#it was like 5 short messages in discord. sigh. i suppose i did explain a lot of stuff

[salamander-crimes]

there's been a lot of discussion of the fnaf survival logbook and whether or not it proves sister location takes place before fnaf 1, which i've been thinking about a lot lately for some reason. the argument is that mike had to have written in it during fnaf 1, and since it references sister location, sister location takes place before fnaf 1. but there's also the counterargument that he could've written in it when he worked at fazbear's fright (assuming he was the fnaf 3 player), especially since some art references the fnaf 3 office. which is then usually countered with "but then how could the book have been given to someone else after if it would've burned in the frights fire!" which i mean. like. it is designed to be an activity book for children. do you want to just not have the book. do you want a pile of ash. come on.

there's also one puzzle in it that relates to the real value of a 16 dollar coupon being $27, which is how much it would've been in 2017 when the book was released. i've seen some people say this means the logbook must take place in 2017 or respond to that with "but nothing happens in 2017 in the lore!" (on a different reddit post) but the logbook was published in 2017 and im not sure they could've predicted how much inflation would've been in 2023. i don't think that real value puzzle is necessarily meant to point to 2017 specifically, rather just "the present" in general, which could include 2023, the year when fnaf 3 (presumably) takes place.

but both of those led me to a very funny concept: what if michael worked at fazbear's fright before the player and that's when he wrote in the logbook, but he quit because he thought they weren't going to find anything. phone dude was glad we stayed to work another night. what if that's because the previous employee went "this is bullshit" and quit.

[astrozones]

Sanders Behavioral Health, Chapter 1: Virgil Starts Freaking Out More Than Usual

Trigger warning: mental health stuff. Major mental health stuff. For the whole fic.

Group Therapy AU. Prinxiety and Logicality eventually.

Three hours.

Three goddamn hours of his life dedicated to therapy. Every. Single. Day.

Except weekends. At least he still had his weekends.

When his father had told him of the “amazing” news, Virgil was seriously rethinking going back to his old family.

Coming from an abusive home to a place where others cared about him was jarring, to say the least. Parts of it he adored. Not being punished for coming home a couple minutes late? He couldn’t say he wasn’t grateful. But since his time at his new family’s house, he had been diagnosed with anxiety, depression, and a hint of OCD. And when his parents put him in therapy for the first time, he found it dull, but a good escape from his bad thoughts.

But when his therapist suggested Sanders Behavioral Health, he was apprehensive. Even more so when she told him that three hours of his day would be dedicated to working on his anxiety. His social anxiety, mostly. Virgil had stared at her in disgust, why would he ever want to go there? Why would he want to go somewhere that would give him more anxiety, on purpose, rather than stay at home scrolling through YouTube?

He was even more disgusted when his adoptive father had happily agreed to look into it.

Yes, Virgil wanted to get better. God, he wanted to get better so bad, to be away from the thoughts that plagued his mind. That’s what he told himself, at least.

Maybe he didn’t want to get better. Maybe he wanted to stay in his room all day because that was what he was used to. He was content at this stage, and so what if he was destroying his future and the potential for happiness? He was here now and he was content, wasn’t that good enough?

He would never say that to his therapist. If he did, she would tell his dad, who would in turn tell his mom, and they’d worry about him more. If this was the life he had to live, then so be it.

So here he was, in the lobby room of the building he had dreaded coming to since they made the first call to get him into this institute. He hunched over in his hoodie, idly scrolling through his phone, trying to collect his thoughts. What if he made a mistake? What if it turned out he had been faking it this whole time and they got mad? What if he did something embarrassing? Oh, god, what if they hated him? What if-

The lobby door slammed open. Virgil jumped in his seat, his father gently putting a hand on his shoulder. In stepped a boy that looked just about the same age as himself. Oh, for the love of-

“I HAVE REETUUURNED~,” the boy sung, arms spread as wide as he could with a binder in his hands. “No need to fear, your Prince is here!” Virgil pursed his lips.

“Yeah, ‘prince’, my ass.” he mumbled, looking back down at his phone. The boy spluttered indignantly, to Virgil’s confusion. That wasn’t even a good insult, so why was the boy getting mad at him? Oh god, oh shit, I already made an enemy-

“Roman, please just sign in.” The front desk lady said with a small smile. The boy, or rather, Roman, blushed, with an “oh, right” as he did as he was told.

Roman slumped down in a seat, turning to the only other kid in the room.

“So, Mr. Professionalism, I know it’s only my second proper day here, but what’s with the tie? You wear it every day or somethin’?” Roman’s posture remained slouched and easy-going, the opposite to the other, who was indeed wearing a tie. Tie guy’s posture was pristine and collected, his face not revealing any emotion, except a slight glare.

“I do not. I wear a different tie every day. It is unsanitary to wear the same thing every day. And when I sleep, I change into the proper wear. I would also like to point out that it’s pronounced some thing . With a g. Proper pronunciation is important, lest you confuse someone who is not as knowledgeable with our language. And my name, is Logan. Thank you.” Logan, apparently, finished his monologue with hardly a change in expression. Both Virgil and Roman looked a bit disoriented.

“Allllrighty,” Roman started, ignoring Logan’s hiss of “it’s pronounced al right ”, “Welp, glad to see I’m not the only one who’s early! Don’t you think the weather is great today? So sunny!”

