#like i literally had a dream once where i was 15 year old hiccup and i met 20 year old hiccup and i was mad cuz i wanted to look like him

[shipmistress9]

FTLOAP - 39: Once Upon A Time We Had A Lot To Fight For. We Had A Dream, We Had A Plan

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; Interlude 4; Chapter 37; Chapter 38

Alpha/Co-author: @athingofvikings

. – * – _ . o O o . _ – * – .

AN: Okay, this was a tough chapter to write, though for once not because of the content. Let me tell you about the fourteen days since I last updated. The first nine I had writer's block and couldn't get even one word down for this story. Then followed two days where I was on quite a high and got down 7k words, which is a lot for me. And after that, there were two and a half days through which I struggled again to get anything done, which left me and my alpha-reader with less than half a day for edits. I still can't believe it's actually done by now, and if it sucks... well, then I'm sorry!

In addition, I'm not quite sure of this chapter. It got awfully long, but somehow I feel like nothing happens. I mean, I know that's not true. But still, it feels off. Well, it's something of a bridge chapter, I guess.*sigh*

This week's chapter owes its title to a friend who made me listen to The Rasmus again after many years of not thinking much about this band. And when I listened to 'Sail Away'... well, the very first lines of lyrics of that song just really hit me. They fit so well to how Hiccup and Astrid feel right now.

Also, a special shoutout to @lauracalabresi Thank you for your comments over the last few days, they were a great encouragement! ^^

. o O o .

Hiccup couldn’t remember how he’d made it back to the stables, nor how the night had passed in any specific detail. It was all just a blur of pain and sorrow, of desperation and hopelessness. It was over. Everything was over. It was true what he’d told Cami once, after all, that his entire life only revolved around her. But now, she was gone, and he didn't even understand why. He’d been so sure...

But now, it seemed as if the Gods had abandoned them, if not for that guttering spark in his chest that kept reminding him of her, cruel and unrelenting.

When Eret arrived at the stables, hours after the sun had risen, Hiccup was still sitting in his stall, unmoving, staring blankly out the small window, and registered nothing until his cousin’s broad hand touched his shoulder.

“Hey, Hiccup. You okay?”

Slowly, Hiccup turned to look at Eret, and forced a wry grin to his face.

“Hey. Yeah, I’m just… just tired, I guess. I’m sorry, I didn’t finish polishing all of your kit, but I’ll get back to that today.”

Eret gave him a scrutinising look, but nodded, accepting this explanation. “That’s fine, I won’t need it right away. But–” He paused, his eyes on Hiccup’s injured and bandaged hand. “What’s this?”

Quickly, Hiccup covered the hand with the other one. “Nothing. I cut myself, but it… it’s nothing.” At some point last night, the pain of the cut had eventually registered in his mind, but it was still too dull and unimportant to matter. All it did was remind him of her hands on his as she’d attended to the cut. Probably the last time he’d ever felt her touch… He swallowed, then made an effort to appear normal. “Anyway, what brings you here today? Don’t you need to do some training, or so?”

Eret still looked at him funny, but then shook his head. “Maybe later. But I came here for another reason. The thing is… I’m going to need my squire from now on. The hunts start tomorrow and then there’s the first small tournament in a few days, and… I already talked to father and we agreed that it will be safe enough now to keep these hotheads–” he nodded at the stallions, “– in a separate part of the main stables, now that the herd isn’t there anymore and there’s enough free space. They need to get used to that anyway. So... for the rest of our stay, you’re going to be my squire full time, which also means you’ll have to move; I can’t afford the time for you to hike back and forth to these stables. We could move to our townhouse, where there’s enough space for you to have your own room… but Grandfather’s staying there and...” he shrugged helplessly.

Hiccup needed a moment to wrap his head around what Eret had said. He seemed to be sorry for some reason, but Hiccup actually couldn’t see why. As much as he’d enjoyed the solitude of these outer stables during the past months, a change like this seemed like the best thing that could happen to him right now. It would keep him busy, would keep him from mentally tearing himself apart. It would keep him from remembering all the nights they’d spent here...

And then the rest of it registered. Oh. Right. His grandfather, who thought of him as a failure. Well, he was right, after all, but that didn’t mean Hiccup needed to hear it from the old prune.

“So what else is there?”

“Sharing a room in the squire barracks or the couch in my rooms,” Eret said apologetically, and then hastened to add, “It’s clean! I promise!”

Hiccup almost laughed – out of humour or despair, he had no idea. But he managed to keep the smile up. “The couch will do,” he murmured.

Something like a relieved smile played around Eret’s lips. “I’d hoped you’d say that. Dag and I already organised a trunk for your things and while it’s not an enclosed room, you’ll at least have a separate corner for yourself there. A little bit of privacy. Come, I’ll help you pack your things, then we can get the horses ready to be moved.”

Not having any reason to hold back, Hiccup got to work. His few possessions were quickly tossed in a rucksack – with Hiccup carefully avoiding a certain object hidden between the straw bales least Eret would ask unnecessary questions – before they turned their attention to the horses. All the while, Hiccup felt as if Eret was throwing him weird looks every now and then, but it never became so obvious that he felt like asking about it. To him, it wasn't important, and if Eret wanted to talk about something… well, then he could bring it up. Which he eventually did.

They had just started their way to the main stables – with Hiccup riding Chomp and leading Hunter at his side while Eret rode Squish and led Crusher – when Eret eventually broke the silence. "So… what do you think of these… new plans?"

Hiccup snorted. "What's there to think about?" he asked and tried not to sound as bitter as he felt. "I’m your squire and I would have needed to fully act like it by now anyway. So this is good, a change for the better.” Wrong! “And in case you meant the… the festivities... It's the King's right to entertain his people with hunts and tournaments and whatever else he's planned. It might even get interesting for us.” He forced himself to shrug nonchalantly in case Eret was still watching him.

“Yeah, interesting might be the right word.” Eret let out a deep sigh. “But that’s not what I meant. I mean this whole wedding scheme. I don’t get why Uncle Osmond thought that was a good idea. Or Daniel or my father, for that matter.”

Hiccup’s hands around Chomp’s reins tightened; it made him wince when the cut stung and the stallion snort in annoyance. Was Eret honestly asking him what he thought about her impending wedding? If he hadn’t been in danger to spill out exactly what he was thinking, he might have laughed. Instead, he just said, “Same answer. I don’t think it is my place to question the King’s decision. She’s going to marry one of these noblemen for the sake of the Kingdom. That isn’t really different from what was planned before, right?”

“True,” Eret admitted reluctantly. “But it still doesn’t feel right. And it’s certainly not right for Swanja! From what Snot said last night, she isn’t herself anymore. She lost her spark, her wit. He said she’d tried to appear unperturbed, as usual, but he saw right through her. All this must have hit her pretty hard; she was devastated at her birthday dinner. She wouldn’t even let us help or comfort her, for Odin’s sake!”

He sounded tense, worried, and Hiccup was incredibly glad that they’d reached a narrow path by now that wouldn’t allow them to ride side by side. It meant Eret couldn’t see his expression of soul-deep pain and self-loathing. Devastated… That seemed like an apt description of her the last few times he’d seen her. And it had been his fault.

Everything was his fault! And always had been… If he’d spoken his mind more firmly all those years ago, about not losing their connection to the Kingdom, his father might have stood up against their fellow tribesmen. If he’d acted more like the tribesman their people had expected him to be, they wouldn’t have been so openly against him being the heir to the High Chief’s title. If they hadn’t lost their standing within the tribes, his parents and siblings might still be alive and he would be a knight by now too. He could even participate in this competition for her hand as a ducal heir himself.

The thought was too good to be true, literally, and, unable to bear it, Hiccup pushed it aside. They all had thought they’d been doing the right thing back then, and reprimanding himself for it now, when he knew better, wouldn’t do him any good. Besides, he didn’t even need to go that far back into the past to pin down his mistakes.

He should have stayed away from her in the first place. The idea that, after all the things he’d messed up, his life could change for the better… this too had been too good to be true. Again, he’d made the wrong decision by becoming Eret’s squire just to be able to see her again, and now, she was paying the painful price for his impudence. Oh, he’d thought he’d been right back then, too. But the pain in her eyes last night was wholly and entirely his own fault, and any attempt of his to comfort her was bound to only hurt her more.

There was nothing he could do to help her.

Except…

“Don’t worry,” he heard himself say, oddly calm and composed. As if it wasn’t really him who was speaking. “What was is you said once? The Princess is a fighter. She’s tough. This whole wedding thing took her by surprise, but I’m sure she’ll accept it, eventually. She’ll come around and then you all can be there to support her when she’s ready for that.”

Eret grunted, but didn’t say any more until they’d reached the end of the narrow pass where he waited for Hiccup to take his place next to him. “You’re right,” he admitted, face turning to Hiccup, who was now focused entirely on keeping his feelings locked away as deep inside himself as possible. “But this is still different. Our fathers want her to marry one of us. How can we support her as her brothers when everyone is looking for signs as to who she’ll choose as her betrothed?”

“But maybe that’s the point,” Hiccup replied with a light shrug. “She was to marry one of you anyway, wasn’t she? Maybe it’s time to get over how you grew up like siblings and start seeing each other as what you are. An option. I… I think I know her well enough by now to say that she won’t spontaneously fall in love with one of those strangers her father presented to her. But a love match was never a likely possibility – for neither of you. And I remember what Daniel said on that first night we spent here, your accolade. He said that you would be good for each other, and… and I agree.”

Saying those words felt like a hungry beast tearing at the dead remains of his heart and soul. It hurt! But it was better this way. His own pain he could deal with, but hers? Not so much. And if it wasn’t within his power to help her directly, then the least he could do was send comfort in another form.

As they rode on, Hiccup was aware of Eret’s scrutinising gaze on him, and all he could hope for was that he wouldn’t see how Hiccup felt inside. But he didn’t say anything else until they reached the stables where a group of grooms quickly took over the horses to lead them to their new stalls.

