#how does Viggo just start using the name that Hiccup came up with?

[headfullof-ideas]

Outlining the first season of RTTE, and remembering a random plot hole that I’m also fixing in this fic; how the heck everyone everywhere in the world just randomly knows the names to all the dragons that the riders name (deathsong, catastrophic Quaken, night terrors, etc.)

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

Winter Whumperland Day 3: Caught

Summary: Written for Winter Whumperland Day 3. Set in a Modern AU, follows up on Day 2 'Alone'. All alone in the middle of a forest covered by snow, Hiccup makes his escape during a trip. But what has lead up to this?

Rating: Mature

Characters: Hiccup, Viggo, Ryker

Pairing: Vigcup, past-Hiccstrid

Words: 4 376

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: “Escape in the Snow”

Whumpee: Hiccup

Author’s Notes: From this point on, it's going to be confusing as events will not be told in order just because of the order of the prompts. At least from Day 3 through 7. I've never done anything like this before either, so this was an interesting project to work on.

Anyway constructive criticism is appreciated!

Enjoy!

@amonthofwhump

Ao3

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The Grimborn Empire is a company that focuses mostly on export and import. They have centers where trucks load and unload their wares and they have ships and containers to bring those wares to other countries overseas. There are many, many employees working under the Grimborn name.

But the headquarters, so to speak, is a tall building that stands in the city of New New Berk and that is where Viggo works.

His office is on the top floor and overlooking the city. Though quite sparse, the interior is as fancy as one would imagine and screams CEO. At the desk Viggo usually sits, his back facing the large, thick windows that make up the wall behind him.

At the moment, however, he's facing one and stands there as a slow afternoon passes. Hands clasped behind him, he watches the traffic down below.

With no work needing to be done, he's waiting for a meeting that is supposed to start in another hour or so. He has a particular disdain for waiting and doing nothing, he's just wasting precious time that could be spent on something useful.

If it wasn't so short, he would've used it alright. He would've gone by the house and see how his little pet project is doing, but alas!

So instead he has to think smaller and ponder if he should tell his assistant to grab him a coffee. He would go down to the local coffee shop he used to frequent, but the one barista he liked in that establishment is no longer working there. So he doesn't see the point in going himself.

Turning away from the view, Viggo decides that's what he's going to do. He approaches his desk with the intention to press a button on his phone to call his assistant in. She should come stumbling in seconds later like a hen without her head, rightfully in a hurry if she wants to keep her job.

But it's as he leans forward, index finger hovering over the little button of doom that she so dreads to have him use, that something on his computer screen draws his attention.

An alert? Of what? And how long has that been there?

It's a little black popup on the bottom right and it's barely noticeable. It certainly hasn't drawn his attention.

With urgency does he pull his expensive leather desk chair back. Viggo takes a seat and rolls back in, taking the mouse and clicking on it.

It appears to him that someone is on his home computer. That in itself wouldn't necessarily send an alert to his device at work, but when someone enters a certain password to gain access to a place they aren't supposed to be in, well, then Viggo likes to know who.

There is no one in the office but him, so he feels safe enough to open up an app and a different window pops up. This one allows him to see who's using his home computer. It takes him a little while to find the right one, but he finds it.

When he sees it's Hiccup, he's somehow not surprised.

A deep scowl appears on his face and Viggo growls. This isn't the first time he's caught Hiccup breaking a rule behind his back, but this is one of the worst he could've broken. That boy never learns.

How long has he been searching through his stuff? He wishes that alert came with a timestamp or something to help him see it. He isn't a tech genius, that's for sure. And does Hiccup even know what he's looking at?

He looks much too focussed, eyes quickly moving across the screen with the speed you'd expect from someone with his brain. Viggo would've been enamored if he wasn't so alarmed.

But then he's torn out of his thoughts as he sees Hiccup visibly react to something he must've found. His reaction is terrible as he visibly reels from something Viggo cannot see.

He doesn't know what it is that Hiccup's found, the feed has no sound either, but Viggo can see him quickly unravel on screen and it's a joy to see.

The quick jerk of the chair backward, the disbelief, the tears in his eyes, the telltale shaking of his shoulders as he begins to sob, following by his hand covering his mouth and then his face he folds in on himself.

It's all on-screen and that means Viggo can see him sink further and further in his breakdown.

All he does is hum thoughtfully.

"I have to say, Hiccup, whatever you must be looking at, I think you deserve it."

However, this does present him with a big problem. Hiccup isn't a fool and Viggo won't be able to tell what he's found, what he's been looking at. He doesn't have a good view of how well Hiccup is with electronics either, though that he's made it this far is certainly telling.

This is troubling. And worse is, he'll have to tell Ryker and he'll be expected to make his final decision about the boy. Because it's been much too long already and Hiccup still hasn't learned his place.

Viggo sighs in agitation and leans back in his chair, gaze still on the screen.

"Well, well, well, you've been especially troublesome, my Dear Hiccup. But now you've really forced my hand."

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"A trip?" Hiccup cautiously asks, looking up at Viggo from his seat at the table.

There's a brochure that's been shoved into his hands. It looks like it's somewhere far away from where they live now, far away from civilization as a whole. It's of a place in the mountains, somewhere snowy. Clearly the perfect place to go when someone has a stump for a leg.

With how isolated it is, he'll still be stuck with just Viggo and Ryker. They might be counting on his leg to keep him inside and that Hiccup will know better than to wander through the woods in the freezing cold.

"Yes, a trip. It's the 20th, that means the holidays are fast approaching and I desire a break from work." Viggo tells him and Hiccup almost dares to raise an eyebrow.

Viggo? A break from work? Yeah, when pigs fly.

This just makes this whole sudden trip all the more suspicious, however. Here's the thing, this brochure isn't promoting some lodge or a resort or anything one would go to for a holiday getaway. It's one made of a fishing town by the name of Newport, using its beautiful sights as a way to lure people in.

This isn't the kind of place most people would go to when they think "vacation" and certainly not Viggo Grimborn. So what is the true purpose of this?

Maybe he should ask something first.

"So what'll happen to me?" Hiccup asks, assuming that he won't be left behind to starve.

He could order takeout, though. Make a quick getaway with the pizza courier, but that's the kind of stuff that will only happen in comedy movies. He wishes he can watch one again someday.

Hiccup wants to chuckle, but he chokes his amusement.

"You'll come along, of course. I realize you haven't been outside much," At that Hiccup can't help but give Viggo a glare. It's one that says 'you mean not at all?' But when he returns it just as strong in warning, Hiccup has to do his part and avert his gaze.

His jaw is still blue from the other day and his hand still painful and blistered from the boiling water that ended up spilling in that confrontation.

"What I was trying to tell you is that we both need new surroundings and this way I can spend more time with you." Viggo continues and Hiccup feels like what he's spouting is bull. Ryker is rolling his eyes in the background so loudly they can almost hear it.

Whenever Viggo is home, Hiccup is either one of two things; Completely neglected or clung to constantly, like he has a needy child that won't leave him alone. There is no in-between and it was particularly bad in the beginning three months of his stay.

"What happens to..." Hiccup hesitates, trying to find the right word to use. "The family cat?"

He hopes his choice of words will bring the cat in question some favor. The cat is a two-month-old kitten, one Viggo bought him as a gift when she was a month old.

Well, as a gift and as leverage.

"She'll go someplace where they can take care of her, don't worry," Viggo answers before he downs his drink. If he didn't know any better, Hiccup wouldn't have worried when he told him not to.

Hiccup looks back down at the brochure, brows knitting together in worry.

There is not one part of this that isn't suspicious and he fears what he may find on this "trip".

No, wait. Maybe this isn't as bad as he thinks.

"I... look forward to it." Hiccup tells him without a smile or anything that could possibly be mistaken for enthusiasm. He couldn't fake it even if he tried.

Viggo is displeased with this, but at least he doesn't see this as an excuse to 'discipline' him.

"We're leaving tomorrow morning. Get started on dinner and pack after." He orders him and leaves, walking away from the table.

Hiccup watches him go before his eyes move to the text on the brochure.

This trip might not be such a bad thing. Because even though he'll be spending even more time with his abusers, leaving the premise means the invisible fences keeping him in will be down. The plan he's been working on to get help from the outside is going to be ruined, but maybe that's not so bad. Maybe it's not even necessary and he can finally see an opportunity to escape.

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If you're as rich as Viggo Grimborn, chances are that you don't take any of the conventional means of travel.

Why take a public flight if you can use your personal boat to make the trip there? And unlike with a car, you don't need to stop at a restroom for gas, food, drinks, or a restroom.

And since the brothers are aware of his mother's dragon sanctuary and his affinity for dragons, the last thing they want is to energize him by putting him on a plane and bringing him the closest to flying that he's been since they picked him off the street that faithful night.

The joke's on them, however. The breeze blowing along the shore is enough to give him that high.

That's the thing with keeping someone like him confined to the house. The smallest gust of wind will invigorate him, the feeling the Grimborn Brothers wanted to suppress most.

Hiccup is leaning over the side of the boat, knees on some leather seats, trying to catch as much of the wind as he can. It combing through his hair feels like heaven to him and it's like it's telling him that it's missed him.

Viggo scowls deeply at the display.

"You know, if you want him to stop enjoying himself so much, you should tell him why we're really here," Ryker advises his younger brother from the steering wheel.

Viggo would tell him to keep his eye on where they're headed, but instead, he looks thoughtful.

They've already left, Hiccup can do no harm here. What's the worst he can do? Throw himself overboard and make things easier for them?

Besides, he doesn't have the heart to hurt someone, the cat has proven how soft he is. While packing, Viggo had to resort to smacking him just to quieten his endless questions about the place they were sending her to while they were away.

Frighteningly enough, a yet unbroken spirit caused Hiccup to glare back at him, Viggo remembers the look well. If it could kill, he'd be dead.

After everything that's been done to him, that will to fight that he's been carefully ripping out of him piece by piece is still there. The boy bounces back quickly, a concerning thing.

But cracks have formed, cracks that made him not lash back out after that smack.

They're almost there, they've almost broken him. That's why this getaway is so important.

So Viggo approaches.

"Henry." Hiccup is torn out of his thoughts of his Bud by a name that isn't his and he tenses up immensely.

It's a cover name because unusual names like his tend to be more memorable than one as simple and common as that.

For as much trouble as his birth name has given him growing up, he prefers it greatly over whatever name Viggo has given him.

Plus, he knows it's just another method. He's changed his clothing, his eating habits, everything down to what brand he brushes his teeth and washes his hair with. So what is a name change?

"... Yes?" Still Hiccup responds, not feeling like getting hit again. The bruise on his jaw is still far from fading and there are many more beneath his clothes. His ribs hurt when he breathes too deeply. Just bruised, most likely.

But he must've not responded in the correct tone, with the correct face, or maybe he just took too long. Because he's smacked on the back of his head for whatever he's done this time. He'd flinched before it came and anger is what remains. All he knows is anger and fear and shame.

He can't remember what joy feels like.

All those negative emotions swirl inside and he has to swallow them, lest he be hurt worse and mysteriously break his wrist again. He flexes his hand on memory.

Look a certain way, sound a certain way, move a certain way, do this, do that, what Viggo wants is an obedient robot. A robot with very specific qualities and functions.

"Sit down." Viggo orders him and Hiccup listens, taking his knees off the seat and sitting down. He smooths his expression as best as he can while the older man comes down next to him.

He wants to take his hand, intertwine their fingers, but Hiccup draws his hand back. Viggo insists, taking hold and squeezing tight enough to hurt.

If he had a wish for pain, he would've squeezed back. He knows it's a game he sometimes used to do with Astrid.

And Snotlout, but that was more arm wrestling, he loves doing those. Hiccup is usually victorious in those and Snotlout is usually left with the bad taste of defeat.

Once in a while, however, he'd let him win. It always felt so good to see him smile, hear him holler in joy, watch him throw his fists in the air. That was always followed up by gloating and the flexing of his muscles, which consistently almost made Hiccup regret letting him win.

Gods, he almost forgot he used to do that. Sometimes he almost forgets he had friends at all.

Sometimes it feels good not to remember what you used to have.

"Henry!" Viggo calls him out his pleasant memories, the occasional reprieve, and tightens his grip some more.

It hurts because he's holding his left hand, which is the one covered in bandages. He can feel the burning pressure in those blisters grow.

So Hiccup quickly figures this isn't something he can win and submits quickly, loosening his hold and looking down.

In return, Viggo's hold on his hand lightens, too.

"So, Henry, you've been troublesome."

"Have I?" It's a genuine question, but it must've come out too sarcastic for Viggo's taste. A third strike and he'll be looking at another punishment.

The only reason he's so lenient now is that someone might catch them.

When he first arrived, a mere painful squeeze wasn't all it took to shut him up.

Maybe he's wrong. Maybe there was a bit of a Viking in him, too. Was, because he's very aware of how obedient he's been. He barely meets Viggo's eyes as of late, certainly not when he doesn't have permission. He hates that he can't.

"You've been troublesome." He repeats and watches for a reaction.

There isn't one, Hiccup's gaze is still downcast and that pleases him.

What he can't tell is the way his brows have furrowed. Is it anger again? Pain? Perhaps it's a mix of both. Let's just throw another pinch of shame in there as well.

"We've tried many things to make you fall in line," By trying to abuse the disobedience out of him, but Hiccup can't say that. "But you remain too stubborn. That is why we're going on this trip. This is meant as a way to finally persuade you."

"And you thought a nice trip up the mountains after everything you two have done would miraculously make me fall head over heels in love with you?" Hiccup mutters quietly under his breath, hoping he isn't heard too much.

"I'm warning you, Henry, this is your last chance." There is that name for the third time, but all Hiccup can focus on is the choice of wording.

His eyes are widened with alarm.

"Wait, what do you mean by 'last chance'? Last chance before what?" He asks. Nothing is ever just an accident with this man, that has to be on purpose and Hiccup wants to know why.

There's a beat of silence before Viggo answers, apparently wanting Hiccup to wallow in it.

"I know you've been messing with my computer. You believed I wouldn't find out, but the cameras on my property aren't just on the outside." Viggo explains and Hiccup stares at him with growing realization, caught redhanded.

"The bookcase you pick books from without permission, the bathroom while you shower, the living room where you watch your documentaries and tasteless movies, there are hidden cameras all over the house. Including on my personal computer." He continues to add and panic is about to erupt with Hiccup.

So he's been keeping watch on him from work all this time? But Viggo never punished him for breaking the rules when he wasn't home.

No leaving the house, which he never could anyway. No unauthorized snacking or drinking, not that there is anything to snack on in that house. He knows about Ryker's personal stash, but he's only stolen from there once and that wasn't without consequences. No entertainment and finish your chores, not even the books belonging to his keeper or the tv were allowed to be touched.

Those are only the rules he can count at the top of his head and Hiccup broke so many more then those. Sometimes the second Viggo left. So if there really are cameras all over the house keeping watch over him, why did he never show any knowledge of his childish rulebreaking?

His panic makes him forego the role of obedient little love.

"No, that's a lie! There are no cameras, you're just trying to get under my skin!" Hiccup shoots up, tearing his hand back. It hurts, but he cares little.

"Don't raise your voice at me, Henr-"

"Oh, stop it with that stupid name! It's Hiccup! I'm not letting you get-" While it is Hiccup who first cuts Viggo off, the latter is swift to return the favor.

He rises and backhands him with one seamless motion. Both for speaking out of turn and raising his voice. The ring on his finger cuts into his cheek.

Hiccup comes to glare at him, now silent as he holds it. He wants so badly to hit back, but knows that he can't.

He did try it once.

Once.

He sits back down and slumps forward in defeat.

"Did you honestly believe I would allow you to roam freely in my home without eyes and ears on you at all times?" The ears part is a lie, but Hiccup doesn't need to know that. Besides, Viggo feels satisfied with that look of alarm appearing on his face.

"Henry, I chose you because you were smart. Is that a lie? If it isn't, can you figure out the rest?" He asks and then leaves in a foul mood.

But yes, Hiccup can and he does.

He's telling the truth. And Viggo wouldn't be telling him all of this, disclosing the fact that he's been secretly watching him through hidden eyes all over his home, without reason him. Clearly, he's been keeping that fact to himself to reveal later when it would be of some significance and today is apparently that day.

This is Hiccup's "last chance" to fall in line. The sudden disclosure of secrets, the unexpected trip to somewhere cold and remote, putting his cat in a regular shelter for 'safekeeping' instead of one of those fancy hotels Viggo definitely has the money for...

His last chance...

If Hiccup doesn't fully submit to Viggo by the end of this trip instead of only half-submitting when he has no other choice, they're going to...

His hand falls limp to his lap, overcome with shock.

The fear has always been there. He's seen them on the news, missing persons that ended up found, but in a grave instead of alive.

If he doesn't become what they've taken him to be, they're going to kill him.

From his position at the steering wheel, having watched it all go down, Ryker smirks in delight.

"He's figured it out."

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It's not like Hiccup is surprised to learn that his situation could end this way.

When he was first abducted, woken up in a bare dimly lit room, he'd once wondered if he was the first one or if there'd been others before him. People who'd mysteriously gone missing, went through the same stuff he has, and were never found. Not alive, at least.

But to think that, that day has already arrived...

No, he shouldn't be surprised. The very fact that plenty of people have had less, much less, time than he was given, people who were taken from the streets only to end up dead the very next day, makes Hiccup feel very lucky.

But should he still worry about his fate? He's finally made his escape and he's far away from the cabin now.

They arrived not even two days ago and settled into what was supposed to be home for the next two weeks. Funny, Hiccup hasn't been home for months.

His careful planning has been all for naught. In the end, he had to work on pure impulse to get him out of trouble.

He shouldn't be proud of it and he probably won't be. There was a reason for all that planning, all that waiting and enduring. He's sure he'll regret it later, whether he manages to get away from Viggo or not.

Hiccup supposes that matters little now. He's out here, wandering through a forest covered in a layer of snow that's at least a foot thick. He's not dressed properly for the cold, wearing just a hoodie and jeans, and he's not in perfect condition either. On top of the bruises and the hand, he's gotten injured in those two days.

His upper back burns and it's been burning since their first evening in the mountains. The horrible memory attached to it wants to break free and be a hindrance in his escape. Trudging through the snow and trembling awfully, he tries not to let it.

Besides his head is pounding. He doesn't know why that is as he doesn't know exactly what happened, what knocked him out. He just knows that he blacked out and woke up with an aching head.

An aching head, a burning back, and a foot in agony. He'd dropped something on it in the confrontation that lead to his escape. Now he's using a shovel to help him limp through the trees, a shovel of which the spade has blood on it.

A lot has happened in two days. A lot. There's something he has done that he can never atone for.

His last chance has passed.

It's dark out, too, making this trip through the woods ten times harder than it already is. It's pure agony to use his broken foot, but he has no other choice but to since his left his a fake.

He can feel the pain radiating up his leg through his ankle. He's had to stop several times just to take a breather, the used air from his lungs leaving in white puffs. But each time, his will to escape triumphs over his pain and he continues to drag his way forward. Bit by bit, step by step, giving up is not an option.

And yet, there's the threat of panic erupting and stopping him. Having a stubborn will is good and all, but it's useless if he doesn't get out of here.

Sure, he got away from Viggo, but he has no idea where he's going now. His hope is to find a road or the town they docked at, but he could be heading deeper into the forest for all he knows.

If he is, then what? Will he never see his friends again? Will his parents be able to move on, will they ever have closure? Will Toothless ever be up in the air again?

Hiccup's arduous limping comes to a halt and he slowly turns to look behind him. It's only because of how strongly pure white snow contrasts against the blue-ish black of the night that he can see the trail he's left behind. If Viggo is searching for him, it won't be hard to find him.

He's shivering, clinging to the shovel that's a clumsy crutch at best, and looks at the way ahead of him. He doesn't feel hopeful, he doesn't know what exactly he feels. Nothing besides pain and a possibly very foolish drive forwards.

Whether the cold lulls him into a false sleep during his endless wandering or Viggo puts an end to his life himself, this forest will be his grave if he doesn't find his way out.

For better or for worse, it's a big enough reason to keep on pushing through the pain and keep going onwards.

[tysonrunningfox]

Ripped Part 26

Ao3

Hiccup has had one other psychological evaluation.  It was when he got out of the hospital, and it went about the same as this one. 

In other words, not well. 

It turns out that being a white male with a rough relationship with an impossible to please, now absent father figure who also happens to have a long history of childhood bullying raises some red flags.  At least last time he was fifteen and still theoretically moldable, instead of a twenty-five-year-old serial murder suspect who just happened to spend the last few years giving nightly tours about the very murders he allegedly copied. 

So maybe it went worse this time. 

The one bright point was probably the crack in the psychologist’s clinical veneer when Hiccup assured her that no, in fact, he did not have any history of killing animals and he actually loved his childhood cat very much until it died at the ripe old age of eighteen.  Of natural causes. 

When assuring a mental health professional that he does not now and never has enjoyed torturing animals is a high point, it’s safe to say that this has been a long week.  A long month, really.  A long year. 

Hell, a long life. 

Jail has a way of stretching minutes into hours and squeezing hours into dull, ceaseless blinks of an eye.  He understands now why people used to mark the dungeon walls when they got fed or caught a glimpse of the sun, because the days blurring together is enough to make Hiccup feel as crazy as the psychiatrist assumed he was. 

Not that his version of crazy would ever mean killing cats.  His version of crazy appears to mean long, elaborate daydreams of a private shower with a locking door, and also practically unfettered glee when he sees his lawyer because that means he gets to go to a room with a comfortable chair for a while and talk to someone not assuming his guilt. 

