A/N: Hey everyone! I have other obligations at my usual update time, so hence this chapter is arriving at another moment than you're used to from me. I hope you enjoy!

Replies to reviews on Chapter 10:

emmaxinyiswiftiepotter: Oh yeah Astrid didn't get her ferocity from a stranger :'D Although her temper is a lot better than her mom's. And yeah, in this story they're Hamish's grandparents and have been very present in his life up until now - they matter. I totally get that you figured making Hamish the heir is the perfect solution; I personally also don't think it's the worst thing they could go for. But Hiccup disagrees :'D Glad you're still excited!

Vivi-ntvg: Yup Hiccup did slip… But I guess all things considered, indeed, it went as well as could be expected :'D

CajunBear73: I agree, Berk definitely shares some of the blame in how Hiccup's come to think, although of course in the end Hiccup is still responsible for his own actions. But he definitely needs help to set himself on the right path again, I agree. But we will see how the situation develops, indeed…

dinochickrox: Lots of stuff will happen, the question is just if it will be positive, negative, or disastrous… And when :'D

rockjadyn: Thank you so much for the compliment! Yes, this chapter was definitely meant to raise some issues for readers to think about - how would they resolve the Chieftain situation, for instance? What do you think the right path is, at this point?
I also wish I could publish the chapters a lot quicker, but unfortunately, there's real life to deal with and I can't afford to write full-time. To answer your question: I plan the main plot points long in advance, and then as I get closer to actually writing a chapter, I make detailed outlines of what's going to happen in it. For instance, I had a detailed outline of chapter 1 up until 12 when I started writing those chapters, and already had the main plot outline for all the acts to come after that. So I definitely plan ahead, although I don't always have all the details worked out already.

Midsully: It makes me really happy to hear you say about Sigrid! I always aim to write characters in such a way that even though you, as a reader, and me, as a writer, might not agree with them, that you can understand where they're coming from. So it means a lot to me that you understand why she feels that way :) Whether things will blow - we'll see!

DeathBerryHime: Oh yes our precious bean is definitely up for showing he's dangerous - and we know he is - in a "let me at them!" kind of way :'D
I really think it speaks for Hiccup how well he kept himself under control, all things considered. Like I consider myself to be - relatively - mentally stable and I'm not even sure I would have kept my cool. And yeah, you can both argue that Hiccup deserved what he got here and that Astrid's parents were out of line - both sides of the argument made sense.
And I'm always happy to hear your conspiracy theories :3

Creeper AW MAM: Definitely a close call, and we will see if things improve! :)

Josh Spicer: I think you underestimate what both of them could do without any weapons :'D But I agree, it'd definitely be super interesting to see them really tell each other what they think without any mediators there. I also predict at least one black eye, however.

Guardiano: I think the Hoffersons definitely thought on the way Astrid lied to them and deceived them, but then Astrid's pregnancy came out and their chose to support her in spite of all she'd done, because she needed that support right then. And then Hiccup is a very tempting target to point their anger at instead…
I agree with Hiccup being angry over the Chief situation too, it's not at all a situation that's being handled right - but you can also wonder if passing it on to Spitelout/Snotlout is the right decision. It's just so difficult. There are arguments to be made for and against anyone. Now, if only Stoick could live forever, this would all be solved, but we know that's not the case, unfortunately :(
I definitely agree with your thought. Life's never been fair to Hiccup, at all.

Chapter 11: Grey

"Well," Hiccup sighed when the Hoffersons closed the door behind them. "That went great."

"I'm so sorry, Hiccup," his father muttered. "I should have told you about the Chieftain situation."

"Or me," Astrid sighed. "It's just, Gods, I'd expected all of this to go a lot slower, but I should have known that with you, things never go as we expect them to."

"I just think it's incredibly stupid, still," he commented. "Not to start preparing Snotlout for the Chiefdom, that is. They're going to think I'm a threat to the throne, no matter how violently I deny it."

"Spitelout would have stirred up trouble anyways," Astrid grumbled. "That's just the kind of person he is."

"And you're okay with this?" he asked her. "That, if my dad gets his way, Hamish would be the next Chief of Berk?"

"Hiccup, that's not what I -" his father started.

"Yes," Astrid interrupted him. "I am."

