#anyway be free little idea! off into the void with you!

[wishchip106]

sighh cherik au where they meet in a coffee shop but they both work there

Charles runs the cafe while Erik is the new hire who is a bit too good at his job

calm down Erik you’re just a barista 🤨🤚

uhhh classic rom-com type scenarios ensue with maybe a dash of angst in there and then happy ending wahoo!

hrmm employer x employee…. not entirely sure how i feel about it but oh well

maybe they can be based more on dofp versions… that would be fun

the cafe is running low on business and Charles is taking it personally (likely added on from other stuff as well)💔 then boom new guy comes around (Erik) and makes everything better huzzah!!

i don’t see many fics where Charles is just doing shit before he meets Erik. hmmm…

[illwilledomen]

Also i am obsessed with your fucked up son. Kay i ask why hero is Like That. Was it a programming error? He was meant to be the "friend", right, but even before the fall he was weirdly violent.

I just want to know more about him. Whats going on in his fucked up little head

I’m obsessed with him too. I love him and i cry so much about him here’s why:

Since Hero was the first, he has quite a few errors in his design, both in his hardware (body) and software (brain and tablet of information).

He does not have any internal concept of empathy and doesn’t fully understand the concept that other creatures think and live. This caused him to accidentally kill some of the animals introduced into the Garden because he didn’t understand that he was hurting them. HOWEVER — he only became purposefully violent AFTER he faced considerable abuse from the authority figures around him (guards, scientists, Rana herself, and white eyes).

Very important distinction because his lack of empathy was not what drove him to act aggressively, and it’s important to note that a lack of empathy does not mean someone is dangerous, conniving or violent, it just simply means that they don’t feel the sensation of empathy. You are free to interpret any of the abio characters as you like, but it is my personal belief Hero is not fully at fault for the violence he displays… I’ll explain why;

The violence Hero displayed was merely him, a person very new to the world, parroting the abusive behaviour shown towards him, and his way of trying to process emotions that he was not familiar with such as jealousy (towards the other players), fear of obsolescence and misery at the lack of autonomy and respect he is showed. Hero was in a position where he had no power over himself and was physically, emotionally and mentally dependent on authority figures that did not see him as an equal or a as a fully realized being. For example Hero is unable to will himself to eat without being commanded to by an authority figure (he is anorexic — does not feel hunger) so you can probably see how this puts him in a vulnerable position.

Basically he began to lash out at anyone he could lash out at, whether that be animals or the other players. He could not bear the thought of placing the blame on the authorities of his life because then his whole world would fall apart, so he instead shifts the blame on those in the same position as him (Alex, steve and two others, Jane and Ed, who would then become “null” and “entity 303”) convincing himself that they are malicious and want to replace him (when in reality they are basically robot infants).

Then, there was the influence from White Eyes. I’ve previously stated that White Eyes was a void entity but I’ve changed that after a friend suggested it to me and i got hooked on the idea. She’s another test subject, an unstable experiment born from trying to fuse living corporeal matter and void matter (basically she’s an enderman human and various animals hybrid). White Eyes is constantly in pain and this has made her a very vindictive and aggressive being. All voidborn beings have psionic influence and White Eyes has this as well, however it’s not as fine tuned as a natural voidborn like an enderman. Hers is more like an influence. White Eyes rubbed off on Hero, and while she was increasingly immobilized by her dying body, Hero would follow her commands and absorb her emotions like a sponge. They had a very close bond but it was very unhealthy. This was another factor that caused him to commit violent acts.

Anyway, that’s some abiogenesis hero lore for you.

[mikanotes]

out of reach ft. baek harin x gn!reader 2.1k words warnings: nervous breakdown, implied manipulation and bullying, reader nd harin are Slightly toxic, smoking, not really proofread Sorry!

author’s note: finally watched pyramid game! harin is so dear to me i love her. anyways here’s this

Clouds of smoke and overpriced cigarettes. The faint smell of perfume, struggling to cover the overwhelming, biting scent of tobacco. The sound of a lighter clicking shut, and a disdainful laugh. Condescending. The very image of a typical rich, high-school bully.

Then she sighs, softly, and it all changes.

The smoke dissipates to reveal a gentler expression (though the void in her eyes cannot be hidden), and the cigarette smell seems to leave with the passing breeze. She smiles softly and relaxes her shoulders. “I’m expecting great things from you.” she says, hiding a don’t you dare disappoint in between her words. She chuckles quietly to herself and turns on her heel. The school princess.

“Let’s go.” she says, her tone on the edge of something hurried. Like her facade, though perfectly constructed and practiced, might threaten to break if she stays any longer. You don’t reply but push yourself off of the wall to walk at her side when she strolls past where you were waiting.

The moment you’re far away enough from that hidden corner by the school entrance, Harin tenses again. You look down and see her thumb pressing its nail into her palm’s skin. Into flesh, at this rate. “Harin.” you call. She blinks out of her thoughts and turns her gaze to you. “What is it?”

“I’m thinking.” she replies honestly, bits of that kind demeanor slowly crumbling to reveal a more honest, yet possibly less furious side to her. One you’re more acquainted with.

“You do that too much.” you heave a deep sigh, “Seriously. Have you had a moment to breathe at all this week?”

Baek Harin is calculating. Always calculating each of her moves— Every interaction with all of her classmates, her family, her past present and future, the adults at her school. She carefully reviews the way she presents herself down to the detail. And now, she calculates everything Seong Suji does, everyone she interacts with, everyone around her, everything she does truthfully and all she does that seems fake— add more to the list. 

That’s just a recipe for disaster. But you’ve also known her for long enough to know that having a calm mind free of worries and overthinking is a privilege Harin hasn’t had since her early childhood years. The way she functions now is her own idea of normal, and it has been for much too long to even consider the idea of changing. So you don’t try to change it. But you try to calm her down, when she allows you to attempt it.

“I’m breathing fine.” she scoffs slightly, “I can’t afford not to think. Especially not…” she trails off like she’s remembered something, and you frown.

She reaches for her pillbox but it escapes her grasp, falling on the concrete. You reach over to grab it but she’s quicker than you. The moment the thing is in her hand, she opens it and shakes three vitamin tabs into her palm, before freezing in place.

You slow down and stop in your tracks, barely a meter back, then slowly approach her. Her eyes are flitting between the box and the pills themselves, her lip trembling as if struggling to get a word out. You start reaching out towards her but she suddenly throws all of the vitamins back into their little chamber. She clicks the pillbox close and puts it back into her pocket, then fumbles to get something else.

“Harin.”

She finally manages to find what she was seemingly so desperate to find, and opens the pack of cigarettes. She grabs one and shakily sets it between her lips, before repeating the whole searching process for her lighter.

“Harin.”

Once the golden thing’s in her hand, she clicks to light up a flame, once, twice, three times, to no avail. You swear her hand is beginning to shake.

“Baek Harin!”

“Fuck.”

She spits the cigarette to the ground and nearly crushes the rest of the pack in her hand. Her teeth bite into her lip to stifle a scream of frustration, you guess, and she goes back to digging her nails into the flesh of her hand.

You slowly set a hand on her shoulder and she lets you, though she does look much too lost in her own head to register anything other than the ground she’s been blankly staring at. “…Let’s go home.” you say, tone softer.

She nods in agreement.

Baek Harin’s definition of a home has changed several times over the years. Haneul Orphanage, the house of the family she was adopted into, and yet neither ever truly gave her the feeling that it was what home was supposed to feel like. She isn’t relieved when she steps foot into her house, she just feels more at ease to continue preparing her so-called schemes. Still, it is a house, her family lives there, and she never lacked anything. It’s a fine place to be.

But when she’s here, in comparison…

“I’m home.” you sigh as you take off your shoes. Harin sees your cat walk past the entrance hallway and stop to look at you, clearly waiting for something. And when you look at it, you smile and go pet it. It’s just that easy for them to get what they want in life, huh? She feels your gaze on her and looks at you.

“What?”

“Are you planning to stay at the door?”

She blinks. Right. She unclasps her shoes and slides them off her feet before she steps inside. She barely notices she’s breathing out a sigh of relief before a wave of exhaustion hits her. It makes her wonder for a moment if she was right to take the pillbox earlier. Maybe she forgot to take them during the day? She had so much to do. Did she? If she’s forgetful about this, she could be about much more important things….

She’s reminded of her near-breakdown just earlier and holds back from picking at her nails. She rarely reaches the brink of losing it this badly. She really needs to do something about the direction the game is going towards, or else she fears she might break at the wrong time.

“Harin.” you call, bringing her out of her thoughts, and she realizes you already walked to your kitchen, and you’re peeking at the corner of the wall to see her. “Do you want something?”

She stares at you a bit coldly, almost frowning. It’s clear she’s not entirely out of her own head, yet.

“Cola.” she says, “Do you have any?”

You scoff. “When do I not?”

She takes off her small backpack and walks further inside. This small place…  She would dislike it. She’s not one to be picky, but growing up in a luxury house for nearly ten years makes you dislike cramped spaces. At least she does. But she’s used to this apartment having you in it, and many times in the past, her, whenever she needed a place to go to that wasn’t her own house.

Sometimes she thinks maybe she isn’t grateful enough to have you. Sometimes.

“My game feels like it’s falling apart.” she sighs, walking into the living room. She plops down on the couch, tossing her bag aside and taking out her phone. “This girl is actively trying to ruin all of it.”

“Seong Suji?” you ask from the kitchen. There’s a hint of something in your voice that she hasn’t heard before. It’s sour and new.

She wants to hear it again.

“Yes. Seong Suji…” she trails off, “I swear even having 24/7 cameras on her wouldn’t help me stop her from doing all this.” she scoffs.

You hum in response, then it grows quiet. Harin feels a smile pull at her lips. She can practically see how much thoughts this small conversation provoked in your mind. Seong Suji? Is she the problem? She is. But is she in this case, too?

She’s curious.

“Still, I guess she’s a bit cute. Interesting, too. I’ve never had anyone stand up to me this much before.”

“Yeah?” you answer blankly, joining her. You set down the two glasses of cola on the coffee table just harshly enough for it to cause an audible clang. “Maybe because you're so used to having everyone bow to you and your every requests?”

“You don’t.”

“Don’t I?”

“You sound bitter.” Harin laughs, setting down her phone on her lap and propping up her elbow on the armrest. She sets her index under her chin and looks at you as you rummage through your backpack. The glimpse she gets of your face confirms you indeed seem unnerved about something. Cute… No, this is more than cute.

“I’m not.” you sigh, visibly straightening up. Your face relaxes and you glance towards her. “What’s with the staring?”

“Nothing. You’re nice to look at.”

You roll your eyes and grab your laptop from your bag and set it down on the table. Her eyes move to focus on it and she furrows her eyebrows. She didn’t know you still carried it around. She had to buy you one when it fell and the screen cracked, before. Irresponsible… Not that she minds buying for you. Not that you ask, either.

“Info on her friends. From other schools, I mean.”

Harin blinks, registering what you mean. “On Suji?” she mutters, eyes narrowing at the laptop. She tilts her head towards you with a small pout. “I never asked you that, did I?” she chuckles a little, leaning over to grab her glass.

This could be useful, but this doesn’t work.

You shake your head slightly. “Didn't.”

“So you’re just playing assistant, are you?” she huffs, “Thanks… But don’t do it again.”

You frown. “Why?”

“I don’t want you to get involved. You don’t even attend my school. It’ll only be trouble.”

— Besides, she doesn’t want you to be associated with this game and place as a whole more than needed. Just having you near the school is enough to make her stomach hurt. She has to have you be away from it all, at least. If not, she’ll feel like she’s still in it even when she’s with you. Then she won’t be able to sigh in relief once she steps inside your place anymore.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I get in trouble for you.”

“Mhm.” she laughs as she drinks, then turns to look at you once she’s done. The emotion leaves her face. “Don’t do it again.” she repeats, tone laced with hints of a threat. She means it.

“That doesn’t work on me, Harin.”

You stare at her and she doesn’t feel like looking away, either. You’re stubborn. She’s worse. This isn’t gonna end, and if it does, you might argue. She doesn’t feel like arguing.

“Do you like me?“ she decides to ask, just to throw you off a little.

“Are you insane?” you bite back, not missing a beat. Her smile deepens. She blinks away and leans back into the couch, sipping on her drink more.

“Not really.”

“False.”

“That’s rude?” she laughs, looking at you again. You raise your eyebrows and smile slightly, leaning to grab your glass.

“Too bad.” you say, before sipping on the cola. It’s a bit nostalgic. Drinking cola under dim lights when it feels like the world is only you two. This happened before, when she felt like her family’s very presence was suffocating, and locking herself in her room wasn’t enough— Or much earlier, when you were just kids, and you’d buy each other cola flavored popsicles. This kind of comfort makes her want more. She almost forgets about the game, for a moment.

The sour air in your voice and on your features seems to be gone now, so she figures the atmosphere is just as calming for you. Though she did enjoy seeing that look on your face… Your genuine, soft smile is one she enjoys a little bit more.

Now that she’s getting comfortable here, she doesn’t want to leave. She’ll take all the time she can get. She knows you don’t mind her staying. You may be above the rest when it comes to telling her off and not doing everything she asks, but you’re not above allowing nearly anything that helps her. And if letting her stay here, at the cost of possibly getting a death glare from her family members and irritating questions about any trouble she could’ve possibly caused for you, can help her? 

Then she knows you wouldn’t refuse. Even if you pretend you could. She knows how important she is to you.

“I’m staying the night.”

“When did I say you could?”

“You didn’t have to.” she hums, reaching over to move strands of your hair away from your face. She smiles. “I know I can.”

[comfortless]

I have some thoughts about König I wanna run by you. 

I really like the concept of him following rules to the letter, but not the intention. 

like he would never steal from friends, but that only applies to items, job opportunities, romantic interests, and ideas don’t count. 

he would never cheat on his lover, EVER! but…that doesn’t mean he can’t entertain thoughts of the nice recruit who for sure has a crush on him, he could lead her on just a lil bit, live off the attention when he’s deployed and claim ignorance if anything gets serious. 

oh and he would never hit you, of course not! but if he got you riled up enough or angry enough to throw a punch his way he could hold you down and restrain you so you don’t hurt yourself, he’s not a monster for kind of liking how you struggle to break free from his grip, and he’s barely even exerting any energy, it’s a safe kind of powerplay to him. 

ok i am listening and nodding my head yes!

König didn’t get the positive attention he so craved when he was younger, so any little bit of it he can grapple at is his for the taking. He’s a bit impulsive.

Mental health and repercussions are not at all relevant to him when he sees something that he wants and is within the realm of possibility for him to attain. He would have a sort of conniving way when it comes to going about these things, too. It isn’t intentional, but to him, his reasoning is absolute. Probably gets that from his father, but he prefers not to think of that.

He’s no master manipulator here, just a man that is very aware of his few talents. He’s not even good at telling a lie, far too blunt and always speaking the first thing that pops into his head.

There’s a promotion at work another operator is vying for? Well, he’s far more suited for it anyway— look at him. He’s big and good with his weapons, handles them nicely and can plow through an enemy with as much ease as he can a wooden door. His confirmed kills far exceed the number of things that his parents could find and scrape together and deem themselves proud of him for. König’s not entirely withdrawn, either, his people respect him. Some might even admire him a bit, wishing they had the things that he never even asked for: his height, the creepy look upon his face, his lack of hesitation when pulling a trigger or burying his hunting knife in another man’s guts.

They’re on good terms, still on good terms even after he presents his argument as to why he’s just that little bit more deserving. He doesn’t need to bring up his childhood or much of his past to anyone here, but he knows down to his very marrow that people tend to think there’s something off or wrong about him and in turn he’s met with pity or fear. He utilizes it, gets what he feels he deserves by coming off gruff and demanding, even whiny if the situation calls for it. Time and time again, he comes to realize it’s much easier and more rewarding for him to play people like toy soldiers in these situations.

He might not be able to get a girlfriend in any authentic way, but as Ghost said in her reblog here, I do think he would have at least tried a tryst with a friend’s girlfriend at some point. König could reason away any guilt. She came onto him, batting her lashes and wearing that low cut blouse while telling him about just how selfish her man/his friend was in bed. And when it ends terribly as these things do, he’ll learn his lesson well enough, gives some hashed apology over a pint of ale. It doesn’t mend a void, only forces another distance between himself and another person. König is more than used to that.

It is always the wrong thing said or done, always a ship with no harbor to dock. He would have friends, yes, but it’s up in the air as to whether or not any of them last very long. He’s self aware enough to realize that he creates these problems, that he could have just done x instead of y, but there’s this tentative, newfound pride wrought up within him that he doesn’t ever let go of. He doesn’t want to be seen as that weak little boy he once was. Apologies are like pulling teeth, even getting one from him is a big deal.

It isn’t his fault he didn’t get as much pussy as any other man and surely… any true friend of his would know enough about him to accept that he was not entirely the one at fault here. Richtig..?

He’ll be happy to take credit for a job well done. It wasn’t his idea to burst through that door and clear out a room of enemies, but he did the work. He deserves the praise, the increase in pay, whatever benefit he can gain from it. It didn’t matter that Fender barked out the order over the comms, warned his team of potential danger, what matters to König is that he got it taken care of with no casualties on his side.

New recruits come and go often, and more often than not, they’re horrified of this giant that outranks them. König still hasn’t mastered any way with women, but he’s been fortunate enough to land himself a sweet, cute girlfriend that waits for him at home. He’s not an idiot, either, knows a little romp at work isn’t worth a thing in comparison to her and would only add another fire to the desolate world he lives in in his head. His girlfriend’s the only garden he has, and he would rather damn himself entirely than ever see something he loves burn.

So, when one bold woman does approach him, placing her hand on his arm and complimenting his stature, he doesn’t feel a thing except some strange twist of pride.

He’s come a long way from the boy who was ridiculed and bullied relentlessly, worked himself tirelessly into becoming this broad mimicry of a god made flesh. But fuck. The attention is nice. He would compliment this recruit’s aim from time to time, pat her on the head like a good little dog when she takes out an enemy or stacks on extra work for herself. It never goes further than that, but she practically eats out of the palm of his hand, begging with her eyes rather than her voice to ask for a night with her colonel.

And when he’s on leave, and his girlfriend is asking why this woman is texting him so often, he shrugs and casually tosses her his phone. He’s got nothing to hide, hasn’t even entertained the thought of sleeping with this girl. If anything, she reminds him of himself before he ever got laid. That desperation is certainly there, and it does kind of unsettle him. Is this how he came off to women before…? A pitiful little thing that just wants to be loved and cared for?

He doesn’t even respond to the recruit’s messages, even when there are so many of them. He kisses his girlfriend everywhere, fucks her like it’s the first few times all over again, and falls asleep nestled up against her. There’s no room in his heart for anyone except the object of his affection, but a part of him does hope this lost little lady finds her own sliver of heaven too. He knows how she feels and hates the thought of making a woman cry outside of fucking her well. So he lets the recruit down easy next time they meet, tells her he doesn’t care for relationships at work, that he loves his girlfriend and he doesn’t want to hurt her. It’s spoken candidly, and doesn’t leave any room for discussion.

Shame about the lack of affection while deployed, but he’s managed on his own longer than most. He’s got an entire album of pretty photos of his girl in and out of the lingerie he bought for her to keep him company, anyway.

And admittedly, arguments with his beloved turn him on.

They both know that she can’t actually hurt him. When her hand is raised to give him a good slap for being a complete asshole over something as trivial as a cashier for accidentally ringing something up twice, he’s already hard. The grin on his face is nothing short of ugly, because he knows how this ends, the same way that it always does. He would take her wrist only after she’s hit him, let her stew in what she’s done, murmur her apologies through stilted breaths and lashes heavy with tears. She tells him she just doesn’t understand why he is the way that he is sometimes while trying to wrench her hand away from his grip.

He’s not rough enough to hurt her when the argument sparks up again, even guides her down onto the floor with a steady hand on her back while she pleads with him for answers that he just doesn’t have. He would go back to seeing a regular therapist for her, maybe. He would do anything for her and that’s just another thing that they both know.

“Heh… you like me crazy,” König would breathe into her hair when her thighs are locked around his middle. Poor thing can barely speak when she’s exerted her energy trying to best him in a battle she could never hope to win. She’s all whimper and no bite, nails raking over his shoulders with each slow, teasing thrust.

“Look at you.” He practically purrs when her face is taken into one callused palm, brought forward to lock eyes with him when the sounds spilling from her lips grow more needy. And then he gives her the fucking she deserves, rougher when she’s sighing his name and trembling from the residual waves of her own orgasm. It didn’t matter who was right or wrong anymore; argument long-forgotten, buried under a blanket of white heat. He chases his own end, lets her watch him unravel all for her as his seed fills her, spills out where they connect to make a mess of the carpet below.

He’s selfish in those ways.

[andredeyemii]

hii girll ur page is amazingg <3 how do u make manifestation fun?

girl manifestation is soo fun in general like you don't even need to do stuff babes (but you should cuz it's fun skdksk) the concept of just being unserious and carefree enough to choose how you want to think and accompany yourself so good, you can influence how you feel (like talking to someone and your mood gets better) damnn it's just fun.. but then you get you desires after!? soo fun.

H E R E I S H O W ( I D E A S ) : :

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ : : GRATITUDE : : instantly top one, it's life. I mean use anything else but this one is tradition and pricelessss

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ : : SELF-CONCEPT : : just because it's second doesn't mean it's "less important" it should be a repiblic act

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ : : RAMPAGES : : I recommend high frequency guru for this, she has many amazingg rampages they're life

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ : : VOID STATE : : it's veryy spiritual and instant, like it feels so sacred like it belongs in ancient civilization practices

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ : : SUCCESS STORIES : : turn off the stress news and listen to magical girls who manifested money outta nowhere this is what my account is forrr

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ : : SUBLIMINALS : : guys we are evolving as a species, please use this and cherish it rnn goiss

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ : : SATURATIONS : : these are my 2025 goals and this has the right to be included in beauty rituals cuzzz wow

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ : : SCRIPTING : : you can script habitually or you can just write about your day with a lot of exaggerated positivity

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ : : DRESS UP : : would your higher self think like you? no, that's why you do saturations. would my higher self dress like me? no, so I do shopping sprees.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ : : SHADOW WORK : : it's free therapy and it releases blocks and past traumas so you can embody ur dream self

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ : : VISUALIZATION : : it's the basics of manifestation do it as much as you can

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ : : BLAH BLAH BLAH : : stop complaining and start talking about success stories and lifelong goals instead, it's technically a mini-mind saturation

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ : : WORK W PLACEBOS : : knowing if something is just a placebo effect doesn't take away the magic of the mind when it just proves it. lmao.

T E C H N I Q U E S : :

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ : : social media technique : : when you see something you want, think "omg I have that too!!", "me rn", "twins!!" cuz y'all that's so much inspirational than jealousy

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ : : lists / checkbox technique : : list your desires and affirm that you have all of them cuz it's fun and you will anyways

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ : : the water technique : : esp if you're planning on drinking 2 liters of water and being hygienic for 2025, keep saying that water makes u prettier

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ : : the love letter technique : : if manifesting an SP or simply someone loving you, write a love letter to urself as if you're them with visualizations. or write yourself a love letter from you and write love letters you won't send hehee

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ : : I would like more technique : : gratitude is key for this, but basically if you experience one small good thing or a small manifestation, affirm "I am so grateful for this, universe / god, I would like more".

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ : : for you and for me technique : : you have to block out limiting beliefs. if you hear someone say "your standards are too high, good men don't exist." you think to yourself "good men don't exist FOR YOU" and stay safe. update your affirmations to say "money is so easy FOR ME to have" also <3

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ : : play some music babes : : everytime you listen to music esp those dreamy love songs and those pretty lyrics, pretend they're all about you. feel beautiful.

G E N E R A L T I P S : :

!! some people will not find some ideas and techniques fun because they're coming from a place of attachment, scarcity desperation and doubt !!

🌺 : : but baby girlll manifestation is supposed to be magiccc. you have to feel like a little girl again and pick up the feeling of believing that you're just a pixie fairy or a pretty princess WHEN you were a child.

that's what ultimate detachment is!! children can experience stuff, they throw tantrums ofc honey but they don't get stuck in the experience. you'll cry over the past but them?? they'll cry over a broken crayon but once the crayons are gone, they're playing tea party next. SEE???

so yah, feel like a child. you should have no problems believing in anything because you're overconsuming. I see you gurl. stop thinking serious and hanging on. have fun y'all.

[dcangel]

MY SMUTTY WRITING PROMPTS

I have a shit tone of smut prompts, so feel free to request any numbers for any of following characters: stiles Stilinski, Thomas (TMR), Dave Hodgman, Joel Dawson, Void Stiles, Stuart Twombly, Mitch Rapp, Simon Tarnum, Colin. I literally got pretty much done with this and was abt to post it bc I made the collage at the end and everything AND I FUCKING FORGOT ABOUT COLIN

As you can tell it’s all Dylan’s characters, and these are going to be the main people I write for. I don’t want to write about dylan himself as of right now bc I feel like it’s like sjrkrfk but yeah.

Anyways… there turned out to be 77 total prompts FOR THE SMUT ONES ALONE which is.. yeah

But I do have more than just smut prompts, I have some normal ones and I’ll make another post abt those.

RULES!! Idgaf how old you are as long as your 16+, I only write for fem!readers, and idk what else to add but like the basic rules yk? You can request more than just the prompts such as like sub!reader or sub!character (same for dom), or like maybe a specific kink if I feel comfortable writing for it like a nickname or just something else. You also don’t have to choose from one of these, you could just give me a request, and it also doesn’t even have to be smut. I’m always happy to hear your ideas and randomly thoughts<33

Anywayss…

SMUT PROMPTS—

1. “I want to hear you beg.”

2."Arch your back for me.”

3."You look better with my hands around your neck."

4."Swallow it. All of it."

5."God, you feel so fucking good."

6."Suck on it"

7."You're so fucking hot."

8."Open your legs for me, baby. I wanna see you."

9. “Don’t hold back.”

10. "Ah, fuck.”

11. "That noise...keep making it."

12. "Wrap your legs around my waist."

13. "Let's make this quick."

14. "Don't close your eyes, angel. Look at me"

15. "You're mine."

16. "Such a good little (slut/good boy, good girl), aren't you?"

17. "faster-ah shit-harder”

19. “I wanna go again."

20."I want you. I need you."

21.“Huh...uh...keep going."

22."Wait-uh-do...do that again."

23."Mark me. Mark me so everyone knows who I belong to."

24."Don't be gentle with me-I like it when you're rough."

25."One more time! Please!"

26. "Fuck-uh! I love it when you touch me like that."

26."kiss me again, but- mphh"

27. "lay down, love and let me do you how you deserve it."

28. “You can suck better than that, angel… don’t piss me off, alright?”

29. “Don’t muffle yourself. Let them hear your whiny voice, baby. Everyone should know how good I’m fucking you.”

30. "We'll take it slow."

31. "I've never done this before..” "Well, neither have I."

32."I'll take care of you."

33. "Tell me what you like."

34. "Tell me if it feels good."

35. "We can stop anytime."

36. "Do you trust me?"

37. "I've been wondering what it feels like…”

38. "I think l'm ready (for this/to have sex/...)."

