rare smiles when she arrived.

“Afternoon, milady. What can I do for you today?”

Half of her rage seemed to disappear by merely looking at him. She was still furious, but she knew it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t make the social rules in the tribe, he was not the one pushing her to marry him.

But he would be the jerk who would choose another girl.

She was so furious she could cry.

“My parents don’t want me to spend so much time with you anymore.” He froze in his spot, before slowly putting down the hammer. He took a rag and started to clean his hands, a thoughtful expression in his face.

“I have been fearing that for some time, actually. They are right, of course – it’s not good for your reputation.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

Astrid didn’t know what she expected, but for some reason that answer only made her even more furious. She was fighting her tears back now.

“They said we should get married,” which was a half-lie, but she didn’t care – she wanted to see his reaction. He seemed frozen, a hard, indecipherable expression on his face, so she pushed a little more. “But I told them you don’t have any reason to want to marry me”.

That was a complete lie but it had some effect. He closed his eyes, as if he was in pain. After a long moment in silence, he asked: “Which day is it?”

Surprised, she answered, “Freya’s day.”

“Then, I would marry you today.” Her axe fell from her hands, almost hitting her foot, but she didn’t care. He opened his eyes, and there was something there burning more than the fire in the forge. “I would marry you any day, Astrid, if you wanted it too.”

She didn’t know what to answer, so she just stopped to try to contain her tears, letting them freely go down her cheeks.

She was so angry.

“I’m sorry, I’m an idiot,” he said, covering his eyes with his right hand, as if the image of her tears hurt him. “I know you don’t feel the same way…”  she didn’t know it was possible, but she got even angrier. “I just… forget, ok? We can pretend I didn’t open my stupid mouth, we can just be friends…”

She was enraged.

She charged over him, and hit his naked torso like a rock. Surprised, Hiccup tried to hold her by her shoulders, while she kept hitting him with her closed fists.

“You… Stupid… Son of… Half-troll…”

“Astrid, I’m really sorry…”

“Would you marry me?” The question surprised them both, but in the moment she said it, Astrid knew that that was not what she really wanted to ask. What she needed to know. “Would you marry only me?”

She lifted her head to see him, and there was so much surprise in his face, but also hope.

“I wouldn’t marry anyone else, Astrid,” his answer came as a whisper, and slowly, uncertainly, his hands found her cheeks. “Only you.”

She was furious.

“Would you have only me by your side?” she insisted. Astrid didn’t know why she was still crying, why her heart hurt so much, why she felt like she was burning in rage. “Would you let only me care for you?”

He closed his eyes again, his forehead touching hers.

“Yes.”

She touched his face, mirroring his movements.

“Would you smile at me every day?” she whispered, blinking away the tears.

“Don’t you know?” he murmured, his thumbs gently caressing her cheeks. “You are the only one who can make me smile.”

“Would we still be friends?”

“Forever,” he answered, kissing her hair.

“A lot of things would change, though.” He hugged her tightly, his chin resting on the top of her head. “I’m not sure if I’m ready for it.”

“We have time.” His fingers were combing her hair. “I would marry you today or tomorrow, but we can make things right and take our time.”

She didn’t answer, only hugged him more. They stayed in that way for a long time, until he gently pulled her away, wiping her tears.

“Astrid,” he whispered the question, smiling. “Would you marry me? Only me?”

There was only one honest answer.

“I’m so angry right now I could kiss you.”

And she did it.

They took their time.

As Hiccup had promised, their relationship grew little by little. After that first kiss in the forge, they started to learn how to be together: Hiccup told her that he had loved her since he was twelve; Astrid told him that she had no idea of how to be in love. She was nervous at the beginning, not sure of what Hiccup expected of her; him, for the other hand, was so amazed by the fact that he was dating her, he didn’t even think about how to do the actual date thing.

After one week of absolute and complete mess, they concluded that they were both idiots: they decided to be friends, plus hand holding and kissing.

It was a new and amazing sensation: learning how to be close, to be intimate. Learning how to care for him more than just as a friend. And getting rewarded for that care, receiving it back, creating a companionship. And the touches.

Oh, the touches.

Hiccup’s hands were rough, as expected for a blacksmith, but always gentle. Astrid didn’t know it was possible to keep falling love day by day, but that was the feeling. The way he adored her hair, her hands, her cheeks: he didn’t dare to touch her in any place other than the ones her clothes showed, but she didn’t care – Astrid also didn’t gather the courage to touch him anywhere but his arms, face and hair. And oh, his hair: messing his auburn locks, making tiny braids behind his ears while they sat alone in the woods were quickly becoming an addiction.

Astrid had heard about how the first months of dating felt amazing, but she never thought that would be like that.

But even in the bliss of her first love, Astrid was nothing but practical: she never lost sign of what was going on around her, and, especially, with Hiccup.

