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For the second time in two days, Heather stood by being yelled at by a group of dragon riders.
“Look, I’m sorry I locked up your dragons. I just didn’t trust that you guys would let me go after Dagur.”
“You went after Dagur? Alone?” Astrid half yelled, and Heather didn’t know if it was from excitement or anger. Maybe a mix of both and maybe a hint of concern.
No. Heather doesn’t let herself think like that. If she started admitting that Astrid worried about her, it was just another step to feeling guilty.
“Trust does need to be earned,” Fishlegs said, “With people and dragons.” Heather smiled meekly at him. Fishlegs wasn't bad, she supposed. She’d never really spoken to him much, but he’d come into his own. If she were to like a guy, maybe it would be one like him. Blonde and smart and understanding. She wondered absently how he was on the battlefield.
“I don’t really trust these guys either,” Snotlout added helpfully, breaking her contemplation as he attempted to greasily slid his arm across her shoulders. Heather quickly dodged out of the way, as quickly as she would deflect a stroke of a weapon.
“You know we can hear you,” Astrid sighed, giving Heather a look of companionable suffering. Friendship, Heather thought as she looked away. Astrid is the only female friend you’ve ever had. That’s why you feel this way. Think about Fishlegs.
“Jealousy is an ugly quality, Astrid. But clearly, I understand where it comes from.” Snotlout bragged, sauntering back over to her.
Astrid made a gagging gesture and might have been able to lash back with a retort that would leave Snotlout licking his wounds for days, but Hiccup pushed himself off the wall he’d been observing from since they’d landed back at the Edge. Astrid’s gaze flicked straight back to him, words passing between them despite their silence.
Heather looked away, feeling like she had witnessed an intimate moment that she shouldn’t have. Something else that hadn’t changed.
But Hiccup passed Astrid and put his hand on Heather’s shoulder, and she had to stop herself from jumping. When was the last time she’d been touched by another human, apart from in a fight? She couldn’t remember. “The point is, we have you’re back. You’re one of us.”
One of us. It might feel nice to belong somewhere. To feel like she belonged.
Some luxuries just aren’t worth the cost, though.
“Yeah, I stocked Windshear’s stable with buckets of sea slugs!” Fishlegs added, and Heather narrowed her eyes. So that was how they’d tracked her down. They’d figured out Windshear’s food source and used it to track her back to that island…
“And I made room for you in my hut,” Snotlout batted his eyes at her, and Heather raised an arched eyebrow, looking back at Hiccup in confusion. If they really think she would even voluntarily breath the same air as him-
“And I’ve made it clear to Snotlout that you will not be staying in his hut,” Hiccup crossed his arms, giving an almost pleading look of don’t fuck this up to the other riders. That was what Hiccup did, she supposed. Found broken things and tried to make them work again.
The four of them started to close in on her, the girl twin waggling her eyebrows in what Heather thought must be flirtation, Snotlout saying various would-be-impressive things and Fishlegs recounting dragon facts like a stuck record.
She felt a hand wrap around her wrist and pull her out of the huddle, and suddenly she was staring into Astrid’s icy blue eyes. For some reason, Heather didn’t flinch, didn’t pull her hand away, even as electricity shot up her skin.
“Let’s go have some girl time,” she suggested, and Heather swallowed a lump in her throat, a thousand memories and emotions shooting straight through her and quickening her heart beat.
“Good idea,” she breathed, the words barely sounding legible. If Astrid noticed she doesn’t comment, and Heather turned around to grab her axe before any trace of emotion was betrayed on her face. Whatever this emotion was, it would make more sense in the training ground. Axes and swords weren't like feelings- they weren’t quite as lethal.
-
Astrid looked beautiful in the sunlight, the lean muscles of her arms rippling as she threw her axes straight to the centre of the target. She looked like a Valkyrie, the warrior maidens who patrolled the battle fields to bring brave souls back to Valhalla. The Valkyrie turned as she felt Heather’s gaze, and Heather blinked, refocusing and swung her own axe, landing neatly next to Astrid’s on the target.
Astrid’s pale eyes grew even larger with awe. “You’ve got to show me how you made that.”
Heather gave a small half smile, feeling a small blush creep up her neck despite herself. For Thor’s sake, this was Astrid, she wasn’t a simpering fifteen-year-old child anymore, she was a deadly looter who flew one of the most dangerous dragons in the world.
“Sure, but I prefer close combat to throwing, so I can look my enemy in the eye,” she demonstrated, playing to her strengths and loving the admiration that grew in Astrid’s face more than she would care to admit. After all, it's easier to face an enemy in a fight than a crush in a conversation.