A straight-faced guard in an NWF uniform walks Hiccup down to the long bank of stalls along a plexiglass barrier.  The guard gestures to the last stall and Hiccup sits down in the office chair that might as well be a throne of perfectly fluffed pillows after sitting on his thin mattress all day.  His back relaxes enough to hurt, and he exhales a long, slow breath and focuses on Eretson filling out a form before taking the seat on the other side of the plexiglass and picking up the dingy white plastic phone. 

“How are you?” Eretson asks out of politeness, not expecting a real answer. 

Hiccup almost gives him one anyway, but he doesn’t think it would make him feel any better to say that he’s in jail, it’s miserable, he’s been terrified for so long that he’s mostly just exhausted, and he doesn’t think the psychiatrist liked him very much because she didn’t laugh at any of his jokes. 

He settles instead for, “I’m here.” 

“How is everything going?” Eretson asks, writing on a legal pad in neat, oversized block letters.  Grisly?

They can’t be sure if anything is being recorded on the ancient phone system, but silence is suspicious too. 

“Oh, you know, I’m just being in jail.  It’s pretty lonely not talking to anyone but your lawyer,” Hiccup laughs, not explicitly trying to sound tired but not holding it back either. 

“Any family that you want to visit?  I know your mom has been in contact.” 

Hiccup swallows hard, “it’s a long flight, she doesn’t need to spend the money just to see me make a fashion statement in orange.”  It doesn’t stop him from thinking about her though, how confused she’d be.  How angry she’d be if she knew the truth. 

His mom is the only woman who ever made his dad back down from an argument and for a second, he lets himself imagine that she could save him.  Yell at Grisly, start a picket line, demand reform. 

But Grisly isn’t someone to yell at.  He’d have no issue adding to his body count. 

It makes Hiccup want to scream, and rave, and get a poster-board at a busy intersection to help him spread the truth, and if it were his own life he was risking, he’d do it.  But it’s not. 

“How is everyone?”  He asks, and if Eretson knows who he’s really asking about, he doesn’t show it.  His poker face is exhausting, adding to the dreary blur of days in jail.  If Hiccup had been making marks on the dungeon wall for every time he won a reaction out of someone, he’d have a single mark made immediately after being placed in his cell, awarded for getting under Grisly’s skin during processing. 

“Everything is fine,” Eretson could be lying and Hiccup probably wouldn’t know it, but the thought of something happening to Snotlout or Astrid and not even knowing is too much to even speculate on.  It’s the kind of thought that keeps him up at night, counting dimples in the popcorn ceiling to fill the dead space in his mind.  “I do want to talk about your options moving towards a trial.” 

“Oh God, did the profiler tell you that I’m crazy?”  Hiccup laughs under his breath, “because I think she confused my attempts at humor for debilitating psychological issues.”  He continues babbling when Eretson doesn’t laugh, “not that I know anything about that.  I’m just speaking from what I’ve seen on TV.” 

“The profile is just one piece of the case,” Eretson assures, “and you don’t quite fit the profile of a serial murderer.” 

“What does ‘not quite’ mean?  Is it just the white male, daddy issues thing or did some of my answers partially fit the serial murderer profile?” 

“For future reference, saying that Viggo Grimborn is a ‘hobby’ is a bit suspicious.” 

“I’ll file that away for the next time I get criminally profiled,” Hiccup nods, “with my luck I’ll probably need it.  Should I have said that I actually picked up yoga like my doctor told me to?” 

“I finally got access to Grisly’s evidence file,” Eretson changes the subject and Hiccup bites the inside of his cheek to keep from asking if he’s ever laughed, even once, “and it’s going to take a while to look through it all and compare it to my own, but so far it’s more airtight than I would have expected.” 

Hiccup has never been very good at not saying what he feels, or even delaying saying what he feels, but glancing at the NWF guard out of the corner of his eye helps him shove his rant back down. 

“Oh.” 

“Of course, forensics is still working, but that could take months—”

“Months?”  Hiccup knows the theory of the word, in that the year is broken into twelve more or less even pieces consisting of approximately thirty days each.  There’s something about the moon in there too.  But in practice?  The concept of spending months in this limbo is foreign and impossible, defying some belief held so strongly that it feels like a physical law.  “How long have I been in here?” 

“Five days.” 

“And you’re saying months until a trial.” 

“Under current timelines, yes.”  Eretson goes to make another note but then decides against it, speaking carefully instead.  “And given the unique circumstances of your situation, I don’t believe that waiting months is the best path forward.” 

Hiccup hears the truth between the words:  Leaving Grisly to his own devices for months gives him more time to bulletproof his lies and clean up his evidence.   His throat tightens when he thinks of Astrid and how much danger she’s in. 

“Have you told anyone what I told you about…the case?”  He tries, “you know, about their um, continued involvement in the case as it progresses?”  His eyes scream about Grisly’s threats and Eretson must get the message because he shakes his head. 

“No, I haven’t, I think it’s best to minimize Miss Hofferson’s involvement at this point, given all how many times her name comes up in the file.” 

Hiccup doesn’t know Miss Hofferson.  Miss Hofferson threatened a harassment claim at one point, sure, but she ceased to exist when Astrid came into the picture.  Astrid with her glares and her bony fists and misty eyes when she looks at old books.  Astrid impatient for the truth, impatient for the point of a roundabout story, always moving and trying and inviting him to try too. 

“Don’t you think…I mean, wouldn’t it be better for her to know the situation?”  His throat is dry, and swallowing doesn’t seem to help. 

“I thought of something that could potentially move the process along faster,” Eretson ignores Hiccup’s question, not unkindly just devoted to keeping the meeting on track, and Hiccup presses the phone closer to his face, forcing himself to focus. “We haven’t considered a plea deal.” 

“A plea deal?  Like taking a driving course to knock a few points off of a driving ticket?” 

“In this case, a confession and promise to divulge information about anyone else involved in the case in exchange for a reduced sentence.”  Eretson writes on the pad, Grisly coerced you into the last murder, then turned on you. 

Hiccup’s heart pounds in his ears.  One murder, not four.  It would be a better ratio if they were talking about any other crime.  One car stolen, not four.  One house broken into, not four.  But as someone who has committed zero murders, confessing to one feels monumental and terrifying and stupid. 

While he can’t honestly say he’s spent much time trying to be successful, he has made a conscious effort to not absolutely ruin his life, and confessing to a murder he didn’t commit in order to tell a bunch of lies connecting him to the man who did sounds like a very quick way to undo all of that. 

“Reduced sentence, not no sentence.” 

“It gives us leverage too,” Eretson insists, “we can argue the conditions of you coming forward with information and include minimum sentence before appeal for probation or insist on a certain facility that’s better than here.” 

“So trading months waiting for trial for some as of yet unspecified amount of time in a different cell?”  Hiccup snorts, “is there a catalog?  Do I get to choose my bedsheets and pick out a plant for the window?” 

“The prosecution would no longer have months to prepare for a trial.  As it is, they have plenty of time to build their case.”  The ‘and do other things like horribly murder your remaining loved ones’ is an unspoken addition. 

“Do you think it would work?”  Hiccup lets himself think about it, glazing over the moment he’d have to sit in front of his father’s oldest frenemy and say that he took someone’s life. 

How deep can Grisly’s cover really go?  He thinks of the man’s empty office, his horde of creepy guards seamlessly integrating with multiple levels of law enforcement.  How long would someone have to dig to find something wrong?  Would a name brought up in a plea deal be enough? 

“I have witnesses,” Eretson says, scrawling Jorgenson in purposeful letters on the pad. 

“The benefit then, is that we have a chance to direct the investigation.” 

“Towards the truth, of course.” 

“Right, the truth.”  As much as Hiccup has played fast and loose with the rules, he’s always had a steady commitment to the truth, but telling it didn’t save him.  Hell, telling the truth now would get people killed, and the silence is starting to be so deafening he’s wondering if the affects will be permanent. 

“Think about it,” Eretson starts to stand up and Hiccup fumbles for something else to talk about, anything to get some more time out of character as ‘obedient inmate’, but he’s too slow and Eretson hangs up the phone. 

He almost knocks on the plexiglass to get his attention before remembering that’s strictly against the rules, and his hand freezes mid-air when he looks over Eretson’s shoulder and sees who’s turning away from the front desk after filling out a form. 

It’s Astrid. 

She’s wearing a glare that could melt the barrier between them if she aimed it his direction instead of at Eretson and a jacket she must have borrowed from Hiccup’s coat closet.  Her arms fly out from her sides as she argues then she shoves her hands in her pockets and narrows her eyes, an expression he instantly recognizes as seething doubt.  She was clearly asking for something she thought she wasn’t going to get, and now that she’s won it, she’s unsure if it’s real. 

Then, she looks at him and her eyes widen as her shoulders slump, relief that he can hardly fathom having anything to do with him flooding across her features. 

He smiles the first real smile he’s had since she was tangled in his hoarded sheets and everything seemed like it would be ok and waves and she waves back, one half limp hand raised to shoulder height. 

Eretson crosses his arms, shoulders rigid then relaxing as he points at the chair he just vacated, saying something else that makes Astrid shoot him a sharp look before hurrying to the other side of the glass.  She practically falls into the chair, picking up the phone with shaking fingers and holding it to her ear. 

He loves her.

“Hi,” Hiccup starts, anticlimactic, and Astrid’s mouth splits into a wide, tired smile. 

He loves her and she isn’t safe here.  Not with the NWF guard at the door, not with Grisly just a buzz away. 

“Hi,” she bites her lower lip and leans forward on her elbows on the ledge in front of the window, and if it weren’t for the plexiglass, he could kiss her.  “Eretson isn’t happy that I’m here, he told me not to follow him because visiting hours were over, but I checked online and, well—”

“And you’re here.”  And he loves her, and he doesn’t want to tell her in an itchy jumpsuit over a dirty jail phone, but it’s so true and so much that he’s not sure he’ll have a choice.  “You shouldn’t be here.” 

“I’ve been told ten minutes and no discussions of ‘substance’,” she air-quotes around the word and his palms itch with how much he wants to touch her. 

Eretson is standing by the door and Hiccup idly wonders if he has his gun or if he had to turn that in to step into his lawyer shoes.  Either way, his presence feels protective, and Hiccup already told Astrid once that she shouldn’t be here, he can’t be expected to do that again.  Not when she’s right across from him, not when it’s been so long since he’s seen a friendly face. 

“That works for me, I don’t have anything of substance to talk about.”  He shrugs and she smiles, soft and fond in a way he definitely doesn’t deserve.  She’s obviously exhausted, the dark circles under her eyes making his chest ache even as the sight of her in his jacket lets him feel like he’s protecting her in some tiny way while he can’t do anything else.  “How are you?” 

“I’m fine, you?” 

“I’m here.”  It hurts more the second time. 

“Yeah,” she looks back at Eretson for a second before scooting her chair closer to the glass, “that was a stupid question.  You look like hell.” 

“Thanks,” he wipes a hand over his stubble and his cheeks heat up. 

“No, not—the beard is fine,” her smile is faint and secret and too far away, “it’s more just…” She waves her hand at him and he rolls his eyes. 

“You just gestured to all of me.” 

“All of you except your beard,” she clarifies before checking on Eretson again.  She’s not built for levity in this kind of situation and he can see a serious depth sneaking back into her eyes.  “Everything’s a mess.” 

“Hey now, that sounds like ‘substance’,” he redirects, “how’s Snotlout?” 

“When his shoulder is better to the point that I won’t literally kill him, I’m going to hit him sixty-seven separate times,” she sets her chin, resolute, “I have a tally.” 

“Are you sure he’s ok?  That sounds a little low.”

She laughs, a tinge of mischief clouding the worry in her expression, “he’s ok.  He made a point yesterday to tell me his favorite story about you.” 

“Oh God,” Hiccup’s stomach falls as his eyes widen, “what favorite story is that?” 

“You know,” she tucks her hair behind her ear but it doesn’t stay, falling back against her flushing cheek, “some girl called you ‘Viggo’ and—”

“Yep, that one.”  If Grisly came in right now and offered to kill him to make this easier, he might just let him.  “Which version was it?” 

“There are different versions?” 

“No,” he drags his palm down his face, “not—I wish there were, every other Snotlout story is blown out of proportion so much it’s easy to call bullshit, but that one…he tells that story with unflinching accuracy and dedication to the truth.”  He shakes is head, wishing he had a bucket of ice to put out the fire on his face, “sometimes there are sound effects, I’m shocked you’re here.” 

“No sound effects,” she shakes her head, “maybe he’ll do those in court though, he seems to think he can prove your innocence.” 

“I think I’d rather plead guilty than listen to Snotlout tell that story in court.”  He laughs, but it brings Eretson’s plea deal back into his conscious mind.  Just as a concept to get used to, as something neutral that takes up space in his brain until he decides what to do about it. 

“Don’t even joke about that,” she whispers, crossing her legs and tapping an anxious foot in the air.  “I’ve been looking at this from every angle and I haven’t found anything yet.” 

“That’s definitely substance—”

“Eretson isn’t listening,” she mutters, “and if I don’t do something useful, I’m going to scream, I—”

“Hey, it’s ok,” he lies, and he can’t help thinking of Grisly’s promise, “you’re safe, that’s what matters—”

“That’s a copout,” she glares, tired and alive and his chest throbs, “there has to be something that we can do.” 

“I can’t do anything,” he hates how bitter he sounds, honest for the first time in days, and something about Astrid’s solid expression is almost shocked, like she expected better or at least different of him.  “I can barely keep the days straight, I—Hell, I told a psychologist that Viggo Grimborn is a hobby and now they think—well, I guess they already thought given that I’m here—”

“Hiccup,” she sighs, palm on the plexiglass, fingertips that he can’t touch smudged with ink and library dust. 

“Eretson said that a trial could take months,” he leans his head on his hand, “and I know that, rationally.  I know that big, newsworthy trials for serial killers take months to put together, but I guess—I don’t want to do this here.” 

“Do what?” 

“Anything.”  Even he thinks he sounds pathetic now and Astrid’s frown turns disappointed, which is worse than just sad.  “I just feel useless.” 

“I can see that.”  If it were pity in her voice, it would shut him down, but it’s not.  It’s something different, something stronger.  Something annoyed, and he realizes for the first time, she’s dragging him along a path of her choice, and him digging in his heel isn’t going to stop her. 

He looks at her hand and his jumpsuit and his blurry reflection that he can see superimposed over her face on the plexiglass if he stares hard enough.  He loves her.  He thinks about that ill-fated breakfast run and what he’d be doing now if things had gone differently. 

“I guess…I spent the last few years in complete stasis, just giving tours and knowing what every day would look like before it began.  And then, well, you.”  Then he fell in love with her.  No, she changed everything before he did that, but that doesn’t make it sound any less corny.  He wouldn’t have thought she was in the mood for corny, but her eyes soften slightly even as she holds her frown in place.  He forces himself to keep talking so that he doesn’t backtrack over anything he hasn’t decided to say yet, “and I think for the first time in a while, I thought these next few months were going to be different.” 

“How?”  Of course she asks the question most likely to make him look like an idiot. 

“Aside from well, you maybe being around I hope, umm,” he clears his throat and presses the phone closer to his ear to continue, “and well, I guess I have to finally figure out what I’m going to do with my life?  Because it isn’t sensationalizing murders that are still destroying everything I love about this city even a hundred years on, and,” he swallows hard and laughs, a sharp, surprised sound, “and I think I was looking forward to it, almost.  But now that’s not happening because my next few months are all booked up.  Literally.” 

“Well, you have plenty of time to think about it,” she tries and fails to cushion the statement and it makes him smile even as his heart sinks, heavy and exhausted and desperate. 

What are the chances she’s still going to look at him like that after months? 

“That’s true.” 

“I’ll figure out how to book a conjugal trailer and we can work on your resume,” she offers, evidently satisfied with his suggested path forward.  “

“You shouldn’t,” he tries to swallow against the knot in his throat when he thinks about her on jail property, alone with him, and Grisly’s promised intent rings in his ears.  Months.  What are the chances she can evade Grisly for months if she can’t go five days without ending up here?  “It’s not safe.” 

“I obviously need to, just a few days of this and you sound like Eretson.” 

“Eretson’s right, Astrid.”  He sighs and rubs his hand over his face.  He could tell her.  The NWF guard behind him couldn’t make a move with cameras and Eretson standing right there in the lobby.  If he told her, then she’d know to run far away and—and he doesn’t now how deep Grisly’s cover goes.  

“I can take care of myself.”  Plus, looking at her fierce blue eyes, he knows that she wouldn’t run. 

Months.  Months of chances.  Months of not seeing her every day, or at all, if she’s doing what’s best for herself.  Months of limited information and fear that the next snippet that makes it through the bars on his cell will be bad. 

He’s right, it is time to figure out what he’s going to do with his life, and while he has decidedly fewer choices than he thought he would, the answer is still obvious. 

“Eretson’s right about a lot of things,” he sighs, hoping she’ll go easy on him and knowing that’s impossible, “he thinks I should take a plea deal.” 

“I told you not to joke about that—”

“I’m not joking.”  He shakes his head, taking in her furious expression.  It’s slower blooming than normal, jaw flexing and setting forward before the blue fire is truly lit in her eyes.  She’s tired, after five days, and she doesn’t now half of the truth.  He loves her, and the only draw to finally getting his shit together is that he’d be doing it with her.  He doesn’t get to do that now, but he can do something for her. 

He could tell himself that he’s doing it for Snotlout or for whoever would be unlucky enough to cross Grisly’s path next, but since he’s already planning to lie himself into a prison sentence for a murder he didn’t commit, he should probably stick to the truth, at least internally. 

“That decision is going to last more than months, Hiccup—”

“Yeah, and it’s about more than time.”  He almost tells her then, but he’s not sure what good it would do when she’s staring at him with something like hatred.  Too shocked, too sad, too helpless.  She looks like she wants to smack some sense into him and he’d let her if it meant he could touch her before he takes this step he knows he can’t retreat from. 

He wonders, briefly, if the real Viggo Grimborn ever thought about turning himself in.  When the fervor died down and no one mentioned him in the paper anymore.  Maybe he took a Victorian plea deal and got arrested for something else, something smaller, something forgiveable, but barely.  And only to some. 

If only Astrid didn’t forgive him for harassment, then he might have that ‘get out of trouble free’ card to spend now. 

Except he wouldn’t need it then, because he would have done his community service and gone right back to giving tours, staying across the street to respect a fifty-yard boundary.  No matter what, Astrid was destined to disrupt the monotony of his life, he just hoped one of the roads didn’t lead to a courtroom. 

“Hiccup,” she says his name in a tone he doesn’t recognize, half-pleading and half-insulting, both uncomfortable for her.  She opens her mouth again wordlessly, obviously unsure what to say to bring her pep talk back on track. 

“You were right, there is something I can do.” 

“No—”

“Visiting hours are over,” the NWF guard appears behind Hiccup, heavy hand on his shoulder as he looks at Astrid, recognition flickering in his otherwise brainwashed eyes.  “Time’s up.” 

“I’m not done here,” Astrid stands up, phone still pressed to her ear, glare dialed to the maximum even as Eretson steps into the room behind her and says something to get her attention. 

“Let Eretson give you a ride,” Hiccup says, memorizing how her eyes on him feel, even through plexiglass, even furious and confused, “please.” 

His cell is smaller than before.  The bed is less comfortable, the walls colder, the single light in the ceiling flickering at just the right frequency to prevent him from thinking.  His jumpsuit is itchy and his back is either too tense to hurt, or the sensation is entirely drowned out by the dull throbbing in his chest.  Most of the time, when people sacrifice themselves for the greater good, it’s faster than this.  It’s jumping in front of a bullet, not waiting alone for hours to invoke due process like a spell. 

He can’t say he’s surprised when the door to the hallway opens, and he’s definitely not surprised to see Grisly, monochromatic and rigid, danger stuffed carefully out of sight for the time being.  Hiccup’s relief is palpable and gruesome, he hates knowing what the man looks like after a kill, but he’s glad to know that this sober expression isn’t it. 

“I heard Astrid visited today,” Grisly’s smile blooms slowly as he steps out of range of the hallway cameras and Hiccup rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah?  Did a little birdie tell you?” 

“I trust you didn’t tell her anything sensitive,” he gloats, a cat pinning a mouse’s tail down and watching it struggle. 

But Hiccup isn’t struggling, not anymore.  He’s not trying to escape, he’s steering into the skid.  He’s a mouse full of rat poison, ready to dive into the belly of the beast. 

“Oh, so you can’t get the recordings from those visiting phones?  Eretson was wondering about that, thanks for the tip.”  He jokes, voice even, and Grisly straightens his uniform.  Hiccup wonders if he designed the NWF uniforms himself, and the thought strikes him as kind of pathetic.  Less of a wolf in sheep’s clothing and more of an institutional fanboy, a blatant self-insert too self-conscious to be believable. 

At least when Hiccup puts on an act, he gets real antiques.  He commits.

“I just thought I’d remind you of her…precarious situation.”  It’s bluster, painted on thick and smudged before it could dry into armor. 

“Trust me, I couldn’t forget it if I tried.” 

“Good,” Grisly’s smile is cracked around the edges, veneer wearing thin after a long day at an office job he hates, “you seem to be taking something seriously for once.  You know, maybe all of this has been good for you.” 

“The legal system is supposed to rehabilitate people after all,” Hiccup shrugs, on the weird end of a paternal lecture from someone he respects so little that he feels the need to make it clear.  “Maybe I’ll finally be an upstanding citizen when this is all over.” 

“Upstanding,” Grisly’s lip curls, eyes manic and alive for just a second before he wipes has hands on his pants and selects one key off of his keyring, “if it keeps your spirits up…” 

“Oh yeah, I’m downright chipper,” Hiccup nods, “catching up on my sleep. So, if you don’t mind,” he points at the evening sky outside and fakes a yawn. 

