Chapter Text
“Have you lost your mind?!”
Astrid Hofferson paced angrily around the main room of her family’s house. Her fingers twitched restlessly, tapping incessantly on the spikes of her skirt. Oh, how she wished she could hit something, throw something, anything. Preferably something breakable, that would make a suitably satisfying crack as it shattered. Unfortunately, nothing fitting that criteria was in reach. This was not happening!
“Astrid, please. If you would just consider–” Bjorn Hofferson attempted to explain, trying for calm.
It did little to dissuade his raging daughter. When he’d called her down for breakfast, she’d been in a good mood. The sun was shining, it was reasonably warm outside for the first time in months, and she really wanted to get some axe throwing in before it rained again.
That was, of course, before he’d dropped that immense bit of news on her.
A marriage contract.
Between her and Hiccup Haddock. Signed and sealed.
She’d laughed initially. He was joking, wasn’t he? There was no way he–
Then she’d seen the look in her father’s eyes. And all Hel broke loose in the Hofferson house.
Astrid rounded on him, red in the face. “Consider?! You want me to consider being handed off like a sack of grain?! Like–like a breeding yak?!”
Her father flinched at the phrasing, but she didn’t care. She was pacing around before he could voice a retort.
“I’ve trained my whole life for this tribe!” she spat. “I’ve bled for Berk. I’ve stood guard in those damned blizzards, fought off raids, Hel, I won dragon training! And now I’m supposed to–to what? Play house? Pop out a few babies? With him?”
Bjorn’s jaw tightened. “This isn’t about you or him. It’s bigger than that.”
“No,” Astrid snarled. “It’s exactly about that. You think I don’t see what this is? Stoick doesn’t know what to do with Hiccup, so he throws him at me like I’m supposed to fix him.”
Her father pinched the bridge of his nose. “Astrid, if you would just listen to me–”
“I am listening! Unfortunately, everything I’m hearing is utterly insane!”
Bjorn sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “Do not call it that. You should know by now, more than anything, it’s security.”
“Security?” she barked. “You call this security?”
He didn’t flinch, but he didn’t meet her eyes either. “This arrangement will benefit both families. It’s been in discussion for a long time.”
“Discussion with who?” she demanded. “Because I sure wasn’t part of it!”
Bjorn hesitated. His silence told her everything.
“Unbelievable,” she muttered, pacing now, hands flexing restlessly. “I’ve killed for this tribe. I’ve trained harder than anyone. And this is what I get? Passed around like a treaty clause?”
“It’s not like that,” Bjorn said, quickly. “It’s a union. A bridge between the Hoffersons and the Haddocks. You and Hiccup—”
“Yes dad, I feel so happy I’m supposed to marry Hiccup the gods damned Useless,” she snapped. “Does he even know?”
Bjorn was quiet for too long.
Astrid turned her back to him, pacing faster. “So no. Of course not. Why would he be looped in? Gods forbid we let the actual people involved have a say.”
“It had to move quickly,” he said. “Stoick made the offer personally.”
“Oh well, if Stoick said so—” she nearly laughed. “Because when has he ever been wrong about his son?”
Bjorn frowned, but she kept going.
“What would mom think, if she was still alive? And what does he even bring to the table? He can’t fight. He doesn’t lead. He spends more time with metal than people! He’s so usel—”
“Enough,” Bjorn cut in, sharply.
The sudden edge in his voice surprised her. She stilled. Even now, at 19, hearing her father’s voice rise that high gave her pause.
“Look, Astrid. You know as well as I do that this winter’s been difficult for both of us. We’ve lost too many sheep to–” he began.
Astrid rolled her eyes. “Oh so it is about the money then. Wonderful. Thanks dad, definitely not feeling like a piece of livestock now!”
Bjorn’s expression tightened. “That’s not what I said.”
“You didn’t have to,” Astrid snapped, voice shaking with fury now, not vulnerability. “You just sat there and confirmed it. I'm a name on a ledger to you. A solution to all your financial woes.”
“It’s not like that,” he said again, firmer now. “And you know it.”
“No,” she said, spinning on him. “You know I deserve better than this. Better than him.”
The silence that followed was worse than shouting. He didn’t look away, but he didn’t deny it either. And that, more than anything, made her want to throw something sharp and heavy.