“Hey, Hic,” he eventually spoke again once they were alone. “I know I offered to help, but… Would it be all right for you to get Markor and Cassie on your own? They shouldn’t give you any problems, after all. And I’ll take your bag up to my rooms, and…” he paused, grimacing, then shook his head. “There’s a message I have to send and I need to see whether I can find Dagur. Gotta talk to him…” He ran a hand through his hair, and if Hiccup wouldn’t be feeling so dead inside anyway, he’d be sorry for his cousin. It wasn’t only she who’d gotten thrown into this mess, after all…

But still, it was better this way.

“Sure,” he agreed with a sympathetic smile and a clap to Eret’s shoulder. “See you tonight then.”

On his way back to the outer stables, he wasn’t able to control his thoughts and emotions any longer though. He didn’t cry; after last night he didn’t think he had any tears left, but the pain still returned in full force.

It’s better this way, he kept chanting to himself. No matter how much the thought of her marrying Eret or one of her other brothers hurt, it was still the best option there was. She would have a good life with a husband who respected her as a person and not just saw her as an object, who cared for her. It might not be the right kind of love that connected them, but at least there was some form of affection, enough for her to eventually find comfort in her fate. It was all that was left for him to hope for.

And if she chose Eret… Well, Hiccup did feel sorry for him and Dagur. Even with knowing that their relationship couldn’t last, having it end this abruptly couldn’t be easy either. No wonder Eret had wanted to talk to his lover.

Once back at the outer stables, he concentrated on getting Cassie and Markor ready. It was a welcome distraction, and the familiar motions and the simple affection the horses offered gave him comfort, Cassie especially. She’d been with him for so many years now, had been his only support during trying times, and now easily adapted to his pain again. He took several minutes just scratching her and accepting her rubbing her nose to his chest, until something like a smile was back on his face. Not a happy but at least a content one.

The smile didn’t last long though, only until he entered Markor’s stall. The gelding directly looked up at his visitor, clearly hoping and then being disappointed as it wasn’t who he’d hoped it would be. The sight gave Hiccup a new sting, and he did his best to cheer the horse up by rubbing and cuddling his neck.

“I know, I know. I miss her too,” he whispered, hiding his face against the gelding’s warm fur. It was three days now since she’d last been here – a long time considering how often she’d been here during the past three months. No wonder Markor missed her, especially since he couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t come. “But don’t worry, boy. She’ll get back to you. You’ll see.”

Hiccup let himself feel comfort from the horses’ presence for a few minutes longer, before he got them both ready. He struggled a bit with which saddle to put on Markor, but then decided on the ridiculously decorated side saddle. It was the official saddle, after all, and he would need to ask Eret where to store the unofficial but more practical one.

When he was done, he let his gaze wander through the stables that had been his home during these past wonderful months, and gulped. Leaving this place for good felt like a sign. It was truly over, and their time really had only been borrowed, had never been intended to last.

He was about to leave when he remembered the one thing he’d left here before and hurried back to his former sleeping stall to retrieve it. If anyone was to find it by chance, it would only raise unnecessary questions. Hesitantly, he picked up the small swan-shaped oil pot. His chest was tightening – at the sight, at the memories, and at what it stood for. He’d been so grateful to Cami for this gift, not just because of why she’d given it to him but also because of what else it represented. He’d meant to keep it during the weeks and months of their separation, as a reminder and a promise for better times. The scent of the oil alone would have served to comfort him over missing her. But now? Now, it only hurt to look at it, the cool ceramic feeling as if it was burning his skin. All it did now was remind him of what could never be.

With a low suppressed sob, he stowed it away into a pocket, then left the stables without looking back. He tried to leave it all behind him as he once more rode down the path to the main stables on Cassie’s back, but his thoughts kept whirling around the pot and what it stood for. Why had the Gods abandoned them? He’d told her that maybe they’d been wrong, that they weren’t soulmates meant for each other after all. But he didn’t believe that, not really. She’d been right, he’d felt it too, the connection, their bond – and still felt it! All that had been real! And yet… And yet, the Gods had turned away from them, had separated them without leaving them any hope. Why? What had happened, what had changed?

A whirlwind of thoughts blew through Hiccup’s mind, thoughts that, in a way, added another layer of pain to his battered soul, but that, at the same time, made perfect sense.

It was all his fault.

With shaking hands, he pulled the pot back out of his pocket – leaving Cassie to find the way on her own – and stared at it. They’d gone too far... It made sense, now that he thought about it. This had to be what had angered the Gods. Them ignoring the rules, getting intimate before it was allowed. A part of him wanted to blame Cami for her support, for her assurance that it would be all right as long as they kept to certain rules. But Hiccup knew that wouldn’t be fair. It had been his decision to go further than he’d felt comfortable, than he’d been taught was allowed. He had ignored the rules he’d learned, had given in to his desire. He should have known better!

His breath became ragged as he kept staring at the oil pot and everything clicked into place. Them getting intimate must have angered the Gods. The timing was a clear indication. They’d gone too far, and before they’d been able to break another rule with their forbidden plan to have anal sex, the Gods had put an end to it. The timing was unmistakable.

It was all his fault!

A pained sob tore itself from Hiccup’s throat. Having lost her… that was bad enough. But now, he knew that it had been his own doing, that he should have known better. If he hadn’t been so foolish and selfish… their future would still be in reach.

Hiccup’s hand tightened around the pot – until it cracked. Without a warning, he was emerged in a cloud of intense mayweed scent, and it momentarily rendered him blind and deaf to everything around him. His mind got flooded with the memories he’d tried to hold back – of her smile, of her being in his arms, of burying his face in her hair and inhaling deeply. Of the flush on her face and her little gasps, of the taste of her skin, of holding her through the night. Of all the things that could never be.

With a pained and desperate outcry, he hurled the pot away. He wasn’t looking, didn’t care where it might land. He only wanted to get rid of it, to never relive those memories again. It was too painful.

But when he heard the splash of water, he looked up after all, puzzled. Without him noticing, Cassie and Markor had paused near the little lake that used to house her swans, and the pot must have landed in there.

How fitting, Hiccup thought bitterly as he watched the waves on the surface getting smaller and fading away. Eret had told him about the swans’ fate, how that, too, had hit her. It felt oddly right that this place now was also where all their hopes, dreams, and plans for the future were buried. Forever.

He stayed for a little while longer, gazing at the now-calm lake, and let the pain wash through and out of him. It was over, and there was nothing he could do but accept it.

He let himself wallow for a little bit longer, then forced every remaining trace of pain into a distant corner of his heart to keep it locked there forever. From now on, he had to function. Be it the upcoming tournaments and other occasions or the possibility of still seeing her regularly in case she chose Eret – he couldn’t let her or anyone else see his pain.

From now on, he wouldn’t let his emotions slip ever again.

. o O o .

A part of Astrid still clung to the hope that she would eventually wake up. Nothing seemed real; not the days she’d spent getting introduced to all her suitors, not the evening meals she was to take in the usual company of her father, the Grand Dukes, and their sons, and not the nights when she lay awake crying or too agitated to fall asleep until exhaustion took over. And now, she sat beneath a neat little pavilion, overlooking the fighting grounds that were decorated for the first of many upcoming tournaments, and still didn’t feel as if she was fully awake.

The whole setting was just… surreal. The sudden snow from the previous week had all melted by now, but it was still rather cool, and the practical part of her mind was grateful for her gloves and the warm cloak she was wrapped in – even as her heart kept recalling the warmer days from not so long ago. Around her, everything seemed dull and bland, colourless beneath the grey sky, except the brightly painted flags and banners everywhere which seemed completely out of place. It all just felt wrong to her. And the fact that the men in the arena beneath somehow believed that fighting each other would gain them her favour was just absurd.

Not for the first time, a pained outcry sounded over the crowd followed by a wave of whispers as one of the fighters fell to one knee and clutched at his thigh. Blood quickly stained his blue-and-green-coloured clothes in shades of red, and Astrid hoped that the blow from his opponent's sword hadn’t severed his main artery. It was quite possible that he’d not survive if it had.

The thought upset her even though she didn’t feel as if there was much left of her to be upset. She’d probably talked to this man during the past days, and now, he might very well be dying a pointless death. And the worst was that, if he died, he wouldn’t be the first and certainly not the last one either.

The first had been an accident during a short hunting trip two days prior. The man’s horse had been wounded by a misguided arrow from one of his companions, and the fall off his horse’s back onto the uneven ground of the forest had caused severe injuries – or something like that. Astrid only dimly remembered how the King and the other men had talked about it during dinner. It had been one of three deaths on that day, and since then, the body count had only climbed higher.

And as much as the small sane part of her mind despised these unnecessary deaths, she still had to admit that they weren’t unusual. Accidents during hunts happened. Likewise, injuries during tournaments weren’t uncommon. Many of the young men who participated considered the event incomplete if they hadn’t gotten a scar out of it. Once she had agreed with that bit of joking humour, but now? Now, she just felt numb.

So it was with a heart of stone that she watched the loser be carried off to the healer’s tent, festooned with Freya’s symbol. He wouldn’t be the last victim of these festivities, that was for sure. But as much as she loathed that thought… it wasn’t what really bothered her.

As selfish and as vile as the thought made her feel, she couldn’t bring herself to care too much for these strangers who had all come to haggle over her future as if she was nothing but a pretty adornment for their household. They had known what they were in for.

Although… with a strong sense of unease, she remembered the half hour she’d had to spend with Thuggory the other day. And even though she tried to forget his words, they still lingered.

“So here we are, Milady Astrid, in a close and intimate conversation, just like it should be. I hope you’re enjoying my company, because you’d better get used to it.”

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I will never become your wife. There’s nothing you can do to make me choose you!” It had been nearly the only words she’d said for days she actually remembered.

But Thuggory had only laughed. “Oh, you naive and stupid girl. You think I can’t force you to choose me? What if there’s nobody else left? What if I remove every other candidate until you see reason? You will become my wife, whether you want it or not.”