39. "Please be gentle…”

40. "This is going a bit too fast…”

41. “I can’t believe you’re this innocent.”

42. "Makes me want to wreck you."

43. "You've never even touched yourself?"

44. "Show me how you do it when you touch yourself.”

45. "What do you like?" - "I don't know." - "Then how about we find out together?"

46. "It's my first time…”

47. “I can't wait to ruin your innocence"

48. "Are you sure you're ready for this?"

49. "It's not a big deal. Let's just get it over with?

50. "I want you to be my first."

51. "I want you to teach me."

52. "Teach me how to make you feel good.”

53. "I wanna touch you too."

54. "Show me how to touch you."

55. "Am I going too fast?"

56. "You're doing so good for me.”

57. "Do that again."

58. "I never thought you could make such sweet noises." - "Me neither. "

59. "It's not scary at all. Let me show you.”

60."I'm worried I won't be good enough."

61. "Is it going to hurt?"

62. "I won't hurt you."

63. "I'm really embarrassed about this...”

64. "No need to worry."

65. "I got you."

66. “Kiss me?”

67. "Will you be my first?"

68. "Will you let me be your first?"

69. "I have no idea how to go about this "

70. "(If you like it), we can go all night."

71. "So (hard/wet) already…?”

72. "Are you sure this is your first time?"

73. "What do you want me to do?"

74. "Is this okay?"

75. "Does it feel good?”

76. "Tell me what to do."

77. "I'll guide you."

[oro-kapi]

after god observations

so I've read After God 6 months ago but recently in October it just absolutely out of nowhere FULLY seized my hyperfixation to a level so intense I'm genuinely so startled. I haven't felt this normal about a piece of media in YEARS holy moly.

the English fandom is so miniscule so hella I was SO happy to find there's an After God tumblr corner. anyway first post, hello anyone who stumbles across these ramblings... warning this gets kinda rambly but it's just me being gushy about the series.

abt me I don't actually frequent tumblr that much, I'm kinda new in terms of experience, although I just have some social anxiety over talking about things I like publicly so I hope this sideblog gives me a little bit of strength talking to the void. I need a place where I can go INSANE over this series anyway WAHOO!! maybe will also post fanart in the future also, maybe!

there seems to be a much larger fanbase in Japan (mangaplus/urasunday where the original Japanese is posted gets hundreds of comments as opposed to English's official publisher on comikey. albeit I don't think comikey's the best at making it accessible either). Mangaplus/urasunday do post the latest 1-2 After God chapters for free on the website btw for folks who like to read ahead. Unfortunately anything before the latest 2 chapters is region-locked to the app and I don't really want to bother trying to figure out how to get it but that's what I'm mostly aware of.

I've seen some mixed reviews in the English side, though there's only a handful really out there, but most times I feel people are missing the point!!!! AHHHHHH!!!

when I first read the series 6 months ago, I didn't think of it that much except it shared some similar ideas to my own existing original work I thought would be cool to draw some inspiration off of. I'm honestly not really sure what happened in october, but I think it started because I gave it a second reread. And SO MUCH suddenly clicked. I didn't skim the dialogue as much and began to reexamine scenes and panels with the foresight of the later chapter events. And I fell absolutely in love. preordered and got the first volume in english on release date yippee!!

the first volume or chapters 1-8 is admittedly pretty much an exposition dump, but I think that rough start is kinda to be expected for most series trying to get a reader hooked into a new world. chapters 9-20 are really where things start kicking. It leads you to think Kamikura Waka is shounen-type protagonist like one chosen hero vs the big threat, but then breaks down into a more raw, mature look at the complicated lives of normal people who're just trying to survive, find their own happiness, and fight threats they only somewhat comprehend.

are IPOs really that different from humans? But not in the sense "humans are worse and gods are better" or "humans are better and gods are worse", but in the sense that "we're all equally messy in the same way, just trying to exist because that's all we know what we want to do."

I feel it's a story that needs to be read with the attempt to understand the characters as people with layers of contradiction and their relationships with one another. That's where so much of the meat and the weight of After God comes from for me, and many of these "this was disappointing" reviews don't really seem to even notice that part at all or tend to be confused why the characters act the way they do.

/// spoilers ahead!! talking about some of my observations and thoughts

I can't really remember where it was if there was a more explicitly stated spot that Ahu'az takes the form of what people see as most beautiful (at this point I'm wondering if I'm hallucinating this up oh god). Closest thing with the implication this is the case is in Chapter 34 when Yako/Furuya asks "what form did the God Ahu'az take for you?"

if this is the case though and it changes from person to person's perspective... then oh all the more tragic when Shion went to see Ahu'az and saw Waka/Alu'la as her most beautiful person.... DOOMED YURI, FUCK

--

obikawa saying "wow it's cooler here than I expected" back in chapter 9 really gets a new perspective when you apply the later reveal how IPOs are basically born

--

silly thing to wonder about, did the florescent banana tee Obikawa gave Tokinaga somehow become the saving grace that stopped him from getting eaten lol?

he is such a loser (affectionate) though like TOKINAGA YOU'RE LITERALLY 10 STEPS AWAY FROM YOUR HOUSE YOU CAN GET CHANGED!!

--

Tokinaga talks about being afraid of bathtubs chapter 17, and then on a reread I noticed he is standing in front of a bathtub in chapter 3. what kind of hell happened to you my guy omfg

--

I know that damn Default CSP Rubble Asset when I see it!!!!

pattern recognition throws me out of the loop a lot I work on comics in CSP as well and now I don't read webcomics the same way anymore oops. right off here I think it's pretty safe to determine After God was drawn in CSP; assets can't really be converted to other programs.

more CSP assets I recognized:

this hatching brush for the outline of Tokinaga here is ベタ線新 from this set

Nayuu's tree branches are from this set

and I'm pretty sure the water here is from this blood set, which might appear elsewhere a few times (i see these shapes in my dreams. this blood set haunts me so bad)

to be clear this isn't a critique or "using assets is bad" at all. normal readers are not going to notice these things. (in which i'm not normal i study Eno's art so intensely because i admire it so much). when making comics or other repetitively drawn works, artists will take shortcuts and should absolutely take shortcuts. it's just neat to share what tools were used for those curious!

off topic on the topic of csp if anyone would like the link, she's shared the brush she made for drawing Vollof here too!

--

I can't freaking imagine how it feels to have your beloved friend melt away on your lap between your fingers like that unholy

if you squint much, you can make out both Yoriko and Tokinaga overlaid in the speech bubble, though I'm not sure what the next one really says

but ahfjhfgifgh!!! the book being animal anatomy is such a stab in the leg cherry on top

(and it's probably an art error but tokinaga's pinky is back/weirdly has a solid shape there instead of it being flabby glove. wani asks how did tokinaga get there before he and yoriko so silly weird theory its tokinaga from a different time iterative loop? wonky. probably still an art error though)

--

so how did Alu'la get "reincarnated" within a human? How does an IPO get reincarnated at all? We've seen orokapi needed to eat a human to become a specific human. Alu'la definitely didn't eat a human.

We hear from Orokapi he drank seawater mixed with sewage and gained the intelligence that way. Closest I could think of are the microbiota that make up an IPO and their abilities. Maybe Waka's parents or Waka drank shit water of the sort and got the microbiota inside her that way or idfk

--

Thanks Tokinaga for the "uses chopsticks to eat everything" rep 🔥🔥

--

i'll leave you on that this is getting too long AHHAAHAJF thanks for reading, hope you got something cool out of this post! :]

[alkaline-wtr]

WE WILL SURVIVE (oneshot)

- - CHAPTER 3.5 - -

Graves x reader Description: Graves and reader camp out on a rooftop, and Graves teaches reader how to properly eat an MRE. Genre/Warnings: zombie apocalypse AU, Ghost x fem!reader, survivor!reader, oneshot WC: 860

My Masterlist

**Nothing fancy this time. This is just a quick little oneshot as promised, to make up for last chapter being so short. I have no excuse for why it took me so long to get this done. Honestly, I just lost interest and motivation for a while. I started a new job too, so I guess I lost a bit of free time there too but, I'm working on doing better about that. Anyways, this oneshot idea just seemed silly and cute, but not vital enough to make a whole chapter out of it. On another note, Ghost is coming BACK! Very soon. As well as a few other characters being introduced next chapter. Buckle up because Ch 5 is going to wild, and LONG. I've already got it mapped out and in the works. Stay tuned and Enjoy.

<< PART 1 / << PART 3

The sun had long set over the vacant city, leaving the sky saturated with stars. Without the haze of light pollution, they seemed to shine brighter and more plentiful than you remembered.

You looked on in awe, enjoying the view. This was the first time since the outbreak that you’d had the chance to breathe and admire the sky.

“This is nice.”

You say. You Keep your voice low as if it would disturb the peaceful night.

Phillip smiles. His face is illuminated by an orange glow as he stokes the crackling fire between you. You watch him for a moment.

“Who would’ve guessed the Military could prepare you for the end of the world?”

You add, shifting to face him, your legs crossed under you.

“No one's really prepared for the end of the world.”

He responds.

“Well... No, but you certainly learned more survival skills than I ever have.”

Phillip shrugs. To him, survival was second nature. A skill burned into his mind and muscles alike. It had been his livelihood for so long that this was no different than any other day except maybe fewer bullets.

"It's crazy to think just months ago we were all just living our lives, worried about bills, and jobs..."

Your words trail off and a sadness washed over you. Philip notices this, thinking of what he can do to take your mind off things.

His gaze follows yours to the sky. The Milky Way is much more visible to the naked eye now that the world is void of electricity.

"Just months ago, there wasn't this breathtaking view."

He reminds you. You look back at him. Watching the lines crinkle around his eyes as he smiles.

You smile back.

"You're right."

A beat of silence hangs between you before Graves drags his bag into his lap and rummages through it.

"How about food?"

You raise an eyebrow curiously.

"Okay."

Phillip pulls out two brown packages tossing his bag aside.

"What's that?"

You ask. Phillip chuckles.

"Come sit. I'll show you."

He pats the space beside him. A tarp lays folded neatly beneath him.

You stand up dusting off your backside and move to sit beside him.

"This,"

He starts, using his knife to slice open the top of the package.

"Is an M-R-E.”

"A What?"

You ask, furrowing your eyebrows.

“An M-R-E.”

Phillip repeats with a chuckle.

"It stands for Meals-Ready-to-Eat."

He explains.

"They are meals given to soldiers on the field, not the best tasting but, more substantial than anything you’ll find out here.”

He inspects the writing on the front in the dim light of the fire.

“Would you like Spaghetti? Or Chili Mac?”

Phillip asks.

“Uh, Spaghetti I guess?”

You reply still a bit confused.

"A shame... The Chili Mac is a classic."

You chuckle, moving to sit closer to him. Phillip finishes opening the package. He dumps the contents on the ground in front of you.

It was hard to imagine anything appetizing behind the muddy brown plastic.

You followed along with Phillip's instructions as he explained the process of cooking the meal. You nestled the 'entree' packet into a larger green bag, watching as he used his canteen to pour water up to the thick black line at the bottom and seal it up with a cardboard sleeve.

“Now, we wait for this to heat up. Here, is the snacks, dessert, and of course, a spoon. And this you can ignore.”

He says taking away the last package.

“Why, What is it?”

You ask curiously.

“It’s not important.”

You give him a quizzical look and look at the small plastic in his hand.

"Gum?"

You asked, eyes scanning over the two white rectangles. Philip nods.

"Not the kind you want."

You knew better than to defy Philip's warning but, you couldn't help but wonder the reasoning.

"How come?"

Philip smirks.

"Do you really wanna know?"

"Yes,"

You answered persistently.

"They are laxatives."

Phillip finally says. Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

"Oh..."

Philip nudges your shoulder with his.

"Don't worry about it. At least I didn't wait to tell you while you were chewing them."

He teased. That was a fact you were grateful for.

As the two of you waited for the entree to heat up, Phillip showed you which bag to make the powdered drink mix and you both shared the crackers and cheese spreads that came with the MREs. It was all so mundane, yet comforting. Something about the routine of it made you feel almost normal again.

Once the entree had finished You and Philip sat side by side enjoying your meals.

"Not bad, right?"

Phillip asked, watching as you picked at your half of the cookie.

The snacks weren't too bad, and just as Philip had said it was more substantial than anything you'd found out here. The entrees themselves weren't the most delicious thing you'd eaten but it was nice to have a hot meal regardless.

"No, it wasn't."

Philip tilted his head back to finish off the lime-green drink he had shaken up earlier. His eyes caught yours studying your expression. He dropped the drink to his lap and raised an eyebrow.

"What's wrong?"

You shake your head.

"I... just wanted to thank you for all your help. You've saved my life. I owe you."

Philip chuckles.

"You don't owe anyone anything."

He sighs,

"If you spend too much time thinking about who owes what, this world will swallow you whole."

You thought back on the past months of survival and how desolate the world had been. But up here, with Phillip beside you, it didn’t feel so lonely.

PART 4 >>

Tag list

@yourfavbabigirl @keiraslayz @dcnocap207 @nicolebarnes @jupiternighties

[so-long-soldier-writes]

Dog Days Are Over

kai parker x reader

summary: the post-wedding heartbreak never ceases. without him, life seems to lose its meaning. but despite your best efforts to depart and chase the void that seems to call to you, somehow you're held back. someone refuses to let you go.

tags: tw: su1c1de attempt & thoughts, blood, blood drinking, vampirism / transition, heretics / siphoning, emotional hurt / comfort, light angst, heartache, anger / mild violence, slow recovery, domesticity, friendships, found family, canon divergence, loosely follows plot of seasons 7 & 8

word count: 8.2k

a/n: I'm obsessed with found family x heretics, if you can't tell. I've had this idea for months and finally was able to execute it! (and by execute, i mean write the whole thing in 10 hours & edit for 2 days)

A subtle weight rests on your body; a heaviness in your chest makes it hard to breathe. You don’t fight it. In a couple of minutes, it won’t matter anyway. The wound in your stomach bleeds, soiling your bright blue shirt with a dark red tint. Your heart rate slows, and your eyes flutter. The world around you is getting darker by the second. The end is near, and you swear you can taste it. To whether it’s heaven or hell you are headed, you don’t mind. Or maybe, it’s nothingness. A void. Either way, anything is better than here. 

Your short gasps for breath begin to even out as your heart fails. Pumping no longer seems necessary, so the organ quits. It succumbs to the state that your brain has been in for weeks: numb. Cold. Dead. 

A glimpse of life flashes before your wilting eyes. A figure running towards you, putting their hands on your cheek. Your lover, maybe, greeting you for an eternity of peaceful nothingness together. Your lips part in the joy of seeing him. Blood trickles from your mouth; the wound finally shutting down your body. Your eyes close and you welcome the darkness. 

<•>

The next time you wake up, it’s still dark, and you automatically assume it’s the void that called you home. The Other Side collapsed over a year ago, but supernatural creatures have died since, and nobody ever knows where they go. Here, presumably. To the dark. 

After a moment, your eyes begin to adjust and you move to sit up on your knees. The ground beneath you is hard and cold, like cement. It is not at all welcoming or comforting, but maybe that’s how death is supposed to feel. You shrug, not caring yet. Soon, you won’t feel anymore. Soon, you’ll enter the void, or cross the Styx, or whatever is the last necessary step of dying. Soon, you’ll be free. 

You stand, then stumble. One minute, your mind and soul feel empty, but in the next, an insatiable hunger takes over your body. It knocks you back to your knees. A whine escapes your throat. Death should not feel this way. Death is supposed to be empty. Something’s wrong. 

“Hello?” You call into the void, not expecting an answer. 

Instead, you hear a far-off voice, talking not to you, but someone else. “She’s awake.”

Fear thumbs in your heart. You put a hand over it, only to realize after a couple seconds that it’s not beating. The hunger increases as the sound of footsteps approaches. This isn’t happening. You can’t be alive; shouldn’t be. You chose death. Wanted it. Sought it. 

But someone had other plans. 

<•>

“Hello?” A girl calls out, maybe to you. She waits, then pulls back a small window, letting a little light in your supposed void. “Where are you?”

“What do you want?” You ask, straining. Your voice comes out weaker than you like it to be.

“I brought you something.” 

“Nora, turn on the light,��� another girl says.

“Would you like a light?”

No, you think. You’d like to be dead. But… you’d also like to identify your captors. “Okay.”

An overhead light comes on a moment later. You shut your eyes tight as it floods your senses, then open it once you start to adjust. 

“Too much?”

“Was there a lamp option?” You sass. 

“I could find a lamp,” the second girl suggests.

“We’ll find her one in a moment,” the first turns back to you, “can you see us alright?”

Finally, you can. Two girls peek through a window, one brunette and one blonde. They seem sweet, not like the high school mean girls’ type, but you’re still cautious. “I can see you.”

“Good. We have something for you.”

The smell of blood attacks your senses. Your hunger grows. 

You make two big strides to the pair, before realizing something. You weren’t a vampire before, so why should the smell of blood excite you now? You stop, shaking your head. “No.”

“You have to drink,” the blonde urges. You have to complete the transition, she doesn’t say, despite it on her mind. 

“No, I wanted to die. I tried to die.” You lock eyes with the brunette. “One of you turned me.”

“Y/N, you can’t die. You-”

“How do you know my name?! Who are you?!”

“That doesn’t matter right now, what matters is that you drink.”

“No!”

“Y/N, please!” She holds the bag further out to you. 

Your weak body begs for you to drink, but your mournful heart refuses. “No!” You shout again. “I’m not drinking your blood; I’m not transitioning!”

“You have to!” The blonde agrees with her friend. “You’re getting paler by the second.”

“Good. Then I’ll have lived and died a witch.”

“You’re too young to die, Y/N. You can’t give up. He wouldn’t want you to give up.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Please, drink, and then we can talk.”

“No. You can’t make me.”

“I can,” she argues.

“You won’t come in here with me. With me so close to transitioning. That would be suicide.”

“Well we can’t let you die, either.”

You stand off with the two girls. They seem to communicate telepathically between themselves. It’s quite frightening to not know what they’re thinking. You stare at them, wondering who they are and why they care that you live. 

“You’ll thank us later, Y/N, just drink.”

“I don’t want to live. If I wanted to, I wouldn’t have stabbed myself.”

“You won’t feel this heartbreak forever,” the blonde speaks, like a Hallmark card you didn’t ask to receive. You roll your eyes. 

“I think we have to,” the first girl says, hand undoing the bag.

“I agree.”

Before you can ask about their apparent plan, they’re opening the door and swarming to you. 

“Get out!” You cry. The blonde holds your left arm, while the brunette backs you up to the wall. “I don’t want it.”

“You’ll be grateful one day,” she sticks her promise to you again. 

“If it’s not today, there’s no point. I can’t take this anymore.”

“Take it from someone who spent a hundred years in solitary confinement, I know loneliness. It hurts. It’s worse than a knife to the stomach,” she references your attempt. It’s still apparent on your clothes. ���But life isn’t all sad. Sometimes it can be beautiful.”

“I’ve seen it beautiful,” you argue, tears forming in your eyes, “I've seen it, yet I’ll never see it again.”

“You have to trust us. Trust yourself. You can be happy again.”

“No.”

“Yes, Y/N, come on. Drink the blood.” The brunette holds the bag to your face, pinning you against the wall.

“No.” In a last ditch effort, you raise your free arm and smack the bag out of her hand. It flies, then hits the stone wall across from you and splatters. Her eyes go wide, and when she looks back at you, a triumphant look shines in your eyes. 

“What did you do that for?!” The blonde shouts. “Waste a perfectly good bag!”

“It’s okay, Mary Louise, just means she’ll get a taste of the real stuff.” Before you can ask, the vampire before you is biting her wrist and shoving it between your lips. You fight, kicking and swinging, but the girls are much stronger. “Keep her still,” she nods to her friend, “just a little more.”

Your wrist starts to burn. You glance down for a second and see an orange glow emitting from the point of connection on your skin. “What-”

The brunette takes advantage of your parted lips and shoves her wrist further into your mouth. “Okay, stop,” she says, and the girl siphoning stops. 

Your body is weak, but your heart feels strong. It doesn’t beat, but the blood filling your stomach powers it. The siphoning, however, tolls on your body. The girls let go of you, watch you daze, then gently help your body to the floor. You’re out like a light, asleep. 

<•>

You’re much stronger the second time awake. Stronger, with a vengeance. First, you need to find out who those girls were, how they were able to siphon you, and why they wanted to keep you alive. Then, you need to find the nearest piece of wood and send your soul to the void like you had planned. 

You look around, searching for anything sharp and anything wooden. You realize now that you’re in a cellar with absolutely nothing that could be used as a weapon, and the only thing in there with you is another blood bag. Angrily, you kick it and it splatters. The smell reaches your nose and you curse yourself for wasting it, now hungry. On the bright side, the violent act seems to let your captors know you’re awake. They walk gingerly down the stairs only a moment later, then switch on a lamp before opening the window. 

“Y/N?” The brunette starts, tone cautious. 

Your reply is bitter. “What?”

“I’m sorry we had to hold you down. We didn’t want it to come to that.”

“But you had to drink. We couldn’t let you die.”

“What do you care? And who are you?” Then, “and why could you siphon me?”

“If we let you out, will you run?”

“We can’t let her out, Mary. I don’t trust she won’t hurt herself.” You scoff. She turns back to you. “I’m Nora, this is Mary Louise.”

“And? How do you know me?”

“Well, we don’t, but we recognized you from pictures.”

“Pictures? What pictures?”

The girls hesitate. A name rests on their tongues, but they don’t utter it. Unbeknownst to you, they fear saying it out loud will drive you mad. Names have power, and in this case, a lot of it. 

“Doesn’t matter right now,” the brunette, Nora, says instead. “What matters is that you get better.”

You laugh dryly. “I would’ve been better off dead.”

Mary Louise seems to get agitated at that. “Stop saying that! You have to live! He’d-”

“Mary, don’t say anything.” The girl quiets immediately. 

“Why do you care so much if I live? Who’s he? Where am I?”

“Technically, you’re in the Salvatore house. The basement. We’d give you a room if we could trust you, but it’s too great a risk that you’d hurt yourself still.”

“Why the boarding house? Where’s Damon? Stefan? Do they know I’m here?”

The girls share glances but confess nothing. “You’re safe here. We are not going to hurt you.”

“That’s what people often say before hurting said captive.”

“You’re at more risk by your own hand than ours,” Mary retorts. “You stabbed yourself in an alley behind a dumpster. You’re lucky Nora and I sensed the blood.”

“Luck is not the term I’d use. If you couldn’t tell, I did it on purpose.”

They sigh as if they knew it was on purpose, but for some reason they’re not telling you, they still felt the need to save you. 

You ask again, “why did you turn me? Why not just let me die?”

Nora hands you a new blood bag. “Drink this.”

Rolling your eyes more, you refuse. “No.”

“Drink, and we’ll give you answers.”

“C’mon, you’ve already transitioned,” Mary argues, “you might as well not dessicate.”

You know she’s right. Angrily, you snatch the bag and drink it down quickly. When you toss the bag back at Nora, she sighs. 

“You’re a friend of a friend of ours,” she says vaguely. “He would want you to live. He’d want you to live your life and die naturally, rather than die young and heartbroken.”

“That ‘naturally’ part is no longer happening-”

“-which is not our fault,” Mary snaps, interrupting you.

“Mary,” the other calms, “patience. Yes, when you die, it will no longer be natural, but at least as a vampire, you have a shot at life again. In a sense, maybe, it’s a gift. You can leave if you want to leave. You can go where you want. You’re not bound by human laws or rules. You can be free.”

“I don’t want to be free. I don’t want anything if I can’t-” you stop yourself. “I didn’t ask for this.”

“I know. But someday, you’ll realize life is worth living, and you’ll be glad that you got a second chance. Take it from someone - both of us - who were given one.”

“Easy for you to say, you have each other. I have no one.”

“Maybe we can be someone for you, if you trust us.”

“Yeah, not likely.”

“Give it time, Y/N. We’ll bring you another bag later.”

As she shuts the window, you shout. “You didn’t even answer all my questions!” But they’re gone. The lamp remains on, but you’re left to your thoughts, alone. 

<•>

The same cycle repeats for days. Weeks, even. The longer the mystery girls keep you locked up, the angrier you get. They arrive, open the window, practically force you a bag, spew bullshit about how you’ll get better, then leave. Two, sometimes three times a day. No one else ever visits, although one time, they had a third girl - Valerie - join them. She didn’t talk much, but she sure did seem to study you. 

That day, after realizing there were more people in the house than just the two of them, you grow restless. Your mind is understimulated and bored. Your heart is broken and sore. You haven’t seen daylight in god knows how long. The next time Nora and Mary Louise come down, you’re ready to pick a fight. 

You drink the bag without complaints, then send it flying back through the barred window along with a string of shouts and cuss words. They’ve given you the bare minimum of information, despite promising an explanation, and saving you from death just to lock you in a cellar seems cruel and unfair. They want you to live, yet treat you like a wild animal. They swear they’re protecting you, but you can’t see them as anything but kidnappers. 

Nora remains calm throughout your rants, though Mary Louise looks on the verge of tears. It hurts, a little, to see her so upset, but if she could feel the agony you feel day-after-day, maybe she’d understand your pain. 

After every last word on your mind is spat out to the girls, Nora gives you a look that you hate. It reads that she sympathizes; she cares, in her own way, but she keeps you confined for your own good. You hate to admit it, but she’s right. If they had even given you a pillow, you’d find a way to hurt yourself. Even if you kill yourself daily just to be unconscious most of the time. Still, you scream at them. How you didn’t ask to live; how you were ready to die; how you can’t live without him, and he’s gone. You think Nora doesn’t understand, but she does. They both do. 

She doesn’t tell you she does until you settle. And when you do, she finally tells you all of it.

<•>

“Your silencing spells are weakening with her anger. She’s literally breaking them down, there’s so much pain in her screams,” Valerie tells the girls. “You better get her under control quickly, or Lily will have something to say about it.”

“She’s just facing the worst part of her transition. All the pain is hitting her at once, coupled with the fact that her lover is dead. Give her a break.”

“You shouldn’t have turned her at all, Nora.”

“Well I couldn’t very well let Kai’s girlfriend kill herself out of heartbreak. We owe it to him to save her.”

“Some people don’t want to be saved.”

“She doesn’t want to die,” Nora counters, “she just doesn’t want to live without him.”

“And now she’ll live forever without him.”

“I’m going to help her find happiness in this life. Even if he’s not here, she needs to know life is worth it to hold on and find something that makes you happy again.”

“A heartbroken vampire in love with a murdered sociopath can be a very dangerous thing.”

“So can a previously dessicated heretic still in love with her ex-lover from the eighteen hundreds,” Nora sasses. “She’ll be okay, she just needs time.”

“I bet Mary Louise won’t like you devoting so much time to a girl that’s not her.”

Mary enters the conversation from the kitchen. She leans against the doorframe, a small smirk on her lips. “Mary quite likes the girl, actually. She’s grateful to Kai for feeding us and busting us out of that god-awful prison world, and she knows how much Y/N meant to him. And, she likes seeing her girlfriend put so much effort into healing someone else’s broken heart.”

Valerie rolls her eyes, defeated. “Whatever. Just put up new silencing spells, because the neighbors will start to complain.”