“I do not wish to engage in small talk.” Logan said, returning to his book. Roman blinked at this, his head darting back a bit. He quickly returned to his confident persona and turned to Virgil.

Oh no , was his only thought before he was forced into conversation.

“SOO, Emostein, what’s your opinion on the weather? Since Necktie over there refuses to be nice, that is.” Roman said with a flourish of his hand.

What was he supposed to say? That he never went outside enough to appreciate the weather? That he would rather not say anything? That this whole thing was pushing him to the verge of a panic attack?

So, instead, he murmured, “Emostein?”. Goddamn it, that was dumb-

“Why yes! Like Frankenstein, but judging by your apparel, I had assumed you were emo and listen to My Chemical Romance all day. Am I wrong in this?”

Virgil shoved his head in his hands, blushing from embarrassment. “Ugh, no, you’re not. You don’t need to point it out, though…” He grumbled. God, he hated social situations. Even if it distracted him from the anxiety surrounding this new therapy group.

Whether he had bad luck, or the fates hated him, he couldn’t decide as the door to the rest of the building opened in perfect irony.

“Virgil?” The woman called with a smile. He hugged his few items closer to him as he stood up, making his way through the entrance. He glanced back at the lobby, where yet another kid was entering.

Then, the door was closed.

--

The woman introduced herself as Rebecca, or Becca for short. She led him on a quick tour of the building before the others were scheduled to come in, something he was grateful for. The place was smaller than he expected. She led him through the cafeteria (a cafeteria? what?), the doors of a couple staff, the bathroom, the check-up room, and the individual rooms. The individual rooms, as she explained, were for when you needed to focus on an ‘exposure’ and couldn’t handle distractions from other people.

Virgil quickly decided he liked these rooms.

Becca let him choose a room, and had him write his name on the whiteboard in front of it. As he did, he heard the entrance door open and a loud voice groan out, “UGHH, but I don’t wanna go in yet!”. Uh oh, people alert! He quickly slipped into the room, Becca joining him soon after.

“While you’re in this program,” she started. “you will be doing exposures, which means you’ll be directly facing the anxiety. It’ll be tough, but the goal is, when you get out of the program, you’re more used to these situations, and when you encounter them, you don’t freak out as much.” At that, she smiled, as if she hadn’t just diminished his already depressed mood.

“Does that sound good?” Becca continued, tilting her head to the side. Virgil stared at her as if she just told him the Sun was purple (not that he would mind that… purple was a very nice color.).

“Not really,” came his reply. “sounds terrible.”

Becca’s smile became just a little more stressed.

“I get your point, but I disagree. See, here and now, you’re not okay. Do you agree?” she stated flatly, and at his small nod, continued, “It’s because you’ve been in this slump for too long. It’s ruining your mood, and unless you do something about it, it’ll just get worse. If you want to get better, you have to do something about it.”

Virgil sighed. Yes, he understood, but he had the right to dislike this.

Becca explained a few more things about the program before handing him a small stack of papers and leaving him to mull over in his silent suffering.

He doodled in between the questions he had just answered as he waited for Becca to come back. Just the classic questions, ‘What do you want to work on while here at Sanders?’, ‘How would you describe your average mood?’, ‘What is (or are) your diagnosis?’, etc.. He glanced at the clock. 5 minutes. He tapped his foot. Fiddled with his hoodie strings. Kicked at the wall. 10 minutes. Hm.

Sanders Behavioral Health had a rule against phones being in the building, for privacy reasons… but, taking a glance around, he couldn’t see any cameras. And he had snuck his phone in by slipping it into his boots when no one was looking. Then there was the fact that no one was in the room with him…

Whipping out his phone, he quickly found a position where his phone was hidden enough that the average passerby wouldn’t notice and opened it up. What to do, what to do…

He scrolled through Tumblr, and responded to a few messages on Discord. He was in the middle of typing one out when there was a knock on the door.

Jumping, Virgil quickly turned to the door while desperately trying to hide his phone. He couldn’t fit in past his shoe in time, could he hide it in his hoodie so the visitor wouldn’t see it? Think fast befo-

The door opened, a stranger walking in. The stranger smiled.

“Hello! I’m Nurse Vicki. You’re Virgil, right? I need you for just a moment so we can do checkups, if you’ll come with me!” Vicki grinned, holding the door open wider. Virgil slid the phone into his hoodie pocket. There was a chance of it being noticed, but it would have to do.

When brought into the nurse’s office, she sat him down and started asking questions.

Are you suicidal? Yes.

Are you going to school regularly? No.

Are you eating healthy? Probably not.

And on, and on, and on, until finally, she took him to track his weight and vitals, and escorted him back to his room. Still no Becca.

The second Nurse Vicki left, Virgil quickly took his phone out and situated it where it wasn’t easily visible in his boot. Yes, it did rub against his foot painfully, but that was just the price he’d have to pay. Without his phone, he felt even more anxious. He knew it was stupid, but what if he got a call? What if he got hurt? What if someone else got hurt? Virgil needed the phone, and if that included sacrificing his comfort, he would do it.

Now, what was he supposed to do? 20 minutes had passed. He studied the vandalism done in pencil on the wall, but that quickly got boring.

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

He drummed his fingers on the table.

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

He thought about what he was going to do tomorrow- wait, no, that gave him more anxiety.

