It's My Party and I'll Cry if I Want To
After lunch, Hiccup went off to work the forge, leaving Astrid, for the first time, unsure what to do with her day. She truly did not want to see the other boys she normally would spend this time with. In fact, she would rather do anything than train with them today, so breaking out of her mundane routine, she decided to use this liberty to hunt.
Not someone to regularly shoot a bow, unfortunately, she was required to make a stop at the training arena to collect the weapon from her personal rack, where she knew the guys would be.
Once the arena dawned into sight, her heart began to pound harder.
Please, just none of you fucking talk to me, she thought to herself, tucking a long strand of loose hair beneath her circlet as she passed under the shady branches of a maple tree. As she drew closer, she could hear the loud male voices scattering over the dry field.
The moment Astrid had set one foot through the doorway, she concluded this was the worst decision she had made today.
To her worst nightmare, she caught a glimpse of Cato and the other boys, not actually practicing real tactics or anything but messing around, trying to balance swords on their feet, and tackling each other like idiots.
Some of the guys here weren’t so bad; they didn’t display any belligerent, possessive behaviors towards her, like Ramsey or Tom. They were friendly for the most part, but not usually towards other people. She had grown up around these boys, but was never really close with them, until the past year or so, but even now she wouldn’t exactly call herself ‘close’ with any of them.
The last thing she wanted was for Cato to see her. She was furious with the way he talked to her and Hiccup at lunch today. In an instant, she changed her mind about the stupid bow and spun around sharply. She didn’t need to hunt anymore, she could just go home and—
It was too late, he had seen her.
She could only advance a few paces outside the arena before her worst demon caught up with her.
“I need to talk to you,” Cato’s chilling voice turned her stomach as he approached from behind. After lunchtime, such a minor interaction was enough to set her off.
“What do you want?” She whipped around, doubling on him. The moment she was speaking to him again, her anger and animosity seemed to flourish. “Are you happy with yourself? Causing a scene back there? Fucking ridiculous.”
“I know, I know,” he said, it was somewhat unexpected he identified his mistake, “I’m sorry. I want to apologize. I didn’t mean to explode on you, I just lost my temper.”
Though at this moment, he seemed good-natured, the confession felt very rehearsed. She tried to speculate what his real intentions were.
“I just don’t understand what was going through your head...” she was still reluctant to speak to him, leaning away from his vicinity, ready to bolt at any given second, “We’re not together, Cato. I’m not yours to tell what to do.”
He smirked this haughty little way, narrowing his eyes.
“Everyone here already knows that you and I are going to get together sooner or later,” he said to her arrogantly, as if letting someone in on a secret.
“Apparently everyone but me,” she retorted, unable to hide the disgust from her face.
“I don’t know what has gotten into you!” His cultured demeanor perished after receiving her reaction, “But you and I, both, know damn well we had something going.”
This was beginning to feel like less of an apology and more of a confrontation.
“Yeah, maybe in your delusional mind,” she said bitterly.
He continued, ignoring her remark.
“Look, I said I was sorry,” he insisted, banking a bit closer to her, the discomfort was like a thorn driving into her foot. “How long are you going to keep up this bratty little attitude?”
“Whenever you decide to stop pissing me off. You’re acting like a jerk,” she crossed her arms over her chest, disliking how small she felt beneath his hulking figure. “And if you’re really sorry, then you’ll apologize to Hiccup too.”
“HA!” He practically screamed in her face, “Are you fucking serious?”
Astrid’s blood boiled in response to his childish feedback, inducing the unpleasant memory of their prior encounter to sting her like a bee—the image of him snarling to her wickedly about Hiccup as if he wasn’t sitting right there.
“Yes, I’m dead serious,” her tone was ice cold, “You owe him an apology and you better do so if you ever want to talk to me again.”
“What is so interesting about him?” He sneered, undermining her threat, “He’s awkward and he’s weak as a child and severely underweight! The kid probably weighs like ninety pounds. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you.”
She found it frivolous how Cato really assumed he would be able to degrade Hiccup in her eyes by listing his physical attributes to her, that for one, she was already well aware of and two, had even grown to appreciate in the more recent hours.
In all actuality, the only thing Cato was doing, was embarrassing himself by acting like a jealous moron and getting under her skin in the process. She took the high road anyway.
“Mm, I like him. He’s fun-size.”
Cato’s jaw dropped absurdly.
“What?” He took a second to gather his train of thought, before shaking his head in irritated bewilderment.