Her throat burned. She turned away again, swallowing bile down.
“I could’ve lived with it if you'd told me everything,” she muttered, mostly to herself. “If you’d trusted me enough to just say it outright. But you didn’t. You kept it quiet. Arranged my future behind my back like I wouldn’t notice until the damn feast invitations went out.”
Bjorn exhaled through his nose. “You think this was my first choice?”
“I think you didn’t fight it.”
Her father paused, and her shoulders dropped. Of course he hadn’t. Knowing Stoick, he probably paid handsomely for her to marry his son. Spoiled brat.
“You should speak to him,” Bjorn said. “Before someone else does. Before he hears it from Stoick.”
Astrid gave him a scathing look. “Right. Wouldn’t want to catch him between forge shifts. That might really put a dent in his tragic legacy.”
And with that, she turned on her heel and stormed out, slamming the door behind her hard enough to make the windows rattle.
The sound of metal clanged through the forge, a constant beat throughout the day.
Hiccup stood at the anvil, sleeves rolled up to the elbow, sparks flying as he hammered away at a sword that was nicked and bent from overuse. It was ridiculous! How these vikings managed to find new ways to destroy their weapons was beyond him.
Of course, he didn’t much mind. It just meant more coin for him. More work too, but such was life as a blacksmith’s apprentice. Especially with Gobber taking the week off for some R&R.
At first, he didn’t register the forge’s door opening over the noise of the fire, but he was soon keenly aware of a presence behind him, hot and heavy.
He wiped his brow as he turned to face them. “Astrid?”
She stood in the doorway like a storm cloud, jaw clenched, arms locked stiff at her sides. Her normally neat braid looked like it had been yanked loose in a tussle, and now hung messily on her shoulder. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes—
Well, if her eyes were a blade, they could cut steel. Actually, that would really make my job easier…
“...Did you need something?” He started apprehensively. “Is your axe…” He trailed off as he noticed her glare never left him. “Okay… you’re angry… at me? Did I do something?”
It was phrased as a half-joke. Clearly, that was the wrong thing to say.
Her nostrils flared. “Did you do something?” she repeated, stalking in. “Are you seriously asking me that?”
Hiccup blinked. “Okay, uh… Context would definitely be helpful here.”
She didn’t answer, and just paced the room once, bootsteps heavy on the stone floor, then turned on him again. “You’re just in here working,” she said, voice low and tight. “Like nothing’s happening. Like everything’s normal.”
Hiccup slowly set the hammer down, confusion building in his features. “Because… it is?”
Wrong again.
She laughed under her breath, sharp and cold. “Of course it is. Just another day for the chief’s son.”
He tilted his head, brows drawing together. “Okay, seriously. What’s going on? Did something happen during training?”
“No. Not during training.” Her voice cracked like a whip. “But something’s definitely happening.” Still, she didn’t tell him.
Hiccup stepped closer, hands open. “Look, whatever this is about, maybe calm down and we can talk like actual people instead of—”
“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down.” She didn’t shout it so much as growled it.
His mouth snapped shut. Astrid took a shaky breath, eyes darting away for a moment like she was considering saying something else—the thing—but then didn’t. Her teeth clicked as she bit it back.
“I don’t know why I came here,” she muttered, half to herself.
Hiccup, frustrated, folded his arms. “Clearly not to explain.”
She glared at him again, but he pushed forward, voice tightening with his own edge now. “If you’re mad at me, that’s fine. I get it. Wouldn’t be the first time. But I can’t read your mind, Astrid. If you’ve got a problem with me, say it.”
There was a long, brittle silence.
The words tumbled out of his mouth before he really registered what he was saying. “Or is this just another one of your stupid ‘rage first, talk never’ moments?”
The second the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Astrid froze, her expression snapping neutral. She didn’t snap back at him, didn’t explode in a volley of curses and profanity. She just went still.
“I see,” she said quietly. “So that’s what you think of me. Good to know.”
He opened his mouth. “Wait, that’s not—”
But she was already moving. Already halfway to the door, braid whipping behind her.
“Good luck in the forge,” she said without turning back. “Hope the wedding plans don’t interrupt your schedule too much.”