Grisly grits his teeth, feral for a second, canine too sharp, “of course.  Can I get you anything else while I’m being so accommodating?”

“I think I’m good for now,” Hiccup waves him towards the door, “I’ll let you know though.” 

Grisly leaves then, shoulders rigid, and Hiccup hates how the silence makes him wish he’d dragged out the conversation longer.  He tells himself that this will be over soon and tries to think about his new tour, a thrilling, courtroom-based tale of murder and eventual, inevitable betrayal.  

[kingofthewilderwest]

Hey :) I want to watch more httyd but sadly I've seen all the movies, are the tv series' any good? Which one should I start with?

Oh goodness, I have a post somewhere answering this very question, but I’m too lazy to find it. TIME FOR A REWRITE! XD

I find the HTTYD television materials VERY worthwhile additions to the DreamWorks Dragons franchise. I feel like we are extremely blessed to have over a hundred episodes of a show filled with fantastic moments and memories. Personally, I always encourage people to check them out. The shows won’t be for everyone, which is alright, but I feel that the television series has a lot going for it. I love the shows myself and constantly reference some points from them in my analyses because I think they’re so critical. I’ll explain pros and cons so you can make your own choice about whether or not the shows might be your thing.

I’d say the number one highlight of the television series is the increased time with the dragon riding gang - Hiccup, Fishlegs, Ruffnut, Tuffnut, Snotlout, and Astrid. Many of these characters are secondary in the movie trilogy, having little time on screen, but the television series fleshes them out. It’s because of the show that I fell in love with Snotlout’s character and saw him in three-dimensional depth; I’d say he’s the character they handle best, going into how he hides his insecurities with machismo because he wants to impress a berating father. It’s the show for why I attach to the twins; their sibling devotion and love for one another is brought out wonderfully on screen. There’s good moments with everybody, and you’ll see everyone pair up with everybody - what’s the friendship between Astrid and Tuffnut like? Now you’ll know.

I think a decent test for whether or not you’d enjoy the character dynamics is… well… did you like the character bantering that happened in THW? If so, that had a very distinct tv series feel to it - to the point that they were even referencing ongoing television series gags like Snotlout getting his ass caught on fire.

There’s other characters to meet and engage with too! We’ve got Heather, a badass young woman who connects well with Astrid. We’ve got Gustav, an obnoxious wannabe “Snotlout” who shadows the older dragon rider. We’ve got Mala, the queen of a warrior-trained society that reveres dragons. And there’s Atali, Minden, Throk, Savage, Alvin, Dagur, Mulch, Bucket, Mildew, Krogan, Johann, Viggo, Ryker, and more!

The television series is also good for laughs. Did you ever want a musical episode where Snotlout sings about how amazing he is? Did you ever want to see an entire pile of fish dunked on Hiccup’s head? How about where Hiccup painstakingly tries to talk without using the letter s? “TOOTHLEH! PLAMA BLAT!” is a moment I’ll never stop laughing at.

I also think the best DreamWorks Dragons villains are in the television series. Alvin the Treacherous is a hoot on screen, delightfully voice acted by Mark Hamill. Dagur the Deranged has his fan base for a reason. And for me? Viggo Grimborn is my number one favorite villain from the DreamWorks side of HTTYD - a manipulative, morally gray trader who is such a keen strategist he makes Hiccup appear a foolish child.

One small last point: there’s extra depth to appreciate about the films if you go through the shows. Astrid sympathizing with Hiccup in the first film makes even more sense once you realize her family name got tarnished and she felt social ostracization herself. You see Hiccup attempting to develop his flight suit and sword, leading into HTTYD 2 material. The presence of Fireworms in the third film is a reference to a dragon species introduced in the shows. A conversation point in THW about having dealt with “their kind before” (that is, dangerous people like Grimmel) is a reference to Hiccup’s adventures with Viggo Grimborn. The underground caves that become stables in HTTYD 2 were first found in the television series, explored in DOB. Stoick and Hiccup have several conversations about leadership that lend extra feels to the tragedy in HTTYD 2. Tuffnut yakking to Hiccup ridiculously in THW brings up all the memories of weird conversations they’ve had before… there’s extra context, content, and background to appreciate when you approach the movies with knowledge of the full franchise. 

Now, the shows aren’t perfect, and it’s usually the same reasons why people don’t get engaged with the shows. Again: some fans love the shows and scream their way through episodes, some fans dislike the shows and refuse to touch them, and some fans are “meh” about the shows and get through them with liquor. It’s all dependent on the sorts of things you tend to attach to, and the things that tend to bother you.

One reason some people don’t engage is that the first episodes of the first series (Riders of Berk) can feel childish in tone with low stakes. It is to note that the adventures and stakes do grow from the start. The animation levels also drastically improve from start to end… it’s a wild difference to compare the first episode of Riders of Berk with the finale of Race to the Edge.

Another reason is that the shows are not about the dragon characters. There will be the introduction of many cool dragon species like the Death Song, Scauldron, or Thunderdrum, but the shows aren’t about the humans connecting with their dragon friends. They do not focus on the dragon characters. So don’t go here for Hiccup and Toothless dynamics. There’s a few feelsy moments to talk about, but not many; Toothless is mostly a background character as the stories focus on the humans instead.

Next, some people feel like the characters are “dumbed down” or written inconsistently, and while I wouldn’t phrase it exactly like that, there’s a point to be made there. Some audience members especially don’t like how Hiccstrid gets handled in the first half of RTTE, where they feel like the bumbling hesitant startings of romance is inaccurate to how the two would develop relationally. (It’s to note that another group of people fawn over the Hiccstrid dynamics). Others hate Heather, calling her a “Mary Sue” (a term I think should be retired from existence because it’s a pointless criticism word anymore, but anyway, some people feel like Heather is an Angst Child who takes too much screen time, and that’s a fair point too). Astrid sometimes feels too damsel-in-distress-y for me. As far as Hiccup? Well. Hiccup’s personality is presented a bit differently than you usually see in the movies. RTTE!Hiccup is some of my favorite Hiccup, but he is presented with a different flavor.

Next, some people say that the television series story is inconsistent, completely irreconcilable, with the events of the trilogy. I personally find the continuity blips minor at best, and similar to franchise blips that happen anywhere, but it’s your call, and it’s totally fine if you find the continuity irreconcilable. It’s your take! It’s your experience with the story! Things like Hiccstrid romantic development, whether or not Berk was at peace during the five year gap between HTTYD and HTTYD 2, whether or not Hiccup knew anything about Bewilderbeasts, and whether or not Hiccup had run into other dragon riders before Valka… well… the television series will present something different than you might have presumed from movie material alone. This HIGHLY irritates some people, as it can feel like it sabotages the efficacy of certain moments in the films. For other people like me, it’s an entire non-issue. All is all fair because we engage with media in different ways! Here’s the issue just so you know: you can make your call about whether or not continuity questions will bother you.

Last, the plot. The first two television series, the plot is straightforward and fine. For RTTE, the plot is not the best presented. I think the first two seasons start out GREAT, but then it gets increasing issues. It’s for this reason that some people like ROB and DOB but aren’t engaged with RTTE. There’s a lot of fun to be had in it, and there’s many points at which I was fully engaged. In many ways, RTTE does some things BEST of the whole series. BUT. It doesn’t take much observation to realize there are logic gaps, motivation questions, convoluted but repetitive plot twists, some eyebrow-raising unrealistic moments, and instead of showing smooth characterization, people have a tendency to suddenly jump forward or shift in spurts. If you’re someone who gets invested in a show primarily for long-term plot arcs, you might get irritated at decisions in RTTE. But if you’re someone who’s willing to go along for the ride and just have fun and take it for what it is, RTTE has an entertaining story with lots of adventure.

For me? The television series is a blessing and COMPLETELY worth the watch. But I hope this discussion of pros and cons can make your decision best for you!

So! With all that said! What order should you watch them in? The order that they were released:

Riders of Berk

Defenders of Berk

Race to the Edge

Riders and Defenders of Berk are not on Netflix and you’ll have to go elsewhere to watch them. Race to the Edge got released on Netflix and is still available there… though all the shows have been released on DVD by this point.

I highly encourage you to watch the shows start to end as they came out because of plot reasons. RTTE especially needs to be watched in episode order, but RTTE makes sense only in the context of you seeing ROB and DOB first. There are filler episodes, but there are overarching plots. If you went straight into Race to the Edge first, you’d have no idea who the Helheim Heather and Dagur are, and why it’s important to run into them. 

I hope this helps you and any others considering the shows! It’s so much more dragons dragons dragons dragons dragons and I hope that, if you watch, you have just as much of a blast as I did!

[yv-sketches]

Maces and talons post

I could not stop wondering how this game works, how many pieces it has, how it is supposed to be played and if it is related to chess in any way.

So without further ado, a very long post about all its appearances and possible pieces.

Viggo uses it as a metaphor (despite him disliking metaphors) for his battle with Hiccup. Its first appearance was during Viggo’s introduction, in which he held a dramatic little speech about how he came to love the game.

He shows us the first piece, the Viking chief which he speaks of as “honorable” although he could have also been talking about the player being honorable in his or her strategy. I’ll just call the piece the Viking chief, as honorable is not used as an important part of the piece’s portrayal.

Next we get a close up of the board, left we see a dragon, in the middle stands the Viking chief and just behind it lies a longship. On the right there is a figure facing the camera, holding a sword in his hands, I’ll call it the swordsman for now. The figure seen from the back looks like he is holding a shield in his hand. And lastly Viggo holds a spare miniature mace.

In the next episode Viggo leaves Hiccup a maces and talons board with three pieces. Hiccup pointed at the left one and said it was supposed to represent him, the Viking chief. On the right stood the chief of the Marauders, the leading piece of the other party. The two chiefs start sound like the black and white kings on a chess board. Both pieces carry the same title, namely the title of chief, and are clearly of opposing teams.

In the middle stands the impostor, or the traitor as Hiccup calls it. Viggo later confirms that the piece is named the impostor, but also goes by the name of the traitor, possibly because of its role in the game. Hiccup stated that the traitor always dies in the end, which bears some resemblance to the role of the spy in Stratego. (The spy can take out the highest ranking piece of Stratego if he attacks first, but dies by the hand of any other piece). It also suggests that the traitor is a much anticipated piece. Players use it a lot and as a result it dies so often it ends up dead during most of the played games. Both the impostor and the spy die most of the time, but are still pretty important pieces to a player.

Fishlegs comments that “the game was designed to test the abilities and decision making expertise of future chiefs in the heat of battle”, telling us that it is a game stimulating a war where the player is the leader of their force, not unlike popular real-life games such as chess and Risk.

By now we can also identify the figure from Viggo’s board that was seen from the back. It is probably the chief of the Marauders. Both pieces carry a shield in their left hands and both have a helmet with a shorter horn on one side. The impostor (as seen on the right below) also carries a shield, but lacks the belt that both figures on the left have. Its shield appears to be more ornate amd the sides of its mouth point downwards. Another difference is the sword in the right hand of the impostor. The chief of the Marauders does not hold anything in his hand.

The impostor is also spoken of as singular. It’s other known name and role as the traitor could very well mean that there is only one of these in the game, flip-flopping from the Vikings’ side to the Marauders’ and back.

Next we get a scene where Viggo and Dagur play the game using real life people as pieces. They speak of “my longship” and “your kingship”, implying that both players own one of each of these ships. Any of these four could be the ship seen on Viggo’s board, but my money is on the longship. I would expect something a little more impressive from a piece called the kingship.

There are also eight hunters, addressed with possessives as well, making the total sixteen, just like pawns in a chess game. The word “hunters” used to address their pieces could both be the official name of the figures, or the name given to them because they are played by dragon hunters.

At the end of their game one of Viggo’s hunters/pawns holds a mace to Dagur’s Viking king’s head. This mace could very well be the miniature mace he used to knock over a figure during his introduction, making that mace one of multiple. If there was only one mace in the game, it would have been THE mace to Dagur’s Viking king ’s head.

Dagur has the figure of the Viking king, which I believe is the same as the Viking chief. Taking out Dagur’s viking king made Viggo the winner, in resemblance of taking out the king on a chess board. As seen on the board Viggo left Hiccup, the Marauder chief and the Viking chief are the leaders of their respective parties and probably the most important pieces as well. Having another king on each side would not make a lot of sense, so I’m just going to assume the Marauder king/Marauder chief and the Viking king/Viking chief are the same piece.

It is also worth noting that if Dagur plays the Viking chief, Viggo is the Marauder chief, just like he was on the board he left Hiccup. Apparently Viggo prefers playing the Marauders’ side. Maybe because it gives some sort of advantage in the way the player playing the white chess pieces starts the game? Or maybe he identifies with the Marauders more, seeing as the said himself playing the “honorable Viking chief” was what got him to lose from his grandfather.

The last we see of the game in season 2 is Hiccup holding the viking chief.

By now we know that the game is well known because every member of the gang seems to remember this game. Hiccup feels the need to point out which figure is which and what their roles are, so the gang’s knowledge of it might be a bit shady. This does not seem illogical, after all not everyone can recite the rules of a real-life strategy game at the drop of a hat. Only those who play it often (in this case Hiccup) may.

It has the following pieces: The viking chief, the Marauder chief, one or more impostors, two kingships, two longships, eight viking pawns, and eight marauder pawns. Figures not identified yet are a swordsman and a dragon, both of which could belong to any of the two parties.

All those pieces can never fit on the board together without making it impossible to move them. Every time we see a Maces and talons board there are only a few pieces on the board itself. Either they have been removed, or as Dagur said “have been taken out” or they are yet to be added as the game progresses. A third option would be that a player is able to trade pieces on the board for pieces not used at that moment in the way a pawn can become a rook or queen. I’d personally prefer the second theory, making the board pieces similar to the troops used in Risk that a player can add at the start of each turn.

Lastly we know it is played by strategists to test their intelligence.

So far so good, now it gets confusing~>

The game makes its reappearance in the season finale as Hiccup meets Viggo and hands him a piece that is most likely the impostor. the confusing part is that he was seen holding the Viking chief back in season 2.

We also get a view of the board, with the longship from Viggo’s board back in Maces and talons Part 1, the dragon and the figure that looks like the Marauder chief, but with a sword. I’ll call it a pawn. (My explanation will follow later, keep reading).

We get two more shots of the board, both from roughly the same angle. They show the longship on the left, the swordsman in the back, two impostors in the middle, the dragon and on the far right the Marauder chief.

I don’t know if this was a mistake, intentional or just Hiccup messing with Viggo by returning him another piece. Viggo does not comment on this, rendering the last theory unlikely, unless he chose to keep quiet to frustrate Hiccup.

Next we see Ruff, Tuff and Fishlegs playing the game. On the screencap above stand the Viking chief and the swordsman and on the screencap below Fishlegs looks at the dragon, a longship and the impostor.

On Tuffnut’s side we have a pawn, the Viking chief (so far the Viking chief is the only figure with bent horns) and the swordsman. The Viking chief and the swordsman are likely to be the same as the ones two screencaps up. Not much new information is given.

On the contrary, the game’s last appearance is VERY interesting. Fishlegs and Snotlout play against Heather and Astrid and their game is in full progress when the camera hovers over the board.

There are two ships on the board and two beside it: the longships and the kingships. It looks like the animators used the same model, so we can’t tell the difference between the two kind of ships, but I am sure the characters can.

The two pictures above show that there are multiple pieces of the figure with the sword in one hand and a shield in the other, pretty much confirming that these are the pawns.

Below I have marked every piece I could identify. Circled in green are the four ships, two kingships and two longships. There are eight pawns in red, one impostor in blue and three dragons in orange. Unidentified are three objects in the top left corner.

All figures marked with orange have a tail and wings, making the total of dragons three while the Marauder chief and the Viking chief are nowhere to be seen.

There are three pieces left unidentified. On the side lies a figure without bent horns, with a belt and without a sword in his right hand. If I have to guess I’d say it is the swordsman. The swordsman has so far only been seen once per game and was not on the board itself. The little piece on the right looks like a spare mace to me. In the middle lies something I cannot identify AT ALL, but given that it was hinted at that there were multiple maces in the game, I’d pin this object as a second mace.

My conclusions~>

Except for two little errors, I’d say maces and talons is a very detailed and logical game with many elements from real life war-simulator board games.

The first error is that Hiccup gives Viggo a second impostor in Defenders of the wing Part 1, despite holding a Viking chief at the end of Maces and talons Part 2. For the conclusion, let’s assume this was a mistake and Hiccup actually handed Viggo the viking chief. This would turn the impostor into an unique piece, matching Heather and Fishlegs’ game where I marked only one figure in blue.

The second error are the three dragons on Heather and Fishlegs’ board and the lack of the two opposing chiefs. My guess is that there is only one dragon and that two of these dragons were supposed to be the chiefs instead. This is a guess, as the dragon has so far only been seen once per board. It has never been addressed, nor hinted at, so anything about it would remain a mere shot in the dark.

With those errors fixed… Let’s move on to the real conclusion

The game features two parties at war with each other, the Marauders and the vikings. The parties are led by their chiefs, and taking out the opposing chief will win you the game, like the king on a chess board. Each party consists of a longship, a kingship, a mace and eight pawns. Furthermore the game houses one dragon and one swordsman, both without known designated roles, and one impostor who does not belong to either side an usually pays for this with its life.

Furthermore, the Viking chief holds two axes while the Marauder chief holds up his hand without holding something in it. A spare piece of the game is the Marauders’ mace, which I think could fit into the empty hand of the Marauder chief. If the Marauder chief wins, the player can take out the mace and knock the Viking chief over in a chessmate kind of style.

Not all pieces are on the board at the same time, usually only a few are seen on the battlefield, tying into the strategy-part of the game. Picking the right pieces to play with at the right time could be a huge intelligence test for the player, reminiscent of how a player picks a card to play during various card games.

There seem to be rules on how the pieces are supposed to move across the board as well, yet I do know them, nor could I figure them out.

All in all Maces and talons seems inspired by turn-based strategy games like Risk and Stratego to some degree, while keeping Chess as its main influence.

So what do you guys think? Feel free to add your theories! ^^

BONUS:

[guestbusters-blog1]

Sometimes you don't realize

Just how much you love someone

Until they're gone

------------

"I'll be back in a week," he had told her just a few days ago, preparing to take off on Toothless near the clubhouse. "I can't ignore Dad's birthday… but I can't ignore the Edge's safety, either, so I'm leaving you in charge while I'm gone."

Astrid had felt worried at his leave, and to be honest, sad. She understood why Hiccup had to leave. He loved his father, and wanted to be there for him on his birthday. But Astrid felt uneasy. What if something happened while he was gone? What if he crash landed with Toothless on a deserted island and no one knew? What if he was captured by Viggo and Ryker? Too many horrible possibilities ran through her mind, and she hated all of them.

"I know," Astrid had sighed. "I just wish I could come with you."

Hiccup smiled, patting Toothless on the head. "I know. I wish that too. But if the Edge comes to be under attack while I'm gone, you're the only one who will know how to set up the defenses." At her concerned expression, he added, "I promise I'll hurry back."

Astrid nodded. "Okay. Just… be safe."

"When am I not safe?" Hiccup grinned. He paused when Astrid sent him a glare. "Fair enough… well, I see you in a week. Bye!" He took off the landing strip with Toothless, and the two soared through the air, perfectly in sync with one another. They glided up to the clouds, and a minute later were out of sight.

Astrid still stood there for an hour after, though, feeling too worried to do anything but watch her friend go.

And the next few days weren't any better. Astrid was miserable without Hiccup around, and she discovered just how much she depended on him. The other Riders, of course, complained at her often sharp tone, but she barely acknowledged them as she stormed away.

Okay, first thing's first… check the perimeter for weaknesses, and fortify the parts that need work… She whistled for Stormfly, and stood at the doors of the clubhouse, watching the sky. Astrid knew that Hiccup wouldn't come back today, but there was still that faint hope… oh, gods, she missed him.

Stormfly landed beside her, the dragon squawking with excitement at the thought of a flight. Astrid frowned when she went over her plans to check the base. Everything seemed… bland, almost. Unimportant. Without Hiccup around, how did she know exactly what needed to be done and what didn't?

Confused, Stormfly shuffled on her feet, waiting for Astrid to climb on. The girl was snapped back to her senses, and shook her head. Stop being a baby, she told herself as she slid onto Stormfly. Hiccup will be back in a few days. You can last that long. You did it before when Hiccup, Snotlout, and Fishlegs went to help Johann from the wild dragons last year… She paused before nudging Stormfly to take off. So what changed?

"Let's go, girl," she said.

Stormfly cooed, and leapt off the platform with a powerful push of her claws. Astrid was about to direct the dragon towards the coast, when a pang of loneliness hit her. Hiccup and her used to make these rounds together, and it felt odd not being able to do it with him.

She found herself flying Stormfly towards Hiccup's hut, and bit her lip. Maybe Hiccup had laid out a list of things he wanted to get done, and then Astrid could do them. At least then she'd have something to do that Hiccup needed.

When the girl landed Stormfly next to Hiccup's hut, she hopped off and slowly walked inside after pushing open the door. The interior of the room was bland, but there were many of Hiccup's wild inventions laid around. The loft where Hiccup slept in loomed above her, and she knew that was the place she needed to be.

Astrid climbed up to the platform that Hiccup slept in, and looked around. Of course, everything was in a mess, as it usually was when Hiccup was working recently. "Now, where would Hiccup keep a list of chores?" she whispered, walking over to his untidy desk. It was littered with crumpled papers and sketches of new inventions, but Astrid sensed she could find something useful if she looked.