<•> 

That afternoon, the girls visit you and prepare themselves for a new string of cuss words. The modern day tongue seems to have many at the ready, and the pair are always surprised to hear the variations you spew at them. Although, when they open the window this time, they’re shocked to find you sitting criss-cross, in the middle of the floor, sobbing heavily. Your hands cover your face, and you seem to neglect to notice their presence. Nora’s heart breaks. In the moment, you remind her of Alice in Wonderland in her sea of tears. She recalls reading that book over a century ago and relating to lost little Alice. Now, she’s transported back in time as she looks at you.

“Y/N?” She asks cautiously. You look up, glance at her, but then dart your eyes back to the ground. “Are you okay?” 

“How is life supposed to get better? How do I live after all this tragedy? Where do I go from here?”

“That’s something we’d like to help you find out, if you’d let us.”

“That’s why we turned you,” Mary adds, “so that you could find it, and have friends along the way. We want to help you.”

You raise your head back up to them. “I can’t do it. I’m not strong enough for it.”

“You are perfectly capable of living a life you can be proud of. You just need a little push to get there.”

“And how am I supposed to get there, living in here? In this cellar?”

“This is only temporary. This is for your safety, until you find it in yourself to want to live. ‘Til the desire to hurt yourself is gone, okay?”

“We have another bag for you,” Mary says, tossing it to you.

You drink it unquestioningly, and they prepare for the shouting. This time, however, it never comes. You only nod to the girls, then lie on your back and continue to cry. 

<•>

A month after your transition, you finally settle. Most of the anger and tears have subsided, and the boundary and silencing spells hold without wavering. Nora and Mary Louise want nothing more than to tell you their full story, and they think you’re finally ready to hear it. 

For the first time ever, you smile at them. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Nora says calmly. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I want to die,” you blurt out, but then sigh. “But okay. A bit numb.”

“You haven’t turned off your humanity, have you?” Mary jokes lightly.

“And be even more bored out of my skull? No.”

“Good. Bag?” 

You shrug. 

“Can we come in?”

Your eyes narrow at Nora’s request. The question is new to you. Usually, they stay beyond the cellar door. The last time they had come in with you, she force fed you her blood. But despite that memory, you don’t feel threatened by the girls anymore. They give you a strange sense of peace, like you could trust them, for reasons you don’t understand. “Sure,” you reply. 

They join you on the ground, the three of you all sitting criss-crossed. Mary hands you the bag, which you accept and drink quietly. 

“Y/N…” Nora starts, “we know you have a lot of questions. And while we didn’t want to give you any responses before, we think you’re ready to hear some answers now.”

You pause sipping your bag. “Really?”

“Well the hard part of your transition is over,” Mary says, “we’d really like you to trust us, and we’d like to have trust in you, too, so that we can let you out. But in order for that to happen, we have to know you’ll be safe in the world. No pointy objects, no wood.”

You turn to Nora. “Is that one of the questions you’ll answer? The real reason you want me alive?”

“It is.”

You nod. “I’m listening. And I promise, I’m okay right now. I’m not going to hurt you, or myself, unless I have reason. Truth be told, I don’t really have the mental strength for it.”

Nora nods, too, then, “why?”

“What?”

“Why is it that you don’t have the strength? What’s plaguing you? Why did you attempt to take your own life?”

“I…” your eyes already start to water again, “I can’t live without him. I don’t want to live without him.”

“And who is him?”

“I- I can’t say.”

“Can’t say because you fear our judgment, or can’t say his name out loud?”

“Both, I guess.”

“Might I say it, then?”

“I guess. If you know…”

“Y/N… we know it’s Kai. And we know because his… passing affects us, too.” Hearing his name out loud shatters your heart, but Nora saying she knew him catches your attention. You tilt your head at her. “The reason we were able to siphon you earlier is because we’re like him. We’re heretics.” You straighten. “We were trapped in the 1903 prison world. Kai fed us and let us out. We owe our survival to him.”

“He became a brother to us,” Mary adds, “was a brother to us. We’re all of the same family, with the same rejected gene, although a century apart. Besides each other, we’ve never had anyone understand us, and aside from Lily, no one’s ever cared to listen.”

“But how do you know me? You know,” your voice wavers, his name coming off your tongue weakly, “Kai. How do you know me?”

“Because, silly, he loved you,” Nora rolls her eyes gently, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Mary nods. “Once he knew we were trustworthy, he talked to us nonstop. Some of it was about the modern world or his own past, but he mostly talked about you. He had the strangest device, a phone, he called it, and would look at pictures of you until it died, and after that, he had one in his wallet.”

“And he’d tell stories. How kind you always were, how he came to trust you, and how you had started a relationship together.”

“The longer he spent there, the more worked up he was getting. He told us about 1994 and what had happened, and that he’d spent eighteen years in another prison world, just to end up in a colder, darker one. I think that’s where the wedding went wrong.”

You agree. “He told me his biggest fear was getting sent to one of those again. Being alone.”

“Not only being alone, but being without you,” Nora says. “We were there, but he still needed you.”

“And although we kept him company, it wasn’t the same.”

“Valerie didn’t help much,” Nora mutters.

“Valerie… the other one? Upstairs?”

“She didn’t approve of his crime to get locked in 1994. She seemed to have forgotten her own childhood, judging his like that. We all grew up similarly. Told we were abominations and cast away.”

You’re about to make a comment on that, but Mary beats you to speaking first,

“You didn’t flinch when I siphoned you.”

“Yeah, um,” you smile, a memory surfacing, “I used to let Kai siphon whenever he wanted.”

“It didn’t hurt?”

“I liked it.” You shrug. “Hurt a little, sometimes. Like a burn, but… I liked the feeling.”

“You say ‘whenever he wanted,’ so like, not only for spells?”

“Sometimes he just wanted to feel magic in his blood. I didn’t use my magic a lot, and knew he had been deprived of it, so regardless if he was performing a spell or not, yes, I’d let him siphon.”

“So…” Nora starts, “you said you didn’t use your magic a lot?”

“Not really.”

“So you won’t be too upset at losing it now that you’re a vampire?”

You give her a playful glare. “I’ll miss it, but I can live without it.” Her face lights up at your choice of words. “What?”

“‘You can live without it’. That’s exactly what I want to hear from you; that you know you can live, despite the tragedy, just like you said you fear.”

“Nora-”

“Sh, sh, sh, let me relish this moment.” Mary giggles at her girlfriend. “You want to fight the war inside your mind. You want to live.”

“I wanted to live with Kai,” you remind. “Alone…”

“You won’t be alone. We know what it’s like to be lonely. We won’t let you feel that way.”

“I just… it’s going to take some time for me to heal. I can’t promise it’ll be easy.”

“We’ve got your back, Y/N. Kai would have wanted you to live. We want that for you, too.”

You nod, still a bit unsure, but now aware that these girls aren’t going to let you out of their sight, so you might as well comply. “Can I stay here, then?”

“In the cellar or upstairs?”

“I don’t know.”

Mary rolls her eyes playfully. “C’mon, we have a room ready for you.”

<•>

Adjusting to your new life is hard. Living without Kai is hard. Living with the heretics, though, is surprisingly easy. They’ve taken you in as one of their own, filling in the void that Kai left, and treating you like family. Valerie is a little weary around you, perhaps wondering how you could love the man that killed his entire family, but Nora and Mary Louise don’t ever let her get far. She, too, deep down, is grateful for the escape that your lover brought them; she doesn’t let her disapproval of his crimes cloud that too much.

Beau is more similar to Valerie than the girls. He’s older than them and Kai, and has never been one to seek revenge, as told to you by Valerie. While Kai had a penchant for violence, and Nora had a heart craving retribution, the other heretics were much more level-headed. They wanted to distance themselves from their family more so than to make them pay. And although Mary Louise was one of these, she strongly supported her girlfriend’s needs, understanding how their coven’s treatment could make them turn cold. 

Once awoken in 1903, Nora quickly admires Kai for his actions. Granted, he may have not gone about his revenge in the best way, but he refused to let his father win, and won himself. Nora wasn’t a twin, just a sibling in her particular line, but she had suffered as much isolation as Kai did. For him to break free from his father’s prison world, then complete the merge he was denied and become their leader, it didn’t take much convincing to get her involved in the break-free from 1903 plan. Mary, again, went along with her girlfriend. She was passive but had a similar childhood, and couldn’t help but see Kai as the brother she always wanted. She had one, but wasn’t allowed to speak to him, and so when Kai spoke nonstop to her, she felt adored by him. And it’s true, Kai loved them all like family, because they were. 

Despite knowing most of the heretics, you never meet Malcomb, who was killed by Damon while you were still transitioning. Nor have you met Oscar, who is out running vague errands for Lily. Though you remain in the boarding house with the four until tensions start to rise between Lily and her sons. 

Lily, rarely at the house, is nonetheless welcoming to you. She offers you a simple condolence when you thank her for giving Kai her blood. She says she wishes things turned out better, and regrets not being able to save his life. In a way, you tell her, she did, but that Damon took him away from both of you. All of you, rather, as Nora strokes your hair as you speak.

The warming party between Mystic Falls’ residents and the heretics is the day your new status as a vampire is revealed. The wistful shock in Damon’s eyes and the concerned delight in Bonnie’s is something you’ll never forget, although by this time, you’re too disheartened by either of them to address it. When Mary Louise whisks you away with a bottle of bourbon, you don’t fight. Enzo sends Bonnie a confused glance that you miss, but neither comment. 

<•>

A lot happens in a short time following that night. Jo’s twins are confirmed to be alive with Caroline carrying them, something about which you’re still unsure. Valerie had a rendezvous with Stefan a century ago, and Julian’s confirmed a monster when his atrocious response slips from between her lips. For a moment, Mary Louise is hesitant to trust her, and Nora finds solace with Bonnie, but you, now permanently bonded to the two youngest heretics, pull them back together. Oscar is lost along the way, caught by the Salvatores who had just put down their own mother. Four funerals are held in a mere couple of months: Kai, Malcomb, Oscar, and Lily. One month after that, a fifth is held for Beau. 

Caroline’s twins - well, Jo’s, ish - are born, with the help of the heretics. You watch from a distance, concerned way more for Caroline birthing two refusing siphons from her vampire womb, than for the twins themselves. In the end, only Beau is the one to not make it out. A previously estranged vampire hunter released from Alaric’s armory interrupts the introduction of life with a promise of death. Bonnie was the one to let her out, it’s revealed, so it’s only fair that she’s the one to get tangled in the mess and take her down. After that, Enzo and Damon are captured by sirens and made to perform the dirty work of the two ancient beings. Bonnie’s trapped in the middle of it, as is Caroline, and incidentally, as is everyone else in the town. Eventually, what’s left of the old Mystic Falls’ gang manages to rid themselves of the sirens, only to be faced with Cade, the Devil himself. 

Though most of these details are blurry to you. Parts of the story are missing, like holes in a blanket. You’ve kept up with the general plot, but lost a lot of the story’s structure along the way. 

That’s because seven years ago, right after the twins’ birth and Beau’s funeral, the heretics ran. Valerie escaped to Europe, and you, Nora, and Mary Louise headed south. You didn’t want to get mixed up in the turmoil, especially not with Rayna Cruz, then a vengeful Bonnie, on the loose, so the three of you disappeared with barely a trace. You’re still in contact with Caroline, and Valerie remembers to charge and connect her phone, she still talks to Nora and Mary Louise, but for the most part, you’re set far apart from your old life. 

And surprisingly, you’re happy. 

Life in the boarding house with the heretics was easy. Living with Nora and Mary Louise is even easier. You’ve taught them to adapt to the modern age, despite their unfamiliarity, but as it turns out, they blend in quite well. You have a thing for take-out; the girls love catching up on all the movies they’ve missed, so many nights are spent as movie nights, eating large amounts of take-out and binging movies all night. Of course, you also rotate cooking. Mary’s the worst. Nora’s the best. You’re in the middle, no talent of your own, for it’s Kai that taught you all you know about it. 

Speaking of Kai… over time, you’ve been able to talk more about him. You open up your relationship to the heretics, sharing stories you’ve never told anyone, telling them things that most might consider TMI, but by this point in your friendship, there’s no such thing as secrets. They love it. They love laughing at the funny parts, and crying over sadder ones. They share memories and tragedies from their own pasts, sometimes relating to Kai, but sometimes, also, relating to you. 

You share blankets on the couch and straws with drinks. You braid each other’s hair and rotate chores. You dance together in the kitchen, singing along to music both old and modern, with no neighbors to hear how undeniably loud you are. You’re happy. 

<•>

It’s been a while since you’ve heard from Caroline, but when you finally do, she sends you a cryptic message that immediately pulls you to your feet. 

Caroline: I need a favor. Call me when you get a chance. 

Your eyes narrow at the text. Rarely does Caroline text with such seriousness, especially with such a long period of not speaking. 

“What is it?” Nora asks, seeing tension on your face. 

“Caroline… asking for a favor.”

“You don’t have to go back to Mystic Falls, do you? It’s dangerous there,” Mary worries. Talk of the Devil filled the last phone call you’ve had with the other blonde. Specifically, Kelly Donovan returned for one more dramatic entrance, a bell was rung, and the Devil got out. A second protection spell was put around the house, just in case, after that news. 

“I’m not sure. One moment.” You dial her number, and only wait a second before she picks up. “Caroline?”

“Y/N? Hi.”

“Hi. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Kind of. I need you to come back to Mystic Falls as soon as possible.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“It’s… it’s about the twins.”

You shoot the girls an anxious glance as they overhear the call. 

“Is everything okay with them?”

Caroline hesitates. “How soon can you get here?”

“Caroline? Are they okay?”

“Y/N-”

“Overnight. I’ll be there by morning.”

“Okay. Come to the armory.”

You pack a quick bag and hug your friends, then leave immediately. 

“Be careful,” they wish you. “Let us know if you need help.”

“I will. I’ll be back shortly.”

<•>

You burst into the armory quite loudly, calling for Caroline. She races to your side a moment later, a finger over her lips. 

“What’s wrong? Where’s the twins?”

“The twins are fine. They’re-”

“What?! Caroline, what the fuck?! I drove all night. I-”

“Come with me. Please. And be quiet.”

Still worried, but now a little pissed, you follow her down the narrow, dark hallway to the cells. You’re about to ask more questions, but then you notice a person occupying one of the rooms. “Who-?”

She spins you around by the shoulders, forcing you to look at her. “Take him and go. Wherever you are with the heretics, bring him with you. I can’t let him hurt my girls, but if he’s with you, he’ll stay away from them.”

“Caroline, what-”

“Cade is looking for him, and Stefan and Damon want to send him back in exchange for Elena’s coffin, but I know how much he means to you and if I were in your shoes, I’d intervene, too. Hell, I’ve spent the last three days compelling Stefan’s victims that they’ve been seeing things. We’ve all done questionable things for the people we love, and so I’m telling you to do the same. Get him out of Mystic Falls, now.”

When you turn the corner, Kai Parker is on the other side of the glass. His hand is raised as he siphons the magic from the walls. 

“Caroline, will-” he pauses, noticing you. “Y/N?”

Your breath hitches in your throat. “Kai?” You turn to Caroline, searching for answers.

“He escaped when the Maxwell bell rang.”

“That bell rang days ago, you said. He’s been here ever since?”

“Damon told me you were dead,” Kai says. The glass begins to crack under his hand. 

“We don’t have time for this,” Caroline interrupts hurriedly, “Y/N, you need to go.” She waves in Kai’s direction. “Break the glass, make it look like you’ve escaped, and get out of here. Just don’t think about coming after my kids, or I’ll make you regret it.”

Kai sets his jaw, then shatters the glass. Caroline blocks the both of you from the shards, and in the next moment, you’re standing face to face with the man you’ve missed for years. 

“Hi, princess,” he greets.

You waste no time jumping into his arms, legs around his waist, burying your face in his neck. You cling to him tightly, wrapped in an embrace, until he sets you down gently. 

“Caroline,” you start, “thank you.”

She smiles sweetly. “I love you. Now, go!”

“I love you, too. I’ll call you when everything settles.”

“You better.”

You take Kai’s hand and drag him out of the armory. A series of turns leads you to a side exit; an emergency door, but with the sirens already blaring overhead, you’re not worried about it. 

“Y/N,” he pauses the moment you get outside. 

“My car’s over here, c’mon.” 

He doesn’t budge. “But-”

“Kai!”

“You’re a vampire,” he says, clearly confused. “What happened? When’d you turn?”

“What? You don’t think I could look this young seven years later?” You joke, tugging more.

“No! I didn’t mean that-”

“I…” your grip weakens with the look he gives you. “Can we please get in the car? Alaric’s going to notice you’re gone, and-”

“When? When did you turn?”

“After you died,” you confess, face falling to the ground. You can’t look at him; can’t stand to see the sadness on your face. 

“How? Did Damon-?”

“No, Damon didn’t do it. I… I couldn’t live without you. It was too hard. I didn’t want to. I tried… someone had other plans.”

“Princess…” his voice trails off as he realizes what you mean. Strong arms reach for yours to pull you into his chest. “You didn’t… oh. Oh my god.” He tilts your head up to face him, but you avoid his eyes. “Who turned you? Dam-”

“Again, not Damon. I, um, can we go? Ric’s gonna come any second, and-”

“Who turned you, Y/N?”

“Nora.” 

“Nora? From-”

“1903? Yeah. “

“Is she-? Are the heretics-?” Kai’s interrupted by shouting coming from the armory. You grab his hand once more and drag him to your car. He climbs in the passenger seat without question, and you speed out of Mystic Falls as fast as you can. 

Not until you’re fifteen minutes from the armory, do you finally answer the questions swarming his head. You lower your speed to follow the limit, then take a deep breath. 

“Nora,” he beats you to it. 

“I killed myself,” you confess, “attempted, I guess. She found me, fed me her blood right before I died. She and Mary Louise took me to the boarding house, where they had been staying.”

“Both of them?”

You nod. “I wasn’t an easy project. First I refused to transition, then I refused bags. She had to pin me to the wall to get me to drink; I still fought, and Mary had to siphon me to weaken me enough that Nora could complete the transition. After that, I’d scream and cuss at them for keeping me alive. Nora would give me this cold stare, and Mary would cry, but neither gave up on me. Then, I flipped a complete one-eighty and cried for weeks. Nora said I resembled Alice in Wonderland in her sea of tears.” You chuckle now, but Kai has a feeling you weren’t laughing then. He sure isn’t laughing at all as you retell the story. “But finally, after about a month, I settled. I realized I couldn’t die, and they wouldn’t let me die, and I had to figure out how to live, now, as a vampire. I let them give me bags without a fight, and with time, talked to them.” 

“Why did they save you, do you know?”

“That’s something I begged them to tell me for weeks, but they refused to say until I was ready to hear it. They loved you,” you say, stealing a glimpse at him, “like a hero, like a brother. They loved you, and heard so many stories in the prison world about how you loved me, and when Nora found me in the alley, she knew she had to save me because you would’ve wanted me to live. She did it for you. She didn’t want me - your girl - to die ‘young and heartbroken’.” You sniffle, tears forming. “She wanted me to learn to live a life I could be proud of, and she wanted to honor her admiration for you by keeping me here.”

It’s a lot for Kai to take in; he’s quiet for a few minutes. As he thinks, though, his hand creeps towards yours and takes a hold of it. He squeezes gently, then kisses your knuckles. 

“The heretics,” he says, “where are they now?”

“Val’s in Europe, traveling. She didn’t want to be near Mystic Falls; turns out she has history with Stefan. Damon and Bonnie killed Malcomb before I could meet him, and Damon and Stefan killed Oscar, also before I met him. Beau was killed by an ancient hunter, whilst protecting the twins after Caroline gave birth to them, and-”

“Mary Louise and Nora?”

“I live with them.”

“What?”

“We have a little house on the border. Just out of Virginia, but barely considered North Carolina. They’re still together; had some bumps in their relationship, but they’re happy now.”

“And you, are you happy?”

“It took me a long time, but I found happiness within myself and from them. So I would consider myself happy, I guess. As weird as it is to say.”

“And me… if I were to join you, would you still be happy, after all these years?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve learned to live without me. You’ve found your place in this world, and friends. You’ve built a life for yourself.”

Slowly, you pull over to give him your full attention. Kai watches carefully, curious at what you’ll say. “Not a day has gone by that I haven’t missed you. I think about you every day. I miss the feeling of holding your hand, and hugging you. Kissing you. Hell, I miss the feeling of you siphoning me. No matter how happy I’ve become, there’s always been a piece of me missing. I figured it would always be missing, but as I sit here and look at you, I realize it’s not anymore. I love you, Kai, and I want you in my life, with me. I always have. I’ve learned to live without you, yes, and I’ve found people and things within myself that contribute to my happiness, but I will never be as good as when I’m with you.”

“Y/N…”

“And if your next question is about Nora and Mary, just know that they adore you way more than you might ever know. Nora admires you, and to Mary, you’re the brother she never got to know. They saved my life because they were mourning you, and knew I was, too. We all saved each other, in a way, and we’re all brought together because of you.”

It takes another minute of focused staring to process your words. You follow his line of sight to the steering wheel, but the moment you catch his eye, he stutters a response. “I-I love you. I’ve missed you, too, every day, and the thought of you is what kept me strong when I was in Hell. I need you.”

“You have me.”

“I won’t be easy, either. I can’t promise I won’t have nightmares from all the shit that happened there, but I promise I won’t ever leave you again.”

“I’ll help you through them. It’ll be okay.”

“You sure you want me in your life?”

“I need you just as much as you say you need me. Don’t ever doubt that.”

He nods. “Take me home, then.” He smiles. “Wait, after a kiss first.” Kai moves towards you as you turn twice, once to the wheel, then back to him, and takes your face in his hands. He kisses you with a passion equally sweet and rough, fingers grazing your skin and tangling in your hair. Your own hands find his shoulders, pulling him closer. After a moment, he pulls back, needing to catch his breath after such a long time of not kissing you. “Good? You need any more convincing to keep me around?”

“Shut up,” you joke, lighting hitting his chest. “Convincing? No. But I am gonna need you to make up later for seven years apart.”

“Well that I can certainly do.”

<•>

Four hours later, you pull into the long driveway that is your home. It’s nestled peacefully in the woods, away from most people, yet not so much that anyone will assume it’s abandoned. It’s cute and dainty, with colored tulips in beds in the front, and a red wreath hanging on the door, all compliments of Mary Louise. A bowl of food and water rests on the porch, to which Kai makes a face, and you explain that Nora’s been feeding the stray cats. You, on the other hand, are responsible for the hammock on the wrap-around porch. It provides a perfect spot for reading, or, more often, a place to daydream what life would be like if Kai never left. 

Just like this, you’d think, but he’d be beside you, softly kissing your neck. 

You don’t knock before entering. However, Kai bumps into the doorway, and you let out a quiet giggle at his confused expression. 

“Nora?” You call into the home. “I need you to let somebody in.”

The door is open wide enough that Kai can see into the house, but he can’t see the stairs. Nora trots down the stairs a moment later, asking to whom you could be referring before she sees him for herself. 

“Just a friend Caroline wanted me to pick up. Kinda like a stray puppy, actually.”

Mary giggles, half-expecting an actual puppy. But then when Nora comes to the door and her heart begins to race, her girlfriend gets worried. “Nora?” She hurries to stand beside her. “Oh!”

“Kai?” Nora asks gently. It looks like him, but she can never be too sure. She looks to you for confirmation.

You nod. “It’s him.”

“Hi,” he greets, signature smile confirming his own identity. 

“Kai,” she says, tone full of relief. She rushes into his arms for a hug he didn’t expect. Nevertheless, he hugs her back just as tightly as she holds him. “Come in,” she invites as soon as letting him go.

Mary gawks as he crosses the threshold. “Can I-?”

He opens his arms again for her to hug him, and the two share their own embrace. 

“What happened?” Nora starts, “how’d you-? Where-?”

“As I told Damon, then Caroline told Y/N, I jumped out when the Maxwell bell was rung. Damon tried to keep me hidden from Y/N, but Caroline had other plans. She let Y/N take me as long as I didn’t hurt the twins, to which I’m happy to let those little Gemini gremlins go if it means being with her.”

“And Cade?”

“Caroline called on the way; Cade’s dead. And Kai ate on the way, so he’s feeling better.”

“Earlier I felt like I could still be slipping back into Hell, but Cade’s grip on me weakened, and her blood gave me strength, so I won and got my footing back on Earth. I am officially a live-dead man once again.”

Mary chuckles, but Nora’s attention catches on a word. “Her?” You glance at the ground, a blush rising to your cheeks. Nora smiles. “Not twelve hours, and the lovebirds are sharing blood.”

“Match made in Heaven,” Mary laughs more.

“Completely inseparable,” Nora agrees. “Well, Kai, I hope you’ve made plans to stay, because now that you’re back, we’re never letting you out of our sight again.”

“You want me to stay?”

Nora had turned, but now she whips back around to face him. “What? Of course. Did you and Y/N-”

“We talked in the car! I thought you were okay with staying.”

“But Nora’s the owner of the house, I have to ask her, too!”

“Of course you’re staying, dork!” She’d learned that word the last couple years and always said it fits Kai; now she gets to use it on him. “Now pull up a chair. I know you’re the cook around here, but I made dinner, and it’s pretty good!”

The four of you take to the table where Nora pours bowls of soup. You settle around the chairs like a family separated for too long, but finally joined back together, never to be apart again, and it’s good. Your hands connected with Kai’s underneath the table, and he squeezes. Across from you, the girls’ own hands are held in each other’s. The joy and laughter around the table is something you want to be a part of forever. 

[thefrogdalorian]

Hello! 

You may (or may not... I don't like to presume) have noticed my little break from posting. I just wanted to share something in case anyone was worried about me and assure you there is no need to be :) 

There isn't really one reason for why I've been on hiatus, but I guess a collection of things. 

I was really poorly with covid but thankfully I'm feeling a lot better now! But being so sick and stuck in I guess made me reevaluate certain things. 

Since recovering I got to see a lot of people I really adore with my whole heart, as well as being lucky enough to experience so many things I love with them.

And it made me realise what truly makes me happy in life. I suppose it really put things into perspective for me. I'm thinking more and more that tumblr (and being online generally) is something which unfortunately does not spark joy any longer. 

To be honest, (as I'm sure many people who were given far too much unsupervised access to the internet at a young age also do), I have a complicated relationship with social media. It doesn't make me feel good most of the time. I don't know how to handle some of the things I read and some of the things people have said to me. And just like I do irl, if the vibes feel off, I usually retreat into my shell to regroup. 

While I have made so many friends over the years of being chronically online and spoken to plenty of great people, I can feel myself getting drained again. And I really haven't missed it during the time I've been away.

I've filled my time with a lot of reading (I read Pride and Prejudice THREE times... doing amazingly), some writing and lots of long walks in nature. It's been really good for me!

As a result, right now, I just don't feel like continuing to post on this blog.

This decision wasn't caused by anyone or anything in particular. But when I've made my mind up about something, it's pretty impossible to change it. I've been mulling it over for a few days and my heart is telling me to go.

Anyway, I'm going to continue working on my WIPs and most likely continue posting them to AO3. It's by far the least social media-ish platform out there, and I really like posting on it. 