“I knew you were jealous of him,” Astrid taunted smugly.
“How do you expect him to pick you up or carry you?”
What! How did we start talking about this? Astrid’s heart lept into her throat at his words. At the thought of Hiccup holding her, she felt the hot wind of embarrassment flare over her cheeks.
“Why are you automatically assuming he and I are like that?” She narrowed her eyes. Though she held her composure, she wasn’t fooling anyone.
He ignored any objections out of her, continuing the charade.
“Or protect you from big, bad guys like me?” He sneered, catching onto her fluster.
“Oh, please,” she scoffed, desperately wishing she wasn’t so red in the face.
“You need someone who’s strong and tough enough to handle a woman like you,” he said smugly, standing up a little taller, “And I’m here to fill that role.”
She rolled her eyes. This was the most ridiculous bullshit she had ever heard. She knew he was going to pull this. This is the reason why she was trying her best to avoid interacting with him.
“I don’t want to be with you,” she said coldly.
“Why? Because you would rather be with him?” He sounded like a pouty, little kid.
“I’d pick him over you in a heartbeat,” it came flying out of her mouth, she hadn’t given herself time to even think.
His jaw dropped again, an overplayed reaction she still found amusing.
She couldn’t believe she was admitting this to Cato, but it was the truth and she knew it would burn him.
“Don’t sell me that shit. You’re lying! You’re only saying that to piss me off.”
“No, I’m not. He’s nice and sensitive and thoughtful. Everything that you’re not.”
Throughout her earlier teen years, given her environment and peers, naively, Astrid felt as if she knew everything, thinking she had herself figured out and she had decided that she knew exactly what type of guys she was attracted to. However, it wasn’t until more recent times that she began to find her colleagues rather irritating, boring, and tedious.
Now finally, it had registered in her maturing mind the genuine kind of boy she truly desired for herself. Once she had a taste of Hiccup, he was all she ever wanted in a person.
“Don’t pretend like you didn’t like me for years,” he growled. She was getting tired of hearing his voice and would make a point to get out of here.
“I only tolerated you,” she sighed.
“You’re making shit up because you’ve switched sides now,” he snapped back readily, his veins jumping out of his red hot neck.
He was always in denial. In his sick head, he would never accept the truth.
“Switched sides? This isn’t a fucking game.”
“Yes, it is, Astrid!” He seethed, his rage boiling to the surface, “This is your little game. Your cruel way of torturing me!"
“What are you talking about?”
“What happened between us!?” He demanded, his voice rising so loud she knew the other guys had heard it.
“I’ve outgrown you,” she said, bored.
“Well, you’ve certainly downgraded!”
It felt like quite the opposite, but she was done going back and forth with this ogre.
“Get bent,” she bid him farewell and began to storm off, but before she could get a few paces away, her wrist was seized in Cato’s powerful grip.
“You better not fuck him,” he hissed in her ear, her stomach twisting sourly.
The idea in open-air sent flames scorching over her cheeks. She ripped her arm violently from his grasp.
“I can do whatever I want.”
She split off again, walking quicker this time, to distance herself as fast as she could from this psycho.
“This fucking game isn’t over!” She heard him yell at her and she swiveled around gracefully with a sarcastic smirk for one last remark.
“Yeah, have fun playing with yourself.”
After choosing a light, one-handed sword, Hiccup hung up his apron and left the forge right on time, just as the tired sun had begun to set.
He started along the trail that navigated through Berk, illuminating the dusk with crackling torches, freshly ignited aside the setting sun. The immense, blistering honeycomb melted over the horizon, bleeding streaks of burnt gold and ginger that reflected off the coastline.
Despite the excitement broiling inside of him, he walked at a rather mellow pace, waving his sword around playfully, as he followed the highland path amidst horned cottages.
Hiccup was certain he had soot and ash smudged over his face from working the past couple of hot, smoggy hours for the local blacksmith. It would have been ideal if he could stop home and bathe first, but he wasn’t sure if he had enough time.
In some miraculous blessing, Astrid had wanted to see him again. This was the second time she had asked him to spend time with her. It was really beginning to feel like she had a little thing for him.
He had plenty of evidence to back this concept up. At lunch earlier today, she had reached for him, grabbing his hand not once, but twice, and as if were some kind of beautiful fantasy, she went on to tell him how much she cares about him.
But there was much more to it than just that. Hiccup had added it all up in his head like math and the truth couldn’t be any more blatant.