A shudder ran through her at that memory, and she quickly buried it in the depth of her mind. Thuggory could talk all he wanted, and chances were that he’d get himself killed. She didn’t even really feel bad for hoping for that outcome. But even that wasn’t what really concerned her.

No, what truly occupied her mind was the same topic that was ruling her every thought since the moment the King had made his announcement on her birthday.

She could see him standing at the side of the battleground, holding Eret’s substitute shield and sword ready in case his master might need them. It was the first time she’d seen him since he’d fled from her in the armoury that night, and even though she’d known he would be here, the sight of him had floored her completely.

During the last few days, her heart had… No, it hadn’t started to heal, but it had become numb. She’d refused to think about him, hadn’t let her consciousness dwell on what couldn’t possibly be true. He couldn’t have been right! This wasn’t the first time they’d encountered difficulties or misunderstandings, like when they’d first started to get intimate and he’d more or less avoided her for days. Back then, they had only needed some good advice and the chance to talk openly until everything was clear again. This was no different… wasn’t it?

Her eyes were burning, her lower lip starting to quiver, and she turned her attention back to the fighting men before she would burst out into tears in public. It will all be solved, she repeatedly thought to herself. We just need time to work it out.

But deep inside, she knew that this was very different from the little problems they’d encountered before. Because they already had talked. And it hadn’t solved anything. On the contrary, as much as she hated to admit it, the words he’d said to her at the armoury were not ones she could easily dismiss.

‘We’ve already lost.’

Yes, she’d refused to believe those words, but she also couldn’t simply dismiss them as wrong. No matter how much she wanted to ignore them or how much she tried to come up with a solution… she couldn’t find one. Maybe he’d been right after all...

This was another thought she’d vehemently ignored during the past days, but now… Seeing him standing there tore all wounds open anew. No, she didn’t want to believe that their shared future had been nothing but a pipe dream. But arguing against it became harder and harder, especially with seeing the utter hopelessness in his posture. Oh, he might be trying to hide it, to appear unperturbed and focused on his work – but she easily saw through him just like he’d always been able to see through her mask. She could see how much he was suffering, saw the pain in his hollow eyes. He’d said that he still loved her, that their feelings hadn’t been just their imagination. And yet, he’d clearly given up. There was no fight in him anymore, no strength to even consider fighting. He was broken, and seeing him like that broke her, too.

Biting down on her lip, hard, she gazed down at her hands, clenched into tight fists to keep them from trembling. So, what if he had been right? She’d tried her best to find a solution, but everything she’d brought up he’d warded off as impossible, and rightly so. And he who was so much smarter than her, who was able to think so quickly and come up with solutions for every problem… had given up. Slowly and against her will, the realisation seeped into her heart.

They’d already lost…

Once more, she glanced at where he stood and it felt as if her heart was breaking all over again. It was over, really and truly over. Her hand wandered to her chest as if to catch the shards and keep them together, but it was no use. A fresh wave of pain tore through her and it only got worse when she saw him grimace and mimic her gesture, his hand pressing to his chest as if he could feel it too. For a short heartbeat, he glanced up at where she sat and their eyes met. It was like a last goodbye, a last shared moment, the acknowledgement that he felt the same but that that didn’t change anything.

There was no hope left for them, nothing they could do.

. o O o .

The realisation left her feeling hollow, even more so than the pain of the announcement and his words had before. There was nothing left for her. Nothing to look forward to, nothing to hope or to fight for. All that was left to her was a dull and empty future with a man she didn’t care for while always remembering what she’d lost, what could have been. It was a frightening thought, and for two days, it was all she could think about, making her tumble deeper and deeper into her misery, until Ruff put an end to it.

“This can’t go on,” she exclaimed when she spotted the plate of once more untouched tea and biscuits. “I get that you feel horrible and I’m sorry, I really am. But you’ve got to eat! You can’t let yourself waste away just because that boy turned your head and broke your heart. No matter how much you might despise this and how little I like to remind you about it, you’ve got responsibilities.”

Astrid snorted, the only reaction that gave away she’d listened at all with her standing by the window and looking out over Lake Vola’s calm surface. Responsibilities… Yes, that was all that was left to her. Fulfilling the expectations placed on her, marrying to keep the Kingdom stable and popping out children for her future husband until her body gave up. It wasn’t any different from what she’d been prepared for all her life, but where before she’d accepted the thought with a certain composure and even a hint of pride to fulfil this duty, it now only made her feel dreadful. But who knew… maybe she would be lucky; maybe she would end like so many other women and not survive such a life for long…

She flinched when, without a warning, a hand touched her shoulder. “Milady, you’ve got to move on,” Ruff said urgently. It could have come across as cruel and cold-hearted, but Astrid knew her maidservant well enough. Most of all, she was practical. “I know it’s not easy, but you have to. You have a few hours left before today’s hunting party returns and you’ll have to welcome them back; how about you try and get on other thoughts until then, take a break? You could visit your horse; Tuff can escort you there. Or the herb garden? Maybe there are a few plants that already grow, or you could clean it up for the warmer days?”

Swallowing, Astrid closed her eyes. Ruff was right, and she knew that. She couldn’t continue like this forever, like nothing but an empty shell. Eventually, she would have to go on, to get over him. A tiny voice in the back of her mind was screaming at her that this was wrong, that she shouldn’t have to get over him, that they were meant to be… But she ignored it and hoped that, one day, the voice would disappear. So far though, it only threatened to tear her apart – the logical knowledge that they had no chance against the denial still simmering beneath – and she wrapped her arms around herself in a fruitless attempt to keep herself together. Suddenly, seeking distraction sounded like an excellent idea.

“Okay,” she whispered weakly. A slight frown crossed her face as she thought about Ruff’s suggestions though. The idea of visiting Markor was alluring, but even with him now housed at the main stables, he was too tightly linked to all those wonderful memories she tried to forget, and she wasn’t sure whether she could stand being near him yet. No, that wasn’t an option, and visiting the herb garden wasn’t an appealing idea either; it would only remind her of these last few days at the dead royal gardens where she’d been offered like meat to a pack of wolves. But what else could she do?

Something like a small smile tugged at her lips as she remembered another option, another place she could go and hide from reality, from who she was, and where she got treated like a normal person.

“Is Tuff ready?” she asked in a quiet but somehow steadier voice. “I’d like to go visit Fishlegs.”

Ruff reacted with an approving grin. She even went so far as to pack the biscuits and other pastries to take with her, even though Astrid felt odd bringing food Heather might very well have prepared herself as a gift. However, she understood that Ruff’s main motivation was her hope that Astrid might still eat something, so she didn’t say anything, and not even half an hour later she knocked on the door to her friends’ house.

There were grunts and the shuffling of cloth audible, even through the door, but it still took over a minute before a tired looking Fishlegs opened her. When he recognised her though, his face brightened. “Astrid! Now, that’s a surprise. Uh, come in, come in.”

He stepped aside and waved her in, threw a wondering look at Tuff but shrugged and closed the door again when her warder made no attempts to come in as well and instead stayed with the chickens outside. He hurried around on his short legs to which he owed his nickname, and picked up boxes and other stuff to make room for her.

Astrid hesitantly took the seat he eventually offered to her and watched him with a worried expression. “Is everything all right? Is this a bad time for me to visit?” she asked, a little self-consciously. She’d looked forward to coming here once the plan was made, but hadn’t spared even a second to think about whether her friends even had time for her. But Fishlegs directly warded her concerns off with a smile and a shake of his head.

“No, no, don’t worry. We were just taking a nap, but it’s time to get up anyway.” As if to contradict himself, he yawned. “Uh, sorry. ‘s been a tough few days, but who am I telling this… Still, it’s good to see you. How are you doing?”

Warding his question off with a grimace and a shrug, she began to unpack the parcel of treats Ruff had given her. She hadn’t come here to dwell even more on her situation though, so she directly changed the subject. “And you?”

Fishlegs gave a little shrug, then longingly eyed the biscuits. “May I?” He reached for one when Astrid nudged the parcel toward him without a word, and ate it with obvious delight. “Mmh, that’s good. Not sure when I last ate anything.” He took another one, and only continued speaking once it was gone, too. “I’m okay. Tired. Overworked. Usually, I wouldn’t take a nap at this time of day, but Master Mulch insisted on it. He claimed that I’ve been on my feet for over thirty hours – and the fact that I don’t know whether that’s true is probably proof enough. But there’s just so much to do! It’s like these men are actually out on getting severely injured. More than one even asked whether he’d keep a ‘cool scar’ out of it.” He shook his head and helped himself to another pastry.

Or others are out to get them injured, she thought, grimacing as she again remembered Thuggory’s sneer. She shuddered, but ignored Fishlegs’ inquisitive look. “So, what kind of injuries do you have to treat? Mostly cuts, I assume?”

“Aye. Or that’s my job, at least, while Master Mulch treats the more urgent injuries,” he nodded, then intently looked at her. “Do you remember how to treat such a cut?”

Astrid chuckled, surprising herself with the sound. It felt odd, as if her being happy was some form of betrayal. But that was a stupid thought; Ruff had been right in insisting for her to get distracted would do her good. And she also was incredibly grateful for Fishlegs to catch up on her mood so quickly.

“I think so?” she replied to his question, focussing on what he’d taught her. “First, you have to clean the wound, with clear water or maybe strong alcohol. Then you put willow bark tincture on it, for disinfection and against the pain. Depending on how deep the cut is, you might need to sew it shut with a good needle. At last, you cover the wound with moss to soak up blood, put a tight-enough cast around it, and threaten the patient with your eternal wrath in case they don’t give the wound enough rest to heal properly,” she recited Fishlegs’ former lesson – even though the last bit was her own addition. It had the desired effect as it made him laugh and congratulate her on still remembering.

They chatted for a while longer, with Astrid feeling lighter by the minute, until Heather joined them. She looked even more tired than her husband had, and gracelessly slumped onto the bench next to him. At first, she eyed the pastries Astrid had brought with a slightly wrinkled nose, but then shrugged and picked one to nibble on.