“Not a bad tactic,” Astrid allowed, retrieving the axe Heather had thrown from the tree.
“But don’t discount a -” the axe whistled past Heather’s head “surprise attack.”
Heather gave Astrid a wild grin. Surprise attacks were always Heather’s weakness – she had never expected yesterday when she woke up that she’d be seeing Astrid again, that the teenage crush she’d all but forgotten would come pulsing back at full force.
“The element of surprise, I like that.” She couldn’t stop herself, really. She’d gotten used to flirting with strangers, getting the upper hand. It was the only way a traveler like her could get any form of closeness or intimacy in the few days she would be in one place. But this was Astrid, this was different. She couldn’t be that way.
Astrid grinned back at Heather, and for a moment, Heather thought it might be a maybe. Maybe, one day, Astrid might grin at her as something else.
“It’s one of Hiccup’s favourite tactics.”
Maybe not.
Heather turned quickly to pull the axe out of the tree so that Astrid wouldn’t see her face fall. It didn’t matter, truly, it didn’t. Astrid was just any other pretty girl, and Heather had left a hundred of them without a second thought. This wouldn’t be any different.
“So…” she turned around slowly, not quite looking at Astrid as the girl lined up another throw. “You and Hiccup are a thing, then?”
It was a loaded question, as deadly as the weapons they carry. Astrid looked up suddenly as she made her throw, and the axe ended up somewhere in the bushes.
“What? No! We’re just… friends!” Astrid said, though she avoided eye contact. For such a skilled strategist, Astrid is a pathetic liar. Heather wished she wasn’t.
“Come on. I’ve seen the way you two are together.”
Give me a reason to believe, she wants to say. Give me a plausible reason.
“No, seriously, just friends.”
The lady doth protest too much, as the twins would say.
Heather shrugged, and to hide her blushing face Astrid turns around in search for her axe.
This is what friends do, right? Talk about boys together?
“He’s kind of cute.” Heather said as she swung, hitting the centre again.
“I… guess,” Astrid admitted awkwardly, being lost for words not a usual state for her. “If you like that, unassuming, heroic dragon-rider type.”
Right. Heather turned and raised an eyebrow. The poor girl was clearly head over heels. Whatever pity she had for herself is complicated with slight annoyance. How long can two people live together without realising that they are infatuated with each other?
“Now you and Snotlout,” Astrid says, obviously changing the subject. “That’s a match made in Valhalla.” Astrid has a strange laugh. Heather doesn’t know how she ever forgot it. It isn’t musical – not at all, a rough, hard sound that makes the tips of Heather’s mouth curl in a smile despite herself.
“I can handle Snotlout.” Traveling as a girl, alone… Heather has gotten used to unwanted advances, and Snotlout is the least of her worries. “And, besides, I’m not into the macho Viking type. I like a little smarts.”
She doesn’t mean smart like just anyone, but smart like how Astrid can navigate a battle field in a moment. Smart like how Astrid is the only one who ever seems to see through her lies, even when she can’t herself. Smart like how Astrid was now looking at her with a puzzled, thinking expression and Heather realised that she needs to cover her tracks.
“Like, you know… Fishlegs.” Heather pulled the name out of the air. He’s nice enough she supposes, kind and nerdy and smart. He’s a guy though, and that… complicates things. But she’s only going to be on the island for a few days, and to explain everything else would just take time. Plus, as long as Astrid doesn’t know, nothing will be awkward between them. She’s not ashamed of who she is, she’s just never had to say it out loud before- to someone who she doesn’t know how she’ll react. It’s stressful, and the feeling like she’s lying and the compulsion to tell her, to want the truth to be out in the open because she knows Astrid will figure it out someday anyway, because she’s Astrid and she notices everything.
“Fishlegs? Seriously?” Astrid asked, skeptical, and Heather thought that maybe she’ll have her chance to explain her orientation right now. But the sun is so bright and this afternoon is so perfect… she didn’t want to challenge that. To ruin it.
“What? I think he’s funny. And… cute.” It’s true. Fishlegs is a good guy. Absorbed in books and understanding and curious, but not curious enough to ever pull secrets from dark places in her that she doesn’t want seen. He’s safe.
“We’re talking about Fishlegs, right? The guy with the Gronkle?”
Heather laughed, shaking it off. Too many questions and she’ll break. “Enough boy talk. What else do you guys do for fun around here?”
Astrid grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.”