Maybe in his notebook? she guessed, frowning. After a minute of searching, she finally found it buried under the rest of Hiccup's papers. "Ah! Here it is," she muttered, and flipped it open.

She was surprised to see what was first in the journal.

There was a detailed drawing of Astrid on the first page, every mark carefully drawn. Astrid could even count every hair on her head that Hiccup had stroked down with his charcoal, and felt her heart thud faster as she examined the sketch more.

The picture of herself was so lifelike… her eyes were full of eagerness and determination, and she had her usual faint smile decorating her face. But the way Hiccup had so elegantly drawn the girl… it took Astrid's breath away.

All of the sudden she felt curious, and wondered if there were any more drawings inside. So, if a bit sheepishly, Astrid turned the page.

The girl sucked in a breath when she realized what was there.

Journal entries.

"I shouldn't be reading these," she said, against snooping into Hiccup's private works. "They're his own thoughts, and…." Astrid trailed off when she noticed her name in one of the paragraphs. Well, she reasoned, if my name is in there, I should have the right to see what it is.

With a nervous swallow, she began to read.

--------------

Dear myself,

Astrid looked really pretty today.

I wanted to compliment her about it, but the last time any boy said that she looked nice got a bad twisted wrist, so I held off. I want to tell her someday, though. I'm just not sure how she'll take it.

Astrid's getting prettier by the day, I think. I'm not sure she notices it yet, but it's still easy to tell that she's still the same Astrid she was all those years ago, if not on the outside anymore, then on the inside.

I thought about asking Johann for a pearl necklace to give her, but I quickly decided against it. Astrid isn't the one for necklaces. Maybe I'll get her an ax instead.

Until the next entry,

-HHH III

--------------

Astrid froze, and a breath caught in her throat.

What?

Hiccup thought all of these nice things about her, but had refrained from saying them in case of offending her. Which he could never do, because he was Hiccup. It just wasn't in his blood to insult someone.

Astrid took in a deep breath. She wasn't sure if she wanted to read any more, but was soon lured in by the entry.

----------

Dear myself,

I almost lost Astrid yesterday to Odin's Scourge, and every time I look at her now, I want to hold onto her forever. Of course, I can't do that or she'd strangle me. Or attack me with her ax. Either way, it'd be painful.

I wonder how she feels about almost dying. I want to confront her about it, but she already seems to have forgotten the incident, so I don't mention it.

My fears are worse at night. I dream about what would have happened if we hadn't gotten to the Buffalord in time… what if I had failed? Toothless comforts me when I wake up from a nightmare, but he can't erase the memories- or those terrible feelings...

I hope Astrid doesn't feel this way. And if she does, I wish she'd talk to me about it. I hate seeing her suffer when I can help.

Until the next entry,

-HHH III

--------------

Dear myself,

It turns out, Viggo put a bounty on me. Yep. Great news, I know.

You know what's even greater? I got kidnapped last night, and was only rescued today. I have to admit…. I was scared during the whole thing. I honestly thought I was going to be killed.

But then Astrid, my father, and the other Riders appeared. They saved me, and I'm really grateful. I had lost my prosthetic once the Riders arrived, but didn't expect to get any help. So when Astrid came over and helped me up, it felt nice to know she cared, because she always seems to put on a warrior face, not letting anything bother her. Yet when I was slightly injured, she lowered her walls and revealed concern for my well being. It was a new thing to experience, and I'm curious to see if she'll do it again.

Tomorrow, I'm looking forward to seeing her. You know, to thank her. I hadn't realized how much I missed seeing her until we were separated. But, she'd probably kill me if I told her that. Maybe in the future I'll ask her if she feels the same way.

Until the next entry,

-HHH III

--------------

Each word felt like an arrow to the chest.

Hiccup… did he actually feel this way? Did he truly miss her when they were gone, like she felt right now? Astrid's eyes darted down to the next entry, and she read it. Then she read another one. And another.

In each one, Hiccup mentioned Astrid and a piece of how he felt about her. His writing touched the girl deeply, and tears formed in her eyes. She'd be so selfish… never giving a second thought of her relationship with Hiccup. Sure, she had always loved him as a good friend, but never stopped to ponder if there was something more going on between them.

And right here was proof that there was. Well, at least in Hiccup's mind.

Suddenly, it felt like he was a million miles away from Astrid, making her almost wilt with sorrow. She'd have to wait days until he returned… and right now, that felt like forever. When he got back, she promised herself, she'd confront him about this.

Yes. She finally would.

Blinking back hot tears, Astrid closed the journal and placed it back on the table. "Come back soon, Hiccup," she whispered. "Please."

--------------

Rain slammed against the top of Astrid's hut, making her grimace from her seat in the room.

It was late at night, and Hiccup was supposed to have been back by now. In fact, he should have arrived hours earlier, which caused Astrid to begin a small panic. What if something happened to him in the storm? What if he was hurt or in trouble?

Astrid got up from the chair, and started to pace. She couldn't imagine living in a world without Hiccup. No, nothing had happened to him… she was just overreacting. He must have gotten caught up, that was it.

Stopping her footsteps, Astrid stood in the middle of her hut, and hugged herself.

After a sigh, she took a breath in as she stared at the floor. He'd be back soon. He had to be. After everything she had learned about his feelings, she wasn't going to give up. It wasn't too late.

Oh, if only I told him sooner…

"Astrid."

That faint, playful, yet stern voice echoed across the room, traveling over to the girl. She shivered, daring to hope that her pleads would be answered. Wanting the speaker of the voice to be him.

It had to be.

She looked up, tears evident in her crystal blue eyes. A hand flew to her mouth when she saw him in the doorway.

With rain-soaked hair that dripped freely onto the floor, he looked a bit awkward. Every strand of his auburn hair was pressed flat against his head, and his eyes were like two green jewels in a sea of white sand, both welcoming yet set back.

Hiccup.

Before she knew it, Astrid ran at the boy and threw her arms around him, placing her chin on his shoulder. It felt nice there, despite the recent wetness of the rain. "Don't scare me like that again!" she whisper-scolded. "I didn't know where you were, or if you were in trouble… gods, Hiccup... "

Hiccup winced. "Sorry. Toothless had a bit of trouble flying in the rain, so we had to stop on a couple of sea stacks on the way here... so, what happened while I was gone?" He chuckled. "Well, anything besides the twins and Snotlout blowing up things?"

Astrid closed her eyes, clutching him tighter. "Hiccup, I… I found your journal."

She felt Hiccup stiffen in her grip, but he didn't pull away. "A-Astrid… I can explain. If it offended you in any way-"

But Astrid had had enough of Hiccup's protesting, of his selflessness. So, she planted a kiss on his cheek, smiling when she saw his dazed expression. "That's for everything you wrote in the journal," she told him.

Hiccup smiled weakly in return.

Then, Astrid leaned in and kissed him again- this time on the lips.

"And that's for everything else."

[maedarakat]

RTTE Short Fic Series: “The Book of Birbs”

Notes: Since the dragon raids, hardly a bird besides a turkey or chicken was seen on Berk. Sometimes Trader Johann would bring by canaries in cages, or brightly colored parrots, tame doves – but those would have been rare days.

Even now there was peace and friendship between Dragon and Viking, the constant presence of dragons would have made it very difficult for birds to find food. Terrible Terrors would have given seagulls and spoonbills no chance to scavenge, and they’d have hunted quail and pheasant. Berk’s famous Raven’s Point was likely named in honor of Odin’s own raven messengers – Huginn and Munnin - not because ravens hung out there frequently.

But the dragon-riders, who have the ability to travel to islands and continents with varied wildlife, have probably come across a variety of awesome (and possibly terrifying) birbs. I figured it would be fun to do a mini series of short fics, all describing the rider’s experiences with seeing a winged creature they’ve only heard about in myths and seen in illustrated manuals. Or never even heard of at all. :)

---

1. Dragon-Fairy

Ruff hummed under her breath as she braided her hair, having just finished combing it out thoroughly. She’d missed her usual nightly routine, just flopping down on her sleeping roll out of sheer exhaustion.

Thank the Gods they were finished rescuing everyone out of that collapsing quarry. Viggo was repulsive – using the kids of the villagers as both slaves and hostages.

Very few things could anger her as much as the state those poor children had been in. After they were all rescued, she and Tuff had spent most of the night cutting iron manacles off chafed, bloody ankles. She knew she’d cried more than once. Her brother had fared no better, trying his best to keep it hidden.

The kids had been reunited with their weeping parents. In thanks, the villagers fed the riders and let them sleep in their Chief’s hall as guests of honor. Tuff was still curled on the floor next to her, snoring gently, hair all tangled around his face and pillow. He’d stolen her pillow early on, needing something to cuddle without his Chicken around.

She shook her head in exasperation, but resisted the urge to snatch it back and wake him. It was a nice quiet morning compared to last night, and Ruff wanted it all to herself.

A small bouquet of red and orange honeysuckle had been put in a cup of water in the window, a gift from an admiring young man. He’d been pretty cute too, with his dark hair and dimpled smile. Ruff sighed blissfully and tied up the end of her braid. She was almost about to stand up and dress for the cold when a small sparkling being fluttered into view.

Ruffnut froze, jaw dropping slightly as the tiny creature, its wings a blur, shimmering dragon-scale green and red in the sun. Whatever it was, it was tiny and graceful and beautiful. She wanted to catch it and look closer, but she also dreaded scaring it away.

Was it a new type of dragon? She’d never seen one so tiny – what on earth would it eat? Maybe it hunted down mosquitos and insects? Ruff gasped in delight as it came near her flowers, sticking its long snout into the center of the honeysuckle.

Oh, it was so adorable. She loved everything about it, especially the humming noise it made as it moved about.

“Hey there, little dragon-fairy!” Ruff whispered, as softly as she could. “You like sweet flowers, huh? You better stay away from the blue ones. They aren’t good for dragons. Awww, you’re so pretty, I just wish -“

“Nnnn, I know, I’m the pretty one. Thanks, but shut up,” Tuff mumbled, dragging the pillow in his arms over his head.

“I wasn’t talking to YOU, idiot!” Ruff snapped, whacking his shoulder.

At their raised voices and movement, the “dragon-fairy” zipped out of sight.

“Ugh, thanks a lot! Now it’s gone, probably forever!” she lamented, flopping on her back. She kicked her brother again for good measure, because he’d already started falling back asleep.

“Owww, what?!”

“You scared off my dragon-fairy, yak-butt!”

“I did what?” Tuff sat up. “Tell me everything, it sounds like I did something awesome.”

“Yeah, you awesomely ruined everything, as usual!” she fumed, crossing her arms. “I discovered a new species of dragon, and it was cute and pretty and it eats flowers – and YOU scared it away!”

“While getting violently beaten in my sleep? Impressive,” Tuff said blithely, and earned himself a glower. Before she could kick him again, he held up a hand.

“Easy sis,” her twin sighed. Ruff paused as she heard exhaustion overtake his penchant for squabbling. Last night had taken a toll on all of them. “I’ll help you find it if you want. Not like we’ve got a whole lot to do while H and A talk to the Chief.”

“Huh.” Ruffnut reached out and felt his forehead for a fever. It was all part of the silly banter they did, pretending everything was fine and normal and like they hadn’t just rescued a bunch of kids that were starved and beaten half to death.

“You’re not burning up, so I guess you’re up to traipsing around the place with me. Just don’t make a racket.”

“A racket? Sis, in an hour’s time you’ll be begging me to teach you how to sneak up on a dragon-fairy. Let’s not forget who the Changewing Champion of Dragon’s Edge is.”

“Ugh.” She got up and dumped all her blankets on top of him.

As much as she hated it, Tuff was right. Although it was two hours later, she gave up and clung to his waist, using her weight to drag him down as he attempted to break free. “Pleeeeeaaase!!! Come on, I hate begging!” she wailed.

“Then stop! I’m bored, I’m hungry, it’s probably lunch time, and these villagers seriously know how to cook. I am not missing out on that for your dumb “dragon-fairy”!”

“I would stop if you’d teach me how to stalk more efficiently! Come on, you even impressed Astrid, even though she didn’t say so. She was totally gushing to Heather about it.”

That gave Tuffnut pause. “Seriously? She did? And what did Heather say? Was Hiccup impressed too?”

She grinned slyly. “Gee, I don’t really remember. How about I tell you after you teach me?”

Tuff growled and changed direction, trudging back toward the forest fringe of the island.

“Yaaay!”

“Don’t ‘yaay’ at me, missy, I’m just going back to that bramble patch to see if I can scrape you off,” Tuff growled.

He didn’t though, and soon the two of them were crouched in a bush full of the same red flowers Ruff’s dragon-fairy had visited earlier. She matched her breathing with Tuff’s – slow and quiet. After an excruciatingly cramped fifteen minutes, their patience was rewarded.

The green and scarlet being was back, exploring flower after flower. Ruff heard her brother gasp slightly and smirked. She wanted to turn her head to see his expression, but not at the risk of scaring it away.

It shimmered in the sunlight as it visited flower after flower, and there was a strange sort of peace in listening to its thrumming wings.

Abruptly, the foliage behind them parted as someone stuck their head in. The dragon-fairy zipped off and Ruff turned to snap at the intruder. She nearly bit her tongue as she recognized the same young man who’d given her those flowers. “Hello! There you are – you are missing lunch, friends.”

Tuffnut moved out of his crouched spot without hesitation, stomach already growling. The villager offered his hand to Ruff, who took it gladly and let herself be helped to her feet.

“Hey, uh –“

“Halvar,” the young man said, flashing a smile. She glanced at Tuff to see if he’d take the hint and leave. Her brother ignored the look and stayed put, watching Halvar coolly.

“So, Halvar, what kind of dragons do you have on this island anyway?”

Thankfully, Halvar took no offense. “None, friend. That’s why your amazing dragons have caused such a stir. Why did you ask? Have you seen one that is not yours?”

“Yeah, it was tiny, and green and red, and it eats flowers. Weird, but totally awesome,” Tuffnut answered. "And as much as I hate to say my sister was right, totally worth the hunger pains."

Halvar laughed fondly. “That was no dragon, it was a hummingbird. But I can see why you’d think so. Its shining feathers are very much like the vibrant scales of your dragons.”

Ruff wrinkled her nose in confusion. “A humming – wait, that was a bird? I have never seen a bird like that, not even in pictures.” She was disappointed; bringing the other riders news of a bird wasn’t impressive at all. 

“Do not be sad, lady. They only thrive where it is always warm, like this island. My people believe seeing a hummingbird is a sign of good luck, and more. For it to drink a flower’s nectar so close to you means that you are trustworthy and kind.”

She blushed and smiled, eyes sparkling as she looked up at Halvar.

“Huh. Does it mean we get first pick of the lamb chops?” Tuff asked, completely unimpressed. Ruff could honestly hit him.

Again, Halvar laughed. “Of course, but we’d better head there quick before your friends eat them all.”

Tuff’s eyes widened. He pointed at Ruff. “Make good choices,” he told her sternly, and then raced back to the village as fast as he could.

“Ugh, sorry about my brother.”

“Don’t be. Thanks to you, my little sister came home alive last night. I will not want to leave her side again, after you dragon-riders leave.”

Ruff put a hand on his arm. “You can call on us anytime you need, Halvar. We’ll completely wreck anyone who tries that again. And I’m just speaking for myself and my brother.”

“We thank you for that, truly. I hope no-one does, but I do hope I see you again.”

Ruffnut grinned as they walked toward the village, looping her arm through Halvar’s. She was never going to forget that it had been her he’d brought flowers to, walking right past Astrid and Heather. (The looks on their faces had been priceless.)

Dragon-fairy or no, she was definitely going to sketch a hummingbird in one of her notebooks tonight. After all, each adventure had driven the riders further and further west.

Maybe it was time to start keeping track of other winged beings for a change.

[raflovestuffs]

Nascent love, part four

First l Previous

Oh my dear gods…

This is the longest chapter I ever write! That’s why the translation took so much time! Nevermind, I hope you’ll like it and give me your opinions on it because it’s very important to me! Indeed, this final chapter will be my thoughts on RTTE’s end so I need your advice! 

I was very happy to share this fic with you! 

See you soon!

« Heather,

If you read my previous letter, I can’t imagine the way you are now after found this one. Indeed, I am not dead Heather. During the battle, Viggo’s men took me prisoner. I’m writing you because being close to them has allowed me to access some information. Then, I know that the Grimborn brothers are planning a great blow soon.

Don’t be fooled.

Besides, I’m sincerely sorry for letting you wonder so long. Please, forgive me.

Take care of yourself,

Dagur. »

That’s what Dagur’s letter stated. After reading it carefully, Hiccup and Astrid looked at each other. The blond came next to the brown girl and put her arms around her.

– Oh Heather…

When they put an end at their embrace, Astrid kept a hand around Heather’s shoulder. Hiccup looked at the girls, looking a bit peaky.

– I admit that I don’t know what to say… He said.

Heather smiled faintly, tears in her eyes.

– Then, don’t say anything.

In answer, he took her in his arms too.

…

– Dagur is alive?! Fishlegs screamed.

Heather was sitting at the table with the group that was displaying a perplexed expression.

– But that’s awesome! Tuffnut exclaimed.

Everybody turned its head to him.

– What? That’s good news, doesn’t it?

Heather breathed.

– Of course Tuff but… she began.

– But what? he answered.

The brown girl gave a look to Hiccup.

– And what if it was a trap Tuffnut, you thought about it? asked Hiccup.

The twin lowered his head.

– We must bear in mind that Viggo likes to play. He might as well have made someone do this letter… Unfortunately, we can’t be sure of anything. I’m sorry Heather but we can’t take the risk of rescuing him, he ended to say by looking at her.

Astrid came put a compassionate hand on her friend’s shoulder. But she got up from the table.

– I think that I should rest a little…

– I’m coming with you, Astrid announced.

Heather turned back to her friend.

– That’s nice of you Astrid but I think that I need to be alone…

So she let the girl go and the gang looked at her pulling away, helpless.

– We have to do something! Fishlegs outraged.

– I’m with Fishlegs for once. We can’t just let her go away like that in knowing that his brother is maybe alive, out there, in the hands of Viggo! Snotlout blew up.

– But that’s exactly the point Snotlout…There’s this “maybe” and I won’t let you take this risk, the future Berk’s chief concluded.

So everybody hushed and the meal pursued.

The days passed and the dragons resurfaced soon with a whole flock of newborns that the village didn’t wait to care of. The year-end celebrations being passed, it was time to the dragon’s trainers to join the Edge and resume their activities to the great displeasure of Stoïk who was very sad to see them leave again.

– Be careful and do not take part in a losing battle, you understand me Hiccup?

– Yes Dad, don’t worry about us.

– Take care of yourself, Son.

– You too, Dad. Come on, we take off! He declared, directing the whole group.

So they drew up to the Dragon’s Edge, more hurried than ever to go back but with a silent Heather.

The journey seemed extremely long and tiring to them so much that the tension was palpable on the band but Hiccup not paid attention. It was finally Astrid who did something about it by going talk to Heather.

– Ok that’s enough now Heather, out with it!

– There’s nothing to say.

The blond girl looked at her with obstinacy by frowning but the other lowered her eyes.

– Pleased Heather, the young girl insisted.

– No Astrid, it’s not necessary. Hiccup took its decision and he will not change his mind so the debate is closed.

The young man girlfriend sighed.

– Oh pleased Heather, don’t be mad at me like that, it’s not my fault! Astrid exclaimed.

– Of course, I know that but the point is that if I ask you to come with me in order to search my brother, would you come with me?

Astrid couldn’t look straight.

– That’s what I thought. Whatever happens, you’ll be in his direction because you love him and that’s normal. I’m not the one who would reproach you that but the reality is that. I’m alone and so is Dagur.

– Heather, don’t believe that. You do think that if someday he get it wrong, I’ll be sure to tell him. And even if I love him, that won’t stop me. No. In contrast, we’ve already hide things to him and I will never do it again. It almost destroyed our relationship.

The brown sketched a smile.

– See? You care about him more than anyone else! So put yourself in my place a little! My brother is maybe alive, kept by Viggo and his men, left to his own devices… If it was Hiccup out there what would you do, in Thor’s name?!

– I… Astrid began.

– Hey! Look! It looks like a message! Fishlegs noticed.

Without realizing, they were already on the Edge and Fishlegs had just noted a letter was hanging around a terrible terror’s neck. He came next to him and took the note.

– What does it say Fishlegs? Hiccup asked.

After reading meticulously the letter, the intellectual made a brief summary of it to the interested:

– It’s Mala, the Defenders of the wing needs help…

– What does she say exactly?

– She says that : « […] Viggo Grimborn’s men are there, they surround us. We won’t be able to hold out. We need backup. Come quickly. […] » That’s what she says.

The young chief gets a look at the letter and declared:

– Ok guys, we’re going to help them, get ready to…

And that was all Heather had to hear to be offended.

– I can’t believe it, you’re going to help her like that, without condition! And what makes you think that it is not a trap?!

– Heather… he began.

– Give it up Hiccup, go ahead, go join her because she needs you so badly! She blew up.

The pretty brown moved away, furious.

– I’ll stay with her, that way if it’s a trap, there will be two of us to defend the Edge, Astrid offered before following her.

– Are you sure it’s all right? Hiccup asked.

– Don’t worry Hiccup, go on.

Astrid felt like Hiccup wanted to add something but he came around.

The dragons’ riders left the two girls on the Dragon’s Edge, drawing up at full speed towards the Defenders of the wing’s isle.

– What’s going on here? Snotlout wondered.

They landed in the middle of Mala’s folk. The crowd seemed surprised. The Defenders of the wing’s chief appeared in the middle of the assembly.