“Hey, love. Had a good rest?” Fishlegs asked, then jumped up, startling Astrid. “Wait, I’ll make you a mug of that herbal tea. Astrid, what about you?”

“Sure, why not,” she replied with an amused smile, then turned her attention back to Heather. “Lots of work for you too, I guess?”

Again, Heather shrugged. “Yes, but it’s manageable, all in all. Mostly providing refreshments for those watching the tournament and preparing and preserving whatever them men bring from those hunts. It’s not like the crazy increase of work Justin has.”

Astrid raised an eyebrow at her, which made the other woman chuckle.

“Yes, yes, I know what you’re thinking. I say that, but still, here I am, looking as if I’d been up for over three days straight.” She shook her head, a soft smile spreading over her face. “But I still say it’s not the work. I’m just kinda always tired lately. Maybe I’ve caught some bug, or so. It’ll pass.”

Before Astrid could reply anything, Fishlegs returned and placed a steaming mug in front of each. “So, here you go. But I’ve gotta leave you now. I’m sure we’ll get new patients once the hunting party returns, and I need to help Master Mulch prepare for that. Bye, Astrid. Was great to see you again.” He waved at her, bent to kiss Heather goodbye, and left.

Astrid reached for her mug, and hummed. She knew that the brew was too hot to drink it yet, but she could still enjoy the heat as part of the comfort around her, and she basked in it all, in this small sanctuary.

Until Heather brutally tore her back into reality.

“So, you’re getting married,” she stated.

It wasn’t a question, and when Astrid threw her a short baffled look before quickly averting her gaze she thought she detected a strange expression in Heather’s eyes. Pity, determination, and… satisfaction? But no, she certainly had imagined that last one, she thought and shook her head, chiding herself. She, too, was overly tired and exhausted, that was all. “Yes,” she breathed, the only answer she could think of. What else was she supposed to reply anyway? It wasn’t a secret, after all. Not anymore.

Heather watched her for a minute, quietly, and then sighed. “I’m sorry,” she said, sounding weirdly formal. “I remember what we talked about some while ago, and… Well, judging by how you haven’t openly proclaimed your love yet and your gloomy mood… I guess the one you had feelings for isn’t someone your father would approve of?”

Astrid pressed her lips shut, her hands around the mug tightening. This was not why she’d come here. She didn’t want to talk about this, about him, didn’t want to think. She wasn’t strong enough for that, not yet. “No, he’s not,” she mumbled weakly. “And-and it’s over anyway.” Saying it out loud, now that she knew it was true, hurt even more, and she hoped that Heather would drop the topic now. But apparently, she wasn’t that lucky.

“I see,” Heather sighed. “Well, again, I’m sorry for you. But this is part of what I meant, you know? When you asked me about how it feels to be in love and I told you to be careful? And it’s probably better this way anyway, that it’s over I mean.” She sighed again. “Gods, I sound heartless. I’d apologise, but what I wan– what I need to tell you won’t sound any better to you.”

Astrid wanted to make her stop talking, to order her if necessary, but she couldn’t find her voice. Unbiddenly, just thinking about him made images and memories flash through her mind, of his shining eyes when he smiled, of his touch when he cradled her cheek, of his warmth when he held her in his embrace. They flooded through her, leaving her powerless to rein them back in, and only Heather’s voice – even as it had caused this in the first place – was able to tear her out of it again.

“The thing is… I know that a marriage out of love is one of the best things that can happen to a person. But you are more than just an ordinary person! You aren’t just responsible for your own happiness, but also for that of your people. And even though I wouldn’t want to begrudge you a love match… I want to ask you to make a prudent choice. Please, think of your people.”

Astrid was trembling, but with the painful memories had also come the numbness of the last few days. As if her body and mind reacted on reflex, shutting down to ward off any harm. “What exactly are you asking of me?” she heard herself ask, her eyes on the little waves on the tea’s surface.

Heather gave a deep sigh. “I… I want to ask you to marry Dagur – or his horse-crazy boyfriend, if necessary. These two… with their impossible relationship and their refusal to marry and take responsibility, they’re a bigger threat to the Kingdom’s stability that those pathetic Malarians who can’t do anything but be an annoying pain at the border. Please, I-I’m begging you. It is within your power to separate them and end this selfish infatuation of theirs that so easily can turn half the Kingdom into chaos. Marry Dagur and give him an heir. It’s w-what the people need!”

There was a heavy silence once Heather stopped talking. To Astrid, it felt oppressive, like a thick blanket smothering everything; every sound, her thoughts, her movements, even the air to breathe. Only slowly, she managed to raise her head and to look at the other woman.

Heather was clearly afraid of having spoken her mind so openly. She was watching her with wide eyes, one hand over her mouth to cover it, the other wrapped around herself in something like a protective gesture. It was a funny sight, in a way. This woman, who had adamantly fought expectations and the people who had wanted to keep her in the place she’d been born into, was afraid of her, a powerless puppet who wasn’t even allowed to choose what she was wearing? It was ridiculous.

But Astrid felt too numb to laugh. Instead, she silently gazed at the woman who she’d thought of as a friend until now. “Thanks for the tea,” she eventually whispered, let go of the untouched mug, and rose to her feet to leave.

In passing, she heard Heather mumble another “I’m sorry!” but she wasn’t in a condition to accept the words.

Tuff looked up in surprise when she appeared next to him, but quickly caught on to her mood after he caught her expression. “Guess that didn’t go as Ruff hoped, eh? What a surprise… You wanna go back?”

Astrid nodded and mutely followed Tuff back to her chambers. And all the while, her head was spinning around what Heather had said.

How dare she? How dare she ask something like this of her? Essentially, it was the same thing the King had asked of her, the same he had suggested. But marrying Dagur – or Eret or Snotlout for that matter – that was insane! How could people even think of this option? It was ridiculous, and wrong, and simply impossible.

. o O o .

No matter how much Astrid tried to dismiss Heather’s suggestion as pure idiocy, the thought kept popping up in her mind at the weirdest of moments. Over and over, she mulled it over in her head, all the reasons why it was a stupid idea and could never work out. It was annoying – but she was still grateful for it. Thinking about this kept her mind occupied and prevented her from drowning in pain. At night, she was still helpless to the onslaught of memories, crying until she had no tears left, but at least during the day she was managing better now. And during dinner two days later, she was even able to pay attention to what happened around her again.

“Hey, Dag. Could you hand me the cheese plate?”

The question came from Snot next to her, and Astrid reacted without thinking as she reached for the plate that stood right in front of her and pushed it over to him.

“Uh… thanks, Astrid,” Snot grunted, clearly perplexed.

She gave him a nod and something like a small smile, then looked around into the astonished but smiling faces of her brothers. “What?” she asked, a little defensively. It wasn’t as if she usually was too proud to help either.

Eret’s smile softened a little. “Nothing. It’s just good to have you back.” She frowned, but he didn’t elaborate and she was grateful for that. She really hadn’t been here lately, had she?

With a low sigh, she reached for a bread roll and the cheese as well. She did it out of reflex, to not get scolded again for eating too little, and only after taking a first bite did she realise how hungry she actually was. Maybe Ruff had been right after all. Maybe it was time for her to accept the lot fate had dealt her and roll with it. As always, the thought came with a hidden, painful sting, but she refused to let it hit her, to even let the tiniest of thoughts about… about this topic reach her consciousness. She might be more composed now, but she certainly wasn’t strong enough for that. So when Eret addressed the older men at the other end of the table a minute later, she happily focused all her attention on their conversation.

“Uncle Spitelout? I know I’m asking this every night, but have you received any news from Daniel today?”

At that, Astrid looked up with real interest now. Whenever Spitelout was at the castle, he happily took over overseeing the royal pigeonry for the time being. She’d never understood his fascination with the birds, but then, everybody needed a hobby, she assumed. It made him happy and also meant that he was always informed about what kind of messages had left or reached the castle through the homing pigeons. And even with how twisted her thoughts about Daniel were these days, she was still eager to hear from him.

However, Spitelout, who’d just pushed his plate away with a clearly satisfied sigh, just gave a little grunt and shook his head. “Sorry, boy, but there still was no answer. The last time we heard from him was a week ago when he informed us that everything goes as planned.” He shrugged. “Beyond that, ‘No news are good news’. Besides, who knows whether your message has even reached him yet? My birds only fly to their nests in Westhill, after all, and from there a courier would have to be sent out to find him and deliver your message – and while we know where the Prince is supposed to be, itineraries in that region can be seen as little more than polite suggestions.”

“Looks like you’ll have to wait until he’s back, son,” Eret II added with an amused smile. “Just be a little patient, he’ll be back in two weeks anyway.”

Eret grunted, but didn’t ask anything else, and instead focused on his overly full plate.

Astrid had watched the short exchange with a bit of apparently obvious bewilderment, so Dagur, who seemed to have caught her puzzled look, now leaned over to explain in a low voice. “Eret sent a pigeon with a message to Westhill, a day or two after… well, after this whole mess started. I read a part of it and it was hilarious; a collection of not-very-nice insults and the repeated demand for what in the name of Hel’s pale tit Daniel had been thinking.” He shrugged, grinning. “To be honest, I wouldn’t be surprised if Daniel chose not to answer. I certainly wouldn’t. Either way, their next meeting is going to be fun. Chippy was fuming in the beginning, and I bet he’s still not entirely calmed down, though don’t ask me what exactly it was that had set him off like that. He didn’t even tell me.”

She threw a glance at Eret, and the tight grip with which he held his cutlery and the slightly troubled grimace on his face seemed to prove Dagur’s words true. It made her wonder. Sure, she didn’t have the most sisterly feelings for Daniel these days either; his knowing about this plan and not telling her felt like too much of a betrayal. But it made little sense for Eret to have the same reasons for his anger. She didn’t get the chance to further wonder about his behaviour though.

“I’ve got to agree, it’s good to have you back among the living,” came suddenly Snot’s voice from beside her, and when she turned to look at him, he had a wide grin on his face. “And since the kitchen provided us with this dish tonight... May I suggest you try this cold venison? It’s deer prepared after a recipe our chef in Westhill developed, and it is delicious.”