He looked at her, his mouth falling open. "Are you out of your mind!? Why would you do that to him, why would you -"

"Don't you dare finish that, Hiccup," Astrid bit, her eyes suddenly sparking. "I want what's best for Hamish. I've always wanted that, from the moment he was born."

He shrank. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply that, it's just -"

"That you've spent a long time assuming people's explanations, instead of waiting for them to give it to you. Or simply asking. I know, Hiccup," Astrid sighed.

"Then will you tell me why you're okay with it?" He added a soft smile. "Please?"

Astrid wistfully shook her head at him. "I'd be okay with it if it's what Hamish wants as well. If he makes the decision himself, when he's old enough, and manages to convince me that he's absolutely sure of it. Years down the line. Until he's old and experienced enough to form his own opinions."

"I want to be there. When he forms his own opinions," he instinctively responded.

The corners of Astrid's mouth turned upwards. "And I know you in particular wouldn't ever let him pursue the Chiefdom if you weren't absolutely sure it's what he wanted. So if you stay, that's one less thing for me to worry about."

"I'm staying," he reassured her. He wanted to take all her other worries away too. "I am."

"Then we better start preparing for tonight. If you're still up for it, of course. If you need another day, or longer, I get that too."

"No, I want to do it as quickly as possible." So you'll let me back into your life. He gently massaged his temples. "Although right now, I just feel exhausted, and like I need a very long flight. My head's hurting like a bitch."

"Not a surprise," Astrid knowingly smiled.

"Why not?" He looked back at his father. "Was it the tea?"

"That's not what I meant." Astrid rolled her eyes. "When's the last time you spoke to four other people at the same time?"

"Oh." He searched his memories, then frowned. "I have no idea. Constantinople, probably."

"My point exactly," Astrid smiled.

"And I guess you're also right about me needing a bit of preparation…" he sighed. "As far as first impressions go, I didn't leave a particularly good one on your parents just now."

"Could've been worse," Astrid shrugged. "My mom looked about ready to attack you with her axe when I went to tell them you were back and wanted to talk with them. I'm still surprised she didn't."

"They really don't like me, huh?" he scoffed.

"Let's just say it's not the first time Stoick and I have had an argument with them concerning you," Astrid clarified, pinching the bridge of her nose. "But those usually ended in 'we'll see about it when Hiccup's back'. And now you are, so..."

"What did you argue about before? About Hamish getting to meet me?"

"And everything that had to do with that," Astrid nodded. "They would've preferred it if I'd simply told Hamish you were dead."

"By Thor's hairy -"

"In the end they're also just trying to look out for him, though," his father interrupted him. "They hardly knew you, after all, and simply got this situation thrust upon them. Like Astrid said, we really couldn't have done it without them. My duties as Chief usually kept me too busy. And especially the months just before and after Hamish's birth, they were -"

"Let's just say it was rough," Astrid finished. "My parents were there every step of the way even though I'd lied to them and deceived them. I can never repay them for that. And it's always been a lot easier for them to direct their anger over the mess I got myself into at you, rather than me."

"Makes sense, I suppose," he grumbled.

"Doesn't make it right, though. I love them, but it's incredibly frustrating."

"If it's easier for you, I can take their anger," he shrugged. "Just add it to the pile."

"That's sweet, but I'd prefer a more sustainable solution. Although I suppose they'll need their time." Astrid shook her head, dusted off her skirt and looked at him expectantly. "So, to get back to the point, as much as I can understand you need a break, if you want to go through with the meeting tonight, I'd suggest you rehearse."

"I could help you," his father offered. "Write a Chief's speech, and -"

"No." He put up his hand, a chill running down his spine at the word Chief alone. "Thank you."

"You can practice with me at my home, if you want to," Astrid suggested, pulling his attention away from his father's hurt expression, back to her. "I don't have any plans until tonight, and Hamish is away. I'll make you another mug of tea and we can talk through what you're going to say tonight."

She looked straight at him as she waited for his answer, her deep blue eyes drawing him in and drowning him completely. It left him speechless, his brain as useless as when he was fifteen. Because somehow, being in the same room as Astrid, even if it was just for a cup of tea, seemed like the most sensual thing he could imagine.

"Yes," he sputtered, heat creeping up to his cheeks. "I'd like that. A lot."