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

Sighing, he leaned back and studied the ceiling. Maybe he could fall asleep here. Or maybe he’d just get in trouble for that.

After what seemed like ages, Becca returned. Gathering up the papers, she led him outside the room.

“We aren’t going to start anything today, but I’ll show you the timers and computers. Here’s the check in sheet for them,” she motioned to the top of the computer cart, a basket with multiple stopwatches in it next to the sheets. “and the top row of computers are assessment computers, while the bottom are normal computers. Today, you’ll be getting an assessment computer.”

Stepping aside, she let him check out a computer. As he was writing down his name, another person came in from a second hallway. The loud boy from before- Roman?- glanced in their direction before doing a double take. Cringing slightly, Virgil prepared for Roman to burst out with a loud “hello!”.

Only Roman did nothing of the sort. Once Becca greeted him, he motioned awkwardly to the timer in his hands before walking down the hallway and turning into a staff’s room.

O ...kay?

He may not have known Roman for long, but that seemed entirely uncharacteristic. Pursing his lips, he finished filling out the sheet as Becca and him walked back. Well, almost. Becca stopped in her office for a split second before returning with a binder and a dazzling smile. Virgil sunk into his jacket with a ‘dazzling’ scowl.

Back inside the room, Becca gave him the binder and led him through all that it entailed, before signing him into the assessment computer. And once more, Becca left him to fill out the assessments alone.

Which was fantastic.

Another round of repetitive questions he’d answered a thousand times before-

In the past 7 days how often have you not able to stop feeling sad? Often.

--felt alone? Always.

--feel everything in your life went wrong? Always.

--feel like you can’t do anything right? Often.

--it was hard for you to have fun? Always.

He supposed a lot of this came from his past family. And, geez, these were not nice memories to go through. But being pushed around and starved for days on end was bound to take a toll on you, and it sure as hell did in the case of Virgil. It was part of the reason he wore hoodies all the time, to hide the- the- oh god he was not ready to think about this right now.

Shaking his head, Virgil returned to the questions, feeling worse than he had. He felt a tear trying to surface and quickly closed his eyes. Not here , he thought. Not now, I can’t. They’ll make fun of me for it.

And yeah, maybe it was illogical to worry about being made fun of for crying in a literal therapy building, but maybe Virgil wasn’t thinking quite right at that point. Maybe he wasn’t thinking quite right often.

Or maybe he was just stupid.

--

The last time Becca returned to his individual room was to bring him out to the cafeteria for something called ‘recreational therapy’ which included doing “fun things” with the other patients.

Great.

After putting away his computer, he was instructed to leave his new binder in the cafeteria and to bring a pen or pencil with him.

He didn’t have either and had to ask someone else for it. Oh, god…

Dodging around the others in the cafeteria, he made his way back to Becca and quietly asked for a pen, and, to his disappointment, didn’t get one. He turned around to face the 3 other patients, forced to consider the options as to who might have a goddamn pen.

The others were all the people he had seen in the waiting room earlier. Only one of them he hadn’t really gotten to know, which was the boy in light blue. He was talking to the loud one, ugh, what was his name again… Roman! Yes, he was talking to Roman. Listening in on their conversation he found that they were talking about… dogs? Well, Light Blue was nearly screaming about dogs while Roman was looking a little bewildered at just how loud this boy was about dogs. Which only left Tie Guy, Logan, to ask. If he didn’t have one, Virgil would have to walk out and ask a staff, so asking the scary one it was.

Glancing towards his binder, Virgil saw that he had 3 pens next to it, black, red, and blue. Bingo!

“Hey uh,” he started once he reached Logan. “Um, can I… uh, sorry, can I borrow a pen? Please?”

Logan’s gaze jerked towards Virgil, then back to his pens. “No,” he stated bluntly. “I only have one black pen. As you can see. ”

“But… I could just… use the red or blue one? I don’t really care that much about colors…” Virgil, to say the least, was hella confused. What was this kid’s deal? First the whole tie thing, now Virgil wasn’t able to use one of his three pens? There was no need to be so rude.

“No, you can’t. Red is for spelling errors and blue is for grammar errors. Everyone knows that. You cannot just use a red or blue pen for normal writing!” Logan nearly growled out. Virgil took a few steps back, was it okay for him to be around this guy?! Was he safe?

He felt a tap on his shoulder and nearly jumped out of his skin. Whipping around, he was faced with Light Blue holding a pen. He let out a sigh of relief.

“Heyo! I’m Patton,” Light Blue said. “I couldn’t help but hear your conversation, so sorry for interrupting, but I have a free pen you could use instead! It’s no big deal to me!” Patton’s smile was nearly blinding as he held the pen out. Grabbing the pen, Virgil felt a little… unnerved. Maybe it was just the anxiety talking, but this guy seemed way too nice to be here. Maybe he was just about to leave the program?

“Uh, thanks.” Was the only thing he said in response before retreating to the corner of the room. He could see Becca hovering around the computer before telling them she would be back in a second.

Well ain’t that just fucking great .

“Ooh, scandalous~!” Roman yelled as Becca went to leave the room. “Leaving a bunch of teens unsupervised? Didn’t take ya for the type.” Virgil looked at him. If he remembered correctly, Roman had said this was his second day. So, why was he so… extroverted? He, along with Patton, didn’t really feel like they belonged in this group. Patton seemed too bright and happy, and Roman seemed too loud and confident.