Her parents were not pleased – they expected a position more certain than merely “dating” but didn’t insist. Gobber told her that Hiccup’s adoration to her was so damn obvious that her parents would soon realize that there was no chance that he wouldn’t make a proposition eventually.

On the other hand, one day when she was reporting for duty in Stoick’s hut, Snotlout made some comments about her being the next wife of the chief. Boldly, Astrid asked:

“Why? Is Hiccup getting his birthright back?”

Snoutlout’s face was full of surprise. He blinked a few times, but soon his smolder was back at his lips.

“Come on baby, I’m sure you would prefer a real man and a better position…”

Astrid stopped him right there. She made perfectly clear that she would marry Hiccup, or not marry at all. If he tried anything behind her back, he would have to tie her up and bring her unconscious to the ceremony, because if she was awake, she would scream “NO” until she lost her voice. And then she would cut his manbits out. That was enough to get the thought out of his head, and he quickly left the hut.

“You two… Are you getting married?” 

Astrid was surprised by the question. She was so enraged with Snotlout that she honestly forgot she was in front of her chief.

“Well, not now but… yes, one day we will,” she answered. Her fourteen years old version would probably tremble listening to herself talking about marriage after only a month of dating. But she knew her heart was in the right place; she knew that the happiness Hiccup made her feel was not temporary. She wasn’t kidding when she told Snotlout that she would marry Hiccup, or not marry at all.

She didn’t know if she was imagining things, but even with his serious face, she could see regret in Stoick’s eyes.

But honestly, she didn’t care if it was real or not.

She had something more important to think: Hiccup was smiling everyday now.

Smiling at her.

For her.

Because of her.

And she was in love with that smile.

But all good things one day come to an end, and the bliss of their relationship was crushed by the reality of the barbaric archipelago: Hiccup and Astrid had been dating for eight months when the worst raid Berk had ever seen left eleven dead and almost forty injured.

Astrid didn’t remember much of that night, only flashes: the fire, the heat that was almost maddening; fangs and tooth and claws, the smell of Zippleback’s gas, the frightful sound of the Night Fury echoing in the air. She was sure she almost died at least five times; part of her hair was burned, and she was lucky that her face wasn’t too.

But what Astrid remembered clearly was the relief she felt when she heard Hiccups’ voice calling her in the midst of the fires after the dragons had left, seeing him running to her, taking her in his arms and holding her tightly, tighter than in the first time he did, and kissing her senseless. They held each other in the middle of the fire and ashes, glad for being alive, glad they still had each other.

“Astrid…” he whispered when air became a necessity, still holding her as she was his lighthouse in the sea. “I know I said we have time but…”

“Marry me,” she interrupted, her ear firmly anchored in his heart, feeling it pulsing, fast, hard, alive.

“…for Thor, woman, you have to let me ask you…”

“Marry me,” she insisted, and he could only sigh.

“Today, tomorrow, any day,” was his answer.

Astrid was nineteen years old when she started the preparations for her wedding.

As her parents had predicted, Hiccup came with Gobber, and the marriage contract was agreed and paid. Gobber gave them a piece of land behind the forge, and with the help of Fishlegs and the twins, they started the construction of the hall they would call home.

Hiccup now spent most of his time in the construction, and Astrid would stop by to help anytime she could, since she still had her chores and her duties as a soldier of Berk. It was exciting to know that that would be the place where she would build her family with Hiccup.

With that thought in mind, more than one time she saw Stoick watching them from a distance. Actually, she was pretty sure he made that a habit – Tuffnut told her he always seemed utterly destroyed when looking at them working, even though Hiccup would always look away, never meeting his gaze. Astrid was sure that, at this point, Stoick already had realized the real price he would pay for dishonoring Hiccup:

He was no longer his dad, so Hiccup’s children, her children, would not be his grandchildren, and he wouldn’t have any right over them.

Astrid knew it was a cruel thought, but she couldn’t feel sorry for Stoick. He had made his decision.

And she had a marriage to plan.

What came as a surprise, though, was how many people started to get excited about the wedding. Sure, Hiccup had being a nuisance when younger, but now that he spend all his time building their new home, people had finally realized how much of the work the did in the forge: Gobber was getting tired, and would rather train the new generation of dragon slayers – or as Ruff would say, ‘drinking his ass to oblivion while irresponsibly putting kids in danger’ – than do any work. It was ironic that, right when Hiccup decided that he didn’t care or would try, he was acknowledged.

There was no doubt about who was Berks’ best blacksmith now, and who would be the only one very soon.

That new development certainly pleased Astrid’s parents, and when Hiccup said that both Thuggory from the Meathead tribe and Camicazi from the Bog-Bugglar tribe would be attending the wedding, she thought that they would explode with pride. Brunhilda Hofferson was now planning a wedding like Berk had never seen before.