I need to take a step back to remember why I started writing, which was really as a way to get emotions out and to scream into the void a little. I don't enjoy sharing my work on tumblr, I kind of felt like I had to rather than genuinely wanting to. 

Truthfully, I just want to create and consume others' work in peace. I don't want to feel like I need to market my writing or whatever or compare myself to others. As much as I try not to, I think it's only human nature. 

So, I guess I'm really making this post to say I'll be going on a hiatus from tumblr. But I don't intend to stop writing or posting to AO3 and I hope to see you over there! 

I have no idea how long I'll be away for. Who knows... when winter comes around and my seasonal depression returns, or perhaps there is a major Mando update, maybe I'll return! 

For now, all there's left to say is how much of a pleasure it was posting about Mando and talking with you lot all these months. 

If anyone (mutual or otherwise) would like to keep in touch, feel free to message me for my discord! I'd be happy to continue chatting to you on there.

For me, in the headspace I'm currently in, one on one conversation is far less intimidating than being perceived by lots of people lol. 

I'll likely drop in at some point soon-ish and check for any of those messages, but until then, it's not a goodbye, but a see you later! 

Please care of yourselves and be kind to others :) 

Love,

Spud 🐸🩷

[wellthebardsdead]

Follow up to Lucy’s unexpected arrival to faerûn after cutting off Zariels head

———

Mizora: We had a deal Wyll. And by the way Karlach, Zariel Sends her regards.

Lucy: *feeling the fiendish urge return to scratch at the back of her tadpole, knowing she’ll corrupt another part of her soul if she feeds into the devil powers she’s been gifted, but unable to stand by* really? I haven’t heard a peep out of her.

Mizora: What?

Lucy: *pulls the bloodied burlap sack from by her pack and opens it, pulling out zariels decapitated head* silent as a- mouse. *grins assuming her archdevil form, growing in height as she spreads out large bat like wings* Now then. As the appointed replacement to Zariel by the disembodied voice of Asmodaeus himself, I hereby, set Karlach free. And- *summons wylls contract* since you’re under, my, jurisdiction Mizora. Wylls contract is now void, effective immediately. Besides, he didn’t break it anyway. Karlach, has a heart.

Mizora: sh-she does?

Lucy: *smiles and grabs her by the neck, digging her claws into her chest and ripping out her still beating heart, snapping her fingers and placing it in Karlachs chest, and the engine in Mizoras* now she does.

Karlach: *coughs as the flames die down, and the heart becomes hers* I… I have a heart…

Mizora: *screams and claws at her chest dropping to her knees* my lady you can’t! I made a mistake I simply didn’t know! I didn’t know it was you forgive me! It burns! IT BURNS!!

Lucy: *waves her hand making her disappear* away with you… *looks at karlach and wyll* I… have some explaining to do. Don’t I?…

Wyll: that… would be putting it lightly but, yes.

Lucy: okay, I kept this hidden because. Both of you would’ve killed me. Without hesitation. Wyll you were hunting a devil, and Karlach you were being hunted by a devil. Specifically- *holds up the head before dropping it back in the bag* this devil. And… I was. Just a human before this… I’m… I’m still learning how to deal with this… this world, exists only as a- oh god how do I explain a videogame-… as a story. Where I’m from… and… the more I feed into this body I’ve been given… I feel a part of my soul change in a way that I may never be able to change back… like the tadpole seemed to, bite off a chunk of it when I had to over power the goblins… I know I’ve no place to ask you to stay, or ask anything of you but-… Wyll, you need power still, and without mizora you’ve just got your sword so-… *thinks before feeding into the power again and hoping an act of good would make a difference as she summons a contract, words appearing on it as she speaks* you, can borrow some of my power. And in exchange… just don’t die… that’s all I ask don’t die… there’ll be no repercussions if you do just it costs 200 gold for withers to revive you and right now we don’t have that sort of money.

Wyll: *reads it and finds every word to be genuine with no room for her to cause harm* alright. *signs it making a ring appear on his pinkie finger and one on hers*

Lucy: it’s a pinkie promise then… thank you- and, Karla-

Karlach: *lifts her into a tight, warm hug* I can touch, I can touch people again… thank you. Thank you so, so much.

Lucy: *smiles and hugs her back* you should have never of ended up in the hells, and I’m so sorry it took this long to set you free.

Karlach: I’m free… I’m really free.

*the next morning*

Raphael: My my, what manner of place is this?

Lucy: *appearing as a lilac tiefling again* Aw look, it’s Mephistopheles boy. Done with your little tantrum over the crown I see?

Raphael: *brain short circuiting having no idea how she knows who he is yet or about the crown or who his father is* I? Pardon?

Lucy: Well? Come on then. Do your little song and dance, present me with your bread and circuses. I know for a fact you’re not really here to help us in exchange for our souls.

Raphael: *brain still reeling* Ah- I… What??

Karlach: Mephistopheles? That’s his son?

Wyll: never mind that I think she broke him.

Lucy: it helps knowing things, you can throw it out like a proverbial smoke bomb and catch even devils off guard-

[sanfangirl-cynicalromantic]

The Lady Knight | Chapter 4

Oh, my God, I didn't actually think I'd be posting the last chapter exactly one year after I posted the first, but well, here we are.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Read on AO3 here

Astrid wasn’t sure what to say to Hiccup at first. After everything had happened, they still needed to talk more. They still hadn’t resolved what to do about . . . feelings. Did he still like her that way? Had he realized they just wouldn’t work and that’s why he had forgiven her so easily?

The thing was, she had told him she was in love with him, and they were good now, but what did ‘good’ mean? Were they still friends? Was the proposal void or still being offered? Did she want to marry him? Well, yes, of course she did but she also didn’t until she sorted things out. But what about Hiccup? Did he want these things? 

There were uncomfortable questions still battling for space in her head, but she discovered that they had not lost their companionable silence, and for that she was grateful. It was nice to forget about all the drama between them and slip into their familiar pattern of working harmoniously alongside each other. Stormfly and Toothless huffed at each other as if catching up on the latest gossip and Astrid found herself smiling stupidly when her visor was down at the prince’s concentration on the maps.

“So, what are you doing on this mission?” she asked into the silence.

“Huh?” Hiccup asked, dragging his eyes from the road to look at her.

“You said you were going to Raven Point because there wasn’t enough time to gather a squad, but I’m wondering how you got this information with so little notice,” she clarified.

“Ah,” Hiccup said. “Well, um, I was . . . actually the one who got the information.” Astrid frowned in confusion.

“Really? How?”

“I, uh, well, do you possibly remember the day I came to propose to you and you said no?” he asked sheepishly. Astrid grimaced at the reminder which Hiccup took as confirmation despite not being able to see her face. “Anyway, I stumbled across Trader Johann who generously spilled the beans.”

“He just told you Drago and his generals were meeting with Dragons of his own free will?” Astrid asked skeptically.

“After I threatened him and saved his life, yeah,” Hiccup nodded. “Not in that order, though.” Astrid snorted. The idea of Hiccup being the type to threaten someone was laughable, but Trader Johann had an uncanny knack of getting under everyone’s skin, and poor, patient Hiccup often lost his temper with the obsequious merchant.

They rode on mainly in silence, trying to cover as much ground as possible so that they could hopefully scope out the coves before Krogan arrived. The sun hadn’t halfway hidden behind the horizon before Astrid caught sight of a cozy looking clearing on the west side of the forest and called to Hiccup that they should set up camp there. He turned Toothless slightly and they investigated the brush quickly, still on their horses, before Hiccup nodded in satisfaction and dismounted Toothless, beginning to brush him down immediately.

Astrid slid off Stormfly and turned to unfasten her mare’s straps. Hiccup, finished with Toothless, held out a hand to take her saddle from her. She smiled and passed it to him, their hands brushing and setting her body atingle with prickly warmth. She could have sworn his eyes darkened in response, but chalked it up to the dimming light. After looping Stormfly’s harness around a low branch by the river she set about making camp. They could afford a fire for now as they were still early on in their travels and did not need to be so discreet, and there was no need to forgo what little comfort there was to be had when sleeping on the ground.

Hiccup set to stirring up a fire and unpacking the food as Astrid finished clearing the brush out of the way. He tossed her a bread roll, stale and cold from that afternoon, but a luxury for the next few days.

“I brought plenty of coins,” Astrid said as Hiccup started taking inventory of their supplies. She had brought a lot, planning to use money to get into certain people’s good graces as she started her campaign to let females inherit, but Hiccup had already established the case with the king and brought it to his attention, so there was no better use for it than perhaps providing them a night in a tavern bed.

“Oh,” he breathed. Astrid turned to see what he was looking at. He held up her hair comb, an unreadable look in his eye.

“Oh, that,” Astrid said quietly. He brought it closer to the fire, the light glinting off the polished metal. “I bring it everywhere I go,” she shrugged when he didn’t say anything. “Plus, you know, I was coming to apologize and I just - if you didn’t accept it . . .” she trailed off, not really sure what else to say and afraid to hear if Hiccup wanted it back or if he was angry she’d even considered giving it to him.

“It’s always yours,” he told her in a low voice. Her eyes flicked up to meet his and he offered her a tentative smile which she returned. He looked down at the comb again and then back at her. “May I?” he asked, gesturing with his hand still holding the accessory.

“Yeah,” she granted him permission immediately. She untucked her messy braid - the helmet wore out the braid in mere hours - from her neckline, ignoring the way Hiccup’s breath caught as individual strands lit up like golden threads from the fire. She brushed some wisps from her face and smiled shyly. Hiccup got up from his crouch slowly, moving the way one did when approaching a wild animal and didn’t want to scare them off, but she wasn’t sure who was the most skittish in this case.

She had to stop her face automatically angling to meet his as he brushed the wisps of hair that had fallen into her face again and combed them back with fingers that would have been shaky if it were any other person, but this was Hiccup, the man with the steadiest hands on Midgard and though they were unsure they didn’t tremble in the slightest. He was unaccustomed to dealing with hair, that she could tell by the way he didn’t know exactly how to pull her hair back, but he managed and slid the comb in place, pinning those stray locks into place. He didn’t move as his hands slowly fell away from her hair. She was ridiculous looking, surely. Her hair was frizzy and messy with those few strands pinned back in a mockery of an elegant hairdo and her face was an unflattering red from the heat of the fire, steadily growing almost unbearably warm under his tender scrutiny, but he was still gazing at her like she was the most beautiful lady he had ever seen.

Neither of them were breathing, too paralyzed with the presence of the other to move, until Astrid found herself tilting her chin upwards a smidge, and Hiccup’s gaze zeroed in on her mouth. Her lips suddenly felt dry and cracked and her heart pounded at the barely concealed hunger in his eyes. Their eyes met for a split second before they found themselves leaning it at the same time, just barely stopping themselves before they made true contact. There was almost no room to breathe, if any of them were even breathing. Astrid didn’t dare blink, but if she did she’d wager her eyelashes would tangle with his before they brushed her cheek. Her neck started to protest at holding herself too still. She let out a shaky breath and inhaled a greedy gulp of air before her eyes shut and she brushed her lips over his.

She had to hold in a gasp as the sensation. She could have sworn the contact sizzled the space between them and she retreated, a knee jerk reaction like how she automatically pulled back after placing a fresh cut of meat on the iron pans when it was her turn to cook breakfast back in the Berk Guard. Apparently frying bacon was all she was good at cooking. But even as she pulled away her hands gripped his shoulders and pulled him with her, his lips landing on hers with more surety.

This was a proper kiss, Astrid thought faintly as she pressed back up against him, her neck shifting to get a better angle and one hand sliding up his shoulder to grip the back of his neck, holding him there to ensure he wouldn’t pull away until she let him. She didn’t let go of the back of his neck even as they parted for air - a short gasp - before they were surging forward again to meet each other. His body was blocking the heat of the fire from reaching her but she couldn’t bring herself to care, not when the heat of his body was seeping into hers and the whole world had condensed to dark warmth and firm torsos and his hot mouth.

“Astrid,” he whispered when they parted again, and she shivered at the utter sin in his desperate rasp of a voice.  Again they collided, mouths opening, tongues tangling. She didn’t even register them somehow slipping off of the log but she knew that now Hiccup was on the ground and she was straddling him and she couldn’t get enough and she was fumbling with his tunic, overcome by the need to be close to him, as close as humanly possible and then some but Hiccup’s hands gripped her hips to hold her still and she pulled away from his lips with a pop to look at him confusedly. “We need to stop,” he croaked, his voice tight the way it usually sounded when he was getting treated for wounds and held back his cries of pain.

She had to blink a few times to clear the cloud of lust and her cheeks immediately burned bright as she looked down at the flushed prince.

“What?” she asked stupidly because wow Hiccup’s eyes had never seemed as luminescent and dark and big before and his warm hands on her hips was terribly distracting.

“Um,” Hiccup tried to shift before he let out a deep groan and covered his face in his hands. “We shouldn’t. Not like - not like this.”

“Yeah,” Astrid agreed, not entirely sure why her body felt empty as she stood up. She offered her hand to the prince, too, but he just shook his head and rose to a sitting position, pulling his legs close to him and hunching forward like his stomach was in pain. Astrid wondered if she had somehow hurt him, if maybe she was too heavy to straddle him. Or maybe was he ashamed of what had just happened? She tried not to scowl at the thought.

“It’s just,” Hiccup continued, having caught sight of her face. “I, I just - I don’t think I could hold myself back - right then, at least. Because I, um, it was unexpected.”

“No,” Astrid said nonchalantly. “You’re right. It’s a bit too soon for us to…” she trailed off and shrugged abashedly, cursing her reddened cheeks. She cast around for her last bite of bread and stuffed it into her mouth indelicately.

“Do you want me to take the first watch?” she offered, not looking at him.

“No,” Hiccup sighed. “I won’t be able to sleep just yet.”

Me neither, Astrid thought but she unrolled the blanket and threw it over her legs before laying down with her back to the fire - and consequently, Hiccup.

‘Maybe we weren’t the match I thought we were’ rang in her head as she squeezed her eyes closed and tried to force sleep upon herself. Did he regret what had transpired between them? She fought against a shiver at what would happen to her marriage prospects if Hiccup outed her. He wouldn’t, of course, she knew she was being ridiculous, but she felt stupid and rejected and she wanted to punch him. So he had to do something that would justify her punching him.

She woke him up early in the morning right after dawn by kicking him somewhat gently in the side. He groaned and rubbed his eyes. Astrid brought Toothless, already saddled and watered over to him as he slowly packed up his bedroll. He was adorably slow for the first fifteen minutes when he woke up, and then was bright eyed until unholy hours of the night. He let out grumpy noises of protest as Toothless jostled him in the saddle and Astrid wanted to melt, but the warm thoughts of what had happened last night froze her sentimental feelings and she turned ahead coldly.

Astrid kept her eyes stoutly ahead as they rode that day. She was now beginning to regret coming with Hiccup. He kept sending her questioning glances and opening his mouth to talk and so though Astrid really didn’t want to talk to him at all, she was forced to distract him from talking about the other night by pointing something inconsequential out. She scarfed down her food that night and volunteered herself for guard duty, cutting Hiccup off efficiently by telling him not to be tired when she woke him up for his turn.

By morning again, Hiccup was also in a sour mood. His eyes bore into the back of her helmet as they trotted forward silently. It had been two days. They still had a week’s ride ahead of them, then scouting and another two weeks back. Thor strike her dead. Why was she doing this?

“Give me the map,” she said abruptly. She held her hand out and he wordlessly placed the rolled up parchment, carefully oiled, in her hand. She studied it aimlessly, trying to look occupied so she could avoid the conversation. “There’s an inn nearby,” she noticed.

“Is an inn a smart idea?” Hiccup asked. “We want to be discreet.”

“I doubt they’re expecting us,” Astrid reasoned. “And we’re only two knights. There’s nothing suspicious about that. Plus, we can do a little recon tonight anyway.”

“Alright,” the prince accepted.

“If we ride hard for three hours we should make it before evening and establish ourselves before the crowd comes in,” Astrid told him, rolling up the map and handing it to him smartly.

“Right,” Hiccup drawled in a voice that said, I know exactly what you’re doing, and you’re not getting out of it. Astrid flashed him a saccharine smile, pulled the visor over her face, and nudged Stormfly gently into a gallop.

They were silent for the ride until they caught sight of plowed fields. Hiccup straightened in his seat as the farm houses became closer and closer together before a two story building rose up invitingly. He let out a soft groan of hunger.

“Isn’t that a sight for sore eyes,” he sighed, rubbing his stomach. Astrid cast an amused glance towards him but couldn’t deny the grumble of her stomach either.

The inn was old gray wood. It was made of uneven boards that had small cracks in the thin walls, but Astrid supposed with a fire and warm food and drink it would be just fine. The bedrooms would be freezing, however. It was easily the biggest building around, so Astrid was willing to bet all the men and even some of the women would be gravitating towards the center of the small village, full of unguarded conversation if Astrid or Hiccup were to pay for their drinks.

Their horses slowed to a trot, then a walk until they stopped in front of the door. No stablehand came running to take their horses. No hired help, then. She turned to look at him before they dismounted, silently debating which one should go inside and do the talking. Two knights on their own were hardly suspicious, but the Prince and Sir Hofferson were a well known duo. The question was, which was the least recognizable? Astrid had not cut her hair before leaving her estate, not sure how everything was going to play out and not willing to risk months of cultivating her hair growth and ruining pillows with castor oil. It had also been months since she’d deliberately kept her voice low and gruff for hours on end. Mother had been pushing her to stop speaking so deeply and try a lighter tone. But she could hide behind her visor and blame any distorted sounds on the echo of her helmet. Hiccup did not look like the King, and with all the stories of his near-magical ingenuity his persona and description was probably far from the actual truth. But he wasn’t the best at bargaining, and they needed to save their money to pay for drinks later that night. They settled on Astrid, who dismounted Stormfly gracefully while Hiccup tied a kerchief around his mouth and nose.

She handed him the reins wordlessly and tried to clear her throat subtly as she walked through the door.

It swung open with a creak, revealing two women and a man bustling around the dingy room. Tables scraped against the floor as the seating was rearranged by the youngest girl. The older woman was red in the face as she snapped directions at her daughter from the fireplace while expertly balancing trays of meat and a cauldron of soup. Her husband was switching the kegs and opening them in preparation for the evening. Stacks of clean and dirty tankards littered the counters behind him. He looked up, a hint of fear and deference entering his eyes as he noticed Astrid’s intimidating armor and stance.

“How may I help you, good Sir?” he asked respectfully. His wife’s shouting ceased and the younger girl halted her work, not daring to approach the foreign knight in the room.

“Two rooms for the night, please,” Astrid said curtly. She was pleased at her voice sounding appropriately deep, although wished it had not come out so harsh. The innkeeper shifted uncomfortably.

“We don’t have two rooms available, Sir,” the man said apologetically. He was burly and his voice was steady. Astrid had to admire his guts as she pushed her visor up so he could see her piercing blue eyes and the top half of her nose. “We only have two rooms to rent out as it is, and the first one is under repair. It was damaged severely in the last raid and is completely uninhabitable.” The annoyance at his response melted a bit. This far up north the raids were deemed less important so the Berk Guard rarely had time to patrol the place when they were more focused with protecting the western and southern sides of Berk exposed to the war. And all the soldiers stationed up here would be poorer rookie knights. The people up here didn’t stand a chance. And if Hiccup was right and there was a whole army stationed up here and they were testing Berk’s reaction to small raids in this insignificant area? Odin help them all.

“Very well. One room for two, please,” she amended in a more amicable tone. The door opened and Hiccup strode through, dusting his hands. He must have cleaned out the stables for their horses and raked some hay for them. “For my comrade and I,” she explained, jerking her head towards him.

“We only have the one bed,” the innkeeper apologized, almost cringing. “B-But it is the finest we ‘ave, an you get yer own bathing room.” Astrid sighed.

“That’ll do,” she acquiesced. She produced three gold coins - far too much, she knew, but she wanted to help the family fix up their second bedroom and maybe fix those holes in the walls - and set them on the counter. “That should cover a night and a hearty breakfast and dinner as well as the stables and feeding for our mounts, yes?”

“Y-Yes,” stammered the man, likely never having received so much gold from one person before. “That’ll - that’ll certainly do.”

“Good,” Astrid smiled, though he could not see it. “Would one of you kind folks help us run a warm bath? We are weary after our travels and could use a good soak. Separate bathwater for each.” The older man nodded and snapped his fingers at his daughter, who scurried to haul some water.

“Right this way is your room, sirs,” the man led them to a small room with a rickety bed. A thin rug lay on the floor and a narrow tub stood in a corner, hidden by a sheet. The bed had one down blanket and two flat pillows. Astrid decided she liked it. She took her travel sack from Hiccup, who had brought them in and deposited it under the bed.

“The bath will be ready in twenty minutes,” the innkeeper informed them and Hiccup thanked him.

“You can have the first bath,” Hiccup offered when the man had left the room.

“Thanks,” Astrid nodded. She hesitated at taking off her helmet before the girl came in, because she hadn’t cut her hair yet and she wasn’t sure if they’d keep quiet if they realized she was a girl.

Ten minutes later the girl came bearing a yoke with multiple buckets of boiling water.

“I can pour them,” Astrid offered, taking the three large buckets of water easily. The girl nodded and went to fetch the other buckets. Once the tub was filled, Astrid dug through the sack for a change of clothes and Hiccup shuffled awkwardly.

“I think I’ll go downstairs,” he announced. “Help them get ready for tonight and see if I can get any gossip.”

“Okay,” Astrid agreed. “I should be finished by the time the hour’s done and I’ll ring to have it switched.” Hiccup dipped his chin towards her and slipped outside, leaving Astrid to finally take off her helmet and clean her hair. She stripped gleefully and slid into the tub, suppressing a pleased groan at the scalding water. She had to sit with her knees to her chest to fit in the tub, so she hadn’t filled it all the way in order to have space to shift and clean herself. She scrubbed furiously until her skin felt pink and raw. The servants at home would be horrified at her skin; it wouldn’t be as soft without their special flower baths, but Astrid relished the tender feel of cleanliness.

She dried herself off quickly after stepping out of the water, binding her chest and throwing a tunic over her head and wrapping her hair up in the remaining towel. She rang the bell and watched quietly as the girl quickly disposed of the dirty water and brought in buckets of clean water, already heated. Hiccup came back in and thanked her.

He slipped behind the sheet and Astrid averted her gaze as she heard the sounds of his tunic being pulled off and tried not to think about the lean silhouette behind the flimsy cloth divider. She fumbled for the brush in her pack and ran it quickly through her hair. She heard him step into the tub, a quiet hiss at the water and drew a shaky breath. She ran her hands through her hair, trying to dry it quickly so she wouldn’t get sick with a wet head of hair. For the first time in a while, she enjoyed the heavy weight of her golden locks. They had gotten smoother and softer with the care her servants had paid to it in the past months and she found herself planning which updos would work and how to hide her hair comb in it. She heard Hiccup scrubbing himself as she shook her hair out like a wild mane and stretched out on the bed. Even the thin mattress was much softer than the hard ground they had slept on for the past two nights.

She was wringing the ends of her hair again with her damp towel when she heard Hiccup step out of the tub.

“Oh - damn,” he swore. “I, um, forgot my undershirt.” Astrid turned to see his clean undershirt on the floor.

“Oh, it’s fine,” she reassured him. “Come out, I’ll hand it to you.” She got off the bed and picked up the shirt. Hiccup stepped behind the sheet and both of them halted.

She knew what he looked like without a shirt. But she had never had truly taken the time to look and appreciate, especially not with the unprecedented amount of tension between them and the hot brand of the memory of his mouth on lips. He was lean, with only shadowy hints of muscles and underlying strength in that stupidly attractive, unassuming way of his. His eyes were locked on her unbound hair, clean and wavy in its full glory instead of sweaty and wispy.

“Here,” she shoved the shirt into his hands and retreated as he coughed embarrassedly and scratched the back of his head.

“Thanks. I - I didn’t know . . . your hair.”

“I need to dry it so I don’t catch a cold with a wet head,” she explained. “It’s practically dry, I can just-”

“No,” Hiccup threw up his hands. “I mean, you don’t have to put it back up yet if you don’t want to.” Astrid stared at him quietly. He sighed. “Look, can we - can we talk about this?”

“About what?” Astrid asked mulishly.

“You’ve been avoiding talking to me all day today and yesterday,” he said firmly. “I thought we’d just sorted things through, and now we’re back to this.”

“I don’t think there’s much to say,” she shrugged. “I apologized-”

“And I stand by what I said; it was the best apology I’ve ever had. But I mean what happened two nights ago?” he demanded. “I’m sorry if I did something wrong-”

“No, that’s not - you didn’t do anything wrong,” Astrid protested.

“Then why are you giving me the cold shoulder?”

“I - You - didn’t like it,” she stammered. “You wanted to stop.”

“Stop? What, the - the kiss?” Hiccup let out a small laugh. “Astrid, the last thing I wanted to do was stop.”

“Then why did you?” Astrid asked. “Did you think it was a mistake?”

“I just,” Hiccup waved his hands around pleadingly. He reached for her hand and led them to sit on the end of the bed. “I want to do this right, you know, and ensure that there’s nothing to get in the way of a lawful marriage. Don’t you?” Astrid looked down at her clasped hands and didn’t answer. She felt him frown at her. Marriage. He wanted marriage, she realized. Hadn’t she literally refused it less than two weeks ago? He still wanted to marry her? Was she ready for marriage? She had only just come to terms with their feelings for each other. Was she ready for marriage to the Prince and the public scrutiny of being a Princess? Her eyes were growing bigger with her spiraling thoughts and Hiccup’s noted her panicked face with a pang.

“Astrid?” he asked hesitantly, his voice small and unsure. “Do you - do you want to marry me?” Astrid bit her lip. He sighed and made to move off the bed.

“Wait, no,” Astrid protested, grabbing his wrist swiftly. He tried to shake her off half heartedly and she caught sight of his face. Her heart dropped into her stomach at the sight. He was hurt. Again. Thor damn it, this was why she didn’t like to talk about her feelings!

“Hiccup, that’s not what I meant,” she amended hastily. “Okay? I really - I wouldn’t marry anyone else; it’s just -” she broke out and glared at the ceiling like it was withholding her words from her. “I don’t want them to win,” she finished ashamedly.

“Win?” Hiccup asked, turning to her. “Who?”

“My parents,” Astrid admitted. “They - they want me to marry you.”

“You don’t want to marry me because you already have your father’s approval to marry me?” Hiccup said incredulously. She groaned and contemplated smothering one of them with a pillow.

“No, not because I have his approval, but because - I don’t want them to think I’m marrying you because of them,” she explained. “Like they’re the reason their daughter managed to marry into the royal family. They - before you came that day to propose they had already been planning to marry me to you. They knew I liked you but the reasons they’d give me … They’d act like I’d be failing them if I didn’t, you know? I’m just expected to marry you now. All my years being a knight were useless if I didn’t use them to learn how to make the Prince fall in love with me and become royalty.”

“Astrid,” Hiccup scooted closer to her  and rested a warm hand on her shoulder.

“It’s your worst nightmare,” Astrid continued. “You’ve always said you hate those families who eye you like a piece of meat and mine is just like that.”

“Hold on,” Hiccup interrupted. “Marrying you could never be a nightmare for me. But aside from that, how is it your nightmare?”