– Hiccup Haddock, what do I owe this pleasure?

– What does that supposed to mean? Snotlout requested.

– Excuse me but what message are you talking about?

– She’s kidding us! Snotlout started to annoy himself.

– Except if she is not the one who sent it… Hiccup pronounced.

– What? You’ve lost me guys… the twin whinged.

– This is not complicated Tuff, it means that we’ve fallen into a Viggo’s trap, Ruffnut informed.

– Again?! Tuffnut exclaimed.

– Does anyone can explain me what’s going on? Mala intervened.

Fishlegs pulled the letter received earlier off and handed it to the isle’s queen:

– Here’s the message we received from you.

The short haired woman browsed it with interest before saying:

– Obviously, this message is a fake. I would never have named “men” these sort of rats that work for Viggo, they’re hunters, nothing more and nothing less.

In his own, Hiccup was trying to give sense to the situation that was playing behind him without feeling concerned. Then, after a time to reflect, it was like everything became clear of a sudden. While all the others were being nervous about the subject, he articulated his girlfriend’s name.

– We need to go back! They’re in danger! the young man called out.

– What are you talking about, Hiccup? Fishlegs questioned.

– The girls! Astrid. Heather. They’re in danger! It’s a trap! Viggo will be all over them! On the Edge! We need to go, now.

– But why would Viggo want to attack them? Snotlout asked.

– I don’t know yet but we’ll soon find out. Ok everybody, we take off!

So they flew away quickly in the opposite direction, abandoning Mala in the way.

– How could I fall into the trap again? Hiccup blew up.

– It’s true that it’s getting to be a bit much, Tuffnut admit.

The Stoïk’ son addressed a sad look to his friend, undone. The others gave him a dark look, full of blames.

– It’s gonna be okay Hiccup, we’re talking about Heather and Astrid, Fishlegs added quickly.

However, the young man didn’t seem reassured about it. On the contrary, his stomach hurt him because of how much he was scared for them. He will blame himself his whole life if ever something happened to them.

But when they sighted the Edge away, they already knew it was too late. Viggo’ ships were encircling the isle and there was no sign of the girls over the skyline. They approached their headquarter, that’s when he saw them, that he saw her, firmly chained to a mast’s vessel of them. She was struggling, trying to overcome her cords, giving kick to anybody who tried to bar her from doing it but when she saw him, she stopped any dissenting activity.

– Hiccup! she screamed.

– Astrid! Are you okay? he called out.

– It’s a trap Hiccup! Don’t…

The dragon hunters’ chief had put his hand on the girl’s delicate mouth.

– I forbid you to touch her! Hiccup shouted.

Toothless uttered a growl that was more than threatening.

– My dear Hiccup, we’ve been waiting for you… and your night fury, Viggo giggled.

The young boy frowned.

– Toothless? What do you want Viggo?

– What I want? Him of course! And the lens of this dear Heather…

So the brown appeared alongside of Viggo, held by the guards. He grabbed her by the chin, smiling and released her.

– It’s that simple.

– But what lens is he talking about Heather? Hiccup wondered. And why would you even need Toothless?

– Hiccup, you know as well as I do how the Dragon Eye works so I don’t doubt that you’ll find the answer by yourself.

Hiccup didn’t take more than two seconds to understand.

– You’re looking for night furies?! But why? For what purpose?

– This is none of your business my boy. Now, be both reasonable and give me what I ask for.

– Or what?

– How dare you ask this question dear Hiccup? Ryker!

So Viggo’s brother positioned himself behind Astrid and put his cutting weapon under the young girl’s neck.

– No! Hiccup shouted.

– And as for you, Heather, didn’t you keep the hope deep inside yourself of finding your brother one day?

Heather and Hiccup looked at each other, petrified. Viggo gave a head sign to one of his henchmen. Two men went out with a prisoner whose face was hidden by a burlap sack. This one was floundering but the men were maintaining him firmly. The chief of the dragon hunters gave them a new head sign. They bared the prisoner’s face.

– Dagur…? Heather murmured in a quivering voice.

Hiccup was wide eyed.

– Here is the deal. The lens and the night fury for this dear Astrid and Dagur.

Heather turned her head towards Hiccup.

– I’m sorry Hiccup.

– Heather…

The brown left the lens into Viggo Grimborn’s hands.

– Wise decision, young lady. Let him go.

Dagur was released and arrived into his sister’s arms in an affectionate embrace.

– Well, what are you waiting for, Hiccup Haddock? You really want to make me kill your friend in front of you, right now? Ryker!

His brother reduced the margin that existed between the girl’s neck and his sword. It was too much, the Grimborn were going too far.

– All right Viggo, you win…

But he didn’t have the time to finish his sentence. Against all odds, the night fury came roaring in the form of a shockwave which led the whole ship crew and the Grimborn’s brothers to find themselves on the ground. He came next to Astrid with his loyal rider on his back and the latter using his flaming sword to burn the blonde’s cords. She climed on Toothless’ back and he took off, trying to esacape the men who were already trying to get him back.

– Catch him! Viggo shouted.

They were flying above water when the dragon was finally kept in their nets. So Hiccup and Astrid fell into the sea without having time to take their breath. They went out on the surface soon to see the sad sight of the capture of the boy’s best friend. Toothless gave him a sad look.

– Toothless!

– Goodbye Hiccup, I was pleased to know you, Viggo declared.

So the boats pulled away from the Edge, leaving bewildered riders. Hiccup slimmed his fist on the water. Astrid put a comforting hand on his left shoulder. So his gaze felled on her. He sketched a smile with mixed feelings but he was relieved.

– Oh Astrid, thanks Thor, you’re all right! he exclaimed by taking her in his arms. I was so worried about you…

…

Viggo gone, the gang was just recovering. He had taken Toohtless with him. The questions about his intentions piled up in the riders’ head but they couldn’t think about that yet. Dagur had returned. It was as if he had cheated death from their point of view. Heather was in shock, like everyone, but she rejoiced in his brother’s comeback into the land of the living. So this is what the riders were doing, they celebrated. Everybody except Astrid. The latter went isolating in her room without anybody knowing why.

– But tell us, we all thought you were dead! Fishlegs exclaimed.

– We saw you disappeared in the smoke! Tuffnut affirmed.

– How did you manage to stay alive? Snotlout asked.

– Actually, when I threw myself into the burning ships with Shattermaster, the men of Viggo didn’t kill us, they captured us and since I’m their prisoner. I don’t know what happened to my dragon.

– So the letter I received, it was from you?

– You received my letter? Dagur wondered.

– Yes and the one you left before you go…

– Heather…

– I know that you didn’t kill our father.

The redhead smiled and took his sister in his arms again. Hiccup was watching the scene with interest, he had been right to give his trust to his old enemy. That’s when he noticed Astrid’s absence.

– Dinner’s almost ready! Heather exclaimed.

– Start without me, I’ll check on Astrid, Hiccup stated.

– I think she got into her hut, take a look, the brown informed.

On the advice of Heather, the boy moved towards the Astrid’s hut. He knocked. No one was answering so he decided to step in. The girl was lying on her bed, turning her back to the young boy.

– Astrid?

– Is that you Hiccup?

– Are you okay?

– I’m not really hungry, that’s all. But go ahead, go join us, don’t worry about me.

– I’m not that hungry either actually…

He approached the young woman’s bed and sat down on it. He stroked her shoulder.

– Tell me what’s wrong Astrid.

She looked at him, then looked down, reluctant. She finally brounced back by redirecting her attention to him.

– This is all my fault.

Her boyfriend displayed a confused face.

– What?

– It’s my fault if Toohless get captured… I feel so bad Hiccup if you knew!

– What are you saying? Nothing that happened is your fault, don’t believe that Astrid!

– But if you didn’t have to choose between him and me, he’s still be there, she said close to tears.

Hiccup sighed and embraced her, he caressed her back to reassure her. Then, he took her face in his hands. He declared sweetly:

– If it happened again, I’d do the same Astrid. I love you, don’t ever doubt.

So she closed her eyes, some tears overflowed, and the handsome brown came put his lips on hers.

– We’ll bring back Toothless. And we’ll do that together, as a team.

Astrid smiled to this last comment. They lied down on her bed, interwoven.

– Now sleep Milady, we have a big day tomorrow.

The young girl’s breathing start to breath like his bestfriend while he wondered when was the last time they found theirselves in a situation like the one they were living now. He remembered suddenly; it was when they had lost the Dragon Eye.

The Dragon Eye was now in the hands of Viggo Grimborn. Hiccup had failed miserably: he failed to bring back Heather and Windshear who were Thor knows where and above all, he had lost the Dragon Eye. Hiccup felt really bad, he thought he was responsible of this situation. Actually, the events were over his head. He and all the gang were in a difficult position, they must get back the artefact at any cost but they were alone with the dragon hunters’ chief. However, Hiccup understood that it was no longer a question of playing anymore: no errors should be permitted again. A stony silence surrounded the band of riders for quite some time. Snotlout decided to break it.

– Ok, I’m not bored but what’s next?

Hiccup still had the look lost in the ocean, holding firmly the Viking Chief’s piece in his right hand.

– We’re going back to the Edge, he declared coldly by still staring at the horizon.

Astrid opened big astonished eyes, she didn’t seem okay with the young man’s decision.

– What? You want to go back to the Edge? After everything that’s happened? The situation is too serious Hiccup, we need to talk to your father.

Hiccup turned over to face her.

– No Astrid, there’s no way to involve my father into this.

– But why? she spoke out.

– Astrid, if we wander from Berk I think it was for a precise reason… he began.

– Obviously not the one I imagined… she stopped him.

– Let me remind you that you said it yourself: we’re not kids anymore! Hiccup exclaimed. We can deal with our problems ourselves, we don’t need Berk’s support for that.

The discussion was becoming under control and the fuss was making itself felt, it didn’t leave the group indifferent. They were somewhat in retrograde, analysing the situation.

– Well, what should we do? We let them argue until they agree or we intervened? Ruffnut asked?

– Great question sis’, we’re face to a big dilemma: should we let them do and attend their disagreements, well, rather pleasant or break this magic moment where those two delicate souls are fighting against each other? Hum… difficult choice… Tuffnut answered, stroking his chin by squittting.

– Argh… You’re really muttonheads, the both of you… Snotlout sighted.

– Okay, we need figure out something else, Fishlegs interfered, I’ll talk to them.

So he came next to Hiccup and Astrid who were facing each other by giving dark looks to each other. Astrid was pointing at Hiccup.

– And you know I’m right! she ended by crossing her arms.

– Astrid, it’s a no. We go back to the Edge, that’s non-negotiable, Hiccup retorted.

– So what do we do? Fishlegs simply asked.

– You heard the chief? We’re going back to the Edge! Astrid exclaimed, annoyed.

She climbed on Stormfly and flew away quickly in the direction of the Dragon’s Edge. Hiccup sighed in exasperation and started to follow her. Fishlegs turned back to the rest of the group.

– Let’s follow them.

– Hum… it seems that there’s a little trouble in paradise… Ruffnut smiled with a vicious tune.

– There’s a little trouble in what? Tuffnut questioned.

– Argh… You never understand anything Tuff… she whispered.

They went to the Dragon’s Edge like this. Upon arrival, Astrid rushed into her hut and never looked back. Hiccup was going after her, he didn’t want to be angry with her, she was his bestfriend. Astrid closed strongly her door’s hut. When Hiccup arrived at the door, he hesitated to knock but finally decided himself, racked with guilt.

– Astrid, can we talk, please?

– Go away, Hiccup.

– C’mon Astrid, this is ridiculous!

Hiccup was angry, he didn’t want to go to bed knowing that he hadn’t made up with the pretty blond. Since no answer reached to him, he got the courage and stepped in.

– Hiccup… she began.

– Okay Astrid, I know that you don’t approve my decision and I understand you, I assure you but believe me, it was the right thing to do. You know my dad, he always exaggerated. If we had involved him in it, he’d have taken matters into his own hands and we’d have outlived our usefulness. But that’s our problem, I’m the one who left and took you down with me into this. I’m the only one responsible here and I must face the consequences now. We have to learn how we can do things on our own Astrid…

So the young lady approached him, she lifted her head by passing her hand through her hair. Then, she put her hands around her waist and smiled.

– Okay, you’re right Hiccup but you don’t have to do this alone, we all are responsible in this so we’re gonna act as a team, understand?

Hiccup smiled.

– No problem.

– And one more thing, promise me that if it really gets rough, we will inform your father? she said seriously.

– I promise you.

They smiled at each other and Astrid came naturally snuggle into Hiccup’s arm.

– Thanks, she murmured.

Then, they split and Hiccup went to the door.

– Good night, Astrid.

– Good night, Hiccup.

It was truly at this time that the word’ signification of “team” had begun to change and seemed to all make sense for them. Now, when they said “team”, it was as a couple. Hiccup watched Astrid sleep. She was so beautiful when she was sleeping. Soon, he fell asleep too.  

The next day, when the Edge woke up, it was time for Heather to tell what she knew about the lens that she had given to Viggo earlier.

– Okay Heather, tell us what you know.

– Well, this lens, I found it on this famous island that they want to find.

– The night fury’s island, isn’t it? Dagur asked.

The brown nodded. Hiccup was wide eyed at this disclosure.

– Are you saying that… You found it?! he practically choked.

– How did you manage? Astrid said, surprised.

– You know, I discovered it completely by accident! It was at the time when I and Windshear were travelling by ourselves. We rested on this island before leaving on the next day. That’s when I found this lens, it was hidden in the trunk of a tree, as if it didn’t want to be found. So I began to wonder about it and I recognized the symbol on the lens, even if it was extremely small, I recognized the shape that was ectched on the glass. It was a night fury. That’s when I understand, I was on their island, Heather narrated.

– And then, could you get near them? the young rider get excited.

– Hiccup, she said by pausing.

She put her hands on his shoulders.

– They were gone.

– What? How’s that?

– There were no night furies on this island. There were just bones, skeletons that you could easily recognize the shape…

– Are you saying that…

– I think that they were exterminated Hiccup…

The future’s chief stayed in awe. All hope of gather Toothless and his kind one day had just gone.

– How can you be so sure Heather? Ruffnut asked.

– As I said, all there was on this isle were dead dragons’ carcasses but that’s not all. Actually, contrary to expectations, we were not alone on this island. There was a Death Song.

– You think that he’s responsible of the night furies’ death?

– I’m even certain but I’m even more sure that he didn’t come on this isle by accident, he was inserted. Here’s what I think: dragon hunters maybe wanted to take night furies away in order to catch them easier and thought that the Death Song will do it. But they maybe didn’t know that he ate his victims! As a result, they had been exceeded by the situation and didn’t dare to go back on the island. So they left the lens on it so that nobody can return!

Heather’s theory seemed to be good but the dragon riders were perplexed. A question remained unresolved: why would Viggo want to find night furies that much?

– Why didn’t you speak up before? Hiccup suddenly questioned.

– Well, simply because this island is dangerous Hiccup! And I didn’t want to hurt you with that story.

– That’s nice Heather but now, thanks to you, we know that we’ve to act very quickly if we want to save Toothless. Is that island far from us?

– I’d say two days’ travel from here.

– Master Hiccup! a voice called out.

So the latter turned his head, it was Trader Johann.

– Johann? What are you doing here?

– Oh sir Hiccup! I came to inform you with rather unpleasant news concerning Viggo and his flying reptiles’ smuggling! Johann called out, all out of breath.

– Come Johann, come sit down and explain to us what you have to tell us calmly, Hiccup invited him.

– And shortened please! Snotlout added ironically.

Hiccup gave him a dark look. Johann sat down at the dragon riders’ table and they approached to listen carefully what he had to say.

– You see my dear friends, I kind of overhear a conversation unintentionally in a tavern that was, well, rather charming. The food was delicious and…

– Johann, please, Hiccup intervened by signing to get back to basics to the trader.

– The conversation Johann? Astrid insisted.

– Oh yes! the old man exclaimed. Two hunters was talking to each other and saying that their master was preparing a trap against your person, sir Hiccup. They said that it was in the final purpose of extracting a valuable asset from you, your dragon, the night fury. As I understand it, he was essential to find a lost island.

– Yes, we know all that Johann, Viggo already came… Fishlegs admitted.

– Did those men evoked something else? Did they say why they had to go there? Hiccup questioned him.

– Let me see… Yes! I think I remember that it has something to do with one of their major buyers… Yes, one of them has commissioned a big shipment of night furies! He’s ready to pay a good price, apparently.

So the young man took a look at the dragon riders.

– There’s his reason… Thanks Johann.

– At your disposal, master Hiccup.

– That means that Viggo will kill us if we try to wreck this mission! Fishlegs exclaimed.

– It’s more serious than we had imagined Hiccup, what’s next? Heather requested.

– I think that we must join forces if we want to defeat Viggo this time, the young man announced. We’re going to the Defenders of the wing.

So they took off in the direction of Mala’s island.

…

After explaining the whole story to the queen of the island, she gladly accepted to help them. For her, it would be the final battle, their last chance to defeat Viggo. She wouldn’t have missed this for the world. His folk had been particularly cooperative, now all that is left for them to do was develop a plan in order to damage the dragon hunters once and for all. Especially since the first time, they were one step ahead of him.

– It is not about killing them, right? Hiccup asked one last time.

– Exactly, they will have the right to a trial first, Mala replied.

– We all know that it’s all the same? Tuffnut prompted to his sister by laughing.

– Shut up, you idiot! she reprimanded him.

Mala and Hiccup shook hands like two true war’s chiefs. The battle will finally begin.

It didn’t take long for us to trace Viggo and his men, they had already arrived on the night fury’s island. Mala’s soldiers already charged off to do battle with the Viggo’s army on the boats. The close combats had rapidly followed these organised assaults. Mala’s army seemed to take the advantage but nothing was certain. On their side, the dragon riders tried to delay the dragon hunters’ progression on the island by burning their ships. Mala was fighting together with her men meanwhile Hiccup was chasing Viggo who was heading for the island with Ryker who was firmly holding Toothless. Dagur was accompanied him.

– You won’t find anything here Viggo.

The concerned looked up to the one who had questioned him.

– On the contrary Hiccup, these night furies are going to make me rich beyond imagining! the master of dragon hunters exclaimed.

– Except if there are none of them.

– What is he saying? Ryker groaned.

So Hiccup drew near the Grimborn duo.

– You’re trapped Viggo, turn yourself in, now.

– Never! He screamed.

Against all odds, Viggo climbed on the back of the reptile with dark scales and moved away from the little group visibly.

– Go ahead Hiccup, I got him! Dagur said to the young man.

So Hiccup ran in the search of a winged partner by signing “help” to his teammate. So he felt talons grabbed him. It was Astrid and Stormfly. The blond helped the young boy to climb on her dragon’s back. So they pursued Viggo who was on Toothless’ back. Lucky for them, free again, the dragon was trying every way possible to take his rider down. When they finally found him, the improbable duo was flying very low. Hiccup jumped out of Stormfly in order to land on his best friend’s back. He pushed Viggo but since he was struggling in the same time, he took him down with him. Once ashore, a sword fight operated between the two men. Hiccup struck the first blow but the strategist that was Viggo had no trouble catching up. He struck in his turn but much stronger than Hiccup could ever do. But the son of Stoïk the Vast had a little more up his sleeve and this was the precise moment that he turned on his flaming sword to surprise his opponent who got burned. While Hiccup thought he had taken over his sworn enemy, that one avoided feeling overwhelmed by his innovator tactics and retook the advantage on the young boy who was down, at the mercy of Viggo Grimborn. Astrid who was looking at the scene, almost intervened but she was surpassed by an unhoped savior. The Death Song. Viggo had no time to understand what was going on that he was sprayed with amber in what he was prisoner now. So the dragon left with his victim meanwhile Astrid scurried to get back her boyfriend with Toothless’ help. All they could hear was the freezing scream of the redoubtable hunter.

So they fled in a hurry in the direction of the island’s coasts to escape the imposing dragon who will not delay to come back. Hiccup affectionately stroked his best friend’s head and this one answered warmly with a cooing of pleasure. But they must not forget that the time was running out.

– Faster! Hiccup shouted.

– We’re doing our best! Astrid answered.

Dagur and Ryker were still clashing in a violent combat. Neither of them seemed to take the advantage on the other. The Death Song’ scream didn’t defer to ring once more.

– He’s coming! Dagur, run! the brown shouted to the intention of his new friend.

So the Berserker’s chief turned back and that’s when he saw it. He started to run and Toothless didn’t delay to catch him while Ryker was still trying to understand what was going on. He finally turned his head to the thing that will lead him to his death before being covered by an orange substance that reimbursed him. It was all over for the Grimborn brothers.

Now, they didn’t have much time before the Death Song’s come back.

– Astrid, go tell everyone to stop the fight. There’s something I need to take care of.

– And where are you going?

Her question remained outstanding, they had already left.

Toothless and his rider crossed the flames in order to reach Viggo’s boat. They finally landed not without piquing Dagur’s curiosity.

– What are you looking for, brother?

– The Dragon Eye. We have to get it back.

– I follow you.

During this short time, Astrid had informed Mala about the situation and together the two, they had informed their army of what was going on. While everybody started to evacuate the island, the dragon hunters didn’t understand what was going on. Soon, the Death Song resurfaced but he was not alone, others accompanied him and Hiccup as well as Dagur hadn’t come back. Astrid and Heather started to worry about us while they reappeared in the sky full of smoke alongside the two ladies that they loved the most.

– We’re here!

Astrid squinted by nodding her head. They moved away from the island as far as possible while helping Mala’s ships to go faster by hauling them. Although they were out of danger, they could nevertheless observe the carnage that was occurring hundred miles further, not far from them.

– The mission was accomplished succesfully, go home now, Mala declared.