Perplexed, she watched as Snot placed a piece of the rosy meat onto her plate before she could even react. Then she grimaced, and shook her head. “No, thanks. No venison for me,” she mumbled. Snot couldn’t know her feelings there, of course. But she simply wasn’t able to eat any form of venison – or meat in general – lately. Not since her birthday.

“Snot, you really are an idiot, do you know that?” Dagur commented dryly as he reached over to pick the venison off her plate and devoured it whole. The sight made a small amused smile tug at her lips. Good manners weren’t exactly one of Dagur’s strong assets – and probably never would be.

Snot huffed, but didn’t further react to Dagur. Instead, he turned his attention back to Astrid and the cheese plate between them. “I’m sorry, how thoughtless of me. But… well, then how about this?” He cut off a piece of soft cheese with a greyish-yellow rind and held it out for her with a broad smile. “Father and I brought this on your father’s request; he liked it a lot the last time he visited Westhill. It has a rich and piney flavour that only develops when the cheese gets extra time to age.”

Hesitantly and with a slight frown, Astrid accepted the offered cheese, more out of reflex than of real interest. What was up with Snot? It wasn’t as if she didn’t know this behaviour from him; focussing all his attention on one person, being friendly and observant while more or less subtly advertising himself, his family, or his home. But so far, he’d never directed it at her! Was he actually flirting with her? He couldn’t be serious, could he? Surely, he had to be joking, overacting to throw it back into their fathers’ faces… right?

She looked at him, trying to detect something in his expression, a twitch of his lips maybe or an amused spark in his eyes. But there was nothing. Still trying to make sense of Snot’s behaviour, she took a bite of the cheese, but couldn’t help but grimace at the weirdly unctuous taste. “Urgh, sorry, but I think I’ll pass this one,” she said in as polite a tone as she could muster. She kind of appreciated Snot’s attention as it served as a good distraction, but it still left a strange aftertaste.

Hoping he would leave her be now, she wanted to reach for her glass of wine, but sighed when she found it empty.

“Here, let me get you a refill,” Snot directly prompted. He reached for one of the wine carafes at the end of the table, and before she could even blink her glass was filled again. “This one is another speciality we brought from Westhill, and if I remember correctly, you quite liked this one. ‘Rich-yet-not-overpowering berry fruit flavour surrounded with hints of cassis and cherry’ was your description, I think.”

Despite her annoyance at his renewed attention, Astrid couldn’t help but feel grateful, both for the wine and that he’d remembered. She tried a sip, and couldn’t help but hmm. The rich liquid tasted wonderful and made her relax almost instantly. Before she knew how, the glass was empty, and with a low, regretful sigh, she placed it back onto the table. She didn’t want to get drunk, couldn’t afford it, but the idea of getting rid of all her problems, if only for a few hours, was alluring. And the wine really did taste good.

So she didn’t object when Snot got her another refill, and didn’t even mind him directly diving into his next story about all the formidable vineyards they had in Westhill and how much more they could have.

With a resigned sigh, she settled on sipping her wine and tried to drone out his monologue. A part of her tried to reason that he certainly didn’t mean to annoy her into anger with his apparent flirting. Maybe she was just too over-sensitive and strained right now to detect the signs of joking.

Because he couldn’t be serious, right? He couldn’t be actually flirting with her. No matter what their fathers wanted, he was still her brother! But the longer the dinner lasted, the more plain his advances became and the more she wished to get away from him. Snot, like all of her brothers, had always been a source of comfort to her, but tonight she felt the opposite.

His behaviour reminded her of the impossible implication of her marrying one of them. Although, at least Snot didn’t seem to think it impossible, even though the thought made her shudder. Marrying one of her brothers… that was completely insane!

Wasn’t it?

 . o O o .

Right...Yeah, it still feels like not much has happened in this chapter, but it's actually been a lot, I think. Many little things, development, preparation...Sorry if it sucks...

And I promise this is still very much a Hiccstrid story!

*jumps back into hiding*

Next chapter

[bluerosesburnblue]

Extremely late to the party, but I finally finished reference drawings of my Hogwarts Mystery MC, Seren Dwyn, and her hopefully not dead bro. Sorry if the colors are weird, I had to manually adjust them when I switched computers

Assorted Information under the cut

Seren Dwyn

Full Name: Seren Aisling Dwyn

Birthday: July 29, 1973 (yeah, it’s just my birthday. I got lazy)

Blood Status: Half-blood (and 3/16 Siren)

Nationality: Half-Irish, Half-Faroese (lives around the shore of Malin Head, outside of Ballyhillin in County Donegal)

Wand: Acacia wood, Unicorn Hair core, 12″

Boggart: Has two. The Voldemort boggart, which represents her fear that Jacob wasn’t the person she thought he was, and Jacob as he was before he left telling her that she was a disappointment that shouldn’t have been born. Only Professor McGonagall saw the latter the one time it appeared, the Voldemort one showing up more often in Year 3 as that was the fear at the forefront of her mind at the time

Favorite Classes: Care of Magical Creatures (!!!), Charms, and Herbology (aka her chill out class)

She and Jacob were pretty much raised as Muggles due to the fact that their father was a Squib and disowned from his pureblood family and their mother was a Muggleborn from a Durmstrang-covered nation and so grew to resent magic as she received little education on its workings

So, like, they went to Muggle school until Hogwarts and knew of most things magic and Wizarding World, especially with their limited interactions with their father’s mother, but they were mostly removed from Wizard culture

Jacob’s nickname for her is Rinn, because it potentially means the same thing as Seren and is phonetically similar to the last part of her name

Her first bit of magic was hiccuping up floating balls of water when she was less than a year old. That was when Jacob knew she was going to be talented at magic

Her favorite candy is peppermints

Was just barely a hatstall between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Like, six seconds over time. The hat was insistent that she go to Hufflepuff, but Jacob told her he wanted her to go to whichever house was best for her, not just his house. It took the hat a while to convince her that Hufflepuff was the right house for her

She’s loyal to a fault, but also has no personal ambition. Literally everything she does is for the sake of people she cares about. No dream job, no future plans, nothing. She also has a strong sense of justice/fairness, which comes out as both a strong desire to help others, even at the expense of herself (literally most sidequests) or knocking others down a peg when they start acting unfairly and hurting others (most interactions with Merula)

That said, she’s really creative and treats magic like a science. She experiments with it, and is extremely gifted in magical theory. Prefers to understand why a spell works as opposed to how, and once she does she casts it extremely well

Starts out at Hogwarts as extremely shy and skittish, which just gets worse the more people compare her to Jacob. Bucks up a bit during second year, starts getting more sarcastic in third year, and completely snaps after the Vault of Fear. She comes back in fourth year Much Angrier, with less of a filter, and a bit more Punk™ (but not much)

Literally snaps because she can’t stand how Dumbledore is treating the situation. Constantly reprimanding her and then unfairly awarding her? Not just gathering a team of Curse Breakers and sweeping the school over the summer when no one’s around like she suggested? Yeah, no, she lost all respect for him and may or may not get it back depending on where future story updates go

“Well damn, if everyone wants me to be Jacob 2 I may as well give them what they want” but she knows the rules so well she manages to break them in spirit without breaking the letter and weasels out of trouble most of the time because she never technically broke the rules and does so out of spite

That said, it’s still Seren, and she’s a genuinely nice person and a snarky dork, she’s just no longer taking unfair punishment lying down and lost all sense of self-preservation

Seren cares too much about other people, but hides it behind a facade of snark that occasionally comes across as a bit dismissive at times

Very stressed, acts chill, but breaks down when she knows people aren’t looking. It’s hard dedicating your childhood/teen years to finding your missing brother

Loves magical creatures. Loves them. Fire crab? Sooo cooool. Bowtruckle? Aw heck yeah little buddy you go! Murtlap? Oh, what a sweetheart. Sickleworth??? Mine now!!!

She’s loved Augureys ever since she was a kid. They’re her favorite magical creature

This love extends to normal animals but they don’t teach that at Hogwarts

Named the bowtruckle Jacob because she just wants her big bro back, dammit

She has a plush baby seal from when her family went to the aquarium when she was a toddler. Jacob used to do a voice and pretend the toy was alive to cheer her up as a kid. She still sleeps with it

Her owl, Arlo, is actually Jacob’s owl whose care she took over when he disappeared. The rest of her pets were found around Hogwarts, and she has her friends take them home over the summer because her parents would KILL her if she brought four animals home

While she’s good at Transfiguration, she kinda hates the class most of the time. Anything involving turning living creatures into inanimate objects or vice versa just skeeves her out so much and opens up WAY too many existential questions

That said, her favorite teachers are Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, and Professor Kettleburn

She likes Professor Sprout well enough, but she’s her Head of House and Seren has a crippling fear of disappointing others, so she’s constantly worried that Professor Sprout secretly hates her

She doesn’t share a lot of personal information with the gang. She would if asked (usually), but since Jacob was her only friend growing up and he knew this stuff already, she never really thinks to share

She will never tell anyone her middle name because she’ll die before any of her friends find out her initials are SAD

The gang kind of considers her Team Mom/Team Big Sister because of her proclivity for taking care of everyone’s emotional states. Ironically, she’s the youngest person in the group, though no one in it is aware (because she’s never shared her birthday and at this point refuses to because she doesn’t want anyone making a fuss over it, especially since it’s not like any of them will see her over the summer to celebrate it)

Seren gets kind of protective over her friend’s siblings. Percy doesn’t like her much due to her chronic disregard for rules, but she still looks out for him. Fred and George think she’s cool but can also be a killjoy sometimes. Ron and Ginny both adore her. And if Penny’s sister Beatrice ends up in Hufflepuff and Seren’s a Prefect? “Oh boy, Penny, I’m stealing your sister she’s mine now!”