It was the magnetic energy between them. The way she said things to him. How could she make such a basic statement so intimate? It was the way she teased him, giggling whenever he got all red. It was very much the way she was too focused on him, leaning over the table like there was nothing else in the fucking world.
Gods, she was so exciting. He could never forecast what she was planning to do next to catch him off guard. Nobody in the world had ever had him so jumpy before, even his bullies. Being near her was a fever, intoxicating him with an addictive rapture he hadn’t experienced before.
The two of them had agreed to meet at sundown. She had instructed him to find her at the top of a very specific hill along the overgrown outskirts of the village, however, it quickly occurred to him that most hills happened to look the same and proved to be rather difficult to differentiate from one another.
As the cottages thinned out, growing sparser apart, he drew upon an entire chain of hills that overlooked the coast and he wondered to himself how in the hell he was going to find her.
He slid his sword in the baldric, then picked a tall slope, figuring she would be easier to spot from atop, and sauntered up the incline. It was steep enough for him to slip and slide a bit in the dry grass upon losing his footing.
It was windier up here, twinkling with lightning bugs, the long ferns of tan grass so tall they nearly brushed his waist.
The sky that had previously been the colour of amber honey, when Hiccup had initially left the forge, had baked to a spell of mulberry twilight, the palest of stars grazing prematurely in the highest indigo point of the heavens.
“Hey, you,” a soft, familiar voice behind him sent a hot wave rolling up his spine.
Hiccup braced himself for the adrenaline rush that always accompanied her presence. He turned around to greet her pretty face and was struck by the expensive way she smiled at him, an unspoken promise that there was no one else she would rather see. Her steel axe was gripped loosely in one hand, the gleaming blade partially submerged in the deep prairie.
“Oh, hey, Astrid,” he said as coolly as he could manage. “I was looking for you.”
The last hope of sunlight caught the pale of her gold locks, carelessly entailed in a braid.
“Well, lucky you. You found me,” she said as if they had been playing hide and seek together, yet, he picked up on intimate undertones. “It’s good to see you again.”
“It’s good to see you too,” he answered uniformly, which was quite an understatement, but the cogs in his mind couldn’t seem to spin fast enough to think of something witty.
“Look at you,” she smiled, glancing down at the sheathed sword on his waistband. “Listening to my suggestions.”
“My father always told me to take advice from girls,” he joked, earning a charming laugh out of her.
“We always know better,” she agreed.
Her eyes gleamed vibrant shades of cool, reflecting off the marine water. He was starting to finally beat his ever-lasting battle with maintaining her impossible eye contact.
He always thought she was so beautiful, but now, the light was hitting her just right, the wind blowing gracefully through her bangs, he never had seen anything or anyone so effortlessly perfect.
“Alright. Now whip it out,” she was suddenly saying to him.
“The sword, Hiccup,” she clarified, turning bright red. “Unsheathe it.”
“Oh, right,” he smirked sheepishly, certain he was mirroring her shade of scarlet as he drew his blade.
He silently cursed at himself when suddenly it was a struggle again to look her in the eye.
“Okay, let’s see what you got, Haddock. Try to hit me,” she jumped into a defensive position, holding her axe up.
Suddenly, she was a moving target in a game he had given up on a long time ago.
His sword felt terribly heavy as he reminded himself failure was not an option.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he came up with a weak protest.
She chuckled softly at his concern, a half-expected reaction.
“Hiccup, you won’t be fast enough to strike me.”
He found it very attractive how confident in herself she was. And just because she said that it made him kind of wanna prove her wrong.
“Alright…” he still hesitated.
The apprehension gripped him. What if he completely misses or trips and falls and she laughed at him? What if his sword flails off the wrong way? Once she saw his lack of combat skills, she would most definitely realize how useless he is in a Viking society and give up on whatever chemistry they were brewing.
Well, he hoped she wasn’t that shallow. From what he could gather between the last couple of days she seemed genuine, but more importantly, she was nice to him and it even felt like she liked him. He knew he wouldn’t be able to impress her in this field of skill, but he could at least play the role of her student compliantly.
“Any day now,” she teased impatiently.
This was the only prompt he needed. Hiccup reluctantly gave his sword a swift, unsure swing, and their steel collided with a piercing clash on impact, sending a thunderous wave vibrating up his scrawny arms.
“Not bad at all!” She praised him and he couldn’t help smiling, feeling a swell of relief under her approval.
“Yeah. Now try it again, this time swing with a little more force,” she instructed, holding her axe defensively again.
He realized at this point she could handle herself just fine. He thrashed the sword again this time much harder, the clash ringing in his ears.