“I don’t mean that I don’t want to marry you,” Astrid said, hoping he hadn’t misunderstood her. “But all they had to say was how beneficial a union would be. And I don’t want to make them feel like any of that is justified. I don’t want to be relegated to a simple wife! I want to be one, sure, but I don’t want it to be all that I am. And their plan! I just,” she shrugged. “Is it awful of me to want to be difficult just to spite them?”

Hiccup barked a laugh. “Heavens, no. And even if it was, it’s not like I’d be in a position to judge. Do you remember all the ridiculous messes I made just to spite our instructors?” Astrid smiled at the reminder.

“How could I forget,” she teased him dryly.

“But if they were planning to marry you off, what were they going to do about the other you?” Hiccup contemplated. Astrid scoffed.

“They didn’t know you know who I am, so they were going to kill me off so that ‘Astrid’ could emerge properly back into society. They hoped I might console you over the death of your friend and perhaps remind you of him enough to marry me.” Hiccup snickered.

“That would have been a funny scene,” he grinned. “We could have played such games with your parents not knowing I knew.”

“It wasn’t funny to me,” Astrid admitted. “I dreaded having to look you in the eye and act like I didn’t know you. I thought you’d hate me for being so duplicitous to your face.”

“Hey,” he said intently, waiting for you to look up at him. “I could never hate you. And I know you’re in a unique position. I would never hold it against you. I would tease you, though, if no one was listening, just to mess with you.” She immediately swatted him and he yelped.

“You muttonhead,” she scowled, fighting back a smile. “You would have given me a heart attack.”

“Even better,” Hiccup smirked. Astrid leaned forward to rest her head against his chest.

“I hate that plan, though,” Astrid admitted. Hiccup wrapped an arm around her and squeezed gently as if to ask, why?

“I - I don’t want to stop being a knight,” Astrid whispered. “I don’t want to stop fighting. I don’t want to pretend like I haven’t literally given my blood for this country. Do you know what the knights our age are like to young ladies? They think they’re Thor’s gift to women and are the most condescending pricks to exist on Midgard. And I want to punch them and tell them who I am just to see their grins slip off their face, but instead I must smile politely and praise them for their bravery! It must be vain of me to want the adulation of the kingdom for my bravery and skills, but the only alternative is to be praised for outwardly beauty or perhaps virtue, how could I ever succeed in their eyes?” Hiccup was silent at her words.

“Well, what if you could be both?” he asked.

“Excuse me?” Astrid blinked incredulously.

“What if you came out as a knight as your female counterpart - as Astrid. Then people would know but you wouldn’t have to pretend any longer.”

“It’d ruin marriage prospects,” Astrid shook her head.

“Not for me,” Hiccup said immediately. “I don’t need to protect my ego and have my wife unable to defend herself. In fact, I’d be immensely proud of her being such a skilled warrior.”

“Hiccup-”

“It could work,” he pressed passionately. “Dad wants to change the laws surrounding women. We could make knighthood a part of it besides inheritance.”

“That would take years,” she argued.

“I would wait,” he told her seriously.

“I don’t think my parents want me to wait that long,” Astrid sighed. “And how do we know your parents would ever allow it? You’re the Heir; your standards for a wife are higher than most in the kingdom.”

“Who could possibly be better than a lady who is beautiful, poised, and can defend us all in a pinch?” Hiccup cried with righteous indignation. Astrid couldn’t help but laugh as she hung her head to hide the furious blush that bloomed on her cheeks. “I don’t want to marry anyone if it isn’t you,” Hiccup began but Astrid laid a finger on his lips.

“Don’t say that,” she said sternly. “Not yet. Please.”

“We’ll sort this out,” Hiccup promised instead. “Starting with taking down Krogan.”

“Right,” Astrid shook her head, having forgotten about the mission at hand. “We should go down. Supper is probably ready.” Hiccup lifted his arm from her shoulder and her hands immediately went to her hair. “I’ll braid this and be down.”

“I’ll finish getting dressed,” Hiccup added. “If you’re going to be in armor, I should be, too.” She smiled at him.

“You hate wearing your armor when you eat,” she reminded him. He raised an eyebrow at her and shrugged.

“It’s fine,” he assured her. “It’d be odd to have one knight in casual clothes an the other in armor. Plus, I wouldn’t want you to single yourself out as a target should things go south by being the one dressed for a fight.

“Thank you,” she said sincerely. Hiccup had complained heartily to her over the years on those occasions where they had had to stay in their armor and on their guard even when eating. He hated how hard it was to move his arms and how inaccessible movement was. And, still having the residual clumsiness from his youth, he often accidentally spilled his food and it drove him mad not to be able to find the bread crumbs.

The casual inquiries went well. Astrid knew the way Hiccup thought and knew which questions to ask to give him the details he needed. They had their act down to an art, moving smoothly around one another, any awkwardness from their room forgotten. But it did not stay that way when they retired for the night.

“Hiccup, get in the bed,” Astrid said firmly. Hiccup shuffled awkwardly.

“I, um-” Astrid patted the blanket beside her aggressively.

“We have one night with a bed,” she pointed out. “I’m not going to be the only one to enjoy it.”

“You should take it,” Hiccup insisted. Astrid growled.

“We should both take it as knights who both need a good night’s rest. If you don’t get in I will give us shifts in the bed and wake us both in the middle of the night to switch places. If you’re going to pull the ‘I’m a lady’ yakdung I’m going to pull the royalty card which entitles you to the bed.” Hiccup sighed and pulled back the blankets on the other side of the bed.

“Why can’t you let me be chivalrous for once?” he grumbled as he shifted around to get comfortable. Astrid considered facing him but decided to stay on her back staring at the dark ceiling.

“You are irritatingly chivalrous to the point I worry you will get me found out,” Astrid said flatly. “I do not wish to be coddled in cases like these.”

“I don’t mean to coddle you,” Hiccup replied. “I’m sorry. It’s just hard to treat you without the care I want to give you. That you deserve.”

“Hiccup,” she said softly. “It’s never going to be easy. Us, I mean.” Hiccup shifted under the blankets.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “And I understand that, but at the same time, there is no one I feel as comfortable and easy with as you. You get me. I like to think I get you. We’ve already established ourselves as a legendary team; imagine us leading Berk together as a team.”

“It’s only easy because we’re on the same footing,” Astrid refuted. “When we’re both knights, we’re equals. As a fellow warrior, it is easy for us, but as a prince and a reclusive lady? Hiccup, the only time we’ve acted as such we fought.”

“We fought and grew,” Hiccup said steadily. “We hurt each other but came back stronger. Look, I’m not saying it won’t be hard, but I believe what we have is worth fighting for.”

“But I haven’t won you over,” Astrid protested.

“What?” asked Hiccup confusedly.

“I thought I’d have to woo you,” Astrid explained. “And now I don’t have to? You’re throwing me off the plan.”

“Well, my apologies,” Hiccup said in a tone that told her he was rolling his eyes. “But you’d already won me over years ago.”

“How?”

“How? By - by being a woman unafraid of fighting in a man’s world to support her family. With your resolve and faithfulness as you powered through dreary fights and helped me overcome them, too. With your straightforward honesty and how you didn’t coddle me with your words or actions.”

“I wasn’t trying to win you over, though.”

“You never had to,” Hiccup leaned over to press a kiss to her hairline. “You’ve won me just as who you are. There was never any question as to whether I’d fall for you or not.” Astrid’s breath caught and she pushed him off of her gently.

“Will you still feel that way if we part ways after this mission and don’t see each other for mayhaps years?” she asked. “I have not reached a resolution for my problems and you will become King.”

“We can only try,” Hiccup admitted, “But I am only certain that my feelings would remain strong while we sort ourselves out. I’d like to announce an engagement sooner rather than later, though, so I can get Mom off my back whilst I'm promised to another.”

“I’ll try,” Astrid told him. He scooted softly back to his side of the bed and Astrid closed her eyes.

“Astrid?” She opened her eyes again, then realized he couldn’t have seen the action.

“Yes?”

“Does this mean that you’ll say yes when I do propose eventually?” Astrid bit her lip.

“We’re nowhere near ready for that,” she said sternly. “But - Yes. When you propose. Eventually.” She couldn’t tell for sure, but the movement he made sounded a lot like he’d buried his face in his pillow and let out a yell of triumph.

.oOo.

Not a week later they arrived at the Coves. The land was rocky but green, courtesy of the late summer rains. Most of the land in northern Berk was full of small rocks and thin dirt, making it hard for any life to thrive. It was one of the reasons it was such a good hideout for the Dragons; there was no pressing incentive to farm the land they were occupying and terrorizing. The winds were harsh enough to discourage many trees from growing to imposing heights, so the most texture it had were the many hills and uneven piles of rocks. The Coves, however, were like a breath of fresh color. The rocks were larger and more stable. Moss blanketed the stone with green warmth. A couple brave flowers peeked between thin cracks, and the water was freezing but clean.

The journey to the Coves was a boring one, and the locals were wary enough of the place to steer clear of the bandits they knew were lurking somewhere. Most had been tight lipped in the inn a week ago, but with Astrid and Hiccup generously paying for everyone’s drinks that night, enough tongues loosened up enough to prove useful.

The raids had been getting a little more frequent, and it was getting harder for the surrounding villages and towns to restock enough provisions for themselves between each raid to have enough left over to feed everyone. Cows and chickens frequently went missing, and even the foxes had been hunted to the point where they doubted the animals were what was eating their precious livestock, and the alternative option for meat had disappeared.

“Aye, the Coves,” one older lady had nodded drunkenly that night. Astrid had smiled politely at her. “They’re beautiful, not that I’ve been there for years! Them bandits are always guarding that place, they are.”

“Beautiful how?” Astrid had asked. “Do you remember how to get there, exactly?”

The Coves were just the start of the magical place. There was a large lake in the middle of the coves that turned the surrounding area green and apparently, caves that created a large network of tunnels around the Coves and even branching into some of the nearby hills.

“We used to explore them tunnels,” the old lady had recalled wistfully. “Dunno what’s been dun to the place now, of course.” Astrid had waved over another keg of mead and pushed it into the lady’s hands.

Hiccup looked around the place with interest. “Amazing what a steady source of water will do,” he wondered. “Maybe if I talked to Dad and we could figure out an irrigation system-”

“Hiccup, focus,” Astrid laughed. The ruler in Hiccup was starting to show despite his protests that he wasn’t cut out to lead a country. They had grown closer in the past few days. Hiccup had assured her he cared for her and would do everything he could to ensure that Berk would become a better place for girls like Astrid. If worse came to worse after the war, Astrid supposed she could step down as a knight to marry Hiccup and help make the world easier from the sidelines. They were doing things right, but that didn’t stop them from sharing a couple kisses between every break and sleeping in each other’s arms at night instead of back to back. Neither had said it outright yet, but they were in love and Astrid was finding herself hard pressed not to just elope with him then and there. Being a future queen didn’t sound so bad or insurmountable anymore. But, she reminded herself, that was just because

“We have about a week until Krogan’s set to arrive, yes?” Astrid checked when Hiccup hadn’t stopped staring contemplatively around him. He blinked and shook himself out of his daze and Astrid bit back a smile.

“Er, yes,” he said. “I figured we could arrive ahead of time, scope things out and figure a course of action before he came. I don’t know how long he’ll be here and we want to be as efficient as possible.”

“When the lady I talked to said the place was guarded, do you think she meant like sentries, spies, or everyone just knows everyone?” Astrid wondered aloud.

“It’d be impossible to know everyone,” Hiccup responded. “According to Johann, their numbers are in the thousands. How long ago had it been since she’d tried to come here? Maybe they’ve gotten lax with their security.”

“Maybe,” Astrid said doubtfully. “I say we choose an opening and watch it until someone comes out,” she decided.

“I like the plan,” Hiccup agreed. They unsaddled their horses and hid the saddles behind a bush outside the main opening of rock.

“Bye for now, Toothless,” Hiccup petted the beautiful black stallion’s nose and rested his forehead against it. Astrid patted Stormfly’s flank before shooing her off gently. Their horses were well trained and Hiccup and Astrid would be able to call them back with a curlew’s song whenever they needed to. The horses deserved some free time roaming the plains for a week or so, and they wouldn’t be caught or found out while tending to their steeds. They had trained their horses that trick during their stint with the Berk Guard to show off to their comrades. Throk could catch literal arrows out of the air, and Alvin had been able to snap a small log in two with his bare hands. Every few nights or so all the Guards would take turns showing off, and after months and months of chasing down their horses, Astrid and Hiccup had proudly demonstrated their horses’ intelligence.

Hiccup and Astrid turned back to the cove and began to explore it, looking for an opening.

“There are multiple openings,” Astrid reasoned. “They can’t possibly all be hidden.” They eventually settled behind a big rock and pulled their hoods up over their faces, waiting to be shown an opening they could slip into and observe admittance. Hiccup let out a huge sigh. He didn’t appreciate stakeouts. They usually made him antsy, but Astrid liked the meditative practice of sitting still for hours on end. It was calming, and since she had already sorted through most of her complicated feelings with the wonderful man sitting next to her, she allowed herself to bask in his presence while they waited.

She’d always liked it best when it was just the two of them. Sure, she was friends with the other Guards and even liked Snotlout or Ingerman on occasion. And she always enjoyed lively Eret. But Hiccup and her were special. Maybe it was because he knew of her true self, but even before that, they had connected as two lonely kids and found solace in each other’s friendship. Hiccup thought he had benefited the most out of their friendship, but Astrid was certain that without Hiccup’s gentle awe of her, his quiet support and his unfaltering goodness she would never have wanted to share the experience of freedom with other girls. She would have never learned the elation of love and consuming hope of better things to come for the future. She broke one of the first rules of observing an enemy’s territory and turned her head to gaze at him. His eyes were half closed. It looked like he was falling asleep, so she nudged him gently, stifling a snort at the way his head shot up in a panic. He looked around quickly, remembering their surroundings.

He met her eyes concernedly. Has anyone come? He asked silently. Astrid shook her head and made no move to restrain her smile. He sighed and scanned the cove around them, debating whether or not it’d be faster to continue searching or wait for a Dragon to come out. Astrid’s legs were starting to seriously cramp when Hiccup gripped her arm hard and she stiffened as much as she could without moving and alerting anyone to their location. Her eyes narrowed as she caught sight of a rock moving and a curtain of ivy shoved aside. The Dragon whistled, oblivious to the two sharp pairs of eyes watching him. It looked like they had found their way in.

.oOo.

“This is stupid,” one Dragon member grunted to his companion. His left eyebrow was singed and his teeth filed into fangs. His friend tore into his leg of chicken, ignoring the one who’d spoken. “They’re treating us like soldiers,” he continued to grouse. “But we’re Dragons. We fight and steal for profit, not for stupid conquerors.”

“We’ll make plenty of profit from our coin once Drago pays us,” his companion deigned to answer.

“But there will be so many casualties,” the first one complained. “We raid, not fight. I tell you, the last Red Death would never-”

“Careful,” cautioned his friend urgently. “You can’t be heard saying that. You know she isn’t afraid to slaughter anyone who opposes her, and with Drago’s support, no one can rise against her.”

“I think she cheated when she challenged the last one,” the singed eyebrow groused. “She was nothin’ but his mistress. This is why we can’t never trust no woman.”

“Doesn’t matter if she won,” the Dragon rolled his eyes, biting off the last bit of cartilage from his chicken leg.

“She might not win next time, though,” the first one said, his voice lowering to nearly a whisper. His companion went still.

“Fanghook,” the Dragon said sternly. “Don’t tell me-”

“Kingstail is a strong Dragon, and he hates this yakshit going on with Drago. We’ll lose our identity if we become that man’s soldiers. We’re Dragons. We answer to no one but our own.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” his friend said flatly.

“No we won’t,” Fanghook said confidently. “Kingstail asked if he could count on me when he gives the signal-”

“This is treason,” the other Dragon hissed. “What signal?” Fanghook shifted.

“He said I’d know,” the younger Dragon said with a pout. His companion threw away his chicken bone in disgust. Hiccup’s eyes narrowed but he kept his head perfectly still. There was a coup happening? He waited until the two Dragons had walked away before he dared to stir. Clearing his plate, he hid a couple choice pieces of meat and grabbed a keg of the mildest mead to take to Astrid in case she hadn’t had anything to eat. He wove through the pillars until he reached a rather large one, pockmarked with cavities that were ideal for hand and footholds. He cast a glance around, then carefully took off his hood, stuffing the food inside of it and grabbing onto the rock.

He and Astrid had discovered that while the caves and coves eventually led to the one big cavern, there were pockets of rock that most Dragons liked to sleep in. The pillars were mostly sturdy, and water had carved large holes in the porous rocks over time so there were plenty of handholds. Dragons slept on the rock, and fought for the best places. They weren’t a tight knit group, though. It was every man for himself, full of temporary alliances that ended in backstabbing. Hiccup and Astrid had found a small slab by the northwest end of the coves. The holes were smaller and the slabs less sheltered. It wasn’t a coveted spot, so they were left alone. The only thing that distinguished Dragons were their tattoos and weapons, but as long as he and Astrid kept covered and didn’t get into any fights, they should stay undetected.

It was a good thing Hiccup wasn’t afraid of heights. That was another thing. The small pocket of rock they had chosen was hard to reach because it was so high up. No one wanted to climb that much before they could even make it to their bed, especially after a night of revelry or if they wanted to store their spoils. Hiccup breathed and tested his foothold before stretching out his hand to pull himself further up. He had climbed this pillar enough in the past few days that he had practically memorized his route up, but he wasn’t foolish enough to lose caution.

Astrid was already in the pocket when he had woven through the low ledge to their spot. She looked up at him with a smile, pushing back her hood. It was woven into a crown around her head to keep it short and out of her face, although her hair was too short for it to be fully smooth, and little flyaway hairs stuck out comically. He thought it was adorable.

“Brought you some food,” he said softly, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of her head. She swatted him, trying to hide her blush and reached to take the food from him eagerly.

“Oh, thank you,” she breathed. “This is so much better than the food outside. No one knows how to cook over there.”

“Learn anything?” Hiccup asked.

“Mmm, nah,” Astrid said. “They are working on loading carts, but they are unfamiliar with traveling in large numbers. Usually they just hide in the bushes and ambush traveling caravans. They’ve never fought on a large scale before, and a lot of them aren’t happy about it. No one trusts the other, so they won’t be as solid a force as normal soldiers when we fight against them.” She took a minute to chew and swallow. “But in a battle, they’ll probably break off in pairs or something and try to slip through weak cracks. They’ll be very difficult to beat, and don’t seem to have any honor.”

“What are the carts for?” Hiccup asked.

“Weapons and food,” Astrid replied. “They aren’t used to packing and preserving food for travel; usually they just steal it, but Drago wants them to be discreet. What about you?”

“I have something really interesting,” Hiccup smirked. “It sounds like these Dragons really don’t like the idea of teaming up with Drago.”

“Oh?” Astrid cocked her head to the side.

“It sounds like one of them - Kingstail - wants to seize leadership for himself.” Astrid leaned forward, a curious smile on her lips.

“Do you know when?”

“No. The guy I heard it from was utterly clueless. He’ll probably think the next shout is a signal to attack. Anything else on your part?” Astrid snapped her fingers and pointed at him as she remembered.

“Yes! Krogan is coming tomorrow with some of his own generals to lead the Dragons. They’ll be arriving and getting special treatment. Some of the Dragons have had to give up their sleeping spaces to make way for his soldiers and apparently they’ll even try to get a full on room for Krogan.”

“They’re probably to help the Red Death keep the Dragons in check,” Hiccup mused.

“Do you know how to find the Red Death?” Astrid asked.

“Not yet, although I’m sure she’ll make an appearance to greet her guests.”

“Then we’ll be ready. They’ll probably have the conversation in one of their rooms so as to keep their privacy,” Astrid frowned in concentration.

“So, we have until tomorrow,” Hiccup nodded.

“And then what?” Astrid asked. Hiccup wrinkled his nose in confusion. “What do you mean, and then what?”

“Will we leave as soon as we hear the plan?” Astrid asked.

“Yeah. This is just supposed to be a spy mission,” Hiccup said. Astrid stared at her leg of chicken contemplatively.

“We should probably stake out the meeting place before he gets here, then.” Hiccup nodded in agreement. Astrid looked longingly at the thin pile of blankets in the corner, including some they had stolen. “I say two hours rest and then we can spend the rest of the night searching.”

“Suits me,” Hiccup said, crawling over to arrange the blankets. “Wake me when it’s time.”

The best time to sneak around wasn’t late night, but rather a few hours after midnight during the early morning. It was still dark, but the guards on duty were tired after hours of trying to stay awake. Astrid climbed down the pillar first, landing without a sound and pulled her hood up over her head. Hiccup followed quickly and they set off down the cave.

They were pretty familiar with their surroundings on the northwest side of the tunnels. They expertly wove through the twists and turns in the rock, skirting around the cavern filled with Dragons who had passed out from their mead consumption. Astrid had spent the last few days inspecting the collection of wagons and horses the Dragons had in their stables to the western side of their camp to gauge the numbers. With approximately a steed to ride plus a pack horse for each and wagons that could hold more supplies and ten men, she estimated their numbers at eight thousand. Which left the southern and eastern sides. They were closer to the numerous villages the Dragons liked to raid and as a result were far more busy and protected. The south part of the coves were composed of thicker slabs of rock, which stood to reason it’d probably be where the Red Death and her most valuable things were kept.

They drew up short as they came across a sleepy guard standing by a tunnel entrance.

“Well that’s an indication to investigate if I ever saw one,” Hiccup whispered quietly. Astrid snorted softly. They stayed still for a minute, gauging his breathing. Finally, Astrid gave a short nod and Hiccup started forward, stepping in time to the guard’s exhales. Astrid followed suit and they crept down the stone hall until they came across an alcove. It was a cold place with very little light, so there was no way it was the Red Death or Krogan’s quarters, but it had to be important if there was a Dragon guarding it. Hiccup snagged a torch from the wall and brought it over to the alcove. It was actually big enough to be a room, and it was full of gourds, barrels, and boxes, all securely closed. Some of them were labeled and new while others looked old and untouched.

“They seem to be organized by some system, although it’s not obvious yet,” Hiccup observed. Astrid picked up a large gourd and frowned.

“This is awfully light, but clearly sealed. What could possibly be in this?” she wondered. Hiccup shrugged and simply held the torch higher as she looked around the room.

“They have all the weapons together, there,” she pointed. “So maybe they’re sorted by use?” next to the pile of weapons stood a collection of smaller chests and boxes filled with vials and powders. On the other side of the room were the big barrels and gourds. Hiccup brought the torch closer to the latter objects to see if they were labeled.

Astrid walked over next to him and opened a barrel. It had been opened before, and it was no problem to pry the lid and set it to the side. A pungent smell hit their noses and they struggled not to gag audibly. “It looks like . . . gel,” Hiccup frowned. Astrid dipped a finger in it and brought it closer to the torch to inspect it. Her eyes widened as it quickly caught on fire. She yelped and immediately enclosed her flaming finger in a fist.

“Astrid!” Hiccup panicked. “Are you okay?” she opened her fist cautiously, no smoke rising from her palm.

“I - yeah,” she said shakily. “Just surprised. It looks like it burnt all the gel but I stopped it before it could reach my finger.” She wiped the grease on her pants and winced. Her palm was a little red and raw. Hiccup noticed and opened his mouth to say something but Astrid interrupted. “I’m fine. It’s nothing. Is there anything else useful?” Hiccup turned reluctantly back to the stack of supplies. 

“Flammable gel,” he mused, looking around the room. “Weapons. Nets . . .” he walked over and inspected a vial before jerking back. “Nadder concentrate. And Deadly Nadder leaves. This is the poison section . . .”

“Wow,” Astrid breathed. “This place is amazing. Poisons, explosives.” She walked over to a gourd. “This must be some sort of explosive gas, then.”

“We should bring back a sample of all of these poisons,” Hiccup murmured. “Half of them we’ve never seen. I mean, what’s F mist? Although it’s next to Speed Stinger venom so maybe it’s paralyzing, too.” Astrid decided not to fight her eye roll.

“They must use all of these on their victims - a few Dragons have occasionally been hired as mercenaries and assassins, even though the majority of them are bandits,” she thought aloud. “This must be where they keep their supplies.”

“Good to know,” Hiccup mused. “But the Red Death wouldn’t want to be so close to explosives, or keep potential enemies close to them, so Krogan and his men certainly won’t be here.”

The third corridor they came across had a lot more torches, and even fancy doors installed with tapestries lining the walls. There was no doubt this was where the Red Death resided. Astrid and Hiccup expertly immobilized a pair of patrolling guards and strode past the corridor, standing at attention, their eyes taking in every detail. The Red Death was a curvaceous woman who remained mysterious - or maybe didn’t dare to venture very far into her own den for fear of upstarts wishing to challenge her. Her meals were brought to her rooms and only a few select advisors entered her chambers. The guest rooms were cleared and the next day Hiccup and Astrid were part of the crew that helped set up Krogan’s rooms.

The meeting with Krogan was to take place in a ‘neutral’ room, sparsely furnished to show the absence of traps and with a big table. Only a few guards, two from the Red Death and two from Krogan would guard the entrance to the room to avoid anyone else hearing their plans. The two guards would probably be of the Red Death’s few advisors she allowed in her chambers. Hiccup and Astrid had identified four. So two of them would probably be in the meeting between the two leaders.

Krogan arrived the day afterwards with ten generals. Astrid peered over one of the ledges, laying on her stomach, her hood pulled far over her face to ensure no one saw her even if they looked up. They looked tired, and one of the Red Death’s close advisors escorted them to the southern caves.

“Krogan,” the Red Death welcomed him with a pleasant, deep voice. “A pleasure to meet with you in person again.”

Krogan grunted and inclined his head.

“How go the preparations to move?” he asked abruptly. The Red Death let out a soft laugh.

“Straight to the point,” she noticed keenly. “They are going well. Is everything going as planned on your front?”

“Berk sent in reinforcements,” Krogan said flatly. “It is nothing we can’t handle, but with the soldiers we have Drago wishes to act sooner than we planned.” The Red Death said nothing for a minute.

“With your soldiers helping my Dragons fall into place we should be able to be ready,” she acquiesced. “Of course, such a decision will cost you.”

“Deal,” Krogan agreed. “We’ll need you to move in four weeks' time,” Krogan said as he shook the Red Death’s hand.

“Four weeks?” she asked incredulously.

“Four weeks,” Krogan repeated sternly.

“Very well,” the Red Death acceded. One of her guards at the end of the table shifted.

Astrid tugged Hiccup’s tunic lightly. “Four weeks isn't enough time for us to get back to Berk and formulate a counter attack,” she hissed urgently.

“I know,” Hiccup agreed, frowning. Astrid cocked her head to one side as she studied him. What are we going to do? She asked silently. His eyebrow rose in contemplation. “If we need more time, I guess we’ll have to slow them down,” he said thoughtfully.

“You mean, killing Krogan, laming all the horses, burning the wagons and provisions, or blowing up the weapons and their base?” Astrid asked sardonically, a gleam in her eye at the prospect of battle.

“From what we’ve seen, the Dragons aren’t exactly feeling very loyal to Drago. The only real connection between him and the Dragons is the Red Death, who is in kahoots with Krogan.”