The gang has a minor freak out when they find out that Seren “Frequently an Irish Stereotype” Dwyn is actually only half-Irish and hates potatoes

Madam Rakepick makes her really uncomfortable... because she sees too much of herself in her. Rakepick kinda represents a “who you could be if you were an arrogant asshole” and Seren, being very Hufflepuff, wants to be anything but arrogant

Rakepick really does like Seren, or at the very least thinks she has potential, and has ever since Seren’s response to dueling Ismelda was to immediately disarm her and go into a leg sweep. Rakepick’s gotta respect a kid willing to fist fight if it helps their cause

Seren has no desire to be a Curse Breaker and chafes a bit every time someone tells her she should be one. Breaking curses is just a necessary part of finding Jacob. She doesn’t particularly care for it

Her courses are geared towards Curse Breaking, but it’s more because she has ZERO plans for her future beyond locating Jacob and at least it’s something she’s good at

She stole Jacob’s old sweaters at the start of year 4. It’s not like he’s using them. Team sweater vest all the way

Had she gone to Ilvermorny, her house would unquestionably be Wampus. Girl gets things done, especially once she gets over her shyness, but the fighter potential and defiance was always there as evidenced by the way she kicked Merula’s ass for harassing Ben and Rowan in their first year

5′3″ and steadily getting angrier every year

A lot of people think she just blindly worships Jacob, but she really doesn’t. She’s aware that he was a pretty flawed person, she just doesn’t care. He was good to her and she loves him and that’s all that matters

Jacob Dwyn

Full Name: Jacob Caradoc Dwyn

Birthday: December 15, 1968

Blood Status: Half-blood (and 3/16 Siren)

Nationality: Half-Irish, Half-Faroese (lives around the shore of Malin Head, outside of Ballyhillin in County Donegal)

Wand: Maple wood, Dragon Heartstring core, 10″ (broken before expulsion)

Boggart: Seren’s nearly drowned body that he can’t resuscitate*

Favorite Classes: Flying, Charms, and Transfiguration

Five years older than Seren but only four years above her in school due to where their ages are in relation to the cutoff date. Would’ve been in the same year as the prefects

Seren’s nickname for him is Jay, or Jayjay if she’s trying to be annoying/cute. Jake just never caught on for him

His first real bit of magic was accidentally charming a room full of people while singing in a school pageant when he was four. He’s been afraid of singing in front of other people since, despite having a really good voice

His first reaction to being told that he was going to be an older brother was “Oh boy new friend!!!” The first time he met Seren he let her grasp his finger and told her he was gonna be the best big brother ever

He then started hating her for a few months because she just would not. Stop. Crying. And her room was right next to his so he heard it constantly

Warmed up to her when he realized that she was just scared of loud noises and would sing her to sleep after that (and she’s the only person who he’s comfortable singing around now)

*His boggart comes from a moment when Seren was three and he was supposed to be watching her but was so caught up in his own adventure he didn’t notice her get too close to the cliff edge and she fell into the ocean. He jumped in after her but she was completely submerged and her leg was stuck in some seaweed. She definitely would’ve died if a nearby Merrow hadn’t pulled her out. And he didn’t know CPR (he was eight) so he was lucky she coughed up the water herself. The event traumatized both of them. Seren was afraid of going into the water for years and Jacob got super protective of her and developed a fear of being unable to save her, which is what his boggart represents

Firmly believed that rules should never prevent you from doing the right thing, which would really inform most of his actions at Hogwarts

Has two main goals in life: become a cool detective and go on a world tour with his family (though once he’s estranged from his parents for good it becomes go on a world tour with Seren)

Loves liquorice and liquorice wands. Was known to eat whole bags of them at once

Was a true hatstall between Hufflepuff and Slytherin, but was ultimately placed in Hufflepuff because he would throw away everything in a heartbeat to benefit someone he loved, he valued loyalty above all else,  and preferred to do things on his own merit rather than cheating. He got a rush from genuinely overcoming challenges

That exhilaration when he overcomes challenges led to him really loving puzzles and mysteries of all kinds. In a way, Seren was half-right when she speculated that his reasons for looking for the Vaults was that he wanted to overcome a complex puzzle. It was why the search became addicting, but not why he started looking in the first place

He was notably impatient and had a habit of acting without thinking through consequences a lot. Honestly, Seren was a good part of his impulse control and he took a lot more risks at Hogwarts than he would have if she was there

His witty and cunning side tended to get him into trouble, too. Boy had a hell of a sarcastic streak and never could keep himself from snapping back at people who made snide remarks at him (looking at you, Snape)

Say what you will about his bad habits, but he was a very good brother to Seren. Their parents were always pretty distant so he became the emotional support that she needed. He’d let her sleep with him when she got scared during thunderstorms, would hold her whenever she got upset after being teased in school (and helped her with her homework as much as he could), and at one point climbed up onto their roof without a second thought when she got herself stuck up there by an accidental use of magic... and then he realized that he didn’t know how to get either of them down. He played games with her until their parents came home and got them down

The entire faculty was aware that he would gush about his sweet baby sister if given reason to. Most of them already knew who Seren was before she started at Hogwarts because of it (”Hey Professor Sprout, what plants would be good to mail to my sister? She loves flowers!”)

The only way I can reconcile a Hufflepuff!Jacob going on a search for the Vaults is that he thought something in them/someone looking for them was going to pose a threat to either the student body or Seren, so that’s what I’m going with until proven otherwise

Honestly there were a lot of reasons people thought that he was certifiably insane. Beyond raving about Vaults that most people didn’t believe existed he:

had a tendency to just Not Sleep when he was working on a project and was known to down bottles of Wideye Potion and then not sleep for days. He always looked tired in his later years

got really twitchy when he didn’t sleep, so he was always nervously fidgeting in his later years

was so impatient that he’d jump off of part of the Grand Stairwell to get around faster

once had a serious craving for fish (due to his Siren blood, which neither he nor Seren are aware of) and ran into the Great Hall in a panic, grabbed cod with his bare hands, and then ate it while jogging out of the room. This was one of Angelica Cole’s few interactions with him and one of the only times Bill Weasley ever really saw him in their 1 & 1/2 overlapping years (”Seren, your brother was weird.” “Yeah, I- ...yeah. That sounds like Jacob.”)

was kind of a mess just before he was expelled. His shirt was never on right, he was lucky he could even get his tie on, constantly forgot his robes, and he was using Reparo on his clothes nearly every day because they kept getting torn up with Vault related stuff

is farsighted, but refuses to get corrective glasses or fix the issue, leading to him squinting a lot when he reads and such. He just can’t freaking see

Also, it’s canon that he has godawful handwriting and can’t draw to save his life. Boy’s a living disaster sometimes

If he hadn’t gotten involved with the Vaults, he probably would’ve joined the Quidditch team as either a Beater or a Chaser, and likely would’ve also been the male prefect of his and Jane Court’s year

He and Jane absolutely hated each other, but the kind of hate that involves some belligerent romantic tension. The kind that would probably lead to an emotionally abusive relationship if they ever got involved when they were older, but mutual attraction was still there. It’s a good thing they never got to that point, but I could see Jane trying to sneak him a love potion in 6th or 7th year if he hadn’t gotten expelled

If you asked him about it, it’d take him a while to remember who Angelica Cole was. He’d need you to describe her. He was nice to her, but their interactions were limited and he was usually distracted by the time she started talking to him more

I actually have a hard time seeing him in a long-term romantic relationship with a British/Irish witch or wizard due to his reputation. I could see him with a foreign magic user, maybe an Ilvermorny alumni or something

I could very easily see his Ilvermorny house being Thunderbird had he attended school there because he’s always wanted to travel and always yearned for adventure. Not super relevant, just some interesting personality trivia

Also, he’s only an average 5′9″ at maximum height, but he’s taller than Seren and that’s enough for him

He got expelled about a week before his 15th birthday. The last time Seren saw him, he was hugging her while sobbing and just kept muttering “It’s gonna be okay. I love you. I’m so sorry,” over and over again. He was gone the next morning and Seren hasn’t been “okay” since

Both/Other

Both of them are trilingual at Hogwarts (English/Irish/Faroese) and may eventually learn Mermish in the future

Their mother taught them Faroese and their father thought it would be fun to do the same with the language of his country, even though he did not speak Irish himself

They make a lot of very similar expressions and have similar body language, which most Hogwarts professors picked up on fairly quickly (”Miss Dwyn, I know you’re lying. Jacob used to make that face when he was lying, too”)

Jacob’s patronus would be a Sea Lion* and Seren’s a Common Seal*

*I actually haven’t settled on whose is whose. Dunno if I want their patronuses to represent the caster or their sibling more

Seren is unable to cast a patronus unless Jacob is found alive. She cannot cast one before they find him and will never cast one if he is found dead or irreversibly evil/insane/corrupted

I was actually pretty against it at first, but I’ve gotten attached to the idea of both of them being Raven animagi, with Jacob being unregistered and Seren’s registration status up in the air right now

Both of them keep their eye color when they transform, which is much better for Jacob since Ravens tend to have similarly colored brown eyes

They also both have a chuckle that sounds like the clicking noise Ravens sometimes make

Being a Raven animagus makes Jacob’s tendency to transfigure things into black quills to hide them way more ironic

Assuming Jacob is found alive, in the future they end up starting a private investigation/private detective’s office where they take jobs that the Ministry has turned down. They get a bit of a reputation for not turning anyone away who needs help: human or not. Also espionage

If Jacob is found dead (and Seren does not also wind up dead) then Seren either takes odd jobs with no real purpose OR joins the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Beast Division, depending on the circumstances of Jacob’s death and how well she’s able to cope with it

Goodfuture! Jacob and Seren both get very good at Legilimency and Occlumency, Legilimency due to its uses in their profession and Occlumency due to paranoia arising from the entire Vaults incident. They practice on each other

Jacob is slightly better at Occlumency than Seren, Seren is slightly better at Legilimency than Jacob

Reading each other’s minds as much as they have leads to them being even closer than they were before. They now know secrets the other will never speak, and they can predict each other’s thoughts fairly easily. It also helped them work through Vault-based trauma

At some point they get really good at communicating wordlessly through magic. It freaks people out

Their siren blood does effect them, but I feel like that’s grounds for its own post

[humanpursuits]

Portraits, Dreams, and Me: A Complete Beginner’s Guide to Film Photography

VANCOUVER, B.C. – In autumn 1975, Wendy Ewald embarked on a bold photographic experiment.