Then she was gone.
And Hiccup was left standing in the smoke and silence, blinking after her like she’d just spoken in a different language.
“…Wedding?”
“Dad, what in the actual Hel?” Hiccup couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Suddenly, Astrid’s words from earlier made all the sense in the world.
It had bugged his mind since she’d said it. A wedding. It couldn’t be for him. And he hadn’t heard anything about anyone else getting married. Maybe he missed something?
That was a yes. He’d definitely missed something. The biggest something that had ever been something’d in the history of the world.
The sun was just setting below the horizon by the time he’d finally closed up Gobber’s shop and made his way to the Great Hall for some supper. And for once, he was actually glad for the social isolation. He wasn’t exactly in the mood for being teased mercilessly again.
Sure, he wasn’t that frail, helpless kid anymore. He’d grown over the years, now having several inches on the other teens, but that didn’t mean his social status was any different. Now, instead of being small and frail, he was thin and gangly, all stringy muscles. He wasn’t at all the prototypical viking, and the other youths made sure he’d never forget it.
Still, Astrid had always seemed to be the slightest bit different. At the very least, he preferred her semi-permanent indifference to being teased. Were it not for her needing her axe sharped every week, he wasn’t sure she’d noticed he’d existed.
Well, that wasn’t quite true. Once upon a time, they’d been friends. Best friends, in fact. A lifetime ago. They’d been small children then, but that had ended, and he’d been alone since. Still, he never really let her go.
Four years ago, he’d washed out of dragon training by the second week. He’d made his way back to the forge and watched from the sidelines as the girl of his dreams won the whole thing and slew the Nightmare. And she’d looked so, so good doing it, in his personal opinion. Like a proper valkyrie. So far above him.
Still, being the blacksmith’s apprentice wasn’t the worst thing in the world. At least he stayed out of trouble. And out of sight of Snotlout and the Twins’ bullying. Mostly. Sure, that usually meant out of Astrid’s line of sight too, but even if she’d never really noticed him, it was still nice to view her from afar.
That’s what made his father’s request to talk to him about something after he got home so shocking.
He’d barely set foot through the door before Stoick called him over. He didn’t get a greeting, though he didn’t expect one anymore. Such was life as Hiccup the Useless, embarrassment to the Haddock line. Still, his father’s heavy hand on his shoulder and a quiet, “We need to talk,” gave him pause.
That alone–his father wanting to talk to him–should have been a red flag.
But nothing, nothing at all, could have prepared him for this.
“You arranged a what?!”
Stoick didn’t even flinch. His tone was almost jovial, like it was a trivial thing. “You heard me, son.”
Hiccup threw his hands up. “To Astrid Hofferson?!”
Stoick paused momentarily, then gave a slow, deliberate nod. “Aye.” He noted the discomfort on Hiccup’s face. “You’re not… happy?”
He blinked. “Are you serious?”
“I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t. Besides, I know you’ve had a thing for the lass since you could walk.”
“What are you talking about, dad?! She hates me, especially now! And you didn’t think to—oh, I don’t know—mention it to me? Before just… setting my entire life on fire?”
Stoick’s expression was flat, his resolve unmoved. “There wasn’t time.”
“There’s always time to not marry off your only child like he’s a bloody grain shipment! I’m not—you can’t do this to me!”
Stoick’s tone stayed flat. “It’s already done.”
Hiccup froze. “What?”
“The contract is signed,” Stoick said. “Terms agreed to. Her father and I sealed it this morning.”
For a moment, Hiccup couldn’t breathe. “You… already signed it?” he said, quieter now. “Without even asking me?”
“There wasn’t time to delay—”
“You didn’t even ask!” Hiccup shouted, stepping back like he’d been struck by lightning.
“This was the best course of action for both of you. It’s the clearest path that ensured you’d both be happy with–”
“Oh, yeah. Totally. Because Astrid looked so thrilled earlier when she dropped that little bombshell on me and stormed off.”
That made Stoick pause. Just a flicker of guilt, quickly buried.
“You knew she’d find out,” Hiccup said, quieter now.
Stoick’s jaw tensed. “You’re not children anymore. You, especially you Hiccup, need to get married. This is a responsibility of an heir.”