“So, no Red Death . . .” Astrid nodded, catching his drift.

“. . . no ambush,” Hiccup finished. “Yeah.”

“Well, great. We just need to incapacitate the leader of the Dragons in this den full of hundreds if not thousands of highly dangerous individuals. Easy. How do we do that?”

“We can’t fight off all of them, so we’ll need a diversion,” Hiccup said, a grin spreading across his face as he met her eye. A smile grew on her face in answer as she played along for dramatic effect.

“Oh?” Astrid asked coyly. “And what do you propose?”

“What was that idea about blowing up their transportation and provisions?” Hiccup asked innocently.

.oOo.

The Dragons and Krogan’s generals would be put to work the following day and the caves would be too swarmed with soldiers to set up any traps, so they had to act that night.

“It has been forever since we’ve done this,” Astrid said, biting back a smile.

“Do you remember how furious Gobber was when we singed his eyebrows that one time?” Hiccup nudged her.

“How could I forget the whack of his staff during our extra training,” Astrid shook her head. “I swear it hurt to breathe for days. But now I can beat almost anyone with just a staff.”

“Okay,” he puffed, standing up to stretch his back and looking at his work with a satisfied smirk. “That should be the last of them.”

“I’m pretty sure this is a record of ours,” Astrid groaned quietly. “I don’t think I’ve set more traps in four hours in my entire life.”

“You’ll be able to hit all of them, right?” Hiccup checked.

“Of course,” she assured him. “I’ll definitely be able to make it outside before Krogan.”

“What I want to know,” she continued, “is when did you get so good at this? I don’t remember you being so eager to cause this kind of destruction since we were seventeen.”

“Maybe I missed this,” Hiccup shrugged.

“You’re way too confident to have supposedly just resumed pranking after five years,” Astrid accused him gently. “Should I be worried?”

“Not unless you’re related to my uncle,” Hiccup assured her. Astrid sniggered.

“I almost feel bad for Snotlout,” she shook her head.

The plan was to take place during a meal, which was when most Dragons would be in the cavern that served as a mess hall. They would start an explosion right outside the cavern and feign a coup that Hiccup had overheard plans about. They hadn’t been able to glean much more information surrounding it, as Kingstail was a popular and shrewd Dragon; it was hard to eavesdrop on his plans. However, there were at least a couple Dragons who were waiting for an unknown signal. They would lead the attack and send the hall into chaos. Kingstail might try to stop them or take advantage of the situation; either way, they didn’t care. Hiccup would stay in the mess hall and try to target the Red Death while Astrid exploded a few entrances to barricade the Dragons in and make it harder for them to exit the den, plus their wagons and supplies to prevent them from having the resources to attack Berk. Krogan would also try to make a run for it, so with most of the extra entrances collapsed, he’d run into Astrid, who would overtake him and bring him back to the Berk palace to interrogate him.

“You probably don’t have to take the Red Death on directly, you know,” Astrid said hesitantly. “What’s more important is that you make the mess hall such chaos Krogan will want to leave rather than help and you can escape.” Hiccup turned to look at her.

“I can handle myself in there,” he assured her. “It isn’t my first brawl, you know.” Astrid winced.

“I need you more than alive; I need you well enough to ride back to Berk with a dangerous prisoner,” she said firmly. “It took weeks for you to move properly after those brawls.”

“Fine,” Hiccup huffed. “Getting out of there is my priority. But what about you? How are you going to take on Krogan?”

“I’ll coat my blades in Speed Stinger venom,” she shrugged. She had never used the concoction before, but had heard about it from the legendary healer Gothi and in history books. Even a few drops were enough to paralyze a fully grown man for a couple hours. As long as she managed one slice on Drago’s general, he would freeze immediately for long enough to tie him up securely.

The traps were a few tripwires connected to torches along the walls that would set piles of the flammable gel on fire, and a couple of gourds of the explosive gas by the entrance. If they failed, Hiccup had found a few weak spots in the rock where some of the Dragons had piled boulders themselves to give themselves more cover. Astrid could simply nudge the weak spot and tumble the rocks manually, trapping the Dragons inside.

“Did you pack our bags?” she checked. Hiccup nodded. He had carefully bundled the samples of substances he wanted to bring back to Berk in packs, along with their blankets and had retrieved their horses, getting them saddled and waiting by the entrance in the cove.

“We’ve done as much as we can, Astrid,” he said reassuringly. “You can stop worrying.” Astrid cast him a dark look and he bit back a laugh.

“I can’t believe we just spontaneously decided to assassinate the Red Death and capture Drago’s general,” she said drily.

“Never a dull moment with the two of us,” Hiccup smiled.

“Breakfast will be in about twenty minutes,” Astrid observed. “So we should get to our positions. Be careful,” she warned him as she began to walk away.

.oOo.

When Fanghook sauntered to breakfast early for once, he didn’t notice the gleeful eyes watching him from the corner. A few more of his comrades made their way down quickly, drawn first by their need for the latrines, then by the tantalizing smell of food. They helped themselves from the pots and platters on the main table. Krogan’s men were sitting at the head table like the good little soldiers they were. He scoffed and jeered at them with his friends. They were going to have to follow those foreigner’s orders and they would be expecting hardworking minions, so he had no choice but to ridicule them as much as he could now before they exhausted him. Who cared about stupid soldier formations? Fanghook excelled at ducking out of the fight whenever it came to confrontation and holding a knife to a pretty woman’s neck and forcing his opponents to surrender. What was the point of fighting next to a buddy who’d kill him as soon as he had enough spoils to make it worthwhile? Why should he save a comrade when less people meant a greater share of the prize? Soldiers with ideas of conquering made no sense.

The Red Death made her way to the breakfast table, surprisingly enough. He supposed it was because of the Krogan general. She didn’t want to seem unorganized or weak in front of him. He scoffed again. Women were nothing but weak, and it was so typical of a woman Red Death to team up with some conquering bastard like Drago to keep the Dragons satisfied. He couldn’t wait for Kingstail to take her down.

Fanghook was on his second bowl of stew when a loud boom sounded, filling the cafeteria with green gas which burst into flames. He jumped up, his short sword already drawn. Fanghook may have never learned to read or figure or even hold a meaningful conversation, but he was well versed in the lifestyle of stab first, think later and that had kept him alive as long as he had. Everyone’s heads snapped toward the flash of fire and coughed in the wake of smoke.

“THE SIGNAL!!!” someone from the midst of the smoke bellowed. Fanghook started. The signal? Had Kingstail set this up?

“THE SIGNAL!!!!” another voice roared. “Go, Go, Go!” Fanghook sprang into action.

“Come on, boys,” he shouted. They followed him without question.

“What’s happening?” one of them asked.

“We’re not gonna let these soldiers boss us around!” Fanghook cried. “Time to put someone else in charge!” Plenty of people drew weapons, too and leapt over tables to follow him. Someone stepped in front of Fanghook and he struck him down easily. The Dragon’s friend cried out in outrage and leapt onto one of Fanghook’s comrades. Now it was just a cacophony of petty squabbles resulting in blood. Some people targeted others they had grudges against and others swung their knives for the fun of it. Some were trying to stop the brawl but they didn’t understand that this was no brawl, but a rebellion. A slim figure streaked past him, aiming for the Red Death’s table. Explosions from farther away sounded, not that Fanghook cared as he roared in pain at someone’s knife in his shoulder. He threw himself into the fray, bloodlust taking over as he punched and grappled and swung whatever blade he could get his hands on, not noticing the absence of a certain general from the scene or the Red Death’s whereabouts.

.oOo.

In the instant before the mess hall exploded, Astrid was gripped by an all consuming fear that they had misjudged the situation severely. Maybe they shouldn’t have pushed their plan into action in the morning, with all the Dragons still waking up. But then one Dragon drew his sword and after that, everything took care of itself. She turned from the scene and sprinted to the nearest exit. So the explosive gas they had used was quite strong. She set the closed gourd of gas covered in the gel on fire and backed away, turning to see if this explosion was just as strong.

Reaching the two north entrances, she slipped into the stables, her torch aggravating the horses and opened the stalls and doors, chasing them out of the barn, yelling loudly and waving the fire around. She waited a minute to make sure none of them were close enough to be harmed before turning to the wagons, soaked in that very useful flammable smelly fluid. She targeted the wagons filled with weapons first, then the ones with healing supplies and food, snagging a piece of bread and stuffing it into her mouth before throwing her torch straight into the wagon.

The caves were full of Dragons running to and fro, some confused, others fighting. None of them took much notice of her. Someone swung a fist and she dodged before flooring him with a well aimed kick. She burst out into the coves and blinked, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the bright sunlight. She hid herself by the exit and removed her axe. She found herself frowning at the slight residue the Speed Stinger venom left on the metal’s surface, marring the shine and care she took of her blade, but Krogan was an experienced fighter, and if it looked like she didn’t know how to take care of a weapon, he might guess she didn’t know how to handle one, either.

She barely had time to stabilize her breathing before Krogan’s tall frame made its way outside. Astrid’s heart sped up but she forced herself to breathe evenly. He was hardly the first opponent she had ever fought. He began to climb the pathway up to the opening of rock that led out of the cove. She waited until he was close before jumping out of the brush with a fierce yell, aiming for his fingers. He yanked his hand away with enviable reflexes and managed to keep his balance, but Astrid stood above him on higher ground and with stabler footing.

“You,” snarled Krogan.

“You’re coming with me,” Astrid said with her deep voice. He scoffed.

“I think not,” he replied. “You no longer have much use for me or Drago. You are unorganized and have no respect for authority. Plus, some idiot blew up the wagons and provisions. Drago will cease trying to allow you Dragons your own authority and conquer you easily.”

“I’m the idiot who blew up the supplies,” Astrid said, her voice steely, “And you’re coming with me. To the Berk palace.” She quickly removed her hood and pulled it over her head before she could blink, tossing it away from her. Her hair was pulled back into a tight braid and tucked into her shirt, plus she had carefully applied smudges to her face to alter her features and make them more masculine. Krogan’s eyes sharpened into slits. He took out a long handled axe with a jagged axehead on one side and smirked arrogantly at her. Astrid lifted her chin and hefted her own weapon before lunging forward, aiming for his exposed arms. He dodged easily, but Astrid did not press further. She had good ground and there was no other exit out of the coves. She wouldn’t give him the chance to slip around her and escape.

His eyes narrowed at her and he leapt at her, swinging his axe. Wow, his legs were freakishly strong and fast. She dodged to the side, avoiding the sweep of his longer axe. She brought her own weapon up and slashed at him, not moving to the side to lend him enough room to escape.

“You’re not bad,” he taunted. Astrid smiled tightly, acknowledging the compliment but not letting it detract from her focus. A flash of annoyance crossed his face at her lack of response, and she bit back a smile.

She had a small knife by her side, also coated with the Speed Stinger Venom. If she were able to get close to him she could slice him. Or, she could distract him with an offensive attack with her axe and throw the knife, hoping to cut him. She was a great shot with a knife, but Krogan was powerful and strong. She wasn’t sure she’d actually be able to hit him. And if she missed, there would be no way to retrieve her knife. I just need a slice, she told herself as she moved to strike again. She didn’t need to kill him or make him yield or even draw first blood, although that was preferable. She swung again and he jumped out of the way. She swung around to block him from slipping between her and the opening. He relied the most on his strong legs, reaching ungodly heights and if Astrid ducked he’d probably be able to jump over her, although his swings with his axe were arm-shatteringly strong. His heavy cloak was a bit of a hindrance to him, but he was good enough that it wasn’t a weakness Astrid would be able to utilize.

She made to aim a swipe at his legs, crouching down low enough for, say, a certain opponent to jump over her. He took the bait, launching himself over her. She ignored the rush of fear as he sailed over her, and twisted quickly, drawing her smaller blade and slicing deeply along his unprotected calf. He bellowed, more out of arrogant fury than pain as he landed. He stood to face her but froze before he could completely straighten. Astrid smiled grimly at the effective work of the Speed Stinger venom. She knocked him over with her foot, delighting in the way he toppled over helplessly. Stormfly trotted over as Astrid whistled and Astrid unwound the rope from her horse’s hidden saddle.

“Hey, girl,” she greeted her mare. “Did you have a nice time roaming these plains?” Stormfly’s eyes twinkled at her. “I missed you, too,” she smiled, stroking the horse’s soft nose. “I’m going to put this on you now,” she gestured to the saddle and Stormfly stood obediently still.

Astrid made quick work of Stormfly’s saddle, then called Toothless over and readied him for Hiccup, too, casting a nervous glance back at the caves. She tied Krogan’s hands and legs securely, signaling Stormfly to kneel. She slung him over the saddle, cooing as her strong, beautiful mare shifted under the weight.

Ten minutes later, Hiccup still hadn’t come out. She inspected Toothless’s saddle bags one more time again. They had brought out the samples of the substances to bring back to Berk the night they had set the traps, not wanting to risk one of them being poisoned or paralyzed if the bottles broke. She cast a glance at her prisoner. He would not be able to move for a couple hours or so but did she want to keep him conscious? Should she knock him out now or wait for Hiccup to get back and subdue Krogan just as they began riding again?

Toothless’s ear perked forward and Astrid wanted to sag in relief. She saw Hiccup a few minutes after, climbing out of the cove and taking a moment to rest his hands on his knees and catch his breath before straightening up to address them.

“Hiccup-” she said, concerned. He waved her off.

“I’m fine,” he assured her. “It was just a hard fight, but it’s fine.” She eyed him suspiciously as he hauled himself into Toothless’s saddle with a pained grunt. “I’m good,” he insisted when he caught sight of her face. She arched an eyebrow.

“Okay,” she said disbelievingly. He clicked his tongue, signaling his stallion into a trot and Astrid turned and whacked the side of Krogan’s head with the flat of her axe. Hiccup winced. She turned to him, a wide smile on her face. Hitting the General had felt good.

Hiccup didn’t have any cuts on him but his breathing was slightly shallower than normal and a few times she had caught him gingerly holding his side between breaks. The ride back to the Berk Palace was going to take two weeks with the addition of Krogan and they wanted to avoid towns near Berk’s borders in case Krogan escaped and tried to make it back to Drago.

Maybe they should have stolen more healing supplies, Astrid worried. They had plenty of bandages and a few herbs for poultices if they needed them, although if there was a serious wound they’d have to restock at one of the cities.

“Let me look at you,” she decided as they dismounted for the night. Hiccup’s head snapped round to look at her.

“What?”

“You’re clearly hurt,” he glared at him. “Don’t try to deny it. I won’t let you. So let me look at how bad it is before I fuss over you as punishment.” He rolled his eyes.

“I swear you’re like a mother dragon,” he muttered. She cuffed him around the head and he snickered before removing his shirt.

He had bruises lining his torso from what looked like grappling and a few kicks.

“What were you doing?” she asked incredulously.

“Uh… fighting.” Hiccup responded. He scratched the back of his head. “She was a really good fighter, but better with long range and I had a few explosives left.

“Is she?”

“Dead.” Astrid nodded. “Good job.” She knew he hated killing, knew it haunted him at night but the Red Death was just too dangerous to be kept alive, and they wouldn’t have been able to restrain two powerful prisoners. She gave him an encouraging smile. You did the right thing. Her hands automatically began tracing his old scars and he sucked in a breath, moving his head closer to hers just slightly. She began to tilt it upwards when Stormfly snorted and Astrid remembered the prisoner just sitting there watching them.

“Uh- um,” she stammered. “Great. We actually - we should have a poultice for the bruises that you can use.” Hiccup looked adorably confused and put out at her pulling back before his brain caught up and he scowled.

Well, now Astrid was sure she didn’t have to worry about Hiccup being accidentally too nice.

It was stupid how much Krogan got in the way. It had been weeks since Hiccup and Astrid had had to watch themselves around each other, and all of a sudden stolen kisses or light flirtations that had so easily become part of their routine had to be cut out in front of their audience, leaving them embarrassingly off balance. And the prisoner was so quiet that they’d forget he was there at times. Hiccup would stumble upon her name or Astrid would lean too close before they remembered the third party. It was dangerous. And Astrid found herself cranky without Hiccup’s soothing affections.

This is how it’s going to be, she told herself. For a couple more years at least.

That didn’t mean she had to like it, though.

Sometimes, they let pesky urges get the better of them and did irresponsible things. Astrid was chopping up an old dead tree with her axe (cringing all the while; the blacksmith was going to kill her when he saw her weapon) for firewood when she heard a rustle behind her. She immediately snapped to high alert, hefting her axe in front of her.

“Who’s there?” she barked.

“Hey, it’s just me,” a nasally voice assured her as a figure slipped out from behind a trunk, his hands in front of him placatingly. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.” Astrid let out a breath and loosened her grip on her axe.

“Hiccup. Is everything okay?” she asked concernedly.

“The General is properly secured; I just checked him,” he assured her. “I just needed a little break - and to do this.” He cupped her face and kissed her. Astrid almost dropped her axe at his forwardness. They shouldn’t - they shouldn’t … something. But oh, she thought as her hands slid up his shoulders and he pinned her against the tree, maybe they could spend a few moments …

“You need to go back,” Astrid insisted after they had lost track of time. “It’s too suspicious. You were only supposed to be gone long enough to relieve yourself; that doesn’t take too long.” Hiccup grumbled.

“He’s awful company.”

“He has valuable information you could try to get out of him.”

“Mmm. Fine. There is that.”

“Go now. He’ll know exactly what happened if we both come back together. And fix your tunic; it’s rumpled.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. Um, and your hair,” Hiccup pointed. She touched her braid and swore. He chuckled nervously.

“I’ll be going now. See you soon, Hofferson.”

She arrived at camp half an hour later, her hair rebraided and firewood in tow. At one point Hiccup even accidentally called her by her real name.

“What did you say?” Astrid asked, trying to channel a proud knight being upset they were called a woman’s name.

“Astor, of course. What do you think I said?” Hiccup asked smoothly. She shook her head internally. She just hoped Krogan hadn’t caught the slip up. He looked like he was sleeping. Even if he wasn’t, there was no need to be paying attention to them. They were fine.

“I can’t believe you did that!” she hissed at him when they switched night shifts.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized groggily.

“We can’t risk sneaking off again,” Astrid decided. Hiccup acquiesced.

Never mind that she instigated the rest of the times they snuck off for the rest of the journey.

.oOo.

They arrived at the Berk Palace at last, grimy and sore but triumphant, Krogan handcuffed and blindfolded on the pony they had managed to buy a couple days back. The guards at the gate were waiting for them and jumped into action as Hiccup pushed his hair back and gave them a tired smile.

“Your Highness. Sir Hofferson,” they greeted, sneaking glances at the prisoner behind them.

“Would someone please notify the King of his son’s arrival?” Astrid prompted them as they gaped, unmoving as the three travelers passed through the gates. The guards snapped back to attention, one bellowing for a page boy.

The outer courtyards were as busy as ever, if a little more serious than they had been before they had left. It had been more than a month since Astrid had initially come for the Prince. They wove through the crowds that halted and stared at them as they made their way to the Eastern Entrance, a smaller door where the King usually welcomed close friends or officials on important business. Squires rushed to help the knights dismount from their steeds.

“Don’t take him down,” Astrid instructed, nodding to Krogan. “He’ll be easier to contain the way he is.” The squires nodded in understanding.

“Of course, Sir,” one assured her.

“Henry!” the King boomed as he appeared. He noticed Astrid and raised an eyebrow in surprise before shaking his head and muttering something that sounded like ‘should have known’ under his breath. “My dear Astor,” he greeted her cordially. Astrid bowed deeply.

“Your Majesty,” she returned. “I accompanied Hiccup on his mission without your permission.” King Stoick waved his hand.

“No matter,” he chuckled. “You two don’t seem to be able to be separated for more than a few months, and I can hardly begrudge your good influence on him.” Behind him, Hiccup blushed and grinned at Astrid, who fought not to look as if she wasn’t focusing on the King.

“The Dragons won’t be a problem, and we brought Drago’s General back to interrogate, sir,” Hiccup informed his father. The King smiled and patted his son on his back.

“Better than I could have hoped,” he praised. Hiccup beamed. “I’ll call a council meeting. You two should rest and recuperate. Give me your reports in the morning.” He led Hiccup into the palace with a hand on his back and looked over his shoulder at Astrid. “I believe your previous rooms are empty, Astor, if you’d like them.”

“I would be honored, Your Majesty,” Astrid bowed again.

The bath tub was big enough to lay down in entirely and full of scalding hot water. She groaned as her back muscles began to relax. Riding in the saddle while keeping a keen eye on Krogan and pretending not to notice the glances Hiccup kept stealing at her kept her back rigid and it was a relief to slump in the water. She had instructed the servants not to bother her, and took longer than she normally did washing herself, thoroughly wringing out her hair and skipping around in clean clothes before braiding it back in a crown and adding chain mail with a hood to her ensemble for dinner. They would be eating publicly, so one was supposed to dress finely, but it was disrespectful to wear a hat while eating, so the hood of chain mail would have to do. She was quite reluctant to cut her hair; she didn’t know how much longer she’d be able to keep up the pretense as Sir Hofferson. She hadn’t exactly discussed such things with her parents, having avoided them after Hiccup’s arrival and then suddenly riding off after him. They would probably be worried sick. She had written them the night she had left with the Prince, citing that she was on a mission and would be unable to reach them for a while, but there would certainly be Helheim to pay with her mother.

Dinner was delicious as always. She was invited to dine privately with the Royal Family so she was not bombarded with questions about her mission. King Stoick did not ask many questions concerning what they had done, only of the journey and their health.

“The council will meet in a few days, and you two will be rewarded for your bravery and hard work,” he told them kindly. He turned to Astrid.

“I can invite your father, if you so wish,” he offered. Astrid inclined her head to him gratefully.

“Thank you, Your Majesty. I would be honored to have my father in attendance.”

She retreated to her rooms and wrote down a comprehensive report of the past month, recounting the tales from the bars, the locations of the Dragon’s Den entrances, their weapons and fighting techniques as well as their numbers. She wrote of Hiccup’s bravery and, with a little pride, of her defeating Krogan. Satisfied she had all the details saved so she wouldn’t forget before submitting the report, she headed off to bed to catch a good night’s sleep.

Freya bless the one who had invented mattresses.

She was awakened a few hours later by a knock at the door. It could only be one person who knocked like that - but what was he doing at such an ungodly hour? The last stolen moment they’d had together flashed through her mind - she had pushed him up against the stable walls in the barn they had bought the new pony from and kissed him thoroughly until he was dazed before heading back to their horses as the prisoner. Astrid’s heart leapt into her throat as he tentatively knocked again. She pulled the door open a crack and grinned at him. He beamed back and she ushered him in, trying to shush the growing giggles in the back of her throat. She left him in the main room and ran to her dressing chambers, grabbing her robe’s large sash and belting it securely around her waist to give herself a figure and fluffing her hair absentmindedly. She was being absolutely ridiculous and wholly improper, but what else was one to do when the Crown Prince snuck out to see her at night?

“What are you even doing here?” she asked sternly because she had to have some principles. “Whatever you need, could it not wait til tomorrow?” Hiccup shook his head sheepishly, a shy smile on his face.

“You’ll be Sir Hofferson come morning,” he said. “I wanted to speak to Astrid.”

That wasn’t - that wasn’t romantic at all, Astrid huffed. Even so, she was glad the room was dark with dimly lit candles so he could gauge the color of her cheeks properly.

“Did you need to deliver your love poem in person?” she asked teasingly. Hiccup rolled his eyes.

“No. Unless-” he stepped forward, clasping her hand and bent down on one knee dramatically. “Do you wish for me to serenade you?”

“No-”

“My lady,” he declared, interrupting her with a mischievous light in his eye. “The glow of the moonlight dances upon thy flawless skin, whilst the candlelight sets thy locks afire.”

“Hiccup-”

“To Valhalla every mortal aspires but next to thee’s angelic form how could one ever wish to go higher?” Astrid ripped her hand out of his.

“That rhymed,” she accused him.

“That it did,” Hiccup laughed at her blatant colored cheeks.

“There’s no way you made that up on the spot,” Astrid said, incredulous. “How long have you had those verses up your sleeve?” Now it was his turn to blush.

“I didn’t - it wasn’t - I - not long,” he sputtered. He sighed. “I saw it in a book Mom was reading.” Astrid’s hands flew to cover her mouth.

“The Queen reads those things?” she dared to inquire.

“How else do you think my father’s speeches end up so flowery?” Astrid shook her head. She’d never thought about it - it didn’t matter.

“You can’t sneak off to see me every night,” she told him regretfully. “Someone would probably notice - and we can’t have that. Not to mention you would ruin my virtue even if we did nothing but talk.” Hiccup sighed.

“I have become spoilt with your presence, I’m afraid,” he admitted. “I find myself disliking not being able to call you Astrid all the time. And after this, you might go back to your estate. I’ll have to take on more duties, be it fighting or ruling as well as trying to change the laws. I don’t know when we’ll see each other again. I don’t want you to leave.” Astrid wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest.”

“It’s not decided yet,” she tried to reassure him. “You may see me more often than you think.”

“It is stupid to start missing something before it’s gone,” scoffed Hiccup.

“Maybe, yes, but understandable,” Astrid countered. 

“I just want to steal a few more moments with you before we have to go back to pretending you’re just my friend,” Hiccup confessed.

“Of course,” Astrid promised. “You can have me for a little while longer.”

.oOo.

Astrid was called into the Council Room the day the council arrived. She and the Prince were sent to the dungeons to retrieve the prisoner they had captured and prove his identity to the council.

“Long time no see,” Hiccup greeted the general as the jailor took out his keys. “Now we’re just going to ask you some questions, and it’ll do you good to answer as many of them as they ask. Astrid stepped inside the cell and hauled Krogan up. He groaned at the change in position and Astrid gave him a moment to recover before tying a blindfold around his eyes and setting off at a steady walk through the castle. Hiccup took up his other side, a firm grip around the prisoner’s arms. He had been fed, so he wasn’t too weak to fight back, but he kept their pace without complaint and made no move to fight against them. Was playing docile a strategy of his, Astrid wondered.

The guards to the King’s Council opened the doors for them. The King and Queen sat in the middle of the room, five council members on each side and eight additional knights and lords were present. They sat in extravagant chairs on one side of a long wooden table that spanned the side of the room. Often, the table was covered in maps and war diagrams, but those had been removed to hide any information from Krogan should he escape. The King also had multiple rooms he held council in; the battle plans were probably in another one.

The King’s Council consisted of the King, his Queen, and their closest confidantes along with Berkian Elders who could not be taken off the council, only resign from it when they saw fit. Gothi, a great great ancestor of the King that was hardly ever awake, dozed in the far left corner, while Mildew sat right next to Duke Spitelout on King Stoick’s right. Lord DeRange, another member of the Council sat on the other side of Lord Mildew, his son sitting next to him with a sharp grin on his face. Lords Svenson and Meathead and Thuggory were also present, as well as Captain Throk of the Berk Guard. Some of the other lords she did not recognize on sight but would probably remember them when she heard their names. A few knights she’d worked with including Sir Alvin and Sir Eret - now Captain Eret - sat around the table gazing interestedly at the man held between her and Hiccup.

“General Krogan,” King Stoick greeted the prisoner. “A pleasure to meet you in person.” Krogan smiled insidiously.