The Detroit native had recently relocated to rural Kentucky, renting a small house on Ingram’s Creek, in southeastern Letcher County. As Ewald tells it, in PBS’ great new documentary, Portraits and Dreams, she was the first outsider to ever move into the area. That didn’t stop her from quickly establishing ties to the community. Soon, she found herself teaching photography to the community's 4th graders.

Being the 1970’s, the children’s lessons focused solely on film photography. Ewald taught them how to compose and capture an image, but also how to develop and print it. A rare skill set for any 9-year-old, the lessons gave students a chance to express themselves in ways previously unthinkable. The resulting photographs present Ingram’s Creek with a sort of fantastical-realism. Dreams and imagination blend with everyday realities of rural living. Adult issues, such as poverty and substance use, are relegated beyond the frame, giving the students freedom to explore their own thoughts and feelings. As Ewald explains to the audience, “Having a camera gives anyone power, but especially children.”

 That's certainly been my finding.

While I would never call myself a photographer, I’ve been shooting pictures on film for over 10 years. In 2009, I purchased my first film camera, the Diana Mini, using my Urban Outfitters staff discount. Essentially a toy, the Mini served as a low-fi, low budget introduction to photography, creating colourful, high contrast images in either a square or rectangle format. The camera’s cheap parts often over-complicated what was supposed to be a simple process. Photos would turn out blurry or muddy, and Edmonton developers would struggle to properly print the unusual square format photos. At times, it felt like I was throwing money into a mini incinerator.

 It wasn’t all bad. For every two rolls that didn’t turn out, one would. The more photos I took, the more I came to understand Diana’s quirks. I learned that my best photos tended to be taken in the afternoon with plenty of light. I learned which developers were comfortable processing the camera’s unconventional format. Slowly but surely, the image in my mind’s eye started to appear in the finished product, albeit inconsistently.

In the decade since, film photography has undergone a resurgence, becoming the de facto hobby for society’s cool and cultured. Included in the film pantheon are celebrities like Frank Ocean and Kendall Jenner, the latter of whom single-handedly increased demand for the Contax T2 after showing it off to Jimmy Fallon. While their snaps have certainly helped to cultivate an air of mystique and authenticity, the true-believer in me likes to think that celebrities shoot film for the same reason anyone else would. Because it scratches their creative itch. Because it gives them a chance to make their perceptions permanent.

 Ewald’s relationship with her students is at the centre of Portraits and Dreams, but so too is the group’s relationship with the medium. Though life led them in different directions, the former students all share one thing in common: they’re still taking pictures. “Pictures, to me, it helps you hold onto your memories.” says former pupil Delbert Shepard at one point. “You’re able to pull back the good memories and let go of the bad ones.” 

With this in mind, here’s a complete beginner’s guide to film photography (with particular advice for people in Vancouver/Canada). 

Tools of the Trade

Perhaps the biggest barrier to film photography is knowing which camera to use. Having grown from uninformed novice to imperfect amateur, I can tell you the unvarnished truth: it really doesn’t matter. I shot on a Diana Mini because it was the first film camera I saw that I could afford. Your first camera could (and probably should) be different from that, but don’t let gear distract you.

In his highly encouraging book, Steal Like an Artist, writer/artist Austin Kleon explains that it’s easy to feel like a phony or an imposter when setting out into a new creative field. Learning a new skill is sometimes awkward or uncomfortable. You know what’s not awkward or uncomfortable? Scouring YouTube or Reddit for camera recommendations. But while a good Google search can alleviate discomfort, it will do you a disservice in the long run. Don’t do it. If you take one thing from this article, let it be this: the best camera is one you want to use and is, ideally, right in front of you. 

 That said, I would encourage complete beginners to start shooting with a disposable camera. The reason for this is three-fold. First, disposable cameras are cheap–for $15 you get everything you need to shoot, including the flash. Second, disposables are idiot proof. You don’t need to worry about loading film, or setting the aperture, or even taking off the lens cap. It’s literally point and shoot. Third, disposable cameras can be given to most box store photo-processing centres for development with no-hiccups or special costs. This includes big box chains like Walmart, or my personal favourite, London Drugs.

If this sounds too easy, that’s because it’s supposed to be. At this point, your only goal should be to take photos. You don’t get bonus points for suffering, or for slamming your head against the wall. Seriously. If disposable cameras are good enough for Dua Lipa, they’re good enough for you. Shoot a couple rolls, then maybe look into buying your own rig (second-hand, of course). 

Quality > quantity

Once your camera is locked and loaded, the real fun begins.

 In an earlier draft of this essay, I wrote that a benefit of film is that it tends to inject photos with a certain degree of style. I still think that’s true. Film looks different from the majority of what we’re exposed to on a given day, meaning your images will have a natural allure. But with great power comes great responsibility. Film is finite, meaning even novice photographers need to make some tough decisions.

Most crucially, what do you want to photograph? In On Being a Photographer: A Practical Guide, David Hurn argues the best photographers are “enthusiastic and knowledgeable about their subject matter” and plan ahead of the actual shooting. This applies to professional photogs, sure. But Hurn’s advice also extends to novices. He gives the example of a mother photographing their child at the beach, writing: “Eighty-five percent of all the ingredients of photography are encompassed by this single act. The mother has an intimate knowledge of her subject… She is enthusiastic in her love of the subject… Her job is simply to record the moment.” In other words, stick to what you know. Take pictures of your friends and family. Maybe try your hand at a cheeky photo-dump. Just make sure whatever you’re shooting sparks genuine interest.

 On the matter of composition, I again point to Hurn, who believes photography consists of two fundamental elements: where you stand and when you release the shutter. The former, Hurn writes, can be predetermined, but the latter is largely a matter of chance (e.g., you can stand in front of the ocean, but you can’t control when the wave crashes). Because of this, the complete beginner is better off prioritizing quality over quantity. Focus on a single subject for multiple frames, rather than trying to capture multiple scenes. If you’re really bold, try shooting everything from a single spot, and adjusting the angle of your lens as you go.

When your roll is spent, get it developed. For beginners, that means paying a visit to your local 1-hour photo, such as London Drugs (LD). When you drop off your disposable/film tell them you want to get it processed and scanned. This keeps LD from printing your photos right away. Instead, they’ll send you a link to the scans, which are Instagram-ready. Seems like a small thing, but it will keep your costs low, and get your Likes flowing sooner. You can always print any favourites from the roll using LD’s online software.

Horizon Lines

With your first set of scans back from the shop, it’s time for a cool down period. Start with some self-reflection. Divide your photos into two groups: ones that worked, and ones that didn’t. Focus on the ones that didn’t–what’s off about them? Sometimes the answer is something simple, like you needed to use the flash. In other cases, the issue isn’t immediately clear. No matter. Use this as a reference to improve your work.

 When you’re finished, try to find further sources of inspiration. In particular, bypass Instagram and invest in a high-quality photo book. Classics include Robert Frank’s The Americans, Annie Leibovitz’s Photographs, or Vancouverite Fred Herzog’s Modern Colours (photography, like most creative fields, suffers from a lack of diversity). Take heart that, at one point, these household names were complete beginners. Any notoriety occurred, because they took the first step. It’s like Delbert Shepard tells his former teacher in Portraits and Dreams: “[Photography] taught me the meaning of life and that there were no boundaries to what we could do and couldn’t do. It’s whatever we set our mind to.” 

Watch Portraits and Dreams for FREE via PBS (VPN required)

Follow me on Twitter.

[thrashermaxey]

Ramblings: Which Scorers Have Been Most Important to Their Teams? (Feb 1)

  I’ve spent a good chunk of time slagging the Islanders’ goalies in this space, but let’s take some time to talk about how porous the defense has been as well. Over the past 18 games, the Islanders haven’t allowed fewer than 32 SOG in a single game and have allowed over 35 SOG 15 of 18 contests. It’s superb fun for fans of scoring, but what a horror show for these goalies. There’s a reason why the betting line for Islanders games has stayed up around 6.5 goals scored, while the rest of the league has regressed to 5.5 goals. Continue to look for Islander opponents to stream into your lineup or for daily fantasy plays.

Andrew Ladd made his return to the Islander lineup after missing three weeks with injury. He did not return to his usual spot alongside Mathew Barzal and Jordan Eberle, instead skating on the third line. Anthony Beauvillier is safe on the second line, for now, but that line also went a combined minus-nine, so tinkering could be ahead. We’re also talking three games without a goal for Beauvillier, which perhaps means his sugar rush has ended.

Nick Leddy update: the defenseman has one point in his last 11 games and five in his last 24. He is also minus-25 in those 24 games combined. YIKES! By no means am I putting this on Leddy. I think he’s more solution than problem, but reading the tea leaves he needs to be off fantasy rosters yesterday.

*

The Leafs got serious contributions from a bunch of youngsters including rookie defensemen Travis Dermott and Justin Holl who each scored their first career NHL goals.

Dermott sure seems like he has a future in this league, and looks like he should stick around, even once the Leafs get healthy again. Not sure how much room there is for him to be fantasy relevant though. The Leafs have a hard enough time getting Morgan Rielly and Jake Gardiner going at the same time, let alone having a third option in there.

Speaking of Gardiner, he is now up to 10 points on a six-game scoring streak, all with Rielly out of the lineup.

Frederik Andersen pulling off some obscene goaltending:

{source} <blockquote class="twitter-tweet" data-lang="en"><p lang="en" dir="ltr">Frederik Andersen robs John Tavares at the doorstep <a href="https://t.co/zMzzYTAtMA">pic.twitter.com/zMzzYTAtMA</a></p>— Jeff Veillette (@JeffVeillette) <a href="https://twitter.com/JeffVeillette/status/958892568556732416?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">February 1, 2018</a></blockquote>

<script async src="https://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script>{/source}

*

Big streak-ending night for the Capitals who saw Andre Burakovsky and TJ Oshie end goalless droughts of 10 games and 13 games respectively.