Shortly thereafter, they arrived at her island and she congratulated them about the functioning of the mission.

– But I thought that you wished a fair trial for the Grimborn brothers.

– That’s what I said, indeed. But you know although, my dear Hiccup, that the only judgement in what I have trust is the dragons’ one. And they decided to eliminate them.

This woman impressed him, really. She had an answer for everything and always kept a clear head. Hiccup settled for approving what she said with a half-smile that he accompanied with a shrug.

– I was pleased to fight by your side, Hiccup Haddock. My pleasure.

– Me too Mala. Thanks again for your help. See you soon, hopefully.

– Goodbye Hiccup.

Their adieu presented to the queen of the Defenders of the Wing, it was time for us to leave. They were on the boards of the island, point which they decided to go in order to save their dragons’ strength.

It was the precise moment the fearless Hofferson chose to punch her beloved on the shoulder.

– Ouch! Hiccup called out, surprised.

– That’s for scaring me.

Hiccup understood immediately where she was going. He grabbed her waist and kissed her on the lips behind the gang. While they were at formalizing the thing, might as well do it thoroughly. He finally got loose from her and declared by looking her straight in the eye:

– That’s for everything else.

She smiled and they embraced. Then, they turned back to their band to enjoy their reactions. Heather already knew so it was not a surprise for her, Fishlegs didn’t seem surprised either. Dagur was happy for us while the twins seemed to not understand. As for Snotlout, he appeared relieved.

– You were dating all this time and you didn’t tell us?! Ruffnut blew up.

– But what just happened also, though? Tuffnut asked.

His sister sighed of annoyance. But it was Snotlout’s reaction that amazed them the most. He approached them and Hiccup more particularly.

– At last! It’s about time by now!

– Snotlout?

– What? With all the signals I gave you, I really thought that all my efforts have been wasted but when I look at you two together, I realize that it was worth it! He exclaimed.

– But what are you talking about Snotlout? Hiccup asked, a little astounded by the viking’s words.

– Wait, did you really think I had designs on Astrid?

He started to laugh.

– I did it to make you jealous, man!

– You can really learn something every day… the young man gasped.

– Well, talking of revelations, Dagur and I have an announcement to make too, Heather intervened.

– Don’t tell me that you’re dating too?! Tuffnut questioned. Because then, it would be really awkward…

– No Tuffnut, don’t worry, it’s not about that. Dagur…

– Well, actually, Heather is going to join me to lead the Berserker by my side and reassume her rightful place, Dagur announced by smiling with sincerity.

– Wow Heather, that’s amazing, Hiccup affirmed.

Astrid stepped forward her.

– Why didn’t you tell me?

– Astrid, we are not leaving each other you know, she said by taking her in her arms.

– Will we keep meeting?

– I promise you.

That was a lot of goodbyes in a day but the dragon riders had already overcome much worse than that.

– And by the way Hiccup, what are you going to do with… well, you know what I’m talking about, didn’t you? Dagur asked.

So Hiccup took something out of Toothless’ stuff. He weighed the object in his hands.

– The Dragon Eye?

He paused and looked at the artefact attentively.

– I think that it had caused too much damage.

He had said this sentence seriously and that made the dragon riders shiver. Suddenly, he drew up towards the edge of the cliff he was and dropped the old object in the ocean.

– Hiccup! Fishlegs screamed. Are you crazy? All this knowledge… lost forever on the ocean floor… What are we going to do to look for new dragon’ species now?

Hiccup had a smirk.

– We’ll do things the old fashioned way by discovering the world on our own, Fishlegs.

The intellect seemed to experience mixed feelings but he knew that the young boy was right. They got back on their dragons, preparing themselves to take off. Hiccup readjusted himself on his saddle before adding:

– It’s time to come home.

THE END.

[tysonrunningfox]

Ripped: Part 13

Hiccup is....so stupid guys, so dumb.  A moron.  An idiot.  

Ao3

It’s not the season for frozen yogurt. Astrid’s heat is still on, finally keeping the fog from spreading icy fingers up her windowpane at night. She’s still wearing fuzzy socks around her apartment to keep her corresponding heating bill down, and so she shouldn’t be disappointed that there was no frozen yogurt. Especially when there are bigger things to worry about.

Of course it’s all wrapped up in Grimborn, like everything is lately. She knows Hiccup said no Grimborn, that they’d talk about other things, but untangling it seems dangerous, like pulling a seedling from dirt too early.  

The first knock blends in with the drums in the single headphone she’s wearing but the second is out of tune and she sits up straight, yanking the earbud out by the cord. She’s not scared, she’s just aware that she lives alone at a historical murder site potentially being targeted by a potential copycat murderer.

The third knock is quieter, an almost hopeful tap-tap-tap, and she freezes.

What kind of murderer knocks?

Definitely not someone so rigorously loyal to Viggo Grimborn’s techniques, which her current paper’s research has tangentially confirmed to unanimously be surprise attacks. But techniques change.

Including victim’s techniques, she thinks to herself as she walks quietly to the door, grabbing her umbrella from the plastic hook by her coat. Stabbing would be deadlier but she’d have more force with a swing and she chokes up just above the curved handle to look through the peephole.

It’s Hiccup, chewing on his lip, nose blown out of proportion by the curved glass.

“Shit,” she tosses the umbrella aside and pulls her bangs out of their clip before adjusting the oversized tee-shirt that feels suddenly inadequate. Softer than she’s sure she can be without quiet stacks or heavy brick walls to dampen it. She told him that she likes him and that introduces enough vulnerability on its own without trying to change the subject between them.  

She checks the time and he knocks again, even softer this time, like he’s giving up.

“What?” Astrid’s voice comes out too harsh as she yanks open the door, frazzled like a hastily thrown umbrella.

“Hi,” he raises his eyebrows and looks her up and down, inquisitive and pale, a plastic bag in his hand. “Am I interrupting something or—ah shit, it’s late, isn’t it?” He checks the time on his phone, “is it? I forget—“

“No, I mean it is late, but it’s fine,” she tries to flatten her bangs and it doesn’t quite work, and his lips quirk up in a maddeningly personal smile. He looks tired. “Just working on a paper, what’s up? How was…”

His text made her snort and she still feels guilty about it. Guilty for laughing at something so clearly not funny and strange because it made her miss him in a way she didn’t expect. She wanted to see his face when he sent it instead of hearing it second hand, wanted to see his wide-eyed processing, but it doesn’t look like he’s processed it at all.

He shrugs, “I brought you something.”

“That bad, huh?” Her dry laugh makes his lip quiver and he steps forward too purposefully to be abrupt, wrapping wiry arms around her shoulders and pulling her into his chest. The plastic bag crinkles against her hip and he rests his cheek against her temple. He takes a deep breath like he’s centering himself, hand curling in her shirt.

“Sorry, I didn’t—” His voice is a little thick and she moves instinctually, arms curling around him, one hand almost daring to stroke his lower back. He’s a sturdy kind of fragile, asking directly for and taking what he needs, and she doesn’t want to disturb it. She doesn’t know him well enough for that yet.

“No, it’s fine,” she rests her forehead on his shoulder, wishing he hadn’t done this in the hallway where she feels invisible eyes on her door, “Snotlout with self-tanning lotion, huh? I can imagine the trauma.”

“You have no idea,” he exhales, cool breath ruffling her hair as he steps back, pulling the bag between them and opening it by both handles. “But I got you something.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” she reaches down and pulls out a plastic wrapped square of folded cloth.

“I did though,” he grabs something else he apparently left leaning against the wall and hands it to her. “You asked for this.”

“A curtain rod?” It’s a better weapon than an umbrella, she guesses, “why did you get me a curtain rod?”

“Because I’m starting up tours again,” he pulls a drill out of the bag and pulls the trigger, making it spin with an excited, approval-seeking smile. “Sound-proof curtains. Or not soundproof, sound-blocking. Your idea, and not a bad one—“

“Get in here,” she grabs the collar of his tee-shirt and pulls him inside enough to shut the door behind them.

“I saw your uh, single chair,” he spins slowly, looking around her place and taking it in the way he does archive aisles, “was red, so I got red curtains, but—“

“You’re starting tours again?” She ducks down to meet his eye when he starts tinkering with his drill instead of looking at her, “you realize that’s…”

“A way to pay my bills?” His smile is a grimace.

“A really stupid idea, right?”

“The curtains are 84 inches,” he strides uneven across her living room and reaches above her window, notching the drywall with his thumbnail, “so if the rod is right around here—“

“Hiccup.”

“The selection of curtain rods in stores open this time of night was…odd, half of them looked like—“ he’s bright red when he glances up at her, “well, not particularly ornamental, so I went generic. This will take five minutes,” he holds his hand out for the curtain rod and she sighs.

“This is sweet, or something,” she’s worried and tired and hates how she’s obviously getting in the way of the one thing he’s thought of to feel better about his own situation. And it is sweet, and combined with his hopeful expression and capable hand around his power tool, it’s hard to say no. “But I’m never going to get my security deposit back if you drill into the wall.”

“Oh, I talked to Gobber,” he assures her, marking the other side above the window and frowning to himself, hand on his chin, “I forgot my level—“

“Hiccup, you can’t restart tours,” she gets close enough to grab his shoulder, but his face stays focused on the window until she moves her hand to his cheek to turn his head. His eyes don’t follow and she snaps, “look at me.”

“Five minutes,” he nods, finally looking at her with fleeting focus, “Gobber said it was fine.”

His jaw flexes against her palm and she presses her thumb against his lips to shush him.

“If you’re installing curtains, will you talk to me about this?” She moves her thumb, trying to ignore the tingling flair in her stomach.

He nods and she lets him go, crossing her arms and watching him take the curtain rod out of the package, throwing the instructions over his shoulder and examining the small bag of hardware that came with it.

“You good with that height?” He revs the drill again as he turns around and holds a screw against the drywall.

“Sure,” she couldn’t care less about the curtains, “so, what—“

“Ok,” he talks over the drill as he seats the screw, “so I know I said no Grimborn, and I meant it, as in we don’t always have to talk about Grimborn. I want to talk to you about other things—“

“It’s fine.”

He looks over his shoulder at her, holding a screw in his mouth and managing a muffled sound that she thinks is supposed to be, “really?”

“I don’t have anyone else to talk about it with,” she shrugs, “and since it’s your fault that I care at all…”

He takes the screw out of his mouth and mounts it on the opposite side of the window, “my fault, huh?”

His tone reminds her of the other things she’s blamed him for, most notably knocking encyclopedias off of the archive shelf. He took that blame easily, but it was probably softened. He’s not sexy now, he’s frazzled and trying and obviously exhausted, but she wonders what would happen if she said it anyway. Then again, everything he said at Gruffnut’s bar when he was being as awkward as physically possible makes her think he’s not particularly interested in her apartment as anything other than a pit stop on a Grimborn tour.

But here he is putting up curtains so it isn’t anymore…

“Absolutely your fault. If you hadn’t been so annoying with your tours that I wanted to demolish the mystery, I would have learned to hate Grimborn just how Fishlegs did, by dealing with a constant onslaught of weirdos come to attempt to steal papers.”

“Well, I’m selfishly glad that didn’t happen,” he takes some hardware from the curtain rod box and hangs it over the screws, lining up another screw to anchor it into place, “but I still…I’m going to sound crazy—“

“I’m used to it,” she shrugs and he gauges her expression before drilling in what she thinks is the last screw.

“You mentioned the Ryker theory to me, you know, back in the days when I only got to talk to you if I annoyed you enough that you leaned out your window to yell at me,” he nudges her with his elbow on the way back to the bag, where he starts unwrapping the curtains themselves. “How much do you know?”

“He was a cop tangentially involved with the case,” she takes the trash from the curtains from him before he can throw it on the floor and walks it to the trashcan. “If I remember right, he spent some time in custody for the murders but was then found not guilty.”

“The umm, the evidence,” he gestures at his feet—foot—and bites his lip like he’s unsure he can trust her with what he’s about to say.

“Yeah?”

“It was sent to Snotlout, addressed to him with a middle initial, and he doesn’t tell anyone his middle name because he hates it—which he’s one to talk but—“

“Do you think whoever’s doing this is trying to make it look like it has something to do with Snotlout?”

“You know the Ryker finger, right?” He shakes the first curtain pane out and sets it on the back of her chair to take off his jacket. She doesn’t think she’s seen his arms before, and her eyes dart between faded freckles, tracing over lean muscles that attest to wild gesticulation as a viable workout routine.

“It came with a note,” she nods as he pulls out the other curtain pane and bites his lip, uncharacteristically quiet at her admission of Grimborn knowledge. “What?”

“I told you this package did too,” he busies himself with unfolding, “well, umm, I took a picture of it—“

“You took a picture of it?” She’s too loud and she wishes for the first time that he’d hurry up with the sound insulation. “Are you crazy? You took a picture of a…a foot that someone sent to—“

“No, no, not the foot. I avoided the foot, I just took one of the note. A few to make sure I got it, it was kind of…damp with—whatever, it was blurry, so I got a few,” he pulls out his phone and shakes his head, “I haven’t had time to look at them yet because Snotlout wanted to get a drink, understandably, but…well, it’s definitely Comic Sans. We’re clearly dealing with a sadistic lunatic.”

“We?” She tries once again, just as futilely to tame her hair, and he shrugs, filling out the shoulders of his faded red tee-shirt better than she would have guessed, “so, sadistic lunatic, what was your first clue?”

“The murder and mutilation was a start but the font choice really drives it home,” he laughs and holds his phone out to her, “do you want to—“

“I thought you said you haven’t looked at it yet.” She’s seen him with new Grimborn information and the idea that he’d willingly let her see something first again is kind of flattering. Flattering enough that she struggles to squelch her growing curiosity with horror.

Apparently there really is a threshold, at some point horror can’t grow anymore and the surplus transitions into a call to action. And if there’s a Ryker finger allegory, what are the chances this is all a coincidence?

Hiccup’s face says more than statistics do.

“I trust your interpretation,” his eyes are too big, too trusting, and she gets that he’s nervous to read it but even more nervous to admit to it, “or I guess I trust you to have an interpretation I can argue with.”

“Sure,” she takes his phone and sits down in her chair, “I’ll have a look while you finish up.”

“Thanks,” his crooked grin is relieved and brighter than he’s been since he got here. Relieved even.

“No problem,” she squints at the blurry but clearly Comic Sans letters and tries to ignore the reddish smudges on the bottom right of the screen, jumping when Hiccup’s warm hand lands gently on her shoulder. “What?”

“Sorry, you’re just sitting against the um,” he tugs at the new curtain and she leans forward.

“Oh, I guess it really does match the chair then,” she clears her throat, trying to ignore the heat rising to her face as his thumb brushes the side of her neck, “good eye.”

“I’m glad you don’t hate it,” he laughs, “it did feel a little weird decorating your apartment for you, so really, if you hate them I can—“

“They’re fine,” she insists, sighing in twisted relief when the warmth of his hand disappears and he’s back across the room messing with the curtains.

She breaks the cardinal rule of looking at pictures on other people’s phones and swipes to the next picture, quickly zooming in on just the note before she can see anything else. This one is clearer, the blur from the damp paper instead of the camera moving and she holds his phone closer decipher the words:

A shiver runs down her spine as she reads it through a few times, trying to make sense of words that are almost right. The capitalization and strange cadence read like a Grimborn letter but the ‘lol’ sets it apart as modern. New. Ongoing.

“So, what do we have here?” Hiccup’s voice appears suddenly in her ear, his arms folded on the back of the chair, forearm pressing her braid against the back of her neck.

“A…really creepy note,” she leans into him instead of away, both irritated that he brought her into this and glad he didn’t have to do it alone.

“Here,” he kneels behind the her, chin nearly touching her shoulder as he cranes his neck forward to read the blurry text. His lips move along with what he’s reading, brows knitting together in a deep frown. Even as he’s pale and still, his arm is warm on the back of her chair and she looks at him to avoid looking at the note anymore. His jaw muscle twitches and she remembers kissing him, as out of place as laughing at his text. “That’s…a modern Ryker letter, isn’t it? I guess Comic Sans is the new misspelling due to lack of education.” He jokes but it falls flat against his pale face and sharp, serious expression.

He looks for her opinion, too close to look that deep into her eyes, gaze darting up to her messed up hair and down to her shirt, pausing to read the words on it. It’s from a national park in her hometown and she clears her throat, trying not to think about the note and how she can see a day or two’s worth of stubble on his chin when he’s this close. About how he’s warm and honest and this is the first time they’ve ever been truly, absolutely alone.

“I agree,” her voice is smaller than she expects and she clears her throat, “but it has the misspelling too. The All Right,” she points to the text on his screen and he reaches over her shoulder to grab his phone back.

“Well, it was a right foot,” he swallows hard and weighs the fact, or maybe the fact that he said it so frankly, his arm shifting against the back of her neck. If he feels her goosebumps, he doesn’t say anything. “Thanks for looking at that for me.”

“With you,” she acquiesces, “you just gave me a head start.”

“Still, I—really, sanity check, but looking at Snotlout getting that note, objectively…” He wants to be wrong and it’s not something Astrid is used to, “it looks a little Ryker, doesn’t it? Especially with the fact I keep finding the bodies, it’s like someone knows Snotlout will show up right away.”

“Isn’t that another reason it’s stupid for you restart tours?”

“I told you I’d probably do something stupid if this got worse,” he snorts, “plus, the charming Mr. Grisly has apparently hired Heather as the expert consultant on the case and I just…I know how she’ll twist things, I—someone has to keep putting the truth out there in its full, unglamorous glory.” He scrubs his hand over his tired face, “anyway, what do you think?”

“I don’t see how giving historically accurate Grimborn tours could help anything,” she looks at him, letting her temple lean on his forearm, “but I get that you can’t sit there and do nothing and that’s…commendable.”

“I was actually asking what you thought of the curtains,” he tries to tuck an unruly lock of her bangs behind her ear and her heart stutters at the gentle drag of his fingertips. Her hair doesn’t stay where he put it and the corner of his lips twitches, fascinated and endeared at her expense.

“They’re fine.” She doesn’t look at them, too focused on the way Hiccup’s hand curls around the back of her neck and pulls her in halfway.  

He opens his mouth to say something else, but she doesn’t give him the chance, turning partially in the chair to kiss him. He hums against her lips, not shocked this time but content, wound down from the twitchy mess he was earlier. Tired in a way that goes too well with her pajamas and the quiet room, comfortable even as he strokes the side of her neck with his thumb and deepens the kiss.

Despite the unexpected and hectic drama of the last couple of months, Astrid hasn’t regretted anything about her move or even choice of apartment, especially considering that it brought Hiccup to her. But right now? Right now she wishes she’d put up a far bigger fight about taking the couch, because she wants nothing more than to pull Hiccup closer, but there’s no room.

And they’re alone.

“You are going to have to look at the curtains,” he breaks the kiss just long enough move around the chair and kneel in front of it.

“Sure,” she wraps one heel around the back of his legs, knees on either side of his hips. His shoulders are sharper without his usual layers, his arms flexing under her grip when she guides his hands to her sides, “they look fine.”

“You know, I hate to ask,” his touch is too cautious on her waist as he leans in to kiss the side of her neck, evidently distracted.

“Then don’t,” she pulls at his hair and he pauses, looking at her levelly even as he breathes too hard. “What?”

“You know this chair is approximately where the original apartment front door was,” his hand is on her hip, just under the hem of her shirt, jarringly warm against what he’s saying.

“Oh,” she swallows hard, the creepy note and everything Grimborn in her brain warring with her pounding heart and flushed face. Hiccup’s eyes are a similarly conflicted storm of overthinking emerald green and wide, hectic pupils.

“And I was just shoving my foot in my mouth at Gruff’s, that’s not—I mean your living room should be less drafty with the curtains but—“

“Do you want to move?” She points over her shoulder towards her bedroom and his eyes widen.

“You mean—I,” he clears his throat, hand sliding from under her shirt to a more innocent rest halfway down the outside of her thigh, “like to your bedroom?”

His panic is external and she does her best not to take it personally, letting go of his hips with her knees and rubbing his upper arm, half pat on the back and half awkward urgency to get out of her chair and move it across the room.

“You had a hell of a day, Hiccup, it’s fine—“

“What?” He laughs, scratching the back of his neck as his face turns bright red, nearly matching the new curtains she can see out of the corner of her eye, “no, it was a totally normal—we just don’t know each other very well, this is just a typical day for me. I’m used to um, all the police stations and serial killers and—“

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” she pushes frazzled bangs away from her forehead and tries not to look disappointed or confused or any of the things she’s feeling. Warm, tired, jittery.

“No, I think I do,” he quirks a theatrical eyebrow and she recognizes the smile of a tour guide thrown off base, following a joke back to something like confidence, “because you see, Astrid, I’m not that kind of boy. We haven’t even had our first date yet, how could I expect you to respect me if I put out before the first date?” He slides his hand back up her thigh and under the hem of her shirt, fingertips reaching around trace the notch of her lower spine and make her shiver.

She glares at him, “maybe the first date was just you decorating my apartment.”

“Hey, I don’t make the rules on this one,” he holds his hands up and stands, using her shoulder for balance, “installing curtains is a way better first date for me than frozen yogurt, but this is a societal standard.” He offers her his hand and she accepts help up, ignoring her still wobbly knees. “I can’t just lump a first date in with my occasional handyman duties,” he squeezes her hand before letting go and starting to collect his things.

“Right,” she finally looks at the curtains, sliding the heavy material back and forth, “this is just what would have happened if I’d reported the loud lunatic in the courtyard doing tours to my landlord and asked for some curtains to be installed.”