The wedding fit for a Tribe’s Heir, Astrid thought, not without some bitterness in the corner of her mind.

Hiccup, for the other hand, was as far from bitter as possible. He confessed to her that he was having the time of his life: being accepted by the tribe, inheriting the forge, getting his own hall, marrying the love of his life who also happened to be the most beautiful woman in Midgard.

She gave him a kiss that was not but passionate, and carried a lot of promises for their wedding night.

Astrid Hofferson was twenty years old when she married Hiccup.

It was the closest that Hiccup and Stoick had been in years, at least physically speaking. If being near to the Chief bothered Hiccup, he didn’t show it. He was wearing his biggest smile and his eyes never left hers during the entire ceremony. Astrid was also grinning like an idiot and only had eyes for him. Once more, was Tuffnut who told her later that he thought that Stoick would start to cry at some point while he married them.

And once more, she concluded that she didn’t care.

As her mother had promised, it was a wedding as the archipelago hadn’t seen in many years: all Berk was there, as the heirs of their allied clans and their committees. There was no end to the food and mead and dancing; Ruff and Tuff set fire to a building (allegedly incident), Thuggory was so drunk that he couldn’t stop talking of how much he liked Hiccup and haddocks, Cami may or may not have been seen shedding a tear during the ceremony, Gobber was piss drunk and lost both of his fake arm and leg, Ruff and Tuff set fire to another building (confirmedly on purpose) and Snotlout would be found naked in the Ingerman’s hen house in the morning after.

Three people paid no attention to any of this, though.

Hiccup only had eyes for Astrid and couldn’t believe how lucky he was.

Astrid was so nervous thinking about the consummation that she almost burned right there.

And Stoick was alone on a cliff, looking at the sun dying in the ocean, and telling Val that their boy had just married.

He didn’t sleep that night, and his regret was never so strong.

Hiccup also didn’t sleep that night, but nothing was further from his mind than his father, or regret.

Astrid was beautiful under the candlelight, her golden hair spreading over the furs of their bed, and even the many scars and burnings that her clothes usually covered couldn’t make Hiccup think that she was nothing but perfect. She was flushed, and nervous, and her fingers were cold, but she explored him with fearless curiosity and Astrid thought that this skinny, insecure, handsome man was going to be the death of her.

Beyond that, little description is necessary.

They loved each other that night and every night that followed. They had a blissful pacific honey month, and after he inherited the forge for good and she ascended the post of general, nothing extraordinary happened in their first year as a married couple. Well, there were lots and lots of dragon raids, but that didn’t count as extraordinary in Berk.

But then, other concerns started to crawl in her mind.

Astrid was twenty-two years old when she went to Gothi to ask why in Freya’s name she hadn’t gotten pregnant yet.

Hiccup was not pressuring her or anything, and she never thought of herself as the motherly type, but she wanted a baby. She wanted her own family, and she wanted to give Hiccup a new family. But Gothi said that nothing was wrong with her, and that there was nothing to be done, except for being patient and keep trying.

She was not patient, but she was happy with the keep trying part.

Meanwhile, other interesting things started to happen around her.

Ruff and Fish got engaged, and apparently Tuff had been exchanging letters with Camicazi since her wedding; Snotlout was assuming even more of the Chief’s duties and finally was showing some good results; Hiccup was inventing again and for some reason, the raids were starting to low their frequency.

And exactly when things were becoming better, all hell broke loose when the Outcasts attacked.

Now Hiccup spent day and night at the forge, and took in two apprentices, and even Gobber got back from his retirement: they needed more weapons and armors and fast . She couldn’t remember when she last had time to take a bath – when she was not in war councils, she was training teenagers (even though she never really fought enemies that weren’t dragons) or taking meals to the forge (when was the last time Hiccup had slept with her, in their bed?). And when they finally attacked, that was the closest she had been of death.

That madness couldn’t go on forever, could?

Apparently, yes, since there was no end to the number of Outcastes attacking. When, in Hell’s name, they had exiled so many fucking people?

After a whole month of fighting and barely sleeping, even Hiccup, Gobber and the apprentices were called from the forge for a war council that included all Berk. And it was even more maddening than the war.

People were screaming, children and mothers were crying (Berk mothers, that were used to have their children took away by fucking dragons), men were furious with Stoick and Snotlout leadership didn’t inspire trust. Many warriors had died, a bigger number were gravely injured – Tuffnut lost an eye, Astrid had a whole new collection of scars on her back, Fishlegs had been unconscious for days now and Ruff was hysterical, convinced that he would never wake up. Hiccup’s hands were irremediably burned and shaking, beyond their limit to work. But Astrid could see in his eyes (when was the last time that she looked him properly in the eyes?) that his mind was as sharp as ever.

And because of that, she was possible the only one that was not surprised when, after Stoick screamed through his lungs to everybody shut the fuck up unless they had something useful to say, Hiccup raised his hand and spoke, loud and clear.