“My master looks forward to beating you on the battlefield,” Krogan returned. Some of the lords muttered and scowled at his impertinence.

“I’m quite sure that’s not going to happen,” the King narrowed his eyes. “But we could always discuss accommodations to be made for you or your family following the battle in exchange for something. Krogan remained silent.

“Why did Drago combine forces with the Dragons?” King Stoick asked. Krogan sneered.

“He won’t,” he said loftily. “The Dragons were an unorganized force that Drago wished to use in one of his plans, but due to unforeseen circumstances, they were cut from the plan.”

“Very well,” the King said, pleased that the conversation appeared to be going somewhere. “Is there anything else you’d like to tell us?”

“I do believe I could tell you something,” Krogan said smoothly despite the grime still on his face and his hands behind his back. A couple of lords shifted forward eagerly.

“The number of soldiers Drago has?” one of them asked.

“Drago’s plan?” speculated another.

“Where is Drago?” King Stoick asked. The General scoffed

“Drago doesn’t employ traitors,” he sneered. “But the information I have pertains more to your own affairs. You have an imposter in your midst,” the dark skinned man declared dramatically. The effect around the room was instantaneous. Astrid stiffened and her face drained of color as she cast her gaze around the room. A traitor? In the council? Each man immediately glared at his neighbor suspiciously. The room felt like it was about to explode into a brawl but Krogan cut them off with an arrogant laugh.

“Who?” demanded King Stoick. Astrid cast a worried glance at Hiccup, her hand subtly moving towards her axe to be unslung if whoever-the-imposter-was decided to make a run for it. Then to Astrid’s shock, the prisoner jutted his chin at her. Gasps sounded around the room and  Hiccup’s eyes widened in panic.

“Impossible,” Lord Mulch said stoutly. Astrid swallowed around a lump in her throat.

“Sir Hofferson is an honorable knight of mine and completely loyal to the crown,” King Stoick said in a low voice.

“You might be surprised,” Krogan sneered. “He wasn’t able to hide everything on the ride back; your so-called noble knight is a wench!” Astrid couldn’t stop herself from jerking back. Krogan suddenly lunged at her, dragging a cry of surprise from Hiccup.

“I’ll show you!” he shouted, his arms snapping his restraints. They must have been worn down while in the dungeon. She should have checked them before bringing him here instead of being distracted.

“Astrid!” her father cried desperately before clapping a hand over his mouth in horror. The General’s hands reached her helmet. Astrid twisted in an effort to escape his hold but he yanked the protective armor off her head. Her hair sprung into her face and blinded her as if in retaliation for her stuffing it into her helmet that morning.

She heard the sharp inhales of fury as she scraped her locks away from her face and Hiccup tackled Krogan to the floor. The King was blinking as if he couldn’t believe his eyes and the Queen had a surprised hand pressed to her mouth - although she looked more calm than upset.

“Bring me a new pair of manacles,” Hiccup ordered sternly but no one took their eyes off of Astrid.

“Astrid?” Duke Jorgenson asked dangerously. Astrid saw her father bow his head in shame and she wasn’t sure if it was for the instinctive slip of her name or her being found out.

“Who is this Astrid?” Lord DeRange frowned suspiciously.

“She’s my daughter,” Astrid’s father spoke up. The council swiveled to stare at him.

“Then who is Astor Hofferson?” asked Lord Bucket.

“No one,” Father replied. Astrid couldn’t help the pang in her chest at that. Yes, Astor was a fictitious name for her, but he - she - wasn’t nothing.

“I am Astor Hofferson,” Astrid said loudly. The Duke scowled fiercely at her and Lord Mildew muttered something derisive under his breath. “It is simply another name for me,” she went on. “It is I who has trained and fought and been knighted with the highest marks in the initiation. I who served in the Berk Guard for a year and defeated the Den of Dragons alongside our Crown Prince.” Hiccup, who had somehow managed to take Krogan’s belt and fasten it around the would-be attacker's wrists, stood up and gave her an encouraging smile.

“But you’re a lady,” protested a lord next to Captain Throk, whose own face was unreadable.

“Yes, I am a lady,” she said defiantly, focusing on Duke Spitelout’s scowl rather than her father’s panic or Hiccup’s pride. “But I am also one of the best knights in the kingdom and I will not stop serving the inhabitants of Berk. I have still helped the Prince bring in our most valuable prisoner of war. I have still fought and bled and proved myself capable of battle, and the discovery of my gender does not change any of that. I have not lied about anything but this, and have let others get to know me with my warrior’s spirit before they dismissed me due to poor misconceptions about my sex.”

“It’s blasphemous,” Lord Mildew sneered, the Duke shaking his head alongside him in agreement.

“There are truly no rules explicitly against it,” Astrid countered. “It is just not done. It has been done now.”

“We could never accept her as a pure lady,” Mildew protested. “Our women are to be models of chastity and decorum. She has been sullied by cavorting with lads who could not help themselves, and no one to stop her wantonness in seducing them. No one would marry her.”

“I will,” Hiccup spoke up. Astrid turned to him, a protest on her lips reflexively. “I have witnessed her since the beginning of her deception and can attest to the entirely modest attitude she has shown around my peers. She never entered while we were bathing or even attended the trips to drink and bed pretty peasants. She has behaved with the utmost modesty allowed for her situation and even if all the other lords were foolish enough to not desire her, I have fallen in love with her.” He shot Lord Mildew a dangerous glare as the man opened his mouth. The crotchety old lord shut it obediently like a chastened dog. “I have fallen in love with her wisdom, her battle prowess, her bravery, and lastly, her dedication and her beauty.” He stared the lords in the eyes defiantly. “From before I knew her true identity - and I’ve known for years -” cries of outrage followed his declaration as even the King’s jaw dropped at the omission. “I have known that she was the most capable of our peers. If it hadn’t been for her, I wouldn’t have been able to pass Squire training.” More cries of outrage followed his admission.

“Father,” Hiccup addressed the King who was glaring at Astrid. “I can think of no better future queen than Astrid. She can comport herself with every grace any other lady can, and can defend both herself and me in any dangerous situation as she has demonstrated for years. She is intimately acquainted with our battle tactics and leadership abilities, having studied from the same tutors as me. If something were to happen, she would still be perfectly able to run the kingdom. She already has practice with her own estate. And I love her,” he added. Stoick stared at him stonily.

“Is she the reason you have been pushing to change the laws around women’s inheritance?” Stoick asked. Lord Mildew practically choked and Astrid found herself wishing he didn’t catch his breath again.

“Yes, Sir,” Hiccup admitted. “She has opened my eyes to the capabilities of our women, if only we let them. Dad, we have a serious war coming up soon and we need as many fighters as we can get to end it quickly.”

“Preposterous!” cried Mildew.

“You dare interrupt your future king?” Hiccup asked venomously. The air stilled. Hiccup walked slowly to the center of the room and gazed into every one of the lords’ faces until they looked away.

“I am the one who will inherit my father’s throne when he is gone,” he said quietly but clearly. “I am the one who will take on the burden of caring for an entire kingdom and endeavoring to do right to all. And I know I will not always succeed. There were countless times I wished to relieve myself of such a burden. But I have accepted it now, and I will embrace my duties to the best of my ability. Women are an integral part of our society. Without them we cannot have heirs or mothers. Why should we disregard them, then? Would anyone here argue that our Queen is not the strongest woman in the land?” Everyone bowed their heads towards the Queen in respect, who beamed upon her son. “I wish for my wife to be equally as magnificent.” It was all Astrid could do not to duck her head in embarrassment but she held it high, focusing on the Queen.

I cannot be you, she said silently. But I can try to be my best as you would. Queen Valka’s face softened a smidge, and she inclined her head ever so softly towards the woman knight.

“But we cannot stand to have a lord who would so gleefully lie to us,” Lord Thuggory said with a predatory gleam in his eye. He was long contemptuous of the large estate the Hoffersons boasted next to his paltry one in comparison. “Who knows what else he might hide from us? He could be feeding our secrets to Drago, for all we know, with his wench in the trenches alongside our generals.” Astrid’s father stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the cold tile.

“The only thing I have lied about is the gender and name of my child,” Sir Hofferson hissed. “My daughter is perfectly adept at running my estate and I taught her enviable skills that many of your sons lacked, but her own discipline and bravery were always hers. I selfishly and cowardly allowed her to continue and expose herself to such dangers because I knew she would overcome them and endure for her family, but I always waited for the day we could cease the deception and bring her back as a lady. My eldest had a wonderful baby boy over a year and a half ago, so we called Astrid back to retake her ladylike mantle. It was never meant to be a lifelong deception.”

“Father,” Astrid interrupted, a mix of feelings in her chest; pride at the acknowledgement of her skills, but also annoyance? Anger? Sadness? At how quickly she had been replaced and forced back into a proper lady. “Trying to pull me back into being your daughter you could marry off would mean it would be a lifelong deception. I don’t want it to be a lifelong deception. I hated being restricted to being just a knight or a lady,” she caught herself looking at the floor and pulled her head back up to face the men surrounding her. “I do wish to be a mother and raise a family,” she said clearly. “But I have found a great love for fighting for this country.” She took a deep breath and forced herself to meet at least three lords’ eyes before continuing. “And I believe it is a great disservice to have to choose between raising a family and protecting one’s  county.

“Can someone take him away?” Hiccup demanded, gesturing to Krogan who had managed to stand himself up and was observing the proceedings with a gleam in his eye. “Your hastiness and distrust are exposing unnecessary information to our enemy. The King nodded to three knights in the room who promptly pulled out proper handcuffs and escorted Krogan quietly out of the room. Astrid took a moment to draw a deep breath and close her eyes. Her contour had been done so carefully and her chainmail newly shined, but all the lords would see was her messy braid, the way she had been caught off guard, and deem it poor presentation. Hiccup reached over to tuck a loose lock of hair behind her eyes. You look beautiful, his eyes assured her. Color rose in her cheeks and she resisted the urge to take all of her hair out to hide behind it and redo it, but she knew such a thing was not done in public. She gave Hiccup a brave smile and nodded at him. She appreciated him fighting for her, but this was something she had to conquer for herself.

“But how could she be a role model for our girls to hold their standards without pretty features?” one lord asked his colleague a little too loudly. Astrid felt Hiccup bristle beside her but spoke calmly.

“I use contour, as a lady does, to disguise my features and make them more masculine,” she said succinctly. The men broke into more murmurs.

“But what about dresses?” Another one demanded. “Such a physique is not made for dresses.”

“I fit dresses just fine,” Astrid retoroted, clenching her jaw in anger. How dare she be quizzed on the fit of her dresses at an impromptu trial. “And should any of you get any misconceptions about my or my sister’s virtue I would be happy to challenge you on behalf of my honor myself. Are you all confident you would win? Lords, you need not worry about my femininity. It is perfectly intact. During the summers, I often shed my armor and joined the weekly tea parties. No one ever suspected me of being anything less than ladylike. If I wash off the contour I use to make me look more masculine, my features are delicate and pretty. I can dance easily in most gowns, and can ride straddle and sidesaddle. But most importantly, I wish to continue to fight as a knight for Berk. I am proof that Berk can have a successful woman knight, and I plead to be allowed to continue to serve my country.

“It goes against our code of ethics to put our women in such danger,” a kinder lord said contemplatively.

“The path of a knight is one I chose and enjoy, Your Lordship,” she answered. “It would be cruel to deprive me of patriotic pride and the defenseless citizens of Berk an upstanding knight just because of her gender.”

“Sir Hofferson has indeed been an invaluable soldier in Berk’s service for years,” Throk said reasonably. “She was the best in her class during training as a squire, and distinguished herself during the knight trials as well as in the years afterwards. It appears she has proven herself more than the average knight does; why should we stop her now?” Astrid’s heart rose with hope and pride at her former captain’s praise.

“My son has vouched repeatedly for her extraordinary influence in motivating him,” the King mused. “I have frequently dined with her personally, and she is respectful and clever. And I have read the reports from his - her superiors and accounts from citizens. All of them paint a fair picture of a chivalrous knight who does not lie, steal, or cheat.”

“Except for the very basic fact of her gender,” sneered Duke Spitelout. The King stroked his beard.

“But the reason for that is understandable,” he decided. “And so of little consequence determining her character.”

“But we still have a war to fight,” another lord tried. “Surely it would stir up unrest to hear that such a high knight has been a mere woman all along. It would lessen morale.”

“Or it might be better to keep her as a well known knight to rally around,” argued a political rival of the previous lord. The rival looked at the King furtively. “While it is too progressive to uproot society for just one woman, we can agree she is exceptional, and as such exceptions could be made if needed.” He wasn’t necessarily happy with Astrid’s revelation or what she wanted to achieve, but with the Prince so firmly in her favor along with Captain Throk and the King’s fondness for her he sensed showing support was the smart political choice, although he wanted to make it an isolated case. The King narrowed his eyes in thought, reading between the lines the same as she and deciding the best course of action.

They could not risk rebellion against them before the war was won by giving women rights the soldiers did not approve of, but Astrid would be damned if she allowed herself to lose her position as a knight. This hadn’t been how she’d planned this at all, but in a way, she was glad it had happened while she still had favorable sway so soon after her accomplishments. The Prince vibrated with excitement, wanting to say something but sensing the wisdom of remaining quiet while his father thought. Her father looked astonished at the turn of events, but also hopeful. Astrid wasn’t sure how much she agreed with her father on her status as a knight. He had never liked her choice, but had also been the one to teach her to fight and figure and enrolled her in Squire’s Training anyway. His support had lessened as of late, but he had originally come to see her rewarded for bringing in a dangerous prisoner of war. She knew if she had been a true boy her father would have been bursting at the seams with pride, but never once had he ever told her he was proud of her for the same things.

“I think,” the King said slowly. “That the woman in front of us here has proved herself to be in every way exceptional. She has proven her warrior capabilities time and time again, as well as proven herself extraordinarily clever, both in her strategies and ability to be … discreet with her gender. And I think she will prove to be extraordinarily beautiful when she wishes - after all, we were all jealous at one point of her handsomeness at a ball, yes?” The Queen chuckled while most of the lords scowled.

“My daughter pouted because she didn’t get to dance with the elusive Sir Hofferson,” Astrid was sure she heard one of them mutter. “Now I’m glad.”

“Therefore, all in favor of granting her immunity or special status?” the King asked, looking around the room.

The Queen and Captain Throk immediately raised their hands, followed by Lord DeRange and his son. Young Captain Eret raised his hand with a jovial smile towards her, and she found one growing in response. Her father raised his hand. Hiccup raised his pointedly, and glared across the room at quite a few other people until another four hands were raised, including Spitlelout’s. The others, Astrid noticed with amusement, were the ones behind on taxes. They must know Hiccup knew, then.

Eleven hands were raised and nine were not. Then Gothi raised hers. Everyone blinked in surprise at her clear eyes as she gave Astrid a toothy smile.The King looked around the room, nodded decisively, and raised his hand as well. Thirteen. Thirteen votes against eight.

“It’s decided then,” the King declared. ”In light of her service to our country and her help in battle, I hereby grant  - er - Sir Astrid Hofferson a lord’s status.” The room gasped. “Astrid Hofferson. You are now free to inherit, write a will, choose your own marriage, vote on council meetings, and fight alongside Berkian soldiers.” Astrid bowed, feeling too awkward to curtsy in pants.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” She turned to the Queen. “And thank you, Your Majesty.” She bowed to Gothi. “And thank you, Elder. Thank you all for letting me continue to fight for our country!” Hiccup let out a triumphant cheer and Astrid couldn’t stop the laugh that fell from her lips, all giddiness and relief.

“Meeting dismissed,” the King boomed. “We will gather again to question the General and reward the two knights at a later date.”

“-Petition to enforce medical tests on squires in Training-”

“-Dad-” Hiccup said, pushing his way through the crowd.

Astrid silently watched her own father pull himself out of his seat and slowly make his way towards her. She wordlessly offered him her arm and he took it, leaning on it heavily as they walked out the throne room.

“I’m sorry, Astrid,” her father apologized as they left. Lords milled around them, some hastening down to tell everyone of the scandal. Astrid stared ahead. ‘It’s okay’ didn’t seem like the right response, but she couldn’t bring herself to hold anything against him.

“It was always going to happen, one way or another,” she said at last. “In a way, I’m glad it’s happened and dealt with for the most part. It was never something that would have stayed hidden forever.” Why did you never want my accomplishments to never see the light of day? Did you not think me worthy of them? She wondered.

“I never wanted you to have to deal with this,” he sighed defeatedly. “The politics, the careful maneuvering, the silent enemies - staying a knight in society means navigating all those things, and I wanted to keep you away from that.”

“I never minded,” Astrid said, her throat thick for some unfathomable reason. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t unfathomable. Maybe she was able to admit things to herself a little easier. “Society among women is much the same - although the silent dangerous games are that much more a part of it. And I don’t like it, but I can do it. I have always been prepared to do it. All I wanted - all I want -” she cut herself off, horrified at the raw emotion in her voice. They were still in the palace’s public halls, for Odin’s sake! Anyone could come along and hear her.

“What do you want, my dear girl?”

“I want you to be proud of me,” Astrid whispered. She felt a hot tear sting its way across the bridge of her nose and hung her head in shame.

“Of course I’m proud of you,” Lord Hofferson coraked. “You’ve accomplished things I could have never dreamed of, you never did what was expected of you, and I love you for it because you are my child.” He pressed a kiss to her messy hair. “I couldn’t be prouder of my Astrid.” She lowered her forehead onto his shoulder and they stood there, not embracing, but soaking in each other’s presence.

“Oh! I hope I’m not intruding -” Astrid immediately lifted her head off her father’s shoulder and frantically smoothed her hair.

“Hiccup! Oh, no, of course not - never - we were just - ahem. We were just finishing up,” she repeated. Her father was watching the proceedings with a decidedly amused expression as Hiccup gave her a soft smile.

“I was hoping I could accompany you to your rooms?” he asked. “So, that … certainly happened in there.” He glanced obviously behind him, indicating the Throne Room a few corridors back.

“Indeed,” Astrid shook her head incredulously. “I cannot believe it ended as well as it did.”

“The nerve of some of those lords,” Hiccup grumbled.

“They shall certainly face raised prices in Hofferson produce,” Astrid’s father added loftily. Hiccup looked delighted. Astrid had learned over the years that Hiccup was concernedly forgiving of all slights to himself, but could get hilariously petty when holding grudges on behalf of someone he cared about. He once picked on a poor stableboy, spreading the horse manure and stepping in it to make it harder to pick up and to replace the straw more often when he’d overheard the boy speaking derogatorily to Toothless (the stallion had tried to bite him) for a whole year until the boy had absolutely begged to be moved despite the superior pay for caring for the Crown Prince’s prize steed. It looked like now Hiccup had found a new set of men to torment on her behalf. They could pull some more pranks, Astrid decided with a small smile. The Dragon’s Den had revived memories of the good old days when they’d torment their instructors weekly, and Astrid found herself missing the thrilling passtime of setting up traps and not getting caught.

“I won’t be able to wear men’s garb to dinner,” Astrid realized. “Word would get around. I need to prove myself to be a girl to those who have heard the rumors.” Her father nodded.

“I shall send for some clothes from home and look into getting you some formal gowns as quickly as possible,” he promised.

“My mother’s seamstress, Nadia, is very skilled and prompt, and she has a friend, Minden, who’s skill and efficiency is equivalent to hers, if you’d wish to get into contact with them,” Hiccup offered. Her father thanked him and Hiccup kindly directed him to her rooms both in the palace and a little out in the city. “In the meantime, you are welcome to dine with us, Astrid,” Hiccup invited her. “My parents will want to question you in earnest now that I’ve declared my intentions towards you, as well as probably congratulate you.” Astrid managed a weak smile in spite of her dread.

“I would be immensely grateful, as I do not yet have the wardrobe to probably make a debut at court,” she admitted. Mother was absolutely going to kill her. Oh, Cami was going to have a field day.

“Well, I shall take leave of you two now to procure you a wardrobe as soon as possible,” Lord Hofferson excused himself. “A father’s work is never done,” he nodded at Hiccup, “You would do well to remember that.” Hiccup’s entire face turned beet red and Astrid scolded with her eyes, mortified. He just looked satisfied at their embarrassment and their comfortability around each other.

“Astrid?” Hiccup asked when they could meet each other’s eyes again. His hand found hers and Astrid did not pull away from his touch.

“Yes?” she asked, bemused as he ran a thumb over her knuckles contemplatively. He took a deep breath.

“If … I was to propose now, would you … accept?” Astrid stopped walking.

“Is this a proposal?” she asked.

“No!” Hiccup assured her. “No, this is me asking permission.” Astrid thought. She thought of the lord’s sneers and Cami’s. She thought of Astoria’s gentle encouragement and her mother’s more aggressive kind. She thought of her father, who was proud of her but tried to pull her out of danger’s way instead of standing behind her and believing she could fight her way through it. She thought of Hiccup, his boisterous attitude, the growth she’d seen in just two months. His support, the smiles on the faces of the King and Queen - the heat of his body and the taste of his lips. He was patient and he was handsome and he loved her and he was asking permission. She thought about what accepting his proposal meant to her - not just being claimed by each other, but promising herself to her country in a way that was scarier than pledging to die for it.

“Yes,” Astrid said. Hiccup’s eyebrows jumped in surprised delight, and he threw his arms around her.

“Oh Thor - really?” he drew back to look in her eyes. Astrid leaned forward to press her lips to his quickly. Anyone walking down the corridors could just take a different path, she decided.

“Yes,” she said again. “Of course I’ll say yes when you ask me.” Hiccup’s face broke into a beautiful grin.

“It should be public, though,” Astrid decided. “For their benefit. We’ve kept everything else so secret, we should start letting Berk know about us.”

“Very well,” he smiled. “We can do that.”

“What should I wear?” asked Astrid. “The future princess of Berk should look her best when she gets engaged.” Like hell was she going to make the mistake of not being impeccably dressed for the event - everything about her was going to be torn to shreds by all the others rejected by Hiccup by default, and she wasn’t going to give more ammunition they didn’t need.

“Mmm,” Hiccup hummed, cocking his head as he examined her. “Blue that brings out your eyes.” Astrid’s eyes jumped up. Mother had actually commissioned such a dress a while ago. It would be perfect, and was up to the latest styles with a comfortable corset and the skirt wide enough to not make her legs feel trapped.

“When will I wear it?” Astrid asked archly, enjoying the discussion. Hiccup’s smile grew more cocky.

“It’s your decision,” he told her. “I’ll propose as soon as I see you in it.” Oh. He shouldn’t have done that. Astrid was going to make him wait - or maybe, wear it immediately. Dammit, she didn’t know when she wanted to wear it. Hiccup’s grin morphed into a fully blown smirk. The bastard. He had known exactly what he was doing.

“Be on your guard, Your Highness,” Astrid’s eyes narrowed at him. “You’ll never guess when I wear it.”

“I’ll always be ready when you are,” he replied smoothly, and bent down to kiss her hand.

Whoever taught Hiccup to say those kinds of things reflexively like that needed to be charged - and thanked. Viggo - she was pretty sure it was Lord Viggo who had handled tutoring Hiccup in additional speech and politics. He had turned the Prince into a dangerous man.

She pulled her hand out of his grasp and brushed her pants self consciously. “I’ll see you at dinner,” she smiled at him. Turning to the last corridor towards her rooms. “Goodbye, Hiccup.”

.oOo.

Her mother arrived at the palace faster than the wind.

“You ran off at us for a month!” she said dangerously. “And then you return and your identity is found out! Thor have mercy on us, young lady! You have sent Berk into a scandal before you even made your debut!” Cami and Astoria arrived a week later bearing more clothes.

“It is even more imperative you make a good impression on your debut,” Mother shook her head before snapping at the maids to get to work.

Four hours later saw Astrid in a light white gown; the color every girl wore to her debut. She was older than most, of course, which had made her hesitate initially at the color, but it made her look sweet and innocent and feminine, and that was exactly what Berk needed to see. Her hair only fell halfway down her back, so her updo could only be so big, but they expertly wove strings of pearls (and in some places, straw) into her hair to give it an elegant updo.

“You look perfect, darling,” Mother said approvingly as Astrid looked at herself in the mirror.

“Not yet - wait,” Astrid insisted, hastening over to her drawers to dig through them. She emerged with her golden hair comb. “Please,” she said, handing it to the maid who had done her hair. “Could you add this?” Astrid’s mother raised an interested eyebrow at the one lone comb in her hair but said nothing.

“It won’t be very visible, miss,” the maid told her apologetically.

“That’s fine,” Astrid assured her. “As long as it’s there.”

Her debut was a rousing success. Sir Jorgenson in particular took an interest in her, much to his father’s consternation. After two dances Astrid couldn’t find herself refusing the Prince swept her away coldly, a scowl on his face.

“You look awfully moody tonight,” Astrid teased him.

“I’m finally able to dance with the most beautiful woman in the room for the first time after years of watching you with others, and what does my idiot cousin do? Try to stake a claim on you.”

“Possessive,” Astrid tutted because she refused to let herself blush. Hiccup ducked his head apologetically.

“Sorry,” he apologized. He spun her elegantly - she was so glad to find he was a good dance partner. It seemed they fit together in every aspect - and pulled her in close by her waist as she returned. “You look absolutely radiant tonight,” he complimented her in a low voice that made her fight not to shiver. “This is my first time seeing you properly dressed up. I can barely breathe.” Astrid was struggling with keeping her own breaths steady, not that she was going to tell him. “I like your hair comb,” he whispered as the dance ended.

She danced with Eret next, who was both delighted and furious at the fact she had been a girl the whole time. “I can’t believe I didn’t realize,” he kept shaking his head. “I can’t believe you never told me! Seriously, you knew my secrets! Oh, everyone’s faces …”

The news of her dual identity was taken pretty smoothly. Or at least, as smoothly as she could expect. She sparred with the soldiers in the mornings with her age-old tunic and pants, her chest bound securely and her hair pulled back into a smart French braid. A few older lords and knights also had deluded themselves into thinking she was a worse fighter now that they knew she was female, so they thought to challenge her. She happily put them in their place. In the evenings, she donned her gowns and jewelry and danced - or, more importantly, established female allies. There were plenty of women who viewed her status as a knight and being politically equivalent to a lord was absolutely blasphemous. Not to mention it was no secret the Prince was enamored with her, so they inevitably deduced that the whole reason for disguising herself as a boy in the first was just to ‘get her claws in the Heir.’ Others, however, were more open to the idea and even impressed at her accomplishments. And how much would you be willing to stand behind me with your family’s influence to acquire these rights and accomplishments for even more women? She asked through her smiles and delicate conversation. ‘Long live the King,’ ‘To good health!’ they’d toast her, nodding delicately in silent answer of her unspoken question. Heather smirked at her from across the room and Astrid dipped her head in acknowledgement. They weren’t friends yet, but they would be soon.

A few days later, she wore the blue dress.

It had been a while since she’d properly enjoyed the power of a beautiful woman in a room full of men. On the battlefield, there was a certain point when opponents were able to recognize their doom in her walk. She had grinned then, feral and covered in blood, and swung her sword. Now, her smile was beautiful, but wide like a particularly satisfied cat as she sauntered down the steps into the ballroom.