“You is not pronounced ‘ya’.” Logan huffed. Roman turned to him looking a bit confused.

“It’s… not that different, though?”

“Every little thing matters, Roman. I’ve explained this to you before, so why do you continue to lack the capacity to understand it?” Roman spluttered at this, the insult obviously getting to him.

“I was just telling you my opinion, and you don’t need to… insult me over it! Believe it or not, I don’t like being called stupid!” Roman spat out.

Uh oh.

“I did not call you stupid. It seems as if you came to that conclusion yourself, yet I will not deny it.”

“ You implied it you-”

Before Roman could finish, Becca, in all her glory, opened the door and invited them to follow her. Well, maybe invited wasn’t the correct term, but Virgil was well on his way to a massive anxiety attack and couldn’t give a shit.

Once Becca had led them outside and had them all introduce themselves, she gave them a simple two-sided sheet of paper.

“Today, we’re going to be doing a people scavenger hunt! On the paper, there’s a bunch of questions, and it’s your job to find someone who fits the criteria! Once you do, they should sign your paper. Try not to use the same person for most of the questions! Sounds great, don’t you agree?”

“Yay.” Virgil muttered unenthusiastically, curling into his hoodie when both Roman and Patton turned to him.

“Miss Becca, there are four of us. Statistically speaking, it is unlikely for us to be able to fill out the entirety of this sheet, especially with questions like the 13th, which says ‘Someone who has red hair.’ As you can see, none of us have red hair. I must recommend that you reprint this paper with questions we can properly answer.” Logan attempted to smooth down his hair in the wind as he spoke, his paper resting on a clipboard, because of course Logan had prepared himself with a clipboard while the rest of them had to combat the wind attempting to blow their papers away.

“It’s okay, Logan,” Becca smiled sweetly. “You don’t need to answer all the questions before we go back in.”

“Yes I do, or the assignment is incomplete!”

Smile dropping, Becca motioned for the others to start as she turned to talk to Logan. And with that, Virgil was forced to communicate with the last two.

Already, Patton and Roman seemed to be chatting, which left Virgil to awkwardly stand by while they filled the paper out. Virgil could feel his breathing quickening, why did Logan have to be picky? He could be talking to him, which would be better than just standing here with nothing to do!

Roman turned to him once he had gotten the paper signed, smiling slightly at him before skimming his eyes through the paper. Wait, he took it back, he wasn’t ready to talk yet oh no-

“Do youuu….. Like mint ice cream?” Roman asked, looking up from his paper with a smile. Silently, Virgil nodded. After signing the paper Roman gave to him, Roman stayed, looking expectantly at him. What? Oh! He’s expecting a question quick choose one!!!

Looking at his own paper, Virgil chose the first question his eyes landed on.

“Do you, um. Do you speak another language?” He stuttered out. Roman brightened.

“¡Sí! Hablo español.” Roman was bouncing on his heels, grinning impossibly larger. At Virgil’s dubious stare, he seemed to deflate, a small blush growing on his cheeks. “Sorry, uh, yes, I speak Spanish.”

As Virgil handed him the paper, he had more time to stand awkwardly. Roman had hoisted his leg up and was now balancing precariously on one leg while writing against the other one. His tongue poked out from between his teeth as he tried to not fall over.

Roman had green eyes. While Virgil didn’t usually make eye contact, he couldn’t help but notice while this kid was right in front of him . Virgil had always adored green eyes in people, they may be more rare but they were so pretty and-

Roman glanced up at him, and Virgil quickly flushed. “Do you want me to fill out the green eyes question, too? I’m pretty sure I’m the only one of us who has green eyes, so… y’know… while I’m here, might as well, yea?”

All Roman saw was Virgil’s small nod, which Virgil was grateful for as his mind was screaming at the current moment.

Is this guy psychic what the hell how’d he know EXACTLY what I was thinking??? What???? No, Virge, calm down, he can’t be psychic- BUT WHAT IF HE IS????

Once Virgil got his paper back, he turned once more and was suddenly face-to-face with Patton’s smile.

“Heya kiddo! Have you been on a boat ride?” At Virgil’s shake of his head, he continued. “Hm, okay, have you been to a park in the past few months?

On and on the activity went. Surprisingly, Virgil quickly found himself actually enjoying the activity. Roman and Patton were easy to talk to, if slightly disorienting to the extreme introvert.

Unfortunately, the universe seemed to hate him, because after about 10 questions with the others, Logan stormed back into the building, leaving Becca alone. Becca sighed.

“Sorry guys, but I legally can’t leave him or you without a guardian, so if you could follow me please we will go back inside.”

Back inside, Becca took them to the cafeteria, where Logan already was, meticulously rearranging his binder. When Becca approached him, he hissed out, “I will NOT be doing an assignment where I am forced to fail.”

The three looked at each other, Patton seeming to be the only one who knew what was happening. He gave them a sad smile.

“Logan came here before me, but he told me he has extreme OCD. Basically, he gets anxiety when things don’t go the way his mind tells him they have to.” Patton whispered to them. “I think he has a sort of… fear of failing, so he gets the bad feelings when he can’t finish an assignment. Well, more bad feelings than the average person.”

