Heir and Pride

Chapter Thirty Two

Astrid was angry. No, she was furious. They had been gone from Berk for a few days and so far they had gone precisely nowhere.

She slammed her axe into a tree and gave a scream. That wasn't entirely true: they had relocated to Dragon Island, camping out in one of the many caves in the volcano that had been vacated when the Red Death fell. Hiccup had be very quiet as he had flown over the charred and rotted remains of the enormous dragon, seeing his fallen foe for the first time and-by proxy-viewing the place where he nearly died and where he lost his leg. He had hovered for a very long time, then had silently flown away, his trembling hands pressed desperately against Toothless. He had flown all afternoon that day, long into dusk and had only landed when it was almost impossible to see and he had been guided home by the fire Astrid had lit in the cave entrance.

Every afternoon, he had flown back to Berk and hovered amongst or landed on the seastacks, facing the cliffs of Berk. Astrid had accompanied him on the first couple of days and had watched him tense as the sun dipped towards the horizon. And every day, the huge, flamed-haired shape of the Chief stomped down the hill and stood solidly on the cliffs, staring out to sea. His face was stoic and grim and the girl had seen her companion cringe and curl inwards at the angry expression: he knew his father hadn't accepted his departure or acknowledged the wrongs they had done him. Hiccup had remained still, watching when the Chief stamped back up the hill to continue his day and he had gently rubbed Toothless before flying back to Dragon Island.

And he was quiet-gods, he was quiet. She had never imagined him to be quiet and introverted because her memories of him as a child had been of a lively, bright, cheerful boy who had always helped, always offered a quick or sarcastic comment. How long had it been since that boy had ceased to exist-when he became the pariah he had been? No one talked to him, no one joked or laughed or sought his company-so he had drawn in on himself and become quiet and introspective. A loner by circumstance, not by choice. Always quiet, always hunched and curled, trying not to attract any attention-because attention led to taunts and blows. Led to being beaten again for the crime of being Hiccup. And so now, at night, he sat staring into the fire, trying to rationalise everything he had seen and endured, everything he had done and sacrificed. What had been said and what-crucially-still had not. Sometimes-most often-he spoke to Toothless and occasionally he talked with Astrid...but most of the time, he was silent.

This wasn't how Astrid had imagined it. In fact, as she paused and wrenched the axe from the tree, she wasn't precisely sure what she had imagined when they had flown from Berk. She had felt a strong pang of regret at leaving her parents and family but a greater surge of relief in escaping the unreasoning hatred and victimisation of Stoick and a village that seemed content to let her take the blame for everything they had done to Hiccup. Even though Snotlout had apparently been thrown into jail for his crimes, she didn't feel safe. But she did with the dragons and especially with Hiccup, who had done everything that he had promised. He had defended her, challenged the Thing and demanded her exoneration. And though they had apologised to him for his treatment-albeit grudgingly and incompletely-they had done nothing for her. So they had left-though she knew that Hiccup really hadn't really wanted to go.

She threw her axe again with a loud scream. She hit the same spot, her aim and form perfect. She couldn't understand why he wished to remain, as he had suffered so much worse than she had over the years. But there was something here, a sense of duty that he found difficult to ignore. Stoick had already called him 'the Pride of Berk' for his feat in defeating the huge Red Death dragon and it was obvious that the Chief had wanted to restore Hiccup as his Heir. Then she grasped the axe and paused. She couldn't really understand the conditioning and training he had received over the years to prepare him for his role as future Chief-but she suspected that he had been told so many times that Berk was his responsibility that he believed it right down to his bones.