Astrid smiled at him, holding his gaze in a way that almost seemed flirtatious. Or it just looked like that because he'd spent way too long alone, and the thought of striding over to her, kissing her and slowly pushing her backwards until she'd hit the wooden wall behind her was increasingly taking over his brain.

But he was pulled back to reality by his father letting them know he was still in the room by coughing awkwardly. "Alright, then I better get to spreading the word. If any of you need me before that, just let me know."

"I'll head back home as well," Astrid nodded, the moment passed. "You know where I live now, right?" He nodded. "Toothless should fit through the upstairs window. So feel free to take a flight, and I'll go ahead and open the shutters."

"Sounds like a plan."

Astrid nodded at him and left as his father got up from his chair with a groan Hiccup could feel in his own bones. Hiccup himself was halfway up the stairs when a thought occurred to him that he couldn't let pass.

So he put on his helmet and raised his voice.

"Dad."

He waited until his father had turned his head, making sure he'd caught his eyes before he continued. "I want one thing to be absolutely, completely clear. So that there is no confusion between us, and I won't have to repeat myself again."

"I'm not here for the Chiefdom," he continued when his father anxiously nodded. "Just as little as I am here for you. I don't mean to rule, neither through terrorism nor because I was unlucky enough to be born a Haddock." He took a step down the stairs, standing up straight and solidifying his posture. "And if you, in any way, try to force that same fate you pushed upon me onto my son, then I swear I will be here to fight you every step of the way. Every single day. Until you'll be forced to admit defeat."

His father's breath hitched. "I won't let you down, Hiccup. Nor Hamish."

"And I don't make promises I don't intend to keep."

He took in his father's expression, the look in his eyes, to confirm that his father knew, and that he wouldn't forget it. Then, he jumped up on Toothless and got out of his father's house before the man could try to recover and get another word in. He took a quick, adrenaline-fuelled tour through the sky which involved more loops, dives and wingsuit flights than could be healthy for any man, but which at least somewhat cleared his head. And if it hadn't been for his longing to see Astrid, he doubted he would've come back to solid ground at all.

The shutters of her loft were already open when he returned to the village. He glided down unseen and unheard, after which Toothless crawled through the open window and contently laid down on the loft. It left Hiccup to smile down sheepishly at Astrid as he dismounted.

"Toothless better be tidy," she teased. "I'm not cleaning a dragon's mess."

"He'll be good," he smiled. "Right, bud? Keep your dirty claws off the wood, will ya?"

Toothless let out a grumble and averted his eyes. Hiccup chuckled to himself and walked down the stairs, taking in the living room. Astrid's living room. Because as foreign as that idea sounded, this was her house. And Hamish's.

It left him feeling awkward as he reached the bottom of the staircase, unsure of what to do next because he didn't belong here. When he'd been here a few nights ago the house had at least looked relatively abandoned, quiet. But now, it was clearly being lived in. Some dirty dishes, toys that hadn't been put back in their rightful place yet, a fire burning low in the hearth. And none of it was his.

"You can sit down, you know," Astrid smiled, nodding at one of the chairs at the table. "And again, take off your helmet while you're at it."

He mumbled half of an apology as he took it off, putting it on the table and sitting down on the chair directly opposite of the one he'd sat in when he'd first been here. The one which used to have a sweater hanging over it.

"I still have your sweater," he told her. "The one I let Stormfly smell to track you down. The green one."

"You can keep it," Astrid shrugged. "I have a spare and was planning to get myself a new one before this fall anyways. Style the arena with it if you want. If you still plan on staying there, that is?"

"I think so, yeah," he hummed. "If I want to help manage Berk's dragon situation and teach people something, it might be good if they can actually get in touch with me. And if I don't like that I can always go back into the mountains, or to a nearby island."

"Yeah, I think it's a good idea," Astrid agreed, moving around the house to get them some hot water. He couldn't help but smile at the sight, suddenly so much more domestic than he'd ever seen her before. And as much as he'd loved the feral side of her, which he'd seen, lived with on Phantom Island, he couldn't help but want some of this part of her too.

Perhaps because it was exactly the one thing he currently didn't have.

Shaking off that thought, he stretched. "And I also don't mind the idea of living somewhere more permanently. Get myself an actual bed. Make sure my back still works by the time I'm forty."