That made sense, Virgil supposed. While he was told he had a bit of OCD, he wasn’t exactly briefed on all the ins and outs, only diagnosed with it. So he had no definitive answer as to what exactly it was, but from what he had heard, that seemed to fit with the behavior Logan was showing.

A couple minutes passed, Virgil tapping his foot aimlessly. He stared at the ground as Logan continued to bicker, and as Becca desperately tried to calm him down. Eventually, Roman spoke up and told Becca that it was check-out time, which apparently entailed them filling out a sheet of paper before they were able to leave.

Thankfully, Becca told Virgil that he didn’t have to fill a check-out sheet today, which left him awkwardly tapping his pen against the table. He noticed Roman doodling in a blank space on the paper, mouthing the lyrics to a song Virgil couldn’t decipher. Patton was watching the clock after he had finished, which left Logan to be the only one still filling out the sheet.

Once they were finally blessed with the absence of silence in the form of Becca loudly exclaiming that they could start sharing aloud and dear God would Virgil have to do that tomorrow? They were finally allowed to leave.

After signing out and riding the elevator down, with all the other patients and their parents in the cramped space, they finally exited the building.

“So, what’d you think?” His dad asked as they walked to the car. Virgil simply shrugged in response.

And maybe, Virgil enjoyed it a little bit, just a little bit. But he wasn’t going to admit it after he claimed so adamantly that he would hate it the days prior.

The ride home was spent with Virgil telling his online friends what had happened in therapy that day, a task that would quickly become routine in his days at Sanders.

And maybe, just maybe, he was feeling a little bit better at returning the next day.

Maybe.

[shipmistress9]

FTLOAP - 36.5 - Interlude 4: Late Insight

Fandom: HTTYD

Theme: Hiccstrid - Medieval-style AU - Romance - Angst/Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Reduced to little more than a stable boy, Hiccup, despite his noble birth, has few prospects for more in life. But when he meets a girl who came to look at the horses, being a stable boy might not be enough anymore. Together, they have tough choices to make and great risks to navigate if they want to survive and be together.

Rating: Explicit

FF-net  -  AO3 -

Discord-server for discussions and questions

Part 1: Prologue; Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7; Chapter 8; Chapter 9; Chapter 10; Chapter 11;

Part 2: Chapter 12; Chapter 13; Chapter 14; Interlude 1; Chapter 15; Chapter 16; Chapter 17; Chapter 18; Chapter 19; Chapter 20; Chapter 21; Chapter 22; Chapter 23; Chapter 24; Chapter 25; Chapter 26; Interlude 2; Chapter 27: Chapter 28 ; Chapter 29 ; Chapter 30; Chapter 31; Chapter 32; Interlude 3; Bonus 1; Chapter 33

Part 3: Chapter 34; Chapter 35; Chapter 36

Alpha/Co-author: @athingofvikings

. – * – _ . o O o . _ – * – .

AN: I'll be honest and say... the reactions to the last chapter completely blew me away! There were some great reactions, on FFnet, on AO3, and on Tumblr, thank you all so very very much! That's what makes all the struggles and hardships of writing worth the while! :)

Now, I know you're all eager to know what happens next with Astrid and that announcement. But before we go back there in the next chapter, here's another interlude, and I guess many of you can guess who's POV we're getting. There's been quite some anger and hate coming up after the previous chapter for the King but also for Daniel, and I hope I can disperse at least part of that... They don't mean bad...

. o O o .

…so I am glad to inform you that the construction work on the fortress of Redpeak proceeds as planned. Thanks to Uncle Spitelout’s help with organizing the logistics and his recommendations on more people to help, we were able to start with the alterations even sooner than I had hoped. By now, a part of those alterations are already underway and the preparations for the remainder are complete. I trust in the overseers’ capability to supervise their execution. Thus I am confident in being able to return to the castle as planned once this last mission is complete.

Daniel reviewed the lines he'd just written and nodded to himself before sealing the paper with wax. It was just a short note, to be delivered by pigeon, and there were many points he would have liked to add, but hadn’t due to the limited space. But he couldn’t change it, and it wouldn't be long until his return to the capital anyway.

Sighing, he thought about all the things that would await him there. The report and a renewed expression of gratitude to Spitelout, because without his help, none of his current work would have worked out as effortlessly as it had. But there were also other, less pleasant duties awaiting him.

Like investigating the death of the former Count Ravenledge, for example. Even though Daniel had received the message weeks ago, shortly after his arrival in Westhill, it still irked him. By all accounts, the old man had been found dead in his cell the morning after Daniel had left the capital, letting him escape the slow and public death he’d been sentenced to as part of justice for his crimes. Even more worrisomely, the report suspected poison. With how secluded and securely the man had been guarded, Daniel could only think of one sensible explanation that didn’t involve their entire personal security having been compromised: his father had arranged for it. It also explained why the former count had agreed to confess after stonewalling: because he'd gotten a new offer, a quicker death in exchange for information. Daniel could see the… the merit in this decision, even as he didn't like it. They had needed that information far more than they'd needed another public execution. But it irked him that he hadn't been included in the plan. His father had probably thought he would be against it, would have demanded justice for the people of Ravenledge. Well, he would have been right, but still. Not knowing about the plan had made Daniel give a promise he felt more and more reluctant to keep with every day.

