Chapter Text
The words echoed in the war tent, more impactful than any clap of thunder. For a long, agonizing moment, the only sound was the crackle of the torches. Every knight and commander in the tent froze, their eyes wide, darting between their utterly flustered Queen and her mortified squire.
Hiccup felt a heat rush to his face so intense he was certain his hair was about to catch fire. He had been claimed. Not as a reparation, not as a squire, but as a possession, in front of his father and the entire military leadership of Berk. He desperately wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole.
The silence was finally broken by a low, rumbling sound that started deep in the chest of the Lord Commander. Stoick the Vast looked from his son, who was the color of a ripe tomato, to his Queen, who was looking just as shocked at her own outburst. The rumble grew into a hearty chuckle, then erupted into a great, booming laugh that shook the very canvas of the tent.
“Well, son,” he finally roared, clapping a heavy hand on Hiccup’s shoulder and nearly sending him to his knees. “Seems you’ve made an impression!”
Eret’s professional mask slipped for just a second, a flicker of profound amusement in his eyes before he schooled his features back into a neutral expression. The other knights quickly followed his lead, suddenly finding the maps on the table intensely fascinating.
It was Astrid who finally broke the spell. The realization of what she had said crashed down upon her. She, the Queen, had just staked a claim on her squire like he was a prize won in a tournament. A faint blush crept up her neck, a rare and startling sight. She cleared her throat, her posture immediately straightening as she fell back on her authority like a shield.
“That will be all,” she commanded, her voice a little too loud, a little too sharp. “Everyone is dismissed. We will finalize the assault plans in the morning.” She didn't look at anyone, her gaze fixed on a random point on the far wall. “Hiccup, you stay.”
The knights and commanders practically tripped over themselves in their haste to exit the tent, eager to escape the palpable awkwardness. Soon, they were alone. The silence that fell now was different. It was heavy, charged, and thrummed with unspoken words.
Astrid finally turned to face him, her own face still faintly red. She opened her mouth, then closed it. The great Dragon of Berk, conqueror of kingdoms, was at a loss for words.
It was Hiccup who, summoning every ounce of his courage, decided to grant her a mercy. He cleared his throat and pointed to the map on the table.
“So,” he began, his voice still a bit shaky. “About that final move…”
She cleared her throat, “Right!” Her features and posture immediately returned to the cold, calculating general.
The war tent felt electric. Not with the grim tension of the past few weeks, but with a giddy, almost feral energy that radiated from a single source: Queen Astrid. She was practically vibrating with excitement. The shadow war with Alvin had been a slow, frustrating poison, a battle she couldn’t punch. But now, they had a target. A capital city to assault. An army to crush. She finally had something to hit.
She paced the tent, not with restlessness, but with the coiled energy of a predator about to be unleashed. A wide, genuine smile was plastered on her face, and she kept letting out small, excited laughs. It was a side of her Hiccup had never seen, and it was both terrifying and utterly captivating.
They were alone, leaning over the great war map, finalizing the details of his last, audacious plan. This was no subtle infiltration or psychological trick. This was pure, classic warfare.
“It’s a simple Hammer and Anvil,” Hiccup explained, tracing the lines on the map. “Your main force, the Anvil, will feign a retreat after an initial skirmish. You’ll draw Alvin’s main garrison out of his fortress, Outcast, past the range of their archers.”
“I know the maneuver,” Astrid said, her eyes gleaming. She leaned over the map, her proximity making Hiccup’s breath catch in his throat. “And once they’re pinned, engaged with our shield wall…”
“Exactly,” Hiccup continued, trying to focus. “Once they’re pinned, our cavalry, the Hammer, which we’ll have hidden in this forest, will charge their rear flank. They’ll be caught between two forces, surrounded and decimated.”
“We should have the cavalry use throwing axes on the initial charge,” Astrid added, her mind already on the battlefield. “It will break their rear line’s morale before the horses even hit them.”
“Good,” Hiccup agreed, making a note. “That will cause maximum chaos.”
They worked like that for an hour, a seamless partnership. His grand strategy, her tactical ferocity. His mind, her might. They were two halves of a single, terrifyingly effective weapon.
When the plan was solidified, a strange, almost bashful look crossed Astrid’s face. It was so out of character that it stopped Hiccup mid-sentence.
“Hiccup,” she began, her voice suddenly softer, less the Queen and more… just Astrid. “After this is all over, I was wondering if maybe you would—”
Just then, a soldier entered the tent. “Your Majesty! The troops are in position. We are ready for the assault on your command.”