“Good,” she breathed, a bit winded, still holding her axe up to block, “Try again, this time don’t slow down before it makes contact.”
He slashed his thin sword against her axe once more, but hesitated just the same again, on accident, losing momentum right before the strike.
“You’re still holding back. Use a fluid motion, follow through the entire swing,” she explained to him patiently.
He felt a bit like a naive, younger sibling being taught how to do something elementary. Yet, he brushed this feeling off and readied his sword again, detecting the joyful gleam in her eyes. At least she was having a good time.
“Remember, Hiccup, treat it as an extension of your own arm. Be one with the sword,” she reminded him. He watched the way her mouth moved while she talked, catching the glimmering white of her teeth in the opening starlight. It was getting difficult to make out her fine details in the augmenting dark.
Hiccup thought back to earlier when Cato had prowled over to them, furious with Astrid because she had not sat with him. He couldn’t handle the sight of her sitting beside and talking to his human punching bag. And as entertaining as it was to watch him act like an idiot in front of Astrid and some of the other kids, he couldn’t stand to see him yell at her and treat her like his little pet.
According to Astrid, she and Cato had no romantic relations once so ever, yet Hiccup still felt a heavy, uneasy tension between the two of them, like maybe something was going to happen that never did?
Hiccup was could not distinguish a clear picture between the two of them, however, he was certain that Cato harnessed an empty hatred for him or maybe a strange obsession with him, or perhaps both.
But at the end of the day, he would never fail to torment the younger boy at any opportunity he got, as a dominant wolf would abuse a runt to keep him feeling inferior.
Hiccup, irritated by these thoughts, swung his blade precisely, this time his serve was clean and steady, a brilliant strike that threw them both off guard.
“Well done!” she applauded his new, developing, sword skills. He did not fail to catch the adoring look she gave him as she lowered her axe, “You’re a very fast learner.”
A spark fused between them, this desire to impress her seized him.
“Well, what can I say?” He shrugged, smiling bashfully, “I have a great teacher.”
“Aw. Hiccup,” her voice came out shy, hardly above a murmur as she started blushing a good bit, unsure how to take the compliment, “you’re so sweet.”
“That’s strange, I’m usually described as sour.”
She giggled absurdly and leaned his way, remarkably charmed by him and quite flushed.
Why did it almost feel like she wanted to kiss him?
Her laugh was a beautiful harmony of chords, a lovely sound he found would be difficult to forget.
He could tell she wasn’t used to feeling this way, and she certainly wasn’t accustomed to a boy talking to her like this—so innocently—considering the aggressive maniacs she usually hung out with.
It was so good to finally be able to think she had mutual feelings for him. For years, as long as he could remember, it had been a one-sided feeling—just a wistful, longing, never-going-happen crush on her.
A gust of cool salty wind drifted in off the ocean, blowing him back out of thought as it grazed over his face and the hilltop and sailed through her long braid like a flag.
The sky had sunken to its final form a deep navy-black, dazzling with bright clusters, billions of luminous, dancing stars.
“Let’s go practice more by the tide,” she suggested, flicking her head towards the waves breaking along the shore.
He eyed her thoughtfully for a moment, struck by a spontaneous wonder of how and why this all came to be. He still could not determine if hanging out with this girl was truly real or not. It all felt like a dream, too good to be true, and any moment he’ll wake up disappointed in his bedsheets.
“Yeah, good idea,” Hiccup’s methodical reply was a little too delayed, causing a storm of rouge to resurface over her cheekbones.
“We can practice all the defensive stuff too,” she continued on, delivering with less spirit.
“I feel like I might be better at that, than all the swinging and stabbing” he admitted. “What do you think?”
Hiccup hadn’t paid attention to any of the basic fundamentals of melee combat when they had first been taught, years ago, around the age of eleven or twelve. Now, he could only make an effort to participate in ranged combat such as crossbow and archery drills.
Most of the time, on the days Berk had dedicated to a prescription learning program for the Viking youth, Hiccup was able to convince (beg) Gobber to let him work at the forge if he didn’t wish to participate in whatever violent lesson they were revising that day, which seemed like a good idea to Hiccup at the time, but in the long run, unfortunately, it resulted in a severe lack of knowledge in battle education.
“Yeah, defense might suit you better,” she agreed shortly, following in his lead down the extensive slope towards the beach. As they waded through the weeds, she added after some thought, “It’ll be difficult, though, if your opponent is quick, especially if they’re quicker than you, you have to keep your guard up at all times.”
