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Astrid's StoryHe left.
Astrid Hofferson was in a bad place when she last saw Hiccup, if we can remember. It was bad enough she lost the attention of her peers and village, but she lost her place as the Most Valuable Trainee. By this point in the story, Astrid was driven into such anger and such suspicion that she had knocked down Hiccup, stepped on him, and hit him with the butt of her axe.
She’d be lying if she said that didn’t relieve a little bit of her stress.
So, yes, Astrid was not in a very stable condition when she last saw Hiccup, and that stability took a further turn by the reaction of the village to her revelation of Hiccup's secret. She told them, plainly, that Hiccup was harboring a Night Fury, catering to it like a dear pet. They laughed at her.
Bear in mind, Astrid was proven right. Hiccup was up to no good. Not only did he cheat to defeat all those dragons, but he was also consorting with their generation-old enemy. He was riding on the back of
The ChoiceWarning: This will blow your mind. Read at your own risk.
Astrid Hofferson stepped out of the Mead Hall and paused at the brow of the stone steps. The sun touched her face as it dipped in the sky. She inhaled the crisp autumn air and took a moment to drink in her surroundings from her high perch.
This was Berk.
Houses lined the hills, their foundations old but their roofs barely chipped, each crested by a dragon carving specific to the family within. Astrid could name every family's chosen breed. Vikings milled in between the structures. Some just returning from a quest, others hanging laundry or dried meats, and yet more piling their daily collection of lumber or kills in sheds or lean-tos, each grimy from a hard day's work and ready to get their náttmál fill.
Astrid's own hands still ached with blisters from her morning workout, her arms were pleasantly sore. She'd work out again tomorrow morning. Then she'd do her chores, feel the satisfaction in her own polished refle
How a to End a Legend"Why did you keep me alive?"
"Why did the Sisters keep you alive?"
Hiccup might have laughed at Thor batting his question with another question, but Norse still sounded so odd to him; like a familiar, well-worn pair of shoes that had been lost for too many years. His heart took solace in the language as his mind sought the answer.
The god’s hand upon his shoulder was a comfort for once, rather than an annoyance. Everything felt better now that he was dead—easier. And yet… he still had so many questions.
"Think, Hiccup," Thor urged at his pause. "Why did they not kill you upon first stepping foot in their gallery?"
And so Hiccup thought. It certainly wasn’t because he was handsome or charming. He was awkward, fifteen, a mess. The Sisters had always treated Hiccup like the Fool. Like their property.
His hand involuntarily went to his neck. He was their property. Mayhap even in death.<
A Viking in New RomeWhen a man is cursed with the impossible combination of immortality and humanity, sooner or later he's going to run into a few demigods.
A PJO/HTTYD drabble.
Percy cringed. He froze mid-step with his foot hovering inches over the Pomerian Line circling New Rome’s city.
Terminus had literally just materialized in front of him in a sudden, sulfurous pop of yellow smoke that left the demigod's lungs burning. The statue looked much like he always did: armless, stone curls wound tight against his head, and a disapproving scowl on his face.
Percy gingerly put his weight back outside the city safe zone.
“Sorry,” he muttered and immediately reached into his pocket for Riptide. He could hear Frank and Hazel rustle behind him for their own weapons. Percy cast an apologetic look back to the man they were supposed to be escorting into the city and gestured with a no
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