"Can't argue with that," Astrid chuckled. "Phantom Island was great and all, but I did not mind the comfort of living in an actual house again when I came back."

"And now you even have your own. Now that's an upgrade."

"Eh, some days I feel like it's more Hamish's house than mine." Astrid gestured at the floor, at the wooden blocks scattered around the dragon rocking horse, and then at the table, which also wasn't exactly organised, several notebooks and toys laid out on top of it. "I'm trying to teach him how to properly clean up after himself but he's often just too chaotic. Either completely focused on what's in front of him or just hopping from one thing to the next until I inevitably lose track too."

"Those are his too?" he asked, pointing at the notebooks.

"Yeah," Astrid nodded, walking over to him, and tapped one of them. "Or well, this one is yours, actually."

"My Book of Dragons," he recognised, taking it from her and flipping through its pages.

"Indeed." Astrid sat down next to him. He could almost feel her warmth, so nearby, and had to tell himself not to scoot closer and wrap an arm around her as she grabbed another one of the notebooks.

"This is Hamish's." She took his Book of Dragons from him and laid it in front of them, opened on the pages about the Night Fury. "He was always looking through it and he seemed to be so fascinated with the drawings that I figured he might like to try it himself. So I gave him a notebook last Snoggletog, which kept him busy all winter."

She went through Hamish's notebook until she finally found what she'd seemed to be looking for, and put it on the table. "He's been trying to copy your dragons lately."

Looking down, he saw a sketch of something he supposed was meant to emulate the drawings of Toothless he'd made himself. It wasn't quite there, but he could see the resemblance. And he supposed that was a lot for a four-year-old boy.

"He really does love dragons, doesn't he?" he smiled.

"He does," Astrid nodded.

"Did you ever consider not doing that? Telling him about me, and the dragons? Like your parents would've liked you to?"

"Yes," Astrid instantly answered. "I still do, some days. Wonder if I wouldn't have made it a lot easier on myself if I'd done that instead. But I can't stomach the thought of pretending you're dead while I know otherwise. Let alone claim that dragons are anything other than the good, kind-hearted creatures you've shown me they are."

"Thank you," he told her, looking at her, his voice soft. "I know I've said it before, but I'm saying it again. Because I can't begin to tell you how much that means to me."

Astrid gave him a slightly wistful smile, meeting his gaze. "I still want to support you, Hiccup, even if I'm not with you right now. And so does Stoick. Because I don't know how all of this is going to go, but you can't do it alone."

"I know," he whispered, her face suddenly seeming too close. Astrid noticed it too, her eyes briefly dropping to his lips. But instead of bridging the gap, she got up and walked back to the fireplace.

"How would you like your tea?"

"Just -" He cleared his throat when he heard how hoarse he sounded. "However you take it. I'm not particularly picky."

He turned his attention back to Hamish's notebook, skimming through the pages and finding various sketches of shapes he vaguely recognised. Dragons, houses, various people, of which he could only really make out his father because he was a lot bigger than the other figures. And Gobber, drawn with a hammer for a hand.

They were childish drawings, no skill nor merit to them, purely objectively speaking. Yet they warmed him from the inside out, making him wish he'd been there when they were made. He couldn't tear his eyes away from them, because for the first time, he felt like he was getting a sense of what Hamish's world looked like through his eyes. What fascinated him, inspired him, kept him locked to a notebook, pencil in hand. It gave Hiccup an image of what it might be like to actually spend time with his son. And he was shocked by how much what he found in the drawings reminded him of the things he'd loved as a kid too.

He quickly wiped his face and closed the booklet when Astrid walked over to him with a mug of tea. He put the bundle on top of his own Book of Dragons, stashing it away on the corner of the table, next to three wooden ducks he hadn't seen before, but definitely recognised.

"Did my father make these?" he pointed, smiling.

"Oh, yeah," Astrid laughed, tucking some loose strands of her hair behind her ear after she put down their mugs. "These aren't the only ones we have. Just Hamish's favourites."

"What's so special about them?" he frowned.

"It's supposed to be a duck family," Astrid shrugged. She pointed at the smallest of the ducks, painted brown, significantly tinier than the other two and cosily huddled between them. "That's Baby Duck." She tapped the bigger, yellow duck. "Mama Duck. And…" She vaguely gestured at the biggest, black duck. "Papa Duck."