The change in Astrid was instantaneous and gave Hiccup whiplash. The giddy, almost flirty woman vanished. In her place stood the Dragon of Berk. Her posture straightened, her expression hardened into a mask of cold authority, and her voice became steel.
“Excellent,” she said to the soldier, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Tell the commanders to prepare for the signal.” She turned and strode out of the tent without another glance at Hiccup, her focus entirely on the battle to come. He was left standing there, a strange sense of loss mingling with his awe.
Hiccup sat atop a high, grassy hill overlooking the valley that led to the fortress of Outcast. He had a spyglass pressed to his eye, giving him a clear, if distant, view of the unfolding battle. He watched as Astrid, a shining beacon of dark steel at the head of her army, led the initial charge. He heard the faint echo of her battle cry, a sound that could make a mountain tremble, followed by a rousing speech that, even from this distance, made the hairs on his arms stand up.
The plan began perfectly. The feigned retreat was flawless. The Berkian forces fell back in a disciplined, believable route, and just as Hiccup predicted, the arrogant garrison of Outcast sallied forth, eager to chase down the "fleeing" Northmen.
But then, something went wrong.
Through his spyglass, Hiccup saw a single Berkian knight, a man named Mildew whom Hiccup had always found untrustworthy, break off from the main anvil force. Instead of retreating with the others, he was riding hard along the edge of the valley, toward the forest where their cavalry was hidden.
What is he doing? Hiccup wondered, a knot of dread tightening in his stomach. Why is he breaking rank? Even more disturbing, the enemy wasn’t chasing him. They were letting him go.
“Mildew, what are you doing?” Hiccup whispered under his breath. He followed the knight with his spyglass, his heart pounding. He saw Mildew reach the edge of the forest and disappear within. A moment later, the sounds of battle erupted from inside the woods. Not the charge of their cavalry, but the sounds of an ambush.
Hiccup dropped the spyglass, his face draining of all color. “No…”
There was an enemy army already in the forest, waiting for them. The Hammer was being destroyed before it could even strike. He looked back at Astrid’s army. They were slowing their retreat, preparing to turn and form the shield wall, to become the Anvil. They were walking right into a pincer.
As if on cue, another enemy cavalry unit, larger than their own, appeared from the trees on the opposite side of the valley, perfectly positioned to execute their own Hammer and Anvil maneuver on the Berkians.
Hiccup swore, a string of curses he’d learned from Gobber. He brought two fingers to his mouth and let out a piercingly sharp whistle. Toothless, who had been grazing nearby, was at his side in an instant. Hiccup vaulted onto his back and urged him forward, charging at a reckless, breakneck speed down the hill toward the front lines.
He pushed Toothless harder than he ever had before, the wind screaming past his ears. He had to warn her.
He neared the fray, the sounds of steel on steel now a deafening roar. Astrid’s army was just beginning to turn, their shields locking into place.
“YOUR MAJESTY!” he screamed, his voice raw. No response. “MY QUEEN!” Nothing.
He took a deep breath and bellowed with every ounce of air in his lungs, “ASTRID!”
This time, she heard him. She turned in her saddle, her expression a mixture of confusion and annoyance at seeing him on the battlefield.
“IT’S A TRAP!” he yelled, pointing frantically toward the forests. “RETREAT! FALL BACK!”
“BERKIANS NEVER RETREAT!” she roared back, her pride overriding her trust in him. She turned away, raised her sword, and prepared to lead the charge into the enemy’s waiting arms.
Hiccup’s heart sank. There was no time. He couldn’t save the army. But maybe… maybe he could still win the war. He took one last look at Astrid charging into a battle she couldn’t win, then yanked on Toothless’s reins, turning him away from the fight and charging straight for the fortress of Outcast itself. He remembered the maps, the patrol routes, the small, forgotten sally port at the rear of the castle, only mildly guarded. It was his only chance.
He reached the small rear gate, pulling Toothless to a skidding halt. Two guards, their helmets slightly askew and their expressions bored, stepped forward to block his path.
“Stop! Who goes there?” one of them called out.
Hiccup, thinking fast, slid from Toothless’s back and adopted the posture of a terrified peasant. “Help me!” he cried, his voice high and panicked. “There’s an enemy army attacking the castle! I have to get inside!”
The guards glanced at each other, looking uncertain. “How do we know you’re not an enemy spy?” the other one asked, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
Hiccup laughed, a hysterical, fearful sound. “Look at me!” he said, gesturing to his own skinny frame. “Do I look like a Berkian knight to you?”