“I hope not,” he hesitates just a second before kissing her forehead and stepping back with a hopeful, embarrassed expression, “I’m not the only handyman Gobber hires, you know. Probably the most unprofessional, but also—not to toot my own horn or anything—probably the one you most want to see with a plumber crack, so…”

“Is that an offer?” She tries on his method of joking to dispel the slight sting of rejection, even if she understands it. Even it’s an illusive later instead of a no.  

“I didn’t say I wasn’t a tease,” he puts on his jacket and looks around, obviously checking that he collected all his things, “I…it’s late, I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Sure,” she waves him towards the door, fidgeting again with her pajamas. “Thanks for the curtains, I’ll pay you back or—“

“No, don’t,” he runs his hand back through his hair, “I borrowed the money from Snotlout anyway, not that it was a lot of money, and I meant it, it’s a present. Now you don’t have to put up with me quite so much.” He’s hopeful in a way that makes her want to lash out, to take back the closeness that went off track.

“Putting up with you isn’t so bad,” she sighs, “most of the time.”

Hiccup bites his lip, letting it go slowly with those charmingly crooked teeth, and sighing, “I just want you to know how much I’m going to be kicking myself about this for… approximately forever?” He laughs, “really, I just…police station grime and—“

“Why would I buy the cow when I can get the frozen yogurt for free?” She punches him on the shoulder, probably too hard, “I’ll talk to you soon.   Before forever.”

“Yeah, I’m going to—“ He points at the door with an awkward hand wave and slips into the hallway before he can say anything else.

Astrid breathes for a second before locking the deadbolt and moving her single chair to the other side of the room. It doesn’t look bad with the curtains.

[tysonrunningfox]

Ripped: Part 8

I’m really excited about this chapter....here.

AO3

It takes a week to re-open the alley behind the Ripped Tavern.  Hiccup technically could have gone back to an old tour route that starts out front and goes by Astrid’s apartment as its first stop, but he likes the other script better and if he went in that order, he’s not sure how he’d end it.  He saw Heather a few times, the feather in her hat visible above the larger than normal crowd collected around her just outside the caution tape at the mouth of the alley.  So much for losing a few tours in the face of an actual murder.

He had time, if not money, to actually dry clean his hat and coat though and thanks to Snotlout’s unusual generosity, he picks them up the day before he’s set to restart his own tours.  He hasn’t heard anything from Detective Eretson aside from a single phone call asking for Gobber’s information and he feels reasonably safe avoiding suspicion on his old route.  If anything it’d be more suspicious to stop at this point, probably.

“Is the goat smell dead?”  Snotlout greets when he gets home, taking the plastic wrapped coat from him and pressing his nose up against the collar.

“Have you considered that my coat smelled because it was next to your uniform coat after you took the petting zoo call?”

“No, and I won’t.”  He hands it back, “it smells fine now, by the way.”

“And they got the toothpaste out of my hat,” Hiccup demonstrates, gesturing at the clean black felt like it’s the reward on a niche game show.

“It looks…no, it looks dorkier now.”

“I’ll admit the stain had a certain charm,” he hangs it on the hat rack by the door and sits down in his dad’s chair.

A certain charm bestowed upon it by Astrid when she flung her toothbrush at him and started something.  Or maybe he started something when he shined a laser pointer through her window, those are semantics, but something feels started.  He was addled from the long night when he walked her home from the tavern and he thinks he hid it well, but that means the details came back to him slowly over the next few days.

The suspicious way she looked at him when he avoided telling her the whole story all at once.  The way she took his hand when she saw he was upset.  The look she gave Heather when they were interrupted.  Her expression when he showed her his leg, no scrap of pity hidden in the bright curious spark in her eyes, like she was almost glad to have something else to get to investigate.

She keeps him focused in a way he’s never liked until now.

“I’m sure Astrid will whack you with another toothbrush,” Snotlout cuts off his train of thought with a disparaging sigh, “your eyes are glazing over, dude, just text her.  I swear, if you haven’t scared her off with your weirdness by now I don’t think it’s possible.”

“Yeah, she doesn’t scare easy,” he shakes his head.  The only time he’s seen her scared was when they happened to overhear someone’s last scream, a memory that still sends a sick chill down Hiccup’s spine, and it’s made worse by Snotlout’s easy teasing.  He and Snotlout don’t really have secrets, especially legally implicating secrets, but if Hiccup brought it up now it would be obvious that he’s been hiding it, which he has.

He knows Snotlout is stupid and stubborn enough to protect him no matter what, and it’s better for both of them if he looks as innocent as possible.

“So just text her,” Snotlout shrugs, “send her a Venice Gelato fact or something.”

“I know you know his name is Viggo Grimborn.”

“I thought no one knew what his name was because no one ever figured the murders out,” he throws a pen cap at Hiccup’s face and it bounces off his forehead, “see?  I pay attention.”

“For the record, I have been texting her.”  Hiccup scrolls through his phone, “she told me that the cops talked to her and warned her about some cameras and I said thank you.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Sure it does, it means she’s glad I’m not in jail and she’s telling me what to avoid to keep it that way.”  He hasn’t told Snotlout that he’s waiting for an invitation to the archives for an entirely different reason, namely, the amount of mocking he’d have to endure for being excited about being invited to a room full of musty old newspapers.  It’s the kind of thing to mention after it goes well, especially ever since the first few failed dates he got from tours became Snotlout’s favorite ‘embarrass Hiccup’ stories.    “Fine, I’ll text her.”

Hiccup (6:02pm): hey

Astrid (6:05pm): still not in jail, I see

That’s a kind of a start.  Hiccup can work with that, maybe.  He turns sideways in his dad’s chair, legs over the arm of it to better ignore Snotlout crunching his cereal while watching the evening news.

Hiccup (6:06pm): living in constant fear but when have I ever let that stop me from living my life lol

Astrid (6:06pm): shit, what did you hear?  Are you in trouble? Astrid (6:07pm): I was there

Hiccup (6:08pm): are you offering to be my alibi?

He regrets it as soon as he sends it because alibi sounds like a term of endearment.

Hiccup (6:08pm): not that I need one since I’m not guilty as you know

Astrid (6:09pm): doesn’t the ‘as you know’ kind of automatically make me your alibi?

Hiccup (6:10pm): eh Hiccup (6:10pm): only if you want it to, I could ask Viggo

Astrid (6:11pm): so there are no developments in the case?

Hiccup (6:11pm): not that I’m aware of

Astrid (6:13pm): maybe they just aren’t telling you Astrid (6:13pm): which is good news

Hiccup glances at Snotlout, who’s wiping cereal milk off of his chin with his sleeve, before answering.

Hiccup (6:14pm): I haven’t heard anything about me going to jail

Astrid (6:15pm): I’m off work at 5 tomorrow but I could stay late and show you the Al, I. picture

She punctuates her interpretation of the message precisely and Hiccup smiles to himself.  He does love that she has a theory, he loves that she isn’t listening to what anyone says and instead is finding her own conclusion, most of all because that conclusion seems to include him.

Her theory is wrong, for the record, because the four main Grimborn murders line up very precisely, but there’s no reason to fight her argument, especially the way her eyes light up when she’s making it.

Hiccup (6:15pm): sure, sounds good

00000

Hiccup hasn’t really been to the archives since Snotlout got his full access at the police station.  It’s not that he felt he’d gotten through everything that the archives had to offer, it was more a combination of the fact that he and Heather weren’t really talking anymore and the fact that the police station had so many things he’d never seen.  When he shows up a little after five though and the blonde guy at the front desk gives him a look overflowing with withering recognition, he remembers the other reason he prefers researching elsewhere.

At the police station, he’s always the only person in the file room.  At the archives though, it’s the view of the establishment that he is the wrong kind of obsessive academic.

“Hi, I’m looking for Astrid,” he pauses at the desk to shake the drizzle off of his hat and adjust his bag over his shoulder.

“She told me,” the guy nods curtly and goes back to the blueprint on his desk.  It looks like some kind of manufacturing facility, the machinery drawn out carefully with painstakingly thin lines of black ink.

“Is that the warehouse that used to be over on fifth?”

“It has nothing to do with Viggo Grimborn,” he doesn’t need to look up with his tone making his opinion so obvious.

“I know that,” Hiccup shoves the hand not holding his hat in his pocket, “it was just a pretty building.”

“It was a sweatshop.”

“And the strip mall they put in to replace it isn’t?”  He laughs, “there’s like two Starbucks in it and a seasonal Halloween store.”

“Sorry, Fishlegs,” Astrid rushes out of the back, stopping at the second desk to check something off of a to do list, undone hair falling over her shoulder.  It’s longer than Hiccup thought it was, longer and obviously in the way in a way that suits her.  Of course, she’d be constantly engaging in a battle with something growing out of her head.  “I know I said I wouldn’t make you talk Grimborn.”

“It gets us all eventually,” Fishlegs looks up at her, irritated like a fond older brother roped into playing tea party.  He turns to Hiccup then, eyes drifting from his coat to his hat, lip curling slightly under his respectably waxed moustache.  “But just because I feel like I have to say it, you do know that we have all kinds of historical information. Not just information pertaining to six months in the early eighteen eighties, right?”

“Of course I do, you have all the information on the nineteen fifty-two Grimborn copycat killer, right?”  Hiccup grins, placing his hat back on his head, “I’ll be sure to have a look at that.”

“I remember you,” Fishlegs narrows his eyes, “you’re the guy who broke the photocopier trying to shove a comic book in it.”

“That was three years ago,” he laughs, “and I fixed it.  Which is really ridiculous, because Berk University is still a public institution the last time I checked, so really my tax payer dollars should have fixed it.”

“You don’t pay taxes,” Astrid rolls her eyes, efficiently grabbing Hiccup’s elbow and pulling him towards an aisle made of industrial bookshelves lined two thick with old, yellowed newspapers.

“And he doesn’t even pay taxes,” Fishlegs mutters under his breath before the density of the historic walls blots him out.

“You know, even if I work tax free, I still pay taxes,” Hiccup says, wishing his messenger bag were on the other side instead of bumping into her hip every couple steps and risking alerting her to the fact that she’s still holding onto his elbow.  “Property tax.  Sales tax, I do buy things, when I have money.”

“I didn’t realize online sellers properly taxed Grimborn paraphernalia,” she snorts, letting go if his arm when she turns a corner into a smaller aisle, this one interrupted by a low wooden table, covered in a few spread out papers.  The table is pushed up against a shelf full of stacked volumes of almanacs and encyclopedias from the early eighteen hundreds, as well as manila folders full of carefully catalogued scraps of paper.

“They don’t, but I eat.  Occasionally.”

“Do you?”  She teases, elbowing him in the side as she flips through a Berk Enquirer with careful fingers.

“Again, when I have money.”  He sets his bag down and looks over her shoulder, stepping a little too close when he notices a picture of Bog street that he hasn’t seen before.  She smells like old book dust and something floral and he clears his throat.

“Sorry, I should have just left it on the picture, I got the paper out last minute.”

“No, it’s fine, I love skimming stories about…” it takes a minute to focus on any thing on the page with her so close and he steps to the side and leans against the table instead, “the alien connection to Berk’s city planning.  That’s some hard-hitting journalism right there.”

“You know, almost everything I’ve found has been in the Enquirer,” she pauses, pointing out a bible sales ad in the corner and raising an eyebrow.  “And considering you’re here to see what I found, despite your obvious blood feud with Fishlegs, maybe you shouldn’t disrespect it.”

“Blood feud?”

“I’ve never seen him be that rude to anyone, you knew his blueprint and he still lectured you.”  She laughs and turns one more page, nodding to herself, “here we go.  One Police Constable Brown was kind enough to donate his daily paper, and on this day he made a note of the time when he checked out the courtyard at 324 Harbor Road.”

Hiccup freezes, eyes widening as he takes in the small, grainy picture.  He remembers the way he felt on his first Grimborn tour, standing outside that apartment building and feeling connected to the city for the first time since his dad died.  Like he was somewhere that had lived through tragedy before, somewhere that had recovered.

Astrid steps back to give him space and he picks up the paper, holding it from either side like a police officer did a hundred years ago.  Like his dad used to hold the paper at breakfast, except his dad wasn’t usually reading an article insinuating that a dragon was the cause of the barn fire the week before.

“I can’t believe this exists.”

“What?  The punctuation?”  She’s smiling when he tears his eyes away from the paper, not smug so much as rightfully triumphant.  “Because it definitely does.”

“How did you—I never would have thought to check the Enquirer.”  He shakes his head at the picture, mouthing the caption and sighing.  “Everything surrounding this picture is crap, but it’s…genuine.”

“I would have thought it’d have your name all over it then,” she says too quiet, like she thinks she can keep it a secret from the books around them, absorbing and storing everything over centuries.

“What?”

“You know, Admiral Haddock,” she tucks her hair behind her ear, either embarrassed or annoyed to have to explain herself.  Maybe both.  “It’s complete bullshit, but it’s your favorite theory.”

“Well, yeah, how could it not be?”  He doesn’t think anyone else could tear his eyes away from this paper right now, but Astrid is inexplicably blushing as she tucks her hair behind her ear.  “Do you have one yet?”

“I don’t share a name with an implausible famous serial killer suspect, no.”

“No, do you have a favorite theory yet?”  He can’t put the paper down but he can’t look away from Astrid either.  He’s stuck holding onto a scrap of history he wouldn’t have without her, but it feels more like a springboard to somewhere else.

“Like do I have an opinion about who Viggo Grimborn is?”  She cocks her head, arms crossed, stance so rigid it’s active.  Alive.  Pulsing with things she might tell him if he just shuts up for a second.

He shrugs.  She bites her lip and exhales.

“No, I mean, none of them are a favorite.  All of them are full of holes,” she flips through a notebook that’s also on the table, neat handwriting flying past, “it’s never going to be answered.”

“I know that, but I don’t know, you worked so hard—“

“The Enquirer,” she cuts him off, but she’s smart enough to not take the paper from his hands, instead picking up another issue on the table and showing a larger bible ad, dated before the second murder, and Hiccup’s chest burns.  “It’s been completely ignored because it was a little weird or loud or ridiculous—“

“I know the feeling,” Hiccup watches her because he doesn’t have or want a choice.

“It’s full of witness accounts,” she finds a page and her face lights up, determined and absolutely ready to fight with him, “like here, Reginald Smith of 32 Downer Lane saw lights on the rooftops on the night of Catherine Whittaker’s murder, but it’s reported as an alien appearance—“

“Because he said it was an alien spacecraft,” Hiccup hates himself for interrupting but Astrid’s expression only gets more rigid.  More stern.

She doesn’t want his validation she wants to convince him, to present the facts that make him come around to her idea all on his own.

“Yes, but it was the late eighteen hundreds, he was poor and drunk and uneducated.  He saw something he couldn’t understand and read the cheaper newspaper and extrapolated with what he could.  By cutting out the sources that don’t make the best soundbites, the entire case was…bungled.  Honestly, if the detectives had talked to anyone other than respectable witnesses, maybe you wouldn’t be so obsessed with it today.“

“If you’re going to educate me like this, I think you need the hat,” he laughs, because he doesn’t know what else to do.  He’s never been so scared he’d damage an artifact as his hands start shaking and a bead of sweat blooms on his brow.

“Maybe I do,” she sets her own newspaper down and takes his hat, setting it on her head.  It’s too big, again, falling slightly crooked to the right, but that doesn’t change how bright the black wool makes her eyes look.  “The investigation was completely swayed by the same class distinction as the crimes, if you dig through the Enquirer for what?  An hour?  Ten minutes?  You’ll find multiple reports of people seeing lights on rooftops or mythical creatures in the woods that almost perfectly align with some drunk idea of already named suspects.  Are you saying you’ve never read a description of Drago Bludvist and thought sasquatch?”  She laughs, shrill and convincing, her face on fire.  “Because I have a description somewhere here…”

She starts to flick through the spare few papers she has laid out on the table, her tongue barely peeking out of the corner of her mouth, and Hiccup doesn’t know he’s moving until he is.  He doesn’t decide to let go of one side of the paper he’s holding, he doesn’t decide to touch her jaw, his fingers curling gently around her chin as she freezes, eyes wide.

He does choose to kiss her though, the brim of his own top hat against his forehead.

She exhales softly, a shaky hand landing against his arm as she responds, as slowly and enthusiastically as she does to everything.  Her lips move like she hasn’t forgot her determination and Hiccup slides out, his hand to her waist and pulls her close, the crinkle of newspaper filling the silent hallway.

“Wait,” she pushes him away, gentle like she’s scared of offending him even though she’s obviously already offended, “the paper—“

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s old, this is a hundred years old,” she pulls back far enough to set the paper he’s been holding in a single clenched fist into a careful layer.

Then she smooths over it with a gentle palm, biting her lower, slightly swollen lip.  It’s careful document care, her hands worrying the paper with quick, sure motions. His tophat falls down over her forehead and she adjusts it, the brim of it setting heavy on her ear and making it stick out further. He doesn’t think his heart has ever pounded this hard in his life.

She stands up and her wide eyes dart to his lips. He surges forward before he can think twice, one hand on her waist and the other on the back of her head as he pushes her against the bookcase, his lips meeting hers somewhere along the way.  He swallows her grunt that verges on a moan, fingers curling in her sweatshirt as her arms wrap around his neck. She holds him close, like she’s scared he’ll try and get away and he kisses her like he can convey that’s the last thing on his mind.

She’s warm and soft, all long lean lines arching against him as he slides his hand to her hip, her cold fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. There’s a thud, but he can’t tell if it’s his heart or something else and he ignores it, kissing along her jaw and trying to remember how to breathe. She grabs his chin and pulls his mouth back to hers.

Another thud.

Breathing isn’t important anyway, why was he so hung up on it in the first place?

She hooks her heel behind his knee and he loses balance slightly, catching himself on the metal edge of the bookshelf. The clang can’t compete with Astrid’s hand fisted in the front of his coat though and his hand dips under her sweatshirt to feel the smooth skin of her lower back.

“Come on, guys!” Someone yells and Astrid pulls back with a surprised gasp, tophat deeply crooked, lips swollen and chin red from stubble.

“Shit, sorry Fishlegs,” she pushes him off, gently, tugging her sweatshirt down and wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. Fishlegs is at the end of the aisle with his arms crossed, tapping his foot like a dad two minutes after curfew and Hiccup can’t hold in the laugh that bubbles in his chest.

“Yeah, sorry Fishlegs.”

“You took out half the Britannicas,” he nods at the dozen or so encyclopedias on the floor, explaining the thuds.

“I’ll clean it up, sorry,” Astrid tries to fix her hair but blushes impossibly deeper when she brushes the brim of the hat still on her head.

“It was a pristine collection—”

“I said I’ll fix it.”

“If any corners are blunted—”

“Fishlegs!” She snaps, glancing at Hiccup out of the corner of her eye, “can you give us a second? Please?” The last word is gritted through her teeth, politely threatening.

“This is what I get for helping with Grimborn research,” he grumbles under his breath as he walks away, “it took me years to get that eighteen eighty seven and it ends up on the floor…”

“So, umm—” Hiccup starts but Astrid doesn’t seem to be listening, instead picking up books and dedicatedly checking their corners.

“Help me get these onto the table at least, I’m going to be here an hour cleaning this up.”

“Sure,” he picks up too and looks over at her, that adorable tongue sticking out again as she squints at a publication page and smooths it carefully in a way that makes his heart rate tick up again. “Are they ok?”

“Yeah, they’re fine, Fishlegs is just being, well, Fishlegs.” She sets the book down and pauses, looking at him carefully, cheeks still stained bright red, “so, umm, what are you doing after this?”

“What am I doing after this?” The question doesn’t quite register. It’s not a question she should be asking him after he came to her job and insulted her research and made her wear a stupid, but somehow-incredibly-attractive-on-her hat before attacking her against a bookcase. He swallows hard.

“In case you wanted to talk about…you know,” she waves at the bookcase and bites her lip, as hesitantly open as she was definitively closed on the first tour she took with him.

Fuck. His tour.

“I have a tour,” he checks the time, “I have a tour in…about as much time as it takes to get there if I run, I’ve got to go.”

“Right, your tour, sorry—”

“No, no, no. Don’t apologize,” he runs a frantic hand through his hair, “and I really hate to do this. Like, I don’t think you understand how much I hate to do this, but…I need this back.” He plucks his hat carefully off of her head. “I’ve got to go, I—”

“Go, I’ll talk to you later,” she waves him off, making a vain effort to fix her staticky hair. A lock of her bangs is sticking out to the side and he wants to smooth it down but if he touched her right now, he wouldn’t stop.

And that’s bad because he’d miss his tour. And he’s out of money. Even if Astrid is looking at him, he still has to care about money, right?

“Ok, yeah, later.”

00000

It’s really hard to give a tour when every other word in his head is ‘Astrid’. Viggo Astrid Grimborn Astrid was Astrid a really Astrid bad Astrid guy. It’s harder to give a tour when questions stall him for twenty minutes at the fourth murder site, questions he doesn’t want to answer. Questions about a recent murder that he doesn’t want to think about.

“I heard from the bartender inside that the body was positioned exactly like Mary Johnson,” a man with coke bottle glasses that make him look a little too fascinated with everything asks eagerly, staring at the storm drain and reminding Hiccup what he saw. “Down to the placement of the intestines—”

“I don’t know anything about that,” he lies, “it’s an ongoing murder case, I’m here to do a tour about Viggo Grimborn if anyone wants to listen to that.”

“But surely you must be interested in the resemblance—”

“I’m not. Or even if I was, it’s an ongoing murder case, I’m not going to stand here in an alley I tour nightly and talk about it.” He starts walking and hopes the larger than usual group will follow. They did already pay, but that’s not why he does this, why he wants to do it. The copy of the ‘All Safe’ message in his bag burns to be shown around and his brain flicks back to Astrid, Astrid, Astrid. Astrid. “I’ve got reasons to stay out of custody for looking accidentally guilty.”