"Painted black because…"

"It's supposed to be you," Astrid confirmed, biting her lower lip. "Stoick worked on them with Hamish there and it's… It's very hard to describe you, you know? I can tell Hamish that you have auburn hair and green eyes just like he does, but that's still quite hard for him to picture. It was easier for him to wrap his head around you wearing a lot of black, because that's Toothless' colour too. It's kind of what you're easy to recognise by. Apart from your scars, of course."

"Well, I do like wearing black," he muttered, his eyes fixed on the three ducks. Wondering how it was possible he was feeling intensely jealous of lifeless pieces of wood.

"You could consider changing up your wardrobe," Astrid chuckled. "If you want to fit in with Berk. But I don't really know anyone with your posture you could borrow anything from. Tuff's quite lanky but not as tall as you."

"Considering I'm still going to be working with dragons, I'd like to keep myself as fireproof as possible," he pointed out. "I never cared much for fashion anyways."

"I can see that," Astrid grinned. "Your hair looks like you chopped it off with a knife."

He rubbed the back of his head. "That's exactly what I did. It'd gotten kind of long."

"I know, it's not very hard to tell." Astrid cocked his head at him. "I can fix it for you."

"That's probably a good idea, I don't want to look like a fool tonight. Not more than I usually do, anyways."

"Alright," Astrid nodded, getting up and rummaging through one of her cabinets until she'd retrieved a pair of scissors. "Just scoot back towards the window a bit so I have better light," she gestured.

He did as she asked, skipping backwards on his chair until the light of the afternoon sun hit the side of his face. He checked whether they had any onlookers, but Astrid's house was on the outer side of town, with nothing but some of Berk's newer farms in his line of sight.

He let his head rest on the top of the chair's backrest as Astrid came to stand behind him, her fingers tentatively scooting through his locks.

She laughed softly. "You have some grey in there."

"Really?" He tilted his head further backwards as if that would somehow allow him to see the top of his own head.

"Yup," Astrid informed him. "Not a lot of it, you'd probably only see it if you looked closely." He winced as she yanked one of his hairs out and held it in front of his eyes. "And I reckon it's more of a dusty silver."

He squinted at the strain of hair she was holding up for him, its colour worryingly different from the auburn he was used to. "You're right. I guess that's it then. My youth, gone, just like that."

"I think you're fine," Astrid chuckled.

"No, Astrid, I'm telling you, this was it for me," he continued because he'd made her laugh, and it was one of the sounds he'd missed the most. "End of the line. Might as well start preparing the ship. Toothless can light it, no bows and flaming arrows required."

"Stop it, you drama queen," Astrid laughed, hitting him in the side of his skull. "I only just got you back, you're not going to die on me now. I'm not making it that easy for you. Besides, I'll let you in on a secret." He could feel her lean in closer as he rubbed the sore spot on his head. "I have them too. Been having them for years."

"Oh my Gods, Astrid, what a scandal!" he mock-gasped. "I don't know how you can bear it to still go out and show your face in public."

"That's why Hamish and I made a pact," Astrid whispered conspiratorially.

He wanted to look back at her, but she grabbed his head and fixed it upright.

"Sit still," she chided him. "Unless you want me to cut off your ear."

"Yes, ma'am," he quipped, the sound of snapping scissors soon filling his left ear. "I just couldn't contain my curiosity, because I'd love to be clued in on this top-secret pact."

"Dork," Astrid snorted. "But alright. Every once in a while, I'll sit down on the floor, and Hamish helps me look for them and pull them out. They're like absolutely, completely white, once you see them you can't miss them."

"Wow," he nodded, wincing when Astrid pulled his head straight again. "Now that's a secret society previously unheard of."

"I blackmailed him into it, to be honest. Told him that since he's the one making me go grey, he ought to do his share."

"My dad did always say he didn't have a grey hair in his beard until he had me," he laughed. "And that was before I went all terrorist on his ass. Apparently little kids are quite the hassle."

"Tell me about it," Astrid snorted.

He sucked in a breath, her casual comment hitting a lot deeper than intended. "I wish I could."

Astrid's hand in his hair paused, her scissors stilling. "So do I," she whispered.

"Five years," he breathed, the inside of his nose stinging as he could feel tears well up in his eyes. "It's been almost five years since I saw you."