Hiccup laughed, sharp and bitter. “Oh, well, thanks for the responsibility, Dad. Real glad I could finally be useful to the tribe as a bargaining chip.”
“This isn’t about usefulness—”
“No?” he cut in. “Because that’s sure what it feels like.”
Stoick sighed, rubbing a hand over his beard. “The Hoffersons are struggling. Those cursed hunters move closer every day. This isn't about opinions,” Stoick said. “It’s about Berk. About keeping this tribe alive.”
Hiccup stopped, chest rising and falling. “So… what? I'm just your backup plan? You can't hold the village together, so you throw your ‘useless’ son at the most capable girl on the island and hope it sticks?”
“She’s the best warrior of her generation,” Stoick said, not rising to the bait. “You’re the heir. This joins two powerful families, strengthens public morale, and gives the council something to unify behind. It matters.”
“You really think she wants this?” Hiccup asked. “You think she looked at this proposal and thought, ‘Wow! What a dream come true!’ She wouldn’t come near me if she was on fire and I had the only bucket of water in the entire village!”
“She agreed to it,” Stoick said.
“Did she?” Hiccup narrowed his eyes. “Or did you and Bjorn agree to it, and she got told after the ink was already dry?”
“Bjorn told her this morning, as he said he would. And this is the best path forward. For both of you.”
Hiccup was already shaking his head. “It makes sense on paper, sure. But have you even met Astrid? She hates me.”
“She doesn’t hate you.”
“Oh, really?” His laugh came colder this time. “Then I guess that whole storming into the forge and nearly burning holes in me with her eyes was just her way of flirting.”
Stoick didn’t reply.
“And you let her think I was in on it,” Hiccup said, voice low now. “You let her walk into that without knowing I was just as blindsided as she was.”
Hiccup stood there, every part of him taut with disbelief.
“Right,” he said, voice flat. “Well. Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll try not to ruin the ceremony by existing.”
He turned toward the door. “Hiccup,” Stoick called.
But he was already walking away. “Don’t worry,” Hiccup muttered. “Wouldn’t want to jeopardize your brilliant political move by being human about it.”
The sun had dipped below the ridgeline by the time Astrid found herself on the edge of the cliffs, kicking at loose stones with her heel and cursing the entire male population of Berk under her breath.
The wind pulled at her braid. She didn't care. Let it come undone. Everything else already was.
Behind her, the dry scrape of boots on rock signaled someone approaching. She didn’t turn.
“If you’re planning on jumping, can I have your boots before you go?”
Astrid sighed. “Go away, Ruff.”
The female twin came up beside her anyway, plucking a dead weed and tossing it over the edge. “Nah. You look like you’re about to scream, and I’m in the mood for a little recreational trauma.”
Astrid huffed, folding her arms tightly. The silence stretched between them, brittle and dry.
“I take it your dad told you?” Ruff asked eventually.
Astrid turned and scowled. “How do you of all people know about it.”
Ruffnut would have smirked, but she could see Astrid was not in the mood. “Oh you know, I’m psychic. Traders’ whispers.” She paused for a moment, and this time she did smile. “Oh, and the whole ‘screaming at your father so loud the entire street heard it’ thing.”
Astrid whipped back to the sea, dropping to a crouch.
“You know,” Ruffnut added, plucking another weed, “I always figured you'd end up with someone. Just… not him. Maybe… Snotlout?”
Astrid let out a slow, bitter laugh, throwing another pebble over the cliff. “Oh sure. I think I’d actually jump off the edge if that happened.”
Ruffnut leaned against a nearby boulder, chewing absently on a stem of grass. “So. You told him?”
Astrid let out a bitter snort. “Didn’t have to. He had no idea. Just stood there at the forge, clueless as ever.”
Ruff raised a brow. “Seriously?”
“Oh yeah.” Astrid paced back and forth, boots digging into the dirt. “Just hammering away, like his entire future wasn’t being decided behind his back.”
She scoffed. “And he had the nerve to look at me like I was the unreasonable one. Like I was just throwing a fit for no reason.”
“Well,” Ruff said, “you were throwing a fit. The reason just happened to be justified.”