“Alright, I’ll keep that in mind. But if my guard is always up, when am I supposed to strike?” Hiccup asked curiously, feeling more and more like a student by the question.
“There’ll be a second of opportunity, and you go for the most vulnerable area,” she explained, “or probably less than a second. More like a blink of an eye.”
The long grass began to thin out to dry and scratchy brambles just before breaking into sand.
“But don’t worry about that,” she said. “Just try to deflect my swings with your sword for now.”
“Okay,” he said, feeling far more confident this time around than during their first spar.
The sound of waves crashing against the shore was crisp and much louder than he had heard in a while. He couldn’t remember the last time he was down here on the beach.
“Alright, let’s go over the basics,” Astrid initiated the lesson. “Hold it like this to block.”
She demonstrated a textbook defensive stance, shielding her axe in front of her face and chest area.
Hiccup mirrored her technique, which was a simple task, and she did not waste any time grading him.
As she raised her axe to strike, he kept in mind to hold his grip tight and unrelenting and to keep his sword steady because he knew that the impact was going to be—
Brutal. He was blown away by the power of her swing, rattling up his arms. The loud, steel ringing swelled in his ears for a few moments after.
“Again,” she breathed, before giving him time to think, another strike crashing against his sword.
He knew she was strong but he couldn’t have predicted it was to this volume. It didn’t feel as if he were sword fighting with a fifteen-year-old girl. If he were blindfolded, he might have very well guessed his opponent was a grown man, just judging by the degree of power in her swing.
“It’s not so bad, huh?” Astrid checked on him.
“Yeah, it’s easy,” he lied in a tired breath. Though he was winded and growing fatigued, he was determined to impress her. “Let’s keep going.”
“Alright,” she smiled at him, though she didn’t sound very convinced.
Without hesitating, Astrid tested a couple of harsh swings against his sword, playfully catching him at different angles.
His block timing was remarkable, gauged by the expression on her face.
“You’re keeping up with me very well,” she paused to notice in a breathless pant.
Hiccup hardly had time to acknowledge her praise, before she was knocking her heavy weapon against his again.
He continued to block her oncoming attacks, never failing to miss a beat.
He wasn’t sure how long they had been dueling for, but it seemed like a lot of time had passed before finally, his arms began to feel like jelly and he was ready to give out.
“Astrid, hey,” the intro to his objection was weak, not wanting to be the one to wanna tap out first.
She stopped firing her light shots on him and lowered her axe.
“Tired?” A smile twitched over her face as she pulled his next complaint right out of his mouth.
Hiccup gave a hesitant nod in reply, unexplainably shameful for his lack of energy, his sword, heavier than ever, relaxed in his spent grip.
“Don’t worry, I’m tired too,” she admitted to his relief, allowing him to find some comfort in ceasing their practice.
He wiped the sweat off his hot, clammy forehead with his sleeve, brushing his damp bangs from his eyes. It was surprising how much exhaustion he managed to work up during their battle, even in the cool of the night.
The moon was a bright ghost, kissed by a milky stretch of clouds, napping in the high peak of the ink-blue sky.
Hiccup figured it was time to head home, his father would be furious and maybe even concerned if he were to come home any later than this.
“Well…thank you for coaching me through the basics and stuff,” Hiccup said, a bit awkwardly as he sheathed his sword back into his waistband to prepare for their trek back through the hills.
“Yeah of course, anytime,” Astrid replied with ease.
Before she hung her weapon up on her own waistband, she glanced at him and the blue of her eyes seemed to glow in the moonbeams.
“It was my pleasure…” she added after a little pause. “I actually had a lot of fun playing teacher and student with you.”
He indulged in the frisky touch her voice carried.
“Yeah, I like being your student,” he couldn’t help but echo her tone, ignoring the heat that was beginning to creep over his face. “I’m better than the rest of your class?”
“Hiccup, please. You’re my best student,” she flirted with him.
Her sharp, captivating smile was addressed only to him. This was a gorgeous concept that never seemed possible in this lifetime. He was grateful to finally be on the receiving end of her flawless smiles; for years they made his heart race, even from a distance, and they were never for him, always for someone else…until yesterday. Now, it was so addicting to feel the high from experiencing her firsthand, up close and personal.
He didn’t think he would ever be able to get over the effect she had on him. He could harvest a feverish rush from purely the way she looked at him, or sometimes, whenever she moved too close to him, like right now.
“You’re so well behaved,” Astrid continued playfully, tugging him from his thought clouds.