“I heard they arrested someone when they found the body,” someone murmurs and glasses speaks up.

“Do you know anything about that?”

“No, I don’t. I know about Victorian slums and Viggo Grimborn and the fact that the local reverend believed that decreasing the cost of bibles would infuse the community with renewed Christianity and righteousness and that would fix the prostitution problem,” he gestures at the church as they walk past, “instead of, you know, feeding people.”

“I just don’t think you understand the statistical improbability of identical intestine placement of two disemboweled corpses found at the exact same spot over a hundred years apart—”

“I also took high school statistics,” Hiccup sighs, pausing to face the group, “and like half a college statistics course, but that’s not—let’s get one thing straight. The women who died a hundred years ago and the woman who died last week aren’t corpses, or they are, but—they were people with feelings and lives and yes, the circumstances of their death is morbidly fascinating, but does that mean we ignore the circumstances of their life?”

It’s silent for a second and someone in the back raises their hand.

“Yeah, go ahead, despite the lecture this isn’t a class.”

“Do you think it’s a copycat killer?” They ask and Hiccup sighs heavily.

“Onto site one.”

[tysonrunningfox]

Ripped: Part 6

So much happens in all of these chapters, like, oh my god guys, I’m so stoked about this

Also, @thisisnotberk drew the most beautiful fanart today  and it’s my favorite thing and PERFECTLY timed because this chapter is all about Hiccup and Snotlout and you should see how beautiful they are because they’re beautiful. Thank you again!!!!

AO3 

Hiccup doesn’t realize his arm is still around Astrid’s shoulders until the front door of her apartment building is securely shut behind them, the hallway quiet except for his heart pounding in his ears and the echo of a scream rattling around his brain.

“Sorry,” he lets go of her arm, hand hanging awkwardly at his side, “I didn’t, um—”

“What do you think that was?” Astrid looks back over her shoulder as she climbs the stairs, keys jingling in her hand. “Should we report it?”

“What like call the cops and say someone screamed downtown?” He follows her, too addled to feel uninvited and too warm from walking back so quickly. He unzips his jacket as she unlocks her front door and leaves it open behind her. “Last time I checked, screaming isn’t illegal.”

“Have you seen the noise violation laws?” She kicks her boots off and starts pacing back and forth in her living room. The walls are bare aside from a single frame that holds what looks like a diploma and the only furniture is a chair and a beat-up coffee table. It looks less like the crime scene photos with Astrid living in it, vibrant and not as scared as she probably should be. Gearing up for a fight more than running from one.

“Have you?”

“Yes, the new ones are extensive,” she pauses to stare at him, blinking a couple of times to herself, “right, Tuffnut’s dossier.”

“Whose what?”

“My friend, Tuffnut,” she hands him the binder from a stool by the door serving as another tiny table, “that’s what he calls his dumb Grimborn theory binder.”

“Oh, right. Thanks.” He tucks it under his arm and looks down at the toes of his shoes butted up against the threshold to her apartment. “So umm…that wasn’t quite how I wanted to end that tour, but are you ready to subscribe to my daily Grimborn text service? It’s free for the first week.”

Astrid has an uncanny way of catching his eye even when he’s trying to avoid hers. More than that, he doesn’t feel his usual urge to shut her out when she sees through him too easily, past whatever front he put up to keep her back. Maybe his fronts aren’t up to their usual standard though, because he kind of likes feeling like something she’s trying to figure out.

He’s used to being the one with the clues, but when she treats him like a curious piece of a puzzle she’s trying to put together, it makes him interested in the final product.

“How did you want to end it?”

“I don’t know, my usual lecture about how safe Berk is now,” he tucks his hand in his pocket, “like the buildings themselves learned from the blood and I don’t know, it probably wouldn’t have worked on you.”

“That’s really corny,” she rests her hand on the doorknob, “I still think we should tell someone what we heard.”

“Tell you what, I’ll check it out on my way home, it’s right on the way.”

Astrid’s frown is impossibly familiar even if it’s not directed at him this time, more through him, and his heart stutters when he realizes it’s protective.

“You’re walking home?” She tucks her hair behind an ear that sticks out adorably far, “shouldn’t you get an Uber or something? Or ask your cousin for a ride?”

“Right, like Snotlout would give me a ride,” he scoffs. Snotlout would, of course, but it’d be more painful than it’s worth.

Plus, Hiccup has been exploring those alleys for five years now and he’s never heard anything like that. Sure, he’s been mugged once or twice, but those people were just desperate and once he started helping with Gobber’s shelter and gaining some notoriety, people just started asking him for help instead of taking what they thought they could.

Astrid’s frown deepens and it scares him when her eyes flick to her lonely chair, like she feels like she has to invite him inside. It’s not that he doesn’t want to stay longer and maybe level out the playing field a bit, given he told her about his dad and he hardly gave her a chance to talk, but well, echoing screams in Berk alleys have forced him on her enough.

“Are you worried about me?” He teases, flinching when she smacks his upper arm hard enough that he almost drops the binder. Or no, the dossier.

“That’s for taking me on a really creepy tour at a really creepy time.”

“That’s…fair—” He guesses it’s about time for something about this tour to be normal, and a stinging arm traded for Berk to go back to the generally safe place he knows doesn’t seem like too much of a trade.

Then she kisses him on the cheek, quickly like she’s hoping he’ll miss it, like that’s a possibility in any reality. When she pulls back her face is red, bright against blooming circles under her eyes as she steps back, leaning on the doorknob.

“That’s for everything else.” Astrid mutters something that sounds like an amalgamation of ‘goodnight’ and ‘good morning’ and ‘goodbye’ and shuts the door, once again leaving him with a click and his own awkward hands and pounding heartbeat.

It’s still dark outside, the buildings blocking even the idea of dawn on the horizon, and if it weren’t for the heavy binder under Hiccup’s arm, he might believe that none of that just happened. From Astrid saying she’d go on a tour in the first place to asking about him instead of Viggo and mostly, to the scream they heard that cut everything short. He offered to check it out mostly hoping that Astrid would drop it and not inform the police where they were, since they were technically trespassing on condo conglomerate territory, but now he’s curious. Curious and way too restless to go home and try and sleep before his next set of tours.

They were almost to the fourth site when they heard the scream, so he takes a shortcut, skirting through a torn section of six-foot chain link behind a new construction site and ducking under a semi full of lumber that’s blocking a wide, modern alley. He can hear the broken ‘Closed’ sign in the Ripped Tavern’s back window shorting from the rain, flashes of red light pulsing along with a blooming feeling of dread in Hiccup’s chest as he turns the corner and freezes, staring at the shadow under the street lamp.

Blood looks black in yellow light. Hiccup remembers the stain on the pavement after his father was taken to the hospital, brick red then chalky like a blackboard under the halogen buzz. This blood is fresh though, steaming on the cold concrete as it draws a stark line to the drain.

“Hello?” He calls out, stepping hesitantly forward then running when he thinks he sees movement. He’s on his knees beside the body before he realizes it was a trick of the light, his brain shielding him from something he doesn’t want to make sense of.

Unlike some worse-adjusted Grimborn enthusiasts out there, Hiccup has seen a dead body. Once, when he was twenty and shaky, a splotch on pavement engraved into the insides of his eyelids, and it wasn’t an experience he ever wanted to repeat.

This isn’t a repetition, it’s an expansion.

An anatomy lesson he didn’t sign up for, glittering with high budget HBO special effects instead of the sepia tone of a century between the camera’s snap and his own understanding. He jumps to his feet and staggers backwards, dropping everything in his hands and leaning against the nearest wall. It makes more sense from here, Mary Johnson, Grimborn’s last confirmed victim, sprawled out and cut open. Dispersed.

But it’s not Mary Johnson. The longer Hiccup looks, the clearer he can think, and the bolt of recognition jabs him again.

It’s the homeless woman he escorted to the shelter last week. What was her name? She was going through a divorce, she was…Jennifer. That’s it. Jennifer something, did she give him a last name? He doesn’t remember.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he fumbles for it, seeing Snotlout’s name on the caller ID and picking up with a shaking hand.

“So am I interrupting you and Astrid having—”

“There’s a body,” Hiccup’s own calm voice shocks him. He doesn’t feel calm, or maybe he does, maybe the shock is fading into something analytical.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I was on my way home and earlier we heard something funny, so I came to see what it was and there’s a body.”

“What? Like a dead body?” Snotlout pauses whatever he was doing in the background of the call and suddenly, Hiccup can make out the sound of tires on the salted road ahead and feet on the sidewalk. Splashes of red and blue light swirling on the walls. “Did you call the cops or just get straight to studying it, fucking hell, Hiccup—”

“Looks like they’re already here.”

“Fuck, I’m on my way,” Snotlout hangs up and Hiccup barely has time to get his phone back in his pocket before an officer is rounding the corner, flashlight flicking between the woman on the ground and Hiccup’s face.

Hiccup puts his hands up slowly and calls out, “I don’t suppose it would do anything for me if I told you I could explain, would it?”

One time when he was fifteen and deep into his Houdini phase, Hiccup handcuffed himself and tossed the key out the window. His dad was furious, it was one of the few times Hiccup thought that the offer to let him try and Houdini himself out of an actual jail cell was legitimate. Instead, he had to spend his allowance on a metal detector to scan the street for the key and ultimately found it in a storm drain and had to spend more money on a magnet powerful enough to pull it out. It was an expensive enough hassle that he considers it an unintended consequence that followed being handcuffed, and since faux fur lined handcuffs don’t incur unintended consequences, he would say that this is technically the second time he’s been in cuffs.

It’s less stressful than his second time seeing a dead body. He didn’t do anything wrong besides some mild trespassing and they give him coffee at the station, which he knows to be a gesture of good faith from all the times his dad made him deliver coffee as a gesture of good faith.

Snotlout makes his best case for uncuffing him, but gets shut down and sent to his desk, so Hiccup spends the next hour stuck to a table in an interrogation room, nursing cold coffee and trying his best to remember what he saw for a witness statement. They have his phone, so he doesn’t know what time it is when a detective finally enters, but the man’s expression leads Hiccup to believe it’s still uncomfortably early in the morning.

Early. Astrid. Crap, he didn’t get a chance to tell her, she’s going to hear about this on the news. She’s probably going to hear about him on the news.

“Detective Eretson,” he introduces himself, shaking Hiccup’s cuffed right hand and sitting down across the table with a manila folder. “You told your arresting officer that you had an explanation—”

“I do, I was just on my way home—”

“At four forty-five in the morning?”

“I, uh, well it wasn’t a date but—”

“I’m not here to ask you about your social life, Mr. Haddock, I’m here to ask how you came to be standing above this woman so soon after she was murdered that she was still warm.” Detective Eretson slides a crime scene photo across the table, the flash illuminating what Hiccup could only guess at in the dark. “Do you have an explanation for how you got to the crime scene so quickly?”

“I wasn’t that far away,” he tries to gesture but the cuffs catch a couple inches above the table, “I was going from 324 Harbor street to the north side of East street, just past the park, I took a shortcut and well, you know the rest.”

Detective Eretson nods, unconvinced, and there’s a knock at the door a split second before it opens and Snotlout sticks his head in.

“Can I get you anything?”

“Coffee,” the detective barks without looking up.

“Ok, I was talking to the witness, but you could say please.”

“Two coffees, Snotl—Officer Jorgenson.” Hiccup glares at his cousin, “please.”

“How do you know Officer Jorgenson?” The detective asks as soon as the door is shut again and Hiccup folds his hands together.

“Is that pertinent to this investigation?” He clears his throat, “sir.”

Detective Eretson would be intimidating in any circumstance, but the combination of his chin tattoo and intensely unamused gaze in particular makes the chill around Hiccup’s wrists sink in deeper, reminding him there’s no way out of this but through. And the noodle arms thing is still unfortunately true, not that Snotlout’s gym time would make him any better at busting out of here right now.

Thinking of Snotlout makes him appear, sloshing coffee down his arm as he wrestles the door open and walks inside. He sets the half empty cup in front of Detective Eretson and stands arms crossed at the side of the table, making no move to leave as the door shuts itself.

“Can I help you with something?” Eretson asks without looking and Snotlout huffs.

“I don’t know, can you?” He grumbles before standing up straighter, on tip toes if Hiccup isn’t mistaken. “I was on the phone with the witness at the time he discovered the body, I requested to assist in the interrogation—Interview. The interview”

Great, it’s an interrogation, that’s excellent news.

“I thought you weren’t on duty today,” Eretson sounds like he prefers that concept and Hiccup tries to get Snotlout to leave with an important look at the door.

“I’m not, and I’m not asking for overtime, it’s called over-achieving, look it up.”

“If we could just get on with this interview,” Hiccup hedges and Eretson stares at him for a second before turning back to his folder.

“What’s this?” He pulls out another photo of a non-descript gray binder and Hiccup’s face goes pale.

“It’s a dossier.” His voice cracks, “detailing a friend of a friend’s theory about Viggo Grimborn, it’s a joke.”

Snotlout’s glare bores into the side of Hiccup’s head and he tries to scratch his temple, only to have his wrists catch on the cuffs again.

“Viggo Grimborn?” Eretson frowns and Snotlout leans back against the wall, obviously on tip toes now, arms crossed tight as he refuses to even make eye contact with Hiccup.

“Oh, you don’t know who Viggo Grimborn is? That’s not one of the many infinite things that you know?”

“He was a serial killer in the late eighteen hundreds, I know the alleys so well because I am a Viggo Grimborn tour guide who does an informational tour about him, that’s how I knew about the short cut. Snotlout is my cousin and roommate and he called to ask when I was coming home, that snapped me out of my…utter and complete shock at what I’d found and then an officer came around the corner—”

“We had a tip of a disturbance in the area,” Detective Eretson looks levelly at Hiccup for a second, “while you were taking your shortcut, did you see anyone else?”

“No, I didn’t. I mean, except for Jennifer’s body—“

“You watched that without me?” Snotlout hisses and Eretson slams his hand on the table.

“Jorgenson, out!”

“You are not my commanding officer, actually—“

“And you can thank your lucky stars for that,” Eretson stands up and opens the door, looking pointedly at Snotlout until he goes reluctantly flat-footed. “You’re interrupting my investigation with a suspect that you know, is that something I should tell your commanding officer about?”

“No,” Snotlout deflates, looking at Hiccup one more time before trudging out of the room.

“Sorry about him,” Hiccup tries when Eretson closes the door, but there’s no sign that the detective hears him as he crosses the room again and slams his hand down, next to Hiccup’s cuffed ones. His looming should be intimidating or even frightening, but Hiccup feels disconnected from it, like he’s watching it instead of living it. Like he’s still back in that alley, seeing the future play out.

“You recognized the victim?” His voice is low and serious, toeing the line too carefully to be deadly.

“Yes—“

“So I’m supposed to take it on faith that you know the alleys because you do a serial killer informational tour and on your way home at odd hours, you stumbled across the body of someone you happen to know?”

“Know is an overstatement,” Hiccup tries to gesture again, the chain catching and clanging against the table, “I walked her to the shelter the other night, she was arguing with one of those Neighborhood Watch Force wannabes about crossing the center of town while they were trying to say curfew. Gobber, the guy who runs the shelter, can vouch for me. That’s the only time I’ve ever met her—“

“But you recognized the body—“

“Yeah, apparently I have a photographic memory when I’m in shock,” he laughs, feeling frantic and suddenly needing to escape, “every day you learn something new.”

“Well,” Eretson pulls a key ring from the pocket of his slacks and flicks past a couple of near identical keys to find an all too familiar one. Hiccup rubs his wrists when the cuffs fall away, because he’s seen people in movies do it, and maybe it’ll help with the bands of bone deep chill or the soreness from accidentally flexing against metal one too many times. “I’ll be looking into your alibi.”

“But I’m free to go?” Hiccup stands up, stumbling on his numb right foot and catching himself on the table. He has to pee, but he’ll go in a bush outside and risk a second arrest for public nudity before he stays inside the station a second longer than he has to.

“For now,” Eretson opens the door but stands in the way, looking Hiccup up and down like there’s a clue stuck to him that just hasn’t been spotted yet. “Don’t leave town.”

“I’ll cancel my knitting retreat then,” the last shred of Hiccup’s patience evaporates as he slips around the detective, running his hand through his hair and stalking towards the front door of the station. Someone at the front desk stops him and gets his information, like they don’t have that already. They give him his phone back too, but the case is on upside down, like someone tried to unlock it a little too diligently.

Snotlout is outside talking to a coworker Hiccup doesn’t recognize, but he immediately jogs over when he sees Hiccup heading for home.

“What’s going on?”

“What’s going on?” Hiccup laughs, slamming his hand against the crosswalk button with a little too much force. “Detective Eretson will be checking into my alibi.”

“Right, which is no, you weren’t murdering anyone, you were giving some girl a tour of places someone else murdered people,” Snotlout throws his arms up, “fantastic!”

“Astrid,” Hiccup stops short, patting his sides like he somehow stashed the binder in a pocket he forgot about until now, “the binder—“

“Is evidence because it’s a creepy handmade book found at a murder scene,” Snotlout catches Hiccup’s shoulder when he tries to turn into a familiar alley, “where are you going?”

“Home,” He gestures, wincing at the dull pain in his wrist, “it’s quicker this way.”

“Yeah and the last time you took a sketchy shortcut, you got arrested—“

“It’s not sketchy, it’s just cutting around the stupid condos that I hate to look at,” Hiccup sighs when Snotlout steps into the mouth of the alley and crosses his arms. “You know, no one notices that you’re shorter than them until you start with the tiptoes thing.”

“Yeah, and no one notices that you’re weird until you show up at a crime scene with a book about murders.” He snorts, “oh wait, they already knew you were weird, never mind.” He only crosses his arms tighter when Hiccup bends his knees, threatening to dodge around him. “Just walk the long way past the stupid condos.”

Hiccup stands back up straight and runs his hand through his hair, tugging and lamenting how much longer it’s going to take to get home and rinse the interrogation room and murder alley scum off.

“Detective Eretson is really under your skin, huh?” He starts walking again and Snotlout almost doesn’t follow. “Oh come on, are you going to take the shortcut?

“Maybe.”

“You know you always get lost back there.” Hiccup points up at the condo roofline, “If you’re making me walk past those monstrosities, at least come with me.”

“Fine,” Snotlout gets all of two steps down the sidewalk before he’s ranting, “and I don’t know who Eretson thinks he is, he’s been here all of five minutes, he doesn’t even know who Virgo Grimdeath—“

“Viggo Grimborn, he’s not an astrology card—“

“Whatever, he doesn’t even know who he is and he thinks he owns the place. And he’s got the stupid accent and the muscles and he’s like eighty feet tall—”

“Do you hate him or have a crush on him?”

“Shut up, Hiccup,” Snotlout narrows his eyes, “you’re a little tall yourself to be messing with me right now. Toeing the line between normal and too tall,” he snorts, “well, toeing halfway.”

“Was that really necessary?” Hiccup shakes his head, looking out at the bay to avoid glaring up at the condo façade. A seagull is eating some leavings from a gutted fish and it makes him think of what he saw in the alley and he glares at Snotlout to avoid gagging.

“We’re even.” Snotlout flexes his arm, “and it’s not all bad, I’ve been going to the gym a lot more lately because Eretson was acting like he owned the place—“

“No one thought you were a stripper, Snotlout, I don’t buy it.”

“Yeah, and you got a date with a hot girl who called you a hair fetishist, crazier things have happened.”

Hiccup doesn’t have an answer to that right away and they walk the next few blocks in silence. The earliest commuter traffic is starting to pile up on the road and the sun feels a little too bright, scalding through Hiccup’s retinas and reminding him how long he’s been awake.

“It wasn’t a date,” Hiccup stands back to let Snotlout unlock the front door of the apartment, following him in and immediately losing the mental battle not to flop into his dad’s old leather chair. He’ll clean the murder gunk off of it later. Maybe. He should have peed before sitting down but the night is catching up all at once. “She did kiss me though.”

“What?” Snotlout sets his holster on the table by the door. “And you don’t believe that one person thought I was a stripper? But I’m supposed to believe that a girl as hot as Astrid kissed you?”

“On the cheek,” Hiccup reaches up to touch his face, the static of the dry brush of Astrid’s lips lingering even though the rest of the morning, warm where the rest of him is cold, like the handcuffs chilled more than just his wrists.

“Wait, like your cheek or your actual cheek?” Snotlout raises an eyebrow and gestures at his own ass, “like am I impressed or did the middle school dance go really well?”

“My cheek on my face,” Hiccup pulls his right shoe off and lobs it at Snotlout, missing by a few inches. It leaves mud on the wall and out of the corner of his eye it looks like blood.

“Oh, so it’s lame—“

“I don’t know why I tell you anything.”

“Because if you don’t talk you explode?” Snotlout snickers, finally setting his badge on top of his other uniform accessories and walking towards the bathroom. Dammit. “I’m going to bed, dude.”

“Sounds good.”

He pauses and looks back, “you’re good about, you know, seeing the dead person, right? Because you know after I had to respond to that thing with the train I was all kinds of freaked out,” he finishes the thought with a shudder. And as annoying and overbearing and nosy, and oh, disgusting, as Snotlout can be, Hiccup feels the genuine warmth of his concern.

“Nah, I’m good, I see pictures all the time, right?”

“It’s not the same.”

“No. It’s not.”

He must fall asleep at some point because he wakes up to his phone buzzing in his pocket, a string of texts coming through all at once.

Astrid (12:00pm): Murder? Astrid (12:02pm): we heard a murder?