"Yeah," Astrid hummed.

"And I have no idea what they were like for you. Raising a baby, here on Berk, with my dad, your parents… I try to imagine it and my mind just goes blank."

"It's hard to explain," Astrid sighed, slowly resuming her work. "Not really something I can quickly catch you up on. I'm not as good of a storyteller as you. And looking back at it now, while the days themselves could sometimes feel really long, in hindsight it all went by rather quickly."

"I can relate to that, at least."

"Maybe you can start by telling me your side, then?" Astrid proposed.

"It's not very interesting," he objected.

"But I still want to know. It's important to me. I don't want to be left in the dark anymore when it concerns you."

"That's fair," he conceded. He settled more comfortably in his chair and cleared his throat. "After I left Berk, I went straight to the Red Death's Island, throwing myself into that with no plan whatsoever, because I was so pissed at myself for what I'd done. I cried. Bawled my eyes out for the first time in years because I was finally starting to somewhat comprehend how badly I'd messed up. And how fucked up I really was." He shivered. "It took me a month to recollect my thoughts to the point that I was able to go back to Phantom Island and send you your belongings, along with my letter. I rewrote that thing so many times and I still wasn't happy with the end result, but I also didn't want to keep you in the dark any longer."

"It was a beautiful letter," Astrid reassured him. "I still have it, and it broke my heart, but… I needed it."

"I'm glad." He sighed. "After that, it was just the Red Death, me and Toothless, and the other dragons. Doing exactly what we'd talked about and what you'd correctly deduced would take an incredibly long time. Wait for her to show herself, get a hit in, wait again. Keep the other dragons from getting food to her in the meantime. And repeat that same pattern day after day, with seemingly no end in sight. Again, and again, and again. Days meant nothing to a dragon that old, after all. She could wait. And I simply had to join her."

"Sounds terribly boring," Astrid agreed.

"Yeah… The most challenging aspect of it all was that dragons don't deal well with being around an Alpha for so long. It messes with their head, slowly drawing them back in to the point that they'd get rebellious against me, or simply became confused. So I always had to keep an eye on them, coerce them to go to another nearby island for a while if necessary. That's what took up most of the time I didn't spend watching the Red Death."

"How did you do it with Toothless then? Did you leave him somewhere else for a bit too, or is he immune?"

He resisted the urge to shake his head when he felt Astrid's scissors nearly graze his skull. "I wish he was, but no, although he did seem to be able to handle it better. But I know him well enough to be able to calm him down and snap him out of it when it gets too much for him. Couple of pets and scratches in the right places works wonders. And our yearly outing to the Rookery gave him some time to recover as well. Which reminds me…" He moved to sit up straighter, then paused. "Permission to move?"

"Sure," Astrid said as she drew back her hands. "What's up?"

He messed around with his armour a bit, pulling out his notebook and flipping through it. "While I was there last winter I remembered that I never actually showed you the place. I'd still like to take you sometime, but…" He stretched out his arm above his head, handing the sketchbook to her. "I hope these will do, for now."

He tilted his head backwards to look at Astrid as she took it from him, her observant blue eyes scanning the pages, which he'd filled with drawings of the Rookery. "It's a lot more colourful in reality, but I only had charcoal," he clarified.

"They're beautiful," Astrid smiled, flipping through. "All those tiny pools, the dragons, the beach, it's… wow. I didn't know an island like that existed around here."

"My guess is it's probably volcanic," he explained. "Not in the same way the Red Death's Island is, or Phantom Island was. But it's got the same kind of heat. It's really weird, but fascinating."

"Absolutely."

"Not much use in going there now though, since it's empty except for the rare dragon with an unusual breeding pattern. It would be better to go there in winter."

"I'd like that," Astrid muttered, getting back to his hair.

"And I'll still be here by that time," he assured her.

"I'm counting on it."

"I thought about it many times, you know," he murmured. "To come back earlier. To see how you were doing. But I always told myself that I wasn't worthy of it, and that I should let you live your life without me bothering you. That I had to follow through on the one thing I'd promised you I would do while I was away. To kill the Red Death."

"And you did."

"But wouldn't it have been better if I had come back? Then I would've known about Hamish, and I could've helped you."