He had promised not to treat Angus, Harold's older brother, any differently, despite the crimes his father and brother had committed. It had been an easy promise at that time. Nothing in the reports they’d received indicated that Angus, who’d left his family in early years to receive extended education as a squire and a nobleman, had been involved in any of those crimes. But since Daniel’s return to Westhill, the young man had changed. Not enough to warrant disciplining him, but it was still obvious that he was upset about losing his birthright to title and land.

With another heavy sigh, he rubbed his face. He knew all too well that focusing on this problem – no matter how real it may be – only had one purpose right now. It was to distract him from what he really worried about upon his return to the castle: how Astrid would react when she saw him. For the umpteenth time this evening he glanced at the calendar on his small travel desk, and his heart sank. This wasn’t the first year he couldn’t be there for his sister’s birthday, what with him being a knight for two years now and a squire for many years before that. It had always pained him to not celebrate this day with her, but this year, it was so much worse. Because he knew this year was different. Maybe it was right now that their father held his speech; about the anniversary to their grandfather’s birthday, the planned festivities, and all the other made-up reasons they’d come up with to mask the real event.

Astrid’s upcoming wedding, and the time before where her suitors were supposed to compete for her favour.

It was a sickening plan, but it would certainly be effective. The prospect of the Princess’s hand in marriage would be a potent bait, potent enough to lure out even the most hesitant conspirators, and by the time they realised that the accidental deaths were only hitting the enemies of the Crown, it would be too late. But it pained Daniel to use something that was supposed to be a happy day for his sister for such a purpose, and the only solace he could find in any of this was that she would still get to choose.

It meant that not that much would change, or might even change to her advantage. He still put all his hopes in Eret, in that he and Astrid would finally be able to look beyond their sibling bond and see how good they would be for each other. But if there was someone else among the guests they’d invited, another nobleman that caught her interest, then she would be free to choose him instead. That was good, wasn’t it? It gave her more freedom than she ever could have hoped for, and the fact that all this would come two years sooner than expected wasn’t really that bad… right?

Groaning, Daniel let his head drop onto the table. She would hate it! He knew Astrid too well to fool himself on this. She would hate being used like this. She would hate being reduced to just the royal figurehead, nothing but a puppet in this scheme. And she would hate that she had no say whatsoever in this decision that so immensely changed her entire life. Maybe it wouldn’t change all that much in the end if she chose Eret as he hoped, but still.

“Is anything the matter, my Lord?”

Daniel sat up straight in an instant, looking up at the young man who had entered his private tent.

“Milburn,” he greeted his squire, buying time to recompose himself. “Yes, everything’s fine. I… just finished the letter for the King.”

Without a word of explanation needed he handed the folded and sealed paper over, and Milburn directly walked over to where the last of his carrier pigeons was waiting in its cage. It took him only a minute to fix the paper to the bird’s leg, whereupon he went to the tent’s entrance and let it loose.

“I brought you the reports from the scouts,” Milburn said as he returned, handing him a letter, probably from the captain of his guard. “It looks like the area is clear of any Malarian raiders. There’s one group of bandits operating in this general area, but they aren’t big enough to pose a threat to us. Nothing should get in the way of tomorrow’s trip to that outpost.”

Daniel nodded mutely. He hadn’t expected anything else, but it was still good to have the confirmation.

“So, now that this is dealt with…” Milburn began hesitantly. “May I ask what is bothering you, Milord? Anything I can do to help? Get you a mug of ale, for example?”

Smiling weakly, Daniel let out a snort. For two years now, Milburn had been his squire, but it still surprised him on a regular basis how good an observer the young man was. “No ale, thank you. It’s really nothing of importance, just…” he paused, considering options, then let out a heavy sigh. By now, secrecy wasn’t important anymore. Tomorrow, all the previously spread letters would become public declarations, announcing the eighty-one days of festivities and the Princess’s wedding as the crowning highlight. Telling his squire now beforehand wouldn’t do any damage anymore – the official part and his own worries, at least.

“Actually, you’re right,” he said ruefully. “There is something bothering me, but it’s nothing you can help me with.”

Milburn, easily able to interpret his master’s tone of voice, quickly seated himself on a stool, and watched Daniel in anticipation. It wasn’t often that Daniel could talk about official or personal topics with him, but when he did, Milburn was always eager to listen and often even able to help with a good piece of advice. Daniel doubted that he would ever become a skilled fighter, but he certainly would become a good advisor in a few years.

“It’s nothing… heavily important for the Kingdom,” he began slowly. “I’m mainly worried about my sister.”

Frowning, Milburn cocked his head? “The Princess? Why? Did something happen to her?”

The reaction made Daniel smile inwardly.  If he hadn’t known better, he might have thought the lad had a crush on Astrid. But knowing that women weren’t of any interest to him meant that his honest concern was merely born of politeness and the tentative friendship they had developed over the years.

“No, nothing happened to her. Not as far as I know at least; she should be fine. But it’s her birthday–” Milburn nodded knowingly, “–and the King will make a big announcement today. You’ll hear all about it in the next few days, but in the end, it all boils down to her marrying in less than two months. And I’m worried how she’ll take the news. She didn’t know about this plan beforehand, so as to not trouble her. But with no time to get used to it, I fear it’s going to be a shock to her. Announcing her wedding without even knowing who her husband is going to be, and even two years earlier than is customary…” he trailed off, shaking his head. No, she wouldn’t like it, and it truly pained him that she would have to go through this and that he wasn’t there to help her.