Astrid ignored her. “All I could think was, of course he didn’t know. Because of course no one thought to ask me either. Because gods forbid Astrid fucking Hofferson have an opinion. Nope! Just slap a dress on her and point her at the heir like she’s a peace offering.”
She kicked the post again, harder this time.
“I have bled for this tribe, Ruff,” she hissed. “I did everything that’s ever been asked of me, and I did them well. I’ve fought off three different raids this winter alone, and this is my reward? Tied to a boy who can’t even look me in the eye without flinching?”
Ruffnut shrugged. “He’s not that bad. And he’s always liked you. ”
Astrid rounded on her. “He’s Hiccup. He’s a project, at best! He’s not a partner. And he sure as Hel isn’t a husband.”
Ruffnut held up her hands. “Astrid, that’s not really—”
Astrid’s eyes blazed. “And you know what? I would’ve preferred if he’d just died in a raid.”
Behind them, just out of view, boots crunched to a sudden halt on the gravel path. Astrid kept going, too caught up in her rant to notice. “Then at least I wouldn’t be stuck like this, wouldn’t be forced into playing house with someone who doesn’t even know how to fight, let alone lead. I’m supposed to respect that?”
She spit the word like poison. But Ruffnut’s eyes flicked up, past Astrid, her smirk faltering.
Astrid noticed the shift, turned, and saw no one. But she did hear the sound of retreating footsteps, quick and uneven, vanishing down the hill.
Her stomach dropped. “…That wasn’t—?” she started.
“Yep,” Ruffnut said grimly.
Astrid’s face fell. “Shit.”
He didn’t know what he was planning to say.
Something stupid, probably. Something awkward and dumb. Maybe even something she’d roll her eyes at and walk away. It was all so messed up. But he had to try, right?
Hiccup rubbed his hand on his thigh, trying to pacify himself as he crossed the rise towards the cliffs, shoulders hunched in the evening chill.
He spotted her in the distance, pacing near the cliff’s edge, sharp and furious, and beautiful!, her braid whipping around every time she shook her head.
Ruffnut lounged nearby, arms folded, looking unimpressed as ever.
He stopped a good distance away, still just out of sight.
He didn’t want to interrupt. He just needed a second to breathe. And to find the words.
You don’t want this. I get that. But neither do I. So maybe… we can figure something out?
That was the best he had. It had to be enough right? At least they could try to work through it together?
He took a step closer—
And froze.
“I would’ve preferred if he’d just died in a raid.”
The words hit like a hammer to the chest. His breath locked in his throat, every part of him going still.
She wasn’t shouting, or crying about it. She just said it, like it was nothing. Like it had been sitting in her mouth for hours, days, years even, waiting to be spat out.
He didn’t stick around to hear anything after that. Not Ruffnut’s response. Not the rest of her rant. His ears rang with static.
He’d come to talk.
He’d come to try.
But he was wrong. So, so wrong.
He turned before either of them could see him and bolted down the hill, lungs burning, feet skidding in loose gravel. The words chased him like arrows. Like fire.
I would’ve preferred if he’d just died.
That was the worst part. He knew she didn’t want this, but still… he thought maybe they could find common ground. Maybe not everything had to be decided for them. And maybe they could make the most out of it, not hate each other’s guts completely.
But that certainly wasn’t happening now. He was so terribly, horribly wrong.
And now he knew exactly how little she thought of him.
“I don’t see him,” Ruffnut said, arms folded as she watched Astrid scour the forest.
“He’s here,” Astrid muttered. “He has to be here.”
She turned in a full circle, scanning every trail, every shadow, as if he might still be hiding just out of view.
“Maybe you should’ve checked before saying that you wished he was dead,” Ruffnut added, not unkindly.
Astrid scowled. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
Ruffnut shrugged. “Doesn’t matter now. He heard it.”
“Are you sure? Maybe he just—“
“He did.”
Astrid sighed in resignation. “Fuck.”
She hadn’t meant it. It was all in a moment of anger. She didn’t really hate him, per se. Her dad? Sure. His dad? Almost definitely. They were the ones responsible for this mess in the first place. And yet…
Astrid stood still, wind tugging at the loose strands of her hair, the weight of her words finally settling in.
She hadn’t meant to wound him.
But gods, she really hadn’t tried not to, either.