“I have an idea.”

Silence. And then, Tuffnut:

“Well, I guess that some highly destructive invention is exactly what we need right now.”

Before everything became chaos again, Hiccup explained briefly and simply, that he could modify the old dragon-killing catapults to something easier to operate and aim, which would definitely do some ‘highly destructive’ damage. He also had in mind a way to make the catapults more mobile, so the Outcasts couldn’t easily dodge them.

Astrid felt her heart accelerating when she realized that people didn’t seem skeptical, and there were even some excited murmurs in the hall.

“Can you make one today for demonstration?” and to her complete disbelief, it was Snotlout, not Stoick, who asked. Hiccup nodded.

“It will take a couple of hours, and I will need the boys,” he answered, referring to his apprentices.

“Take Tuff, Gustav and Sven too and make it in one,” Snotlout commanded, but Hiccup seemed more excited than offended. He agreed with the head, gave his wife a peck in the lips and left the Great Hall with his helpers behind.

This time, there was no doubt. There was clearly pride in Stoick’s eyes, and this time, Astrid decided that she cared.

The war didn’t last long after that.

In the end, ‘Highly destructive damage’ was exactly what they needed to win the war. The Outcasts were not prepared for the number of catapults that they were able to build overnight, after Hiccup’s prototype was approved. The fight was over, the dead were buried, and Fishlegs finally woke up after two months in a coma. Hiccup ascended to a fixed position in the War Council, and Snotlout was very eager of his cousin’s advice. It was time for Berk to rebuild itself, but that had never scared Vikings before.

What scared Astrid to death was discovering she was pregnant. She was twenty-three years old.

It was a difficult pregnancy. She felt drained and sick in the first months, and some days barely could keep something in her stomach. She was not used to feeling so weak and tired, and the pain was a torment: she was constantly alert, imagining that she could lose her child at any moment. Hiccup had more responsibilities now, but was also worried sick and would always find some day to help her with what he could, even if it was only a foot massage or keeping her company.

When she entered the sixth month, Gothi put her to bed rest.

By the end of the seventh month, her water bag broke.

Giving birth was definitely the most difficult battle she ever fought. Ruffnut and her mother helped her to walk around her bed in the first hours, and she never felt so much pain. Her pelvis was not dilating enough, and she was sure the kid would die soon, but Gothi stayed calm during the whole thing, trying to reassure her with her wise eyes.

It was not working, and at some point, Astrid started to cry.

When she was finally told to lay down in the bed and start to push, her thoughts went to Hiccup, as always did. Was he as scared as she was? Would he be able to listen to her screams? And then she gave the first push, and the pain was so intense, and her scream was so loud that any thoughts were washed from her mind.

Astrid became a mother when she was twenty-four years old.

She almost passed out by the end of the labor, but reunited her last strengths to hold her daughter. She was so tiny, and her cries were so low, that Astrid started to cry again, convinced that the baby wouldn’t make it through the night. Her mother took the girl to Hiccup, and this time Astrid didn’t fight back when she felt herself blacking out.

She woke up the next morning with her daughter’s cry, and that was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard.

Hiccup was beyond happy, and seemed about to burst with joy. Unlike her, he was convinced that their daughter would make it – himself had been born before time, a scrawny little thing. But then Gothi was back, and Gobber was the one who traduced the bad news she wrote in the ashes of their kitchen fire.

Astrid probably would never be able to give birth again.

She cried a little more that night (when did she start to cry so much?), and Hiccup tried to comfort her. To distract her from the bad news, they discussed baby names. They both agreed that their daughter needed a strong name, one that would carry her through the difficult life in Berk.

When Astrid was able to get up again, they announced the newborn’s name in the Great Hall for the entire village, and this time everyone saw the tears in Stoick’s eyes.

Valkaria.

For Hiccup was sure that his mother would protect his daughter from Valhalla, like she had protected him as a baby.

For the first time in years, he looked into Stoick’s eyes and smiled, a sad and small smile. But a smile, nonetheless.

In the years that followed, Astrid would observe with interest the interactions between Hiccup and his – former – father. The blacksmith was just too good to hold grudges, but he also didn’t allow himself to think of Stoick as his father again. They were polite and friendly to each other but never close, and Hiccup made perfectly clear that he should never referred to himself as Valkaria’s grandfather – that right belonged to Gobber and Hakkon Hofferson.

As Valkaria grow up to be just like Hiccup (and consequently, his mother Valka), Astrid could see that pained Stoick to be called “Chief” and not “granpa”, but he accepted that as the final price he would pay for dishonoring his brilliant son, all those years ago. Unlike Hiccup, Astrid knew how to hold grudges, but never used it against her former Chief.

Life was finally good, and she didn’t see the point in messing with that. After all, Astrid was nothing but practical.