“You don’t know who she’ll marry?” Milburn asked, a little incredulously. “How’s that possible?”

“It… it’s complicated,” Daniel sighed, unable to explain the whole scheme to lure out their enemies. “All that’s certain is that she’ll have to choose her husband-to-be from a group of selected noblemen.” Of which she barely knows anyone, he added inwardly, scowling.

Milburn’s sudden laughter took him completely by surprise. Daniel looked up, puzzled by this reaction, and tried to make sense of it.

“I-I’m sorry, Milord,” he gasped, visibly fighting to pull himself together but failing miserably. “It’s just… it isn’t even funny, but… but I’ve heard so much and… and… Oh, Gods, I’m so sorry.”

Daniel watched in bewilderment until his squire had calmed down enough to speak clearly again.

“I’m truly sorry, please believe me. I didn’t mean to laugh about a topic that upsets you so much, Milord. And I’m sorry for your sister as well, that can’t be an easy time for her. I was just laughing, because… well, I know of at least one person who will be absolutely heartbroken about the news.”

Daniel snorted. “Oh?” he asked, not really interested. Aside from her status, Astrid had grown into a beautiful woman. He wasn’t blind, after all. He was used to hearing about people being infatuated with her.

But Milburn’s enthusiasm was unwavering. “Oh, yes,” he went on, chuckling again. “You see, the guards you brought with you from the castle were talking about it a lot. Well, probably not to you, I guess, but, well… Apparently, there’s been this new fellow around the castle? And whenever he’s around the Princess, he can’t take his eyes off her. From what I heard, it goes far beyond a normal crush, he even frequents an Ástir playing the role of the Princess. He never grew past the point of endearing puppy adoration though, not disturbing at all, they said, or they would have dealt with him already, and some say he’s even friends with the Princess, though that’s just a rumour. Either way, he’s going to be devastated when he hears about this. Ah, but I better not laugh too much about this, or meeting him come summer is going to be awkward,” he added, chuckling in slight embarrassment. Then he looked at Daniel. “Sir? Is... everything all right?”

Daniel had listened to the whole speech with growing alarm. Had there been someone stalking Astrid without him knowing about it? Hearing that his men would have dealt with the man if he’d gone too far was reassuring, but still. He was still wondering who this man could be when Milburn's last addition made him look up in confusion. “You expect to meet this man? How? Is he one of the new recruits? We don’t even know where those will be going yet.”

“Oh, I know,” Milburn nodded, grinning. “But I expect to be working in close proximity with this one. As I understand, you and the ducal heirs are going to form a team, right? So I expect to spend a lot of time with Sir Eret’s squire.”

Daniel blinked. He blinked again. And then it was his turn to burst out laughing. “You’re talking about Hiccup?” he gasped out, disbelievingly. Oh, sure, there had been a time when he’d hoped for this option; it would have solved two problems at once. But by now, that hope was long gone.

“Uh, yes, that was his name.” Milburn nodded, clearly surprised by his master’s reaction.

Shaking his head as his amusement simmered down, Daniel sighed. “Believe me, Hiccup doesn’t have a crush on my sister. I can confirm the rumours: he and the Princess indeed became good friends over the winter. But his heart belongs to someone else. He’d told us about her once, you see? I’ve never seen a man that much in love before. I mean… I might have been a little intoxicated at that time, but I still remember enough. That dazed smile and the enthusiasm with which he’d talked about his beloved. No, be assured, there’s no place in his heart for anyone else.”

Milburn cocked his head. “Are you sure? I mean, no offence, Milord, and you certainly know him better, but the men were all pretty convinced he only has eyes for your sister. Ah, well, but if he told you who his love is then they must be mistaken. Less funny but also less awkward, and better for him anyway.” He shrugged.

“Actually, he never…” Daniel began, but trailed off again, his mind suddenly working with rapid speed.

Hiccup had never told them who his beloved was. Only that he would need to convince her father and brother of his worth before he could marry her… A picture was forming in Daniel’s mind, but it didn’t make much sense yet. That… couldn’t be, could it? Yes, Hiccup was seeing Cami, but not because she played the part of the Princess, but because they were friends. On that point, the rumours already were wrong. But what about the rest? What about Hiccup looking at Astrid more than most others, enough to draw the attention of the guards? If he’d had a crush on Astrid, then he probably would have hidden that from him and Eret. But from others? There would have been no need.

Could it be? Daniel sifted through his memories, trying to remember what Hiccup had said about his beloved.

She’s amazing! I only met her after we got here, but it already feels as if we’ve known each other forever. She’s so beautiful, her eyes gleaming as bright as the sky, and her hair… her soft skin, and those sweet lips. I could spend all day kissing her. But she’s so much more than just beautiful, also kind and funny, witty and smart, strong and brave. So brave… And I love her. Gods, I do. I love her so much.

Daniel swallowed, hard. It fit… He hadn’t even wasted one thought about this back then, but the description, vague as it was, certainly fitted to his sister. Was Hiccup in love with Astrid? Was she the one he wanted to marry, whose family he had to convince? But how was Astrid thinking about all this, what did that mean for her? Had he brought danger into her life by involving Hiccup into their activities? Had he brought another unwanted admirer who would upset her with his advances? But no… Daniel clearly remembered Hiccup’s words in the tavern that night.  