"And the raids would have come back, and you would've had to do something about that again," Astrid instantly added as if she'd had this conversation countless times before. Maybe she had. "Then the Phantom could've come back too. And that's the last thing I want." She paused for a moment. "Which is why, after the first winter, I stopped looking for you too."

"You never would've found me anyways," he tried to shrug.

"I don't really deal with 'never' if I really want something. You know that," Astrid told him, wistfulness sounding through in her voice. "But I realised it wasn't my job to find you. That you would come back as soon as you could. And that it was up to me to take care of Hamish, while you dealt with your villains. Both the Red Death, and your own."

"You never doubted I'd come back?" he dared to ask.

"From time to time," Astrid softly admitted. "It wasn't always easy. But I made the decision to have faith in you caring enough about me to at least come see me one last time. You'd made me a promise, after all."

"I broke a lot of my promises to you," he pointed out.

"I know, Hiccup," Astrid sighed, her fingers softly combing through his hair. "I have to live with that every day."

"I'm so sorry," he whispered.

"I know, Hiccup," Astrid repeated. "You don't have to keep telling me that."

"It feels wrong not to."

"Which is why I'm telling you you can stop," Astrid tried to shush him.

"Why aren't you more angry with me?" he asked regardless.

"What do you mean?"

"Out of all the things I'd expected you to do, screaming at me and beating me up was at the top of the list. Yet you hardly seem like you're mad, and it just doesn't make sense to me."

"It's been five years, Hiccup," Astrid sighed, her hands resting on his head as if she didn't want to let go of him for a moment. "That's a long time to stay angry with someone. Especially when you can't do anything with that anger."

"Except let it turn into bitter hate and resentment…" he murmured.

"I'm not you, Hiccup."

"Which is one of the many reasons I love you."

"But I don't know the answer either," Astrid sighed instead of returning his affection. "I'm not going to stand here and say I'm happy with every single thing you've done so far. It'll take me a lot more effort to get my parents to see there's more to you than the anger management problems they saw just now -"

"Ouch."

"- and of course I wish you wouldn't snap at your dad as soon as you simply think he might say something you're not going to like, but I'm also just…" She stayed silent for a moment, but then he felt her press her forehead to the crown of his head, her warm breath tickling his neck and giving him the best kind of goosebumps. "Really happy you're here at all. Because I spent such a long time preparing myself for the day I would be forced to accept you'd abandoned me for good."

"I'd never have done that."

"You could've died."

"I seem to have a lot of trouble with that, given the large number of times I got close, but didn't succeed," he tried to joke, but his voice came out a lot less steady than he'd intended.

"I trust you'll keep it that way."

"Only if you do the same."

"I promise you I will."

Which was as close as a return of his 'I love you' as he could wish for.

They settled into what he would call a comfortable silence, Astrid lifting her head back up and resuming her work on his hair. He felt she was taking longer than she strictly needed to, her hands weaving through it in a way he could only call affectionate. But he wasn't dumb enough to speak up about it, considering how wonderful it was to feel her touch him in a way that made him believe that she still cared. It warmed his heart, making his fingers twitch as he desperately wished to touch her too, to hold and kiss her like she was still his.

But she'd asked him to keep his distance. Because she'd said she'd lose herself the moment she'd kissed him. Because in her heart, she still wanted him. And those words should be enough for now. Even though it was incredibly difficult not to want impossibly more. Everything, when it came to her.

He shivered when Astrid trailed two of her fingers from the crown of his head down to the nape of his neck, taking a lock of hair in each of her hands. She made an approving sound, then started twisting a braid into the side of his hair.

"Still into mini-braids, huh?" he joked, a blush creeping up to his cheeks when he heard just how hoarse he sounded.

"It's more of a habit, really," Astrid huffed. "Hamish has a few of them. He loves helping me braid my own hair and insists on getting a few for himself too. And since you two have the same hair, I…" He heard her tie a band around it. "Just figured it'd look good on you too." She paused for a moment. "But I can take it back out if you don't like it -"

As soon as he felt her hand settle back on his hair, he grabbed it. "It's fine," he told her. "If Hamish likes them, of course I'll keep it too. Even if it's just to feel a little bit closer to him."

When Astrid didn't react, he dared to softly run his thumb over the back of her hand, marvelling at how such a small touch could already make him feel so good, his heart cramping up with the kind of emotions he hadn't experienced in years. He couldn't see Astrid's face, but he still caught her whimper and the way her breath hitched. So he let his fingers trail upwards, following the curve of her wrist, and started tracing the sensitive line on the inside of it, gently skimming upwards towards her elbow.