Was she biting her lip on purpose?
“Your best student? Wow,” he was feeling undoubtedly attracted, feeding into her kittenish pursuit, “Do I…get a reward for that?”
“Yeah, here. This one’s for you,” she socked him in the arm, knocking him back a couple of steps in the grass.
The pain was surprisingly active; a throbbing ache on his sore, overworked muscle.
“Ow! Astrid,” he shot a glare at her and held his arm, nursing the pain.
While he was distracted, she moved in much closer to him, save she had already been only a step away, and cut out the remaining distance between the two of them. She gripped him by the shirt collar and pulled him into a kiss, paralyzing him.
Hiccup’s mind left him at the hot crash of her lips on his. He was unable to react, even breathe, immobilized by the explosive, unrealistic feeling.
She’s kissing me! She’s fucking kissing me! His heart sang and screamed and the butterflies in his stomach stirred up in a frenzy. Someone pinch me, so I know it’s not a dream!
After years of only watching those perfect red lips of hers twist into smiles and frowns, contort into smirks—after so many minutes wasted of fantasizing about what she would taste like, there was no way he could trust this was really happening. But the warm, unfamiliar, softness of her lips pressing against his own, promised him that this was just as real as anything else he had experienced throughout his tiny, youthful life.
It was as if he had been dead this whole time and the sweet symphony of sensation had just brought him jumping back to life.
She retreated from his lips to say something, but remained inches close, so their hot breath could mingle together, stroking the scorching flames in the pit of his stomach.
“Is this what you wanted, Hiccup?” she teased him, drawing herself flush against him, so their racing hearts could blend.
Don’t pretend like you didn’t want this, too, he thought. He was willing to bet everything he owned that the desire was mutual at this point.
“You already know the answer to that,” his voice came out a bit husky.
Astrid engaged with him again, this time, slinging her arm around the back of his neck to keep him close as their lips collided in hot excitement.
It felt so good when she wreathed her fingers through the rusty flips of his hair.
He wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, but considering she just yanked him into a kiss, he figured it would be safe to hold her. Gingerly, he allowed his fingers to trace the slender curve of her hips, finding an innocent area to rest.
She didn’t seem to mind at all.
“Mmm,” she hummed against his lips, evidently loving every moment of this as much as he did.
Cato’s going to kill me, he thought carelessly.
She seemed eager, so with a spark of confidence, Hiccup parted his lips open so her impatient tongue could play with his. He could taste the passion, the want that moved within her mouth.
Hiccup was shy so he let her do all the work. He had no idea what he was doing and was not about to screw this up. It felt too good to be kissed by her like this, her hot tongue dancing over his, it was turning him on.
When he felt the blood start to rush between his legs, he knew he had to break away. The last thing he needed was for this annoying, little problem to become noticeable or—oh my god—if it were to fucking poke her and ruin the moment and humiliate himself. He would die.
He found a gentle way to stop kissing her and retired some from her face, panting in a breathless high.
He did not fail to catch a slight layer of disappointment that highlighted her flushed face.
“Astrid,” he started apologetically, but she was quicker to say something.
“I really like how you make me feel,” she grabbed his hand, “I like being near you.”
“You don’t know how good that is to hear,” Hiccup replied, numb from the bliss, feeling a tsunami of success that all his hopes and dreams came true.
There was a shared moment of silence, locking eyes, holding hands and for once it was not awkward, instead, rather comforting.
“Hey, our parents might freak out if we come home any later than this,” Hiccup said.
“Yeah,” she sighed, glancing up at the moon that had been watching them this whole time, “you’re right, we should start back.”
He started to walk with, her hand in hand, in peaceful, reflective silence, back toward the hills that hugged the village.
“I’m glad you agreed to come out here to train with me,” Astrid suddenly said to him.
“Yeah, it was totally worth it,” he laughed softly, hindsight had a funny way.
“Can I sit with you again, tomorrow?”
This made him laugh again, it was weird to think that she was the one asking him. If only she knew how long he had been crushing on her. It all felt kind of ironic.
“Yes, Astrid, you can sit with me,” he felt himself blushing as he smiled.
“Yay! Lucky me,” she sang with a girlish attraction, still holding his hand. “I was hoping you would say yes.”
“I don’t think I can say no to you, even if I wanted to,” Hiccup half-joked, earning a bewitching melody of laughter out of her.
“Hiccup Haddock,” the way she said his name was hauntingly beautiful. “Where have you been all my life?”
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