“I want to marry her. And I will marry her one day. She’s the one for me, I know it.”

“So she feels the same?”

“Amazingly, she does.”

Yes, those had only been his words. Sure, he’d gotten to know Hiccup as nothing but honest and honourable, but could he trust him in this? Could it be that Astrid felt the same? With these thoughts, another picture rose to his mind’s eye. The picture of Astrid hugging Hiccup tight at the Grand Blot. At that time, Daniel had been stunned by her seeking this kind of closeness to a man, so shortly after Harold’s assault, and then the fear in her eyes afterwards had convinced him that it must have been nothing but a thoughtless reaction. But when he thought about it now… It was remarkable how easily and naturally the motion had come, how she’d seemed to know exactly where to place her arms. How relaxed and at ease she’d been in that moment. And the fear… it hadn’t been directed at Hiccup, Daniel realised with a start. It had been directed at him!

“Oh dear Gods,” he breathed as everything clicked into place. With unseeing eyes he gazed into the distance as his mind raced through the weeks they’d spend together. Astrid had been so different. He’d written that off to Eret’s presence and the horses, but even with those explanations, the changes in her behaviour had surprised him. But if she’d fallen in love, for real, it all made sense. Her cheerful mood, her dreamy smiles, her enthusiasm and occasional distractedness. All that made sense when she and Hiccup had been in love all this time.

He gasped out a laugh, a disbelieving smile on his face. This was everything he’d hoped for. His beloved sister, happy and cared for by a man who truly loved her, a man he respected. And a new purpose for a friend who’d lost everything.

But why hadn’t she told him? Why had they kept it a secret? She used to tell him everything…

The answer came to Daniel with a painful sting. The fear in Astrid’s eyes. She’d been afraid of him, of his reaction. And after Harold’s assault, that even made sense in a way. Daniel would have punished everyone who would have dared to lay hand on her, and he even remembered how he’d warned Hiccup to not touch her again on that first night. But did she really believe he’d do anything if she was happy? Again, he tried to go through past events in his mind, how Astrid begging for mercy had only made things worse, how he’d sworn to himself to more trust in his own judgement in the future, and realised… Yes, she did believe that. And to his own disgrace, he couldn’t even say that he blamed her.

“What have I done?” he muttered, face buried in his hands. If Astrid didn’t trust him enough, then that was on him alone, he knew that. But if he’d known, he would have done everything to support them. Talk to their father, provide Hiccup with enough influence to make him eligible. It wouldn’t have been easy, but surely possible, somehow. It had to be. But now, it was too late, he realised with a start. The announcement was made, the group of suitors already picked. Astrid was to marry one of the invited men – and Hiccup wasn’t one of them. If only she’d told him!

But no, it was not too late! Daniel refused to believe that. His father was the King, for Odin’s sake! That had to count for something. And he had promised to support Hiccup in convincing his beloved’s family.

Hastily, he reached for another sheet of paper and his pencil, startling his squire with his sudden activeness. “Milburn, get another pigeon ready. I need to write another letter to my father.” There had to be something they could do. Maybe they could make Hiccup a baron or even a count. Or he could become an advisor of some rank, just putting him into any position that would make it acceptable for Astrid to choose him if that was what she wanted. If there was a chance for her to marry for love, then Daniel would do everything to make it possible.

He started to scribble a few quick lines to his father, explaining the situation and asking for his help, when Milburn clearing his throat drew his attention. The lad was still sitting on his stool, unmoving and with a look of discomfort on his face.

“I-I’m sorry, Milord,” he said in an apologetic voice. “But you can’t send another carrier pigeon; I just sent our last one off.” He shrugged helplessly, looking truly miserable for being unable to follow his command.

“Oh, for the…” Daniel cursed. He brought his fist to the table, making the simple construction tremble. No, no, no, this couldn’t be happening! Astrid’s happiness was too important to him; he just couldn’t give up. Not now, not if there was a chance that what he’d just put together was true.

But it wasn’t too late yet. There were still weeks before Astrid was to decide on a betrothed. With a grim expression and a stern face, he said, “Go, and tell the men they are to pack their things tonight already. We set out as soon as possible in the morning.”

Milburn stood up, nodding in understanding, but hesitated nonetheless. “Of course. But may I ask for the reason of this change of plan? I assume the men would react better to this news if they also got a brief explanation.”

Daniel nodded. “Calling this last mission off when we’re already so close to our goal would be stupid,” he replied grimly. “But as soon as it’s done, we’re heading back to the next fortification. I need to get hold of a carrier pigeon to the castle as soon as possible, and I won’t tolerate being held up by laziness.”

Milburn nodded and left the tent without another word, and Daniel stared at his resolutely clenched fists. He wasn’t happy about this delay, felt as if every day of waiting might be too much. But there was nothing he could do about it, and sending this letter with a delay of three or four days would certainly still be enough.   

Wouldn’t it?

. o O o .

So, a short one this week, but one that answered some questions from earlier, I think. And probably posed some new ones. As always, I'd be happy to hear about your thoughts and reactions. ;)

And I want to put a warning here. I don't want to switch to a solid two-weeks-schedule just yet, but I want to say that it's possible that two-weeks-gaps may happen more often in the future. If so, then there will always be a warning here.

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