"Hiccup," Astrid breathed, so quietly he almost couldn't hear her. She pulled away, agonisingly slowly, their fingers briefly intertwining before she retreated completely, her warmth and comfort gone. "I'm sorry."

"Me too," he whispered, unable to draw his eyes away from her as she moved around him, taking away his mug, its leftover contents now cold. The way her braid fell down her back, willing his attention towards the curve of her hips and once again making him pause at the realisation of just how Godsdamn beautiful she was.

"We should probably prepare for tonight," Astrid said, her back towards him. "Before I have to go pick up Hamish for dinner."

"You're right," he nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on the table as he scooted back towards it to make sure he wouldn't get distracted again.

"Just walk me through it," Astrid gestured as she sat down on the opposite of the table. Far enough away from him for them to pretend to be strangers. "Tell me what you're planning to say as if I'm hearing it for the first time."

He reiterated his plan to her, the same way he'd told it to her this morning but with a more logical structure to it, trying not to lose track as Astrid nodded along, her lips curling up encouragingly when he said something she liked. It wasn't too difficult; it was essentially the same as telling an interesting story. And he'd spent enough of his life listening to his father hold speeches to know how those were usually done. His father had even put him through giving some himself at minor events, 'to prepare him for the real job'. And while he was no longer interested in pursuing the Chiefdom - he didn't think he ever had been, he'd just been too afraid to say no - it had at least taught him not to suffer from stage fright.

"I think it's good," Astrid nodded when he was done. "A solid story. But you won't be giving it to me, you'll be talking to Berk."

"And they probably won't be as well-willing," he completed.

"I do expect some people to act up, yes," Astrid nodded. "Spitelout or one of his goons, probably. When they do, just stay calm. You don't owe them an answer to every taunt or question. And your father will be there too, he can order them to stay quiet."

He pulled up his remaining eyebrow. "They'd listen to that?"

"Not necessarily, but I'd rather he tries than that you do it yourself."

"Because that might bring back some unpleasant memories, gotcha."

"Exactly." Astrid leaned forward slightly, prompting him to do the same. "But the most important thing I want you to remember is that they don't speak for all of Berk. I have done my very best to spread our beliefs about dragons, and while there are not a lot of people who are openly enthusiastic, they're also not as sceptical as you think. They want to believe me. And they also want to believe what I told them about you."

"Which is?"

Astrid looked at him, softness and earnest colouring her gaze. "That you're not at all like the Phantom. That underneath that persona, there's a boy who got hurt very badly, but who still managed to grow up into a man who's passionate, intelligent and inspiring. Someone they should give another shot."

"And they believe that?"

"You're still Berk's heir, Hiccup," Astrid told him. He opened his mouth, but shut it again when she continued. "And I know you don't want to be that, but that doesn't have anything to do with my point. If Berk truly, deeply hated you as much as they hated the Phantom, they would have called for you to be disowned long ago. But they haven't. To this day, there hasn't been a majority for that, no matter how often Spitelout's called for it throughout the years. That's not just your dad's doing; it means something. It shows that they're curious about you, and that at the very least, they're willing to let you speak for yourself and plead your case at least one more time before they pass their judgement."

"I never knew you were this interested in politics," he commented, impressed.

"I'm not, but it's a necessity," Astrid shrugged. "I have to know what's going on on Berk. What people think about you, Stoick, and Hamish. And I've always cared for Berk deeply. I've always wanted to protect its people, and I still do. But I can't take the next step, neither for you, nor for Berk. So I'm asking you to have faith in them. Because I do. "

She sat up straighter, her eyes determined. "And now, it's time for you and Berk to start believing in each other."

A/N: You can find me on Tumblr at aleteia-ff! I intend to do Six Sentence Sunday there every Sunday, which will give you all a bit of a preview of what's yet to come!

If you want to discuss the fic with me and other people, you are also welcome to join us on the A Thing Of Vikings Discord Server, in the channel aleteias-fics! The link is discordapp dot com slash invite slash xVuZfK2

The story will be updated on Saturday two weeks from now, around 6 PM Central European (Summer) Time!