Obviously, Oshie was going to end his drought at some point. We’re talking too talented a player skating too many minutes, with too many good players. That said, his scoreless drought has been part of a regression that has seen him fall back towards his usual 20-goal output from the highs of last season’s 33.

*

Travis Konecny’s hot streak continues while up on the top line. The winger has goals in five straight games and has 13 points in the last 14 games. Get in on this while you still can!

The Flyers mixed things up in the middle-six as well pushing Jakub Voracek to LW to play alongside Nolan Patrick and Wayne Simmonds. That really consolidates the offense into two lines, but it’s what they may have to do. No one seems to be scoring unless attached to Couturier or Voracek. Patrick had a two-point night including this sweet goal:

{source} <blockquote class="twitter-tweet" data-lang="en"><p lang="und" dir="ltr">.<a href="https://twitter.com/Simmonds17?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">@Simmonds17</a> ➡️ <a href="https://twitter.com/nolan_patrick19?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">@nolan_patrick19</a> ➡️ <a href="https://t.co/uNLBRHmhsv">pic.twitter.com/uNLBRHmhsv</a></p>— NHL GIFs (@NHLGIFs) <a href="https://twitter.com/NHLGIFs/status/958871609435197440?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">February 1, 2018</a></blockquote>

<script async src="https://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script>{/source}

*

A pleasant surprise as the Predators announced that Mike Fisher will be coming out of retirement:

On Wednesday morning at Bridgestone Arena in Nashville, Fisher took to the ice in what is the first step toward the former Predators centerman rejoining the club he captained to within two wins of a Stanley Cup last spring – with hopes of getting just a little bit further this time around.

Indeed, Fisher intends to begin skating and working out on his own before joining the entire team for practices. The ultimate goal is to sign a contract before the Feb. 26 trade deadline and return to game action and pursue the one thing every hockey player dreams of.

This outlines a lot for us. The biggest being that Fisher isn’t yet in game shape. You have to think he didn’t completely let himself go, but at the same time this isn’t like showing up for training camp after a summer of working out. How long does it take to get a 37-year-old back into game shape? Probably a couple of weeks. I would compare his situation to that of a player coming off long-term injury. He’s going to need a couple of weeks to get his legs back. We have a drop-dead date of February 26, which is just under four weeks away. That should be plenty of time.

Depending on your league you may or may not want to rush out and sign Fisher. In keeper leagues where you can stash him in a minors slot until he officially signs there’s impetus to sign him now. Of course, he isn’t even in the database on a lot of sites so there’s a hiccup here.

In one-year leagues I don’t believe you can afford to grab him and wait a month for him to arrive. You also need to be in a particular sort of multi-category league where his production is at it’s highest value. He has a ton of value in leagues with faceoff wins, hits, blocked shots and PIM. Each one of those categories you remove gets you closer to him being a 40-point waiver guy.

Where does Fisher fit in now that the Predators have added both Kyle Turris and Nick Bonino at the center position. Last year, he was their 2C, skating as the net-front guy on the top power play unit. I could see him reprising the net-front role because of his faceoff prowess and because Craig Smith is replaceable, though Smith has done well with six goals and nine points with the man-advantage.

I could also see Fisher bumping Bonino to the wing, or perhaps they operate in a dual-center gig only taking draws on their strong side. Lots of teams employ this sort of strategy, most notably the Sharks. But it has to be mentioned that Fisher isn’t going to crack the top-six without an injury. Turris and Ryan Johansen are entrenched. He could see some time with skill guys when Peter Laviolette goes to the blender, but those will always be short-lived. I don’t suspect that Fisher will be used in quite the offensive role he has been in the past.

*

Official word out of Colorado is that Nathan MacKinnon will miss tonight’s game against Edmonton, but is day-to-day. Word on the street is that MacKinnon’s injury is not serious, so perhaps a sigh of relief here.

How important is MacKinnon to the Avalanche? He literally leads the league in primary points either scoring or getting the primary assist on 51 goals. Mikko Rantanen and Gabriel Landeskog are good enough to maintain relevance without MacKinnon, but there is no escaping a downturn after the loss of the leading MVP candidate. And this after the Avalanche were already likely to regress now that their 10-game winning streak is in the rear-view.

*

MacKinnon’s primary points got me wondering who has directly led to the highest percentage of his teams’ goals. Your league leaders in ratio of primary points/team goals:

    Team

GP

G

A1

P1

Team G

P1%

Jack Eichel

BUF

50

20

19

39

115

0.339

Nathan MacKinnon

COL

49

24

27

51

159

0.321

Johnny Gaudreau

CGY

50

15

27

42

137

0.307

Phil Kessel

PIT

52

21

24

45

154

0.292

Sean Couturier

PHI

49

26

15

41

141

0.291

Alex Ovechkin

WSH

49

30

12

42

147

0.286

Jonathan Huberdeau

FLA

48

17

21

38

134

0.284

Mark Stone

OTT

44

18

17

35

124

0.282

Jakub Voracek

PHI

49

9

30

39

141

0.277

Blake Wheeler

WPG

51

14

31

45

165

0.273

Anze Kopitar

L.A

50

19

19

38

140

0.271

Connor McDavid

EDM

49

15

21

36

133

0.271

Brad Marchand

BOS

38

21

20

41

154

0.266

John Tavares

NYI

51

26

19

45

170

0.265

Nikita Kucherov

T.B

50

27

19

46

174

0.264

Taylor Hall

N.J

44

18

20

38

144

0.264

Patrick Kane

CHI

50

20

19

39

148

0.264

Evgeni Malkin

PIT

48

26

14

40

154

0.260

Brayden Schenn

STL

52

21

17

38

148

0.257

Alexander Radulov

DAL

51

20

19

39

152

0.257

Sidney Crosby

PIT

52

17

22

39

154

0.253

Brock Boeser

VAN

47

24

9

33

131

0.252

Tyler Seguin

DAL

51

23

15

38

152

0.250

Claude Giroux

PHI

49

14

21

35

141

0.248

Sean Monahan

CGY

49

22

12

34

137

0.248

Artemi Panarin

CBJ

50

13

18

31

127

0.244

Vladimir Tarasenko

STL

52

21

15

36

148

0.243

Eric Staal

MIN

50

20

14

34

144

0.236

Jonathan Marchessault

VGK

46

18

21

39

166

0.235

Leon Draisaitl

EDM

45

12

19

31

133

0.233

Vincent Trocheck

FLA

48

18

13

31

134

0.231

Steven Stamkos

T.B

50

18

22

40

174

0.230

Patrice Bergeron

BOS

43

20

15

35

154

0.227

Logan Couture

S.J

45

21

11

32

142

0.225

Thomas Vanek

VAN

50

14

15

29

131

0.221

Teuvo Teravainen

CAR

50

13

17

30

136

0.221

Sebastian Aho

CAR

46

17

13

30

136

0.221

Anders Lee

NYI

51

27

10

37

170

0.218

Aleksander Barkov

FLA

47

15

14

29

134

0.216

David Pastrnak

BOS

48

20

13

33

154

0.214

Rickard Rakell

ANA

46

18

12

30

141

0.213

Filip Forsberg

NSH

37

15

15

30

142

0.211

William Karlsson

VGK

49

27

8

35

166

0.211

Jason Zucker

MIN

50

20

10

30

144

0.208

Dustin Brown

L.A

50

15

14

29

140

0.207

Josh Bailey

NYI

47

12

23

35

170

0.206

Evgeny Kuznetsov

WSH

49

13

17

30

147

0.204

Mikko Rantanen

COL

49

17

15

32

159

0.201

Brayden Point

T.B

50

20

15

35

174

0.201

Mathew Barzal

NYI

51

16

18

34

170

0.200

Patrik Laine

WPG

51

23

10

33

165

0.200

  Some takeaways from this list:

There are some outliers, but generally these are the tentpoles who you can rely on to be relevant regardless of circumstances. I’ll look to put together an up-to-date version of this once the season is over, so folks can consider it going into next year’s drafts.

This also represents an excellent snapshot of the players who have mattered most. If MacKinnon is out long-term, we should start looking at the MVP candidacy of Gaudreau.

Never question how good poor Jack Eichel is.

Huberdeau and Stone have quietly climbed to star level after being very good for the past few years.

We probably don’t talk enough about how vital the Radulov acquisition was for Dallas, especially with Jamie Benn taking a step backwards.

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Some goodies from Elliotte Friedman’s latest 31 Thoughts:

12. The question about Kasperi Kapanen: Is this a legitimate shot to stick with the Toronto Maple Leafs, or is it a showcase?

I suspect that it’s the former. I’ve not been a huge fan of Kapanen’s fantasy prospects, but after putting up roughly a point-per-game pace at the AHL level over the past couple of seasons he is winning me over. It’s also abundantly clear the importance of speed/skating in today’s league, those are qualities he certainly brings.

Is there room for Kapanen to be fantasy relevant behind Mitch Marner and William Nylander though? Probably not in the short term.

13. The right side of the St. Louis defence is loaded, which could mean a new home for AHL all-star Jordan Schmaltz. Taken 25th in the 2012 draft, the 24-year-old is all but blocked from a significant role with the Blues. Don’t take this as they dislike him, but I do think he could be an interesting piece in a deadline deal.

As much as he could be trade bait, Schmaltz also offers serious value as a black ace for the playoff run. He is getting a little long in the tooth as a prospect, but has scored at above a 0.5-points-per-game pace since turning pro, and has a couple of cups of coffee in the NHL under his belt. Since no team can have enough defensive depth, Schmaltz would be valued in any trade discussion. I suspect he could even potentially pop into a fantasy relevant role with the right team.

Read more about Schmaltz here.

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Thanks for reading! You can follow me on Twitter @SteveLaidlaw.

from All About Sports https://dobberhockey.com/hockey-rambling/ramblings-which-scorers-have-been-most-important-to-their-teams-feb-1/