Her dress was bright sapphire silk that rustled and shone as she walked. Jewels hung from her neck and ears, but subtly. There was one piece of jewelry she wanted everyone’s eyes on tonight. Her hands had been carefully soaked and scrubbed, her hair was artfully curled and pinned, her axe headed hair comb nestled securely into the intricate updo. Heads turned to watch her but she sought out Hiccup, finding him and sending him her best I-dare-you look. A slow smile spread across his face as he took in her dress, and he gave her an imperceptible nod.

Dinner was eaten first to ensure everything would be present during the dancing and drinking. Before the first man could claim her hand for a dance Hiccup appeared by her side.

“Lady Hofferson,” he said loudly, discreetly drawing everyone’s attention as he led her subtly toward the center of the room.

“Why, of course,” Astrid responded, all concern. “Whatever do you need, Your Highness?” Hiccup bent over her head and Astrid knew the moment clicked for everyone watching. It was all she could do to keep a smirk off her face as the Crown Prince knelt before her..

“My lady,” Hiccup said clearly. “You have held my heart captive for years and now it has simply made you its new home. You have been with me through thick and thin, even back when I was naught but a skinny fishbone, but even then, you believed in me. And I have believed in you through every battle, every fight, and everything else we’ve weathered together. You are wise and kind and clever and so beautiful you take my breath away. You could do me no greater honor than if you accepted my hand in marriage and became my wife.” Mothers of other contendents for Hiccup’s hand gasped in outrage and resignation. Astrid held her right hand over her heart. They had agreed on the proposal being public, but Astrid hadn’t expected such a heartfelt confession, so her response came out more emotional than she’d planned.

“Yes,” she said, shaking her head. She had the strangest urge to laugh and cry at the same time. “Of course,” she said again. Of course she’d say yes. He rose, a triumphant smile on his face as he slid the ring - a beautiful, intricate thing inlaid with small diamonds and sapphires - onto her finger and clasped her left hand. The orchestra struck up as if on command, and Hiccup expertly guided her into a dramatic waltz - her mother’s favorite to dance with father, and Astrid’s favorite by default. It was intimate and close, and neither’s gaze left the other’s faces throughout the entire dance. They didn’t speak. What words were there to describe the rising feeling of rightness, the utter terror of being in front of all these people, the restraint they were showing not immediately locking each other in a passionate embrace.

“It was my mother’s,” Hiccup shared quietly near the end of the waltz, flicking his eyes to her new ring glimmering in the candlelight. “I asked her for one of her rings and she told me to choose. When I saw that one, I knew. I saw you.”

“It’s perfect,” Astrid told him earnestly. “It’s better than I could have ever imagined. It fits perfectly.”

“Good,” Hiccup nodded approvingly. “Mom said it had always been a little big for her, so I hoped it’d still fit you.”

“I have calluses on my fingers,” Astrid told him dryly. “It’s a good thing it was too big for her.” The dance ended but instead of bowing Hiccup bent down and kissed her slowly. The kiss was chaste and sweet and oh-so-aware-of–everyone-watching, but she drank in every second greedily until they parted softly. She smiled up at him through her lashes. They had fully claimed each other in front of the court. There was no dispute about their relationship now. And Astrid felt proud.

Her brother in law swept her up in a congratulatory dance while Hiccup was congratulated by all the men.

“She’s a real looker,” Snotlout said obnoxiously.

“She’s taken,” Hiccup bit out.

“Man, it must be nice to just marry your bro,” Sir Thorston told Hiccup wistfully. “You know, you’ve already lived with them for years and been through thick and thin together. Getting a wife is weird; they’re all prissy and refined - except for my sister, of course. She’s a right shrew.” Lord Fishlegs stiffened.

“She may be your sister, but she is an Ingerman now, and I cannot allow you to speak ill of our women, Thorston.” The Thorston brother shuffled and muttered under his breath but said no more about his sister that night.

“You’ll take good care of her,” Eret grinned at him, squeezing Hiccup’s hand a little too hard. Hiccup found himself appreciating a man that cared enough about her to threaten his future king.

“Of course,” he agreed cordially and increased his own grip. “And you with Heather, of course.” Eret released his hand and bowed.

“I’m honored to have your blessing,” he said quietly.

He dared not go near the Hofferson matriarch, not sure if she’d threaten him or welcome him enthusiastically, and he was a little afraid to find out.

“That was a beautiful proposal, son,” his mother told him gently. Hiccup turned to embrace her.

“Mom. Thanks.”

“You are lucky to have her.”

“I am indeed.”

.oOo.

After they had gauged the public approval of Astrid, it was back to war preparations. It had been two months and they had been stealthily gathering the remains of their forces without alerting Drago. Hofferson is a girl, the trenches whispered incredulously. Some refused to recognize the unaltered feminine features now accompanied with a braid. But then they saw her fight on the front, and she was still as legendary as before. In such cases between life and death, her gender didn’t matter, only that she was protecting them, charging out into the battle, bleeding freely as she cut down enemies. She was a protector who would never stop fighting, and well, the soldiers could hardly let themselves be shown up by a girl, and so, too, they charged.

The battles were exhausting. Every other night Astrid almost prayed for death, even with Hiccup lying beside her. The soldiers said nothing about Astrid and Hiccup disappearing into each other’s tents to ‘tend each other’s wounds’ and not coming out for the rest of the night, but who cared? Astrid treasured those nights together, filled with the desperate closeness of two people begging the other not to leave the next day. Astrid received many, many more scars all over her body. This was not a fight to be fought lightly any more. There would be no more fighting after this, either because they won or lost, but knew no one was coming to save her unless she saved herself first.

The Prince and his Knight In Shining Armor were a power duo that swept across the battlefield. The King moved them around the battlefield to boost morale as the other forces prepared to battle Drago’s impending forces from the north. She was assigned a squire from Training, young and shaky looking as she quietly showed him how to polish her armor.

“I’ll probably be too tired to help you at night,” she admitted. “But I need my axe and sword sharpened every day. Can you do that?”

“O-okay Sir Hofferson,” the boy whispered in awe.

“Good,” she breathed as Hiccup entered the tent, dirty and grimy, kissing her neck all the same and began rubbing her shoulders. They spent their evenings catching their breaths from the day’s fight and discussing strategies, too tired to pick themselves off their cot. Astrid’s squire polished her armor til it gleamed every night and occasionally called female attendants to treat her to a delightfully hot bath when the injured were all too dead to treat so the hot water wasn’t needed for the night.

“Not much longer,” he whispered reassuringly into her hair.

“Not much longer,” he promised into her lips as they kissed.

“Not much longer,” he pleaded from between her arms as they slept.

“Not much longer,” he begged into her sweaty neck amidst the throes of passion.

And then, ‘not much longer’ became ‘hush, it’s over now.’

The war was won with casualties and hefty loss. Hiccup realized a way to challenge Drago, and so raced off like the heroic sacrificial hero he was to defeat Drago while Astrid kept the rest of his enemies at bay. She went down first, the sea of Drago’s men drowning and choking her as she fought. She needed … needed to keep them away … away from - who? What? … Hiccup!

Hiccup who was fighting still. Hiccup who was fighting for Berk and for her. Hiccup, who loved so entirely he couldn’t hide it on any part of his face. Hiccup who so staunchly defended the weak. Hiccup, who she was supposed to be protecting! Hiccup, who had lost a leg because she hadn’t been able to save him -

“Hiccup,” Astrid breathed in relief as she opened the door and saw him. He lay in his bed, his legs uneven lumps under the blankets. Astrid entered the room, shaking her braid out of her helmet and tucked it under her arm as she sat by the bed.

“Hey, there,” she greeted him softly. Hiccup just sighed.

“Thanks for coming by again,” he said in return, looking stonily down into his lap. He was bored and hated being still. He had his sketches nearby but they weren’t as fun when Hiccup couldn’t go down to the forge and tinker with hot metal until his diagrams made sense.

“Trader Johann has been officially banished from Berk for aiding enemy’s armies as of today and Toothless says hi,” Astrid told him conversationally. “I took him for a nice long ride today.”

“Thanks,” Hiccup grimaced. “I miss him.”

“He misses you too,” she responded immediately. “He can’t wait to see you again.”

“And then what?” he scoffed. “I’ll just tell him, ‘Hey, bud. Nice to see you again. Unfortunately, I’m lame and won’t be able to ride you.’”

“Don’t say that,” she frowned. “You’ll still be able to ride,” she tried to comfort him. Hiccup gave her a shaky smile.

“I can’t if I’m not able to walk,” he said bitterly.

“Hey,” Astrid said, reaching out to hold his hand. “You can do anything you put your mind to. I’m not saying this is going to be easy, but I know you’ll be able to do this.”

“Why are you still here, Astrid?” he asked. “I’m not going to make you marry me now I’m like this.”

“Good,” she said crisply. “Everyone can know it was my choice.”

“You don’t deserve an unwhole man like me.” She slapped him lightly.

“You are still Hiccup, leg or not,” she said firmly. “And I love you and I would never marry anyone else. You can still be a warrior - look at Gobber. And you’ll be a great King. Taking your leg didn’t take your heart as well. Losing your leg didn’t mean you’d ever lose me.”

“How did I ever deserve you?” asked Hiccup.

“You are the one man in the world I could stand to marry, Hiccup. You don’t have competition.” They laughed.

“Get better. Take all the time you need,” she kissed him. “But you aren’t getting out of the wedding.”

After a year, Hiccup walked and rode easily - or at least, without complaint. He got aches and plains aplenty, which Astrid had taken upon herself to identify quietly so she could take care of them before Hiccup had to ask - if she waited for him to ask for any help, he’d never ask - and learned to rub and massage the right oils and to anticipate his pain on rainier days, or those instances where he ran around castle determined to help everyone he could. He was still nimble and light on his feet, just a little clumsier than before which he hated but Astrid found endearing.

“You’re perfect,” she giggled as he bumped into the foot of the chair and swore. She caught him before he fell and he wrapped his arms around her in mock desperation.

“That would have hurt if my leg wasn’t metal,” Hiccup muttered.

“Mmm. Well then I guess it’s good you have a metal leg.”

“Shut up.”

“Never!”

.oOo.

She never wanted to have a wedding, until the day came for her to have her very own. When she’d been a little girl, she’d never cared for the fuss about weddings. The grooms were never handsome, and the girls, while beautiful, looked pale with overly rosy cheeks. She’d hated the idea of weddings and leaving her family, although now she’d learned that a healthy distance between her family didn’t prevent them from connecting frequently. And truthfully, by the end of those visits, she was glad to retire to her solitary rooms - although they were hardly ever empty. A certain newly crowned king of hers was partial to loitering around there for some unknown reason, but she let him. Someone had to protect the King while he slept.

On the day of her wedding, her hair had just reached her waist. Her maids left half of it out, the looseness representing her wedding night but also her freedom. She certainly had the freedom to kick someone without ripping the fabric if she so needed, but with Heather as her fierce Matron of Honor, she was rather certain Lady Eretson had any offensive company handled. She had not yet hung up her armor for good, only polished it carefully so that it still shone when she returned from her honeymoon. She was to be a warrior Queen, unafraid of fighting and of showing her scars. They had been hard earned, and served as a reminder of what she had overcome - and how she would still fight. It was still hard to change laws even as a lady with a lord’s status and betrothed to the king, but Astrid was nothing if not tenacious and she had been slowly winning simple rights one after the other. By the end of her honeymoon, women from families above a certain income would be able to inherit a small percentage. In a few years, they might have a female knight program. But she was getting ahead of herself. Today was selfishly all about her and Hiccup. 

She looked in the mirror. Her makeup was light but dramatic, her pearls lavish but elegant. Her dresses’ skirts were loose but full. And the belt was heavy but worn with pride. She felt like she was walking on clouds even as they hung the ornate ceremonial cloak made from the hide of a white bear over her shoulders. In a few minutes, there would be an added crown on her head. (But somewhere among her shiny locks, a polished golden axehead gleamed.)

Her mother had tears in her eyes. “You look beautiful, my darling,” she said, sweeping her daughter into a hug.

“We’ll have to call you ‘Your Highness,’ now,” Cami, now at seventeen, said boldly.

“Of course not,” Astrid protested as she allowed all her sisters to pull her into a hug one by one. “You’ll call me Astrid like you always have and you can call him Hiccup, he won’t mind.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s your special name for him,” Agatha sighed dreamily. “There’s no need for us to intrude on it.” Astoria nodded in agreement.

“Nothing’s changed,” Astrid whispered to her older sister, letting her see the fear in her eyes. Astoria simply smiled in encouragement.

“Marriage is another adventure you will conquer like to do with everything else,” Astoria assured her. Astrid bent down to grin at little Gunner who was watching the proceedings with wide eyes. He was now decidedly her favorite nephew, as Astoria was a good mother but some of her sister’s little babies were squalling monsters. She suspected they were spoilers because their mother’s were, but that was just an older sister’s opinion. And it hadn’t stopped her heart from bursting with joy when they’d handed her an infant and she’d been terrified she’d drop it until she’d tucked it into her side.

“This is what we’re going to have,” she’d told Hiccup. He’d had a dazed look in his eye.

“I can’t wait,” he’d admitted.

And now, the day had come.

Astrid took a deep breath, and stepped outside.

[eugenedebs1920]

Come one, come all, and shoot the pasties off the nipples of the ten foot bullseye! It’s time for another meet and greet of the compromised and unqualified attractions at, The Carnival of Corruption!!!

The last time we raised the circus tent we went from the ringleader himself, down to the glass gargling voice of the HHS head. Let’s meet some more freaks in this freak show some are calling a president’s cabinet.

In this corner, a man who watched the Handmaids Tale and rooted for the commanders, a self proclaimed Christian nationalist, a man, so insecure in his thinking, that he has made it his mission to erase the act of slavery and the treatment of African people, that America forced to come labor for free on its shores, a guy who has orange ball marks on his chin from the god king leader of this clown show, at director of Office and Management Budget (OMB), Russ Vought!! This hideous little sideshow is a contributor to the dystopian playbook of Project 2025. He has called for “gutting the FBI”, and characterizes the federal bureaucracy as “woke and weaponized”. He has also said that "a commitment to an institutional separation between church and state, but not the separation of Christianity from its influence on government and society." Going in contrast to the very first amendment to the Constitution. Not surprising from a man who received his BA from an evangelical Christian college.

He may be below average looking but his extremist Christian ideas are both unconstitutional and dangerous. Careful folks! He bites!

The next attraction, although not quite as grotesque as some prior acts, still is a doozy. This fierce Trump loyalist has no integrity to speak of, basically going along with, or defending the great Dementia Don. This sycophantic creature has wasted immense amounts of taxpayer resources with her baseless, truth void claims that the 2020 election was stolen, I mean c’mon! It’s not like Biden had an oligarch pumping nearly $200 mil into his campaign that just so happened to own the satellite company involved with the tabulation of the final vote counts. Anyway… As Trump seems to do, he nominated a woman, Elise Stefanik as ambassador to the U.N. Stefanik’s election denialism runs deep, petitioning the Supreme Court to overturn the 2020 election, falling into every fact free, evidence free conspiracy she could get her orange stained hands on. She went so far as to attempt to the expunge the congressional record of Trump’s impeachments.

Stefanik has also voted to overturn the Affordable Care Act, and voted for employers to be able to check genetics prior to hiring, known as the Genetic Information Non-Discrimination Act. She supported Trump’s family separation policy and was against the “Dreamers” Act, while later accusing the Biden administration of foul play for providing baby formula for immigrants. Stefanik echos many of the death cult Qanon’s conspiracies. This lady may not have a beard but she certainly bears a lot of cooky ideals.

Our next sideshow act comes out of South Dakota, don’t let those free veneers fool ya, this sirens song might get you dragged out to the gravel pit and shot, like the poor puppy, and a mule, this future Secretary of Homeland Security has executed in the past. Kristi Noem began her political career as a state representative in in what should be one Dakota, with 2 senators for the combined 1.7 million residents in the two states, yet alas North Dakota with its not quite 800 thousand people has 2 senators, and South Dakota’s not quite 900 thousand people gets 2 senators also, while California with its over 36 million residents gets just, yup, 2 senators. What can you do?…..

This vixen of pollution supported the Keystone XL Pipeline and offshore drilling, sponsoring 3 bills to end the Deepwater Horizon moratorium after the devastation caused to the Gulf of Mexico by the platforms demise. She also sponsored offshore drilling off the coast of Virginia and in 2011 sponsored legislation to block funding for the EPA regarding coarse particulates and better air quality standards.

As governor Noem was prohibited from entering 20% of South Dakota’s land after, just like so much of the right does with basically anything, without evidence or facts, she baselessly claimed that the Mexican cartels were using Native American reservations to funnel drugs to the copious amounts of lack of People who live in South Dakota.

She caught the eye of this circus’ feckless leader when she refused to initiate any Covid response. She turned down unemployment payments for South Dakota residents stating their low unemployment rate. She encouraged the Sturgis motorcycle rally during the hype of the pandemic, which quickly became a superspreader event. Money allocated to South Dakota for pandemic relief Noem quickly spent on tourism advertisement for the state. Although being the 5th least populated state, South Dakota was in the top ten for Covid deaths. All of this certainly makes this lady, with fake teeth, just a little too big for her mouth, more than qualified to be Secretary of Homeland security.

That’s it for tonight’s, Carnival of Corruption folks!!! Come back next time because we have some real freaks, in some real important positions to go through, leading one to question. Is Trump the Traitor activity trying to destroy our reputation and government and democracy as a whole?.

So until next time folks. Stay vigilant, stay strong, and stay tuned to, The Carnival of Corruption!!

[cattyanon]

Another Sonic Prime AU

Well then I suppose I am obligated to share if you're staring that intently! :)

To preface my explanation I would like to state that Shadow can traverse through the Shatterspaces on account of how else are they gonna get home? There is a catch though. That being that it becomes draining to stay in a Shatterspace for too long. He can stay in one maybe like a day or two but if he doesn't return to the void and rest there he risks the same potential fate canon Sonic risks at the end of season 3.

Anyways, infodump about Sonic's situation below:

So instead of him starting in New Yoke he's pretty obviously started in Boscage Maze. He comes hurtling out of the sky and before he can regain any bearings he slams head-first into a tree that happens to be situated in a place where he then drops into the Scavenger's territory.

As you can probably imagine, the scavengers do not take kindly to his presence. They find him passed out and tie him up for questioning. And when he does wake up he's extremely confused and has no idea what's happening- even more unable to answer any and all questions they might have than in canon. They (mostly Prim) don't take kindly to his confusion 'act' and accuse him of trying to come and steal from them but failing miserably and injuring himself in the process. Eventually Prim decides to have Gnarly throw him over the edge WHILE STILL TIED UP and tells him something along the lines of "if you live then maybe you'll gain a little more respect".

Literally the only reason he comes out relatively unscathed is because he instinctively curls into a ball as a defense mechanism. It kinda hurts due to the bindings but it works- he lives. He then manages to free himself and, in true Sonic fashion, has this inexplicable urge to run once he regains his bearings. But he doesn't get too far because without any limiters the Prism energy inside him is prone to bubbling up and eventually spilling out in a way that starts to burn up his shoes.

Not knowing what else to do he goes into survival mode. He doesn't know how he knows some of things he does but he's thankful for it regardless. Then comes a pivotal turning point in the plot...

He saves these baby flickies from a giant wild cat (i assume there's probably more than giant flickies in Boscage Maze that we just didn't get to see) by taking a hit for them in his panic to protect them and as it happens, the parents saw the whole thing. They come swooping and chase off the giant and, appreciative of him saving their babies, decide to help nurse him back to health. Since this is Sonic he does recover faster than your average mobian but it's definitely not Shadow levels of fast.

By the end of him recovering he's hesitant to leave them. They'd been the only ones to show him compassion so far and it's not like he really knew anything about where he was. So when they attempt to nudge him back into the wild he makes it very obvious that he wants to stay with them. And having bonded while he was recovering, the flickies are like "okay fine you can stay" in their own bird way.

And since I like angst there's quite a few things that happen to him before Shadow finds him, with the most notable one being how the Prism energy effects him since he doesn't have limiters/regulators to keep them at bay.

Since the Shatterspaces are heavily implied to be made up of Prism energy in some way and that in canon his shoes and gloves adapted to the world he was in, something similar happens. But unlike canon he has no way to suppress it. So instead of just changing his shoes and gloves it starts to effect him physically. And adapting to his surroundings, he takes on giant flicky-like qualities. Up to a certain length his hands and feet become more bird-like and his arms develop giant flight feathers. He doesn't get a beak but now most of his teeth are sharp fangs and he's got that little pattern on his face that Birdie has. To top it off he's grown a few feet and has the ability to control plants to a small extent.

And although this isn't because of the Prism energy, it's worth noting that his time spent with the giant flickies has rubbed off on him in that he learns how to communicate with/understand them and might have developed a few bird-like habits that I need to think on. (if anybody knows any interesting bird specific habits do tell) He also becomes a Mangey-like situation where he doesn't really know how to speak anymore (except bird noises) and has very feral tendencies.

And then Shadow comes along and has to not only deal with trying to put their world back together with Sonic the way he is but when their world DOES get put back together he's also going to have to deal with explaining Sonic's situation and help reintegrate him into society since he's the only one he feels inclined to trust besides Tails.

As a side note he very much does not like Rouge, Knuckles, and Amy in that order due to his not so good experiences with their Boscage variants.

[welcometothedopeworld]

Absolutely (NOT)! ~ *Hajun Yeon*

Summary: You're the head of a very important fashion house. Hajun is one of your top models. And he isn't satisfied with the work your designers are putting out...

Pairing: Hajun Yeon X G/N!Reader

Genre: Fluffyish Drabble

Word Count: 817

Warning: N/A

Masterlist

A/N: I found this again after going through some old fics. Thought I would spruce it up before reposting it.

You shook your head. No, no, no. Absolutely not!

“The colors are all wrong and the shape doesn’t fit this body type at all! Try again!” You snapped at the designer before moving on.

The rest of the designers that had assembled before you also had barely passable work. Your critiques were harsh, but you didn’t like to sugar-coat things. If there was something wrong in their designs, you were going to tell them. Besides, you still had faith in their skills. They just needed that little extra push to be absolutely perfect.

In your office, you went over numbers, designs, and invitations to different parties and shows. It was hard work being the CEO of a famous and successful fashion house. But you enjoyed it. All the work kept you on your toes and you loved being at the forefront of the fashion world. You wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“L/n?” Your secretary called over the intercom. “A Hajun Yeon is here to see you.”

You scowled, debating on whether or not to tell her to send him away. Hajun was the only thing that actually made your job truly difficult. It was always a struggle working with a diva like him. 

Despite the headache you knew you were in for, you flicked your intercom on. “Alright. Send him in.”

Not even a second later, Hajun strolled into your office like he owned the place and flopped onto a chair in front of your desk. You surveyed his attire, a habit you unfortunately picked up from your career. It was a sort of street style that you wouldn’t be caught dead advertising out of your fashion house. However, he unfortunately wore it well and looked downright handsome. That still didn't mean you were going to go easy on him.

“I’d like a new designer.” He asked, completely void of sympathy or concern.

“Absolutely not.”

He raised an eyebrow at you. “Oh? And why is that?”

“Because I said so.” You frowned at him before returning to the papers littering your desk. “Besides, I’m the boss around here. What I say goes.”

“You know if you don’t give me what I want, I’ll quit. I’m your best model, and you know it! Without me, you’re nothing!” He snapped, crossing his arms over his chest.

Rolling your eyes at his little temper tantrum, you leaned back in your chair. “Come up with a better line already. You use that same excuse every time I deny one of your requests.”

Hajun scoffed. “It’s the truth though. You need me, whether you like it or not. Besides, there’s nothing keeping me here. I didn’t even want to be a model.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because…” He trailed off, realizing he had just been caught in trying to play tricks. You tried your hardest to keep your smug smile off your face as he tried to think. Eventually, he muttered, “Because I like your designs, that’s why.”

The smug smile slipped free and you didn’t even try to hide it. You knew it. He always told you how much he liked the designs that came out of your fashion house. He had practically begged to be your top model a year ago because he was so obsessed with your work. Still, it was nice to know that after all this time he still appreciated it, even if he was complaining like a diva. It was why you were so hard on your workers. They had great ideas and great work, they just needed the right kind of pressure to put forth that kind of work.

“Where is all of this coming from anyways?”

“Well I heard you talking to your designers today, saying everything they made was awful. If you don’t even believe in their work, I don’t want to wear it.” He exclaimed.

“First of all,” You responded, your deathly serious tone causing him to narrow his eyes. “Those designers I was talking to are new. I keep them near my office so if they have any questions or require assistance, I’m right here. Second of all, you've been assigned to Brigitte and Damian. They’re the two best designers here. Everything they make is flawless, so if that doesn’t sound like I believe in their work, maybe you should leave.”

He shook his head. “No, that’s alright. I’m fine with Brigitte and Damian. They’re good. Besides, your fashion looks perfect on me. Why should I leave? You need me to stay. I got a good gig going on here. I shouldn’t give it up because the new designers aren’t perfect yet.”

You shot him a cheeky grin. “Exactly. Now get out of my office if you’re just going to bitch and moan about nothing.”

As Hajun started to leave, he paused at your door. With a shit-eating smile, he added, “Also, I would like a raise.”

“Absolutely not.”

[kolbietheaggrievedwriter]

Prompt game wooo!

Ian asking Derrick advice with the stifling confines of character settings. Commiseration or shenanigans ensue.

"Sounds like I have a little more wiggle room than you," Derrick muses, brows furrowed in consternation. There's nothing particularly gentle about him - neither of them are being forced to act right now, here in this white void between worlds - but there's an undeniable camaraderie that formed between the two of them due to their unique situations, and that's noticeably softened his demeanor toward Ian. "I get punished if I act out of character, but nothing actually restrains me. I have a system I can negotiate with, too."

Ian hadn't expected much in the first place, but he's still a little disappointed. Still, he appreciates the consideration. He smiles, and it feels weird on his face, like stretching rarely used muscles. He smiles plenty while fighting, but he's so out of it at that point that he can hardly feel it, and anyway it's nothing like this. "That sounds about right," he says, wry, and that's weird, too, for all that it's breathtakingly easy.

"...Wanna hop into my world for a bit? Kill some zombies?" Derrick offers. "I think you'd be good at it, even without an ability."

"Hell yeah," Ian's mouth agrees before he even has a chance to think about it. He didn't even try to restrain the impulse, wouldn't have thought to. He hasn't had to actively restrain his own urges for a long time, so long he's all but forgotten how. He's grinning eagerly at the idea and bouncing on his feet with restless energy. It's like he's a child again - for the third time - full of fervor and excitement. He would be embarrassed, but considering the wacky shit he gets up to usually, this doesn't even register.

Derrick actually blinks in astonishment at the sight of him, but thankfully he shakes it off easily enough. Ian doesn't think he could handle accidentally seducing a fellow transmigrator, the first person to know and see Ian for who he really is in ages and who understands all too well what he's gone through. He would be mortified, then.

"Cool. Let's go then. You're not from that world, so I won't have to worry about acting out of character in front of you. This'll be fun for me, too." He makes an expression like just about any hooligan in Ian's world, wild and worry free, and then the two of them step inside a portal to the apocalypse.