The guards seemed to consider this. It was a fair point. “Alright, one last question,” the first guard said, puffing out his chest. This was clearly their trump card. “Who is the leader of Outcast?”
Hiccup blinked, confused by the simplicity of the question. “Uh… King Alvin?”
The guards looked at each other and nodded, satisfied. “Alright, you can go in. But leave the horse.”
Hiccup gave Toothless a reassuring pat and slipped through the gate. The moment he was inside, he went to work. He tore at his tunic, ripping the sleeves and dirtying the front. He limped, favoring one leg, and kept his head down, making himself look like just another piece of the castle’s scenery. No one gave him a second glance.
He found his way to the kitchens, his mind racing. He remembered the map of the castle he’d found on one of the spies they’d captured in Berk, a gift from Eret. He saw a lavish tray of food being prepared, clearly destined for the king.
“Is that for the King?” he asked a bustling chef, his voice weak and subservient. “Is it ready?”
The chef glanced at him for only a second, saw a dirty servant boy, and nodded. “Yes. Now take it up. He’s been demanding it for an hour.”
Hiccup grabbed the heavy silver tray, hung his head low, and began the long, limping journey up toward the King’s main chamber. He found a small, shadowed alcove in the hallway and ducked inside, checking to make sure no guards were watching. He reached into a hidden pocket in his boot and pulled out his Plan D. It was a small, dark vial filled with a liquid he had carefully distilled himself: the Essence of Nightshade, made from the flowers that grew in Astrid’s private garden. He had no idea why his Queen cultivated poisonous plants, but it had always struck him as very on-brand.
He uncorked the vial and added a few drops to the soup, stirring it with the tip of his dagger. He discarded the rest of the vial into a nearby vase of flowers, watching with grim satisfaction as they almost instantly began to wither and die. He continued his journey and was allowed into Alvin’s main chamber without issue.
King Alvin the Treacherous was a man who looked like a weasel trying to impersonate a king. He was thin and wiry, with a pointed nose and small, clever eyes that darted around the room. A large black beard that ran down to his chest. He was hunched over a desk, scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment.
Hiccup limped over, placed the tray on the desk with a small, subservient bow, and then stayed put.
“What are you waiting for? Get out,” Alvin snapped without looking up.
“My apologies, Your Majesty,” Hiccup mumbled. “I was instructed to wait until you were finished, to remove the tray.” He then busied himself with pointlessly cleaning a nearby table, trying to blend in.
“Whatever,” Alvin said, clearly distracted. “Fine. You’ll get to watch the show.” He began to scarf down the food, shoveling it into his mouth. He was halfway through the soup when a guard entered.
“Your Majesty,” the guard announced. “We have guests in the main courtyard.”
A sick, triumphant smile spread across Alvin’s face. “Excellent.” He laughed to himself, a high, wheezing sound. “You were a tough opponent, Queen Astrid, but clearly not smart enough to outclass Alvin the Treacherous!” He threw open the doors to his balcony and stepped out into the sunlight.
(Astrid’s Perspective)
She was being dragged, disarmed and defeated, into the main courtyard of Outcast. Her army, or what was left of it, was being herded in with her. She was furious. Furious at Alvin for his cowardly trap, but mostly furious at herself for not listening to Hiccup. She had let her pride, her warrior’s heart, lead them into disaster. She should have fought to the death, died a warrior’s death, rather than be captured and executed like a common criminal. The citizens of Outcast jeered at them, throwing rotten vegetables and insults.
The doors to the great balcony overlooking the courtyard opened, and a taunting voice echoed through the square.
“Well, well,” King Alvin called out. “Fancy seeing you here, Queen Astrid.”
“Alvin, you pathetic worm!” Astrid roared back, straining against her captors. “Fight me on the battlefield like a real man!”
“Why would I do that when you so graciously brought yourself to me?” he laughed. “I now have both you and Berk in the palm of my hands! I must admit, you were a much more formidable opponent than I imagined. You always struck me as the… meathead type. I never knew you were so advanced in psychological warfare.”
“You are a fool to think that Berk falls just because you have its Queen,” she spat. “You made the largest error of all.”
“And what might that be?” he asked, amused.
“Thinking I was the one you were at war with.”
“Wha—”
Alvin was cut off as he suddenly stumbled forward, his hand flying to his mouth as he vomited violently over the edge of the balcony railing. A split second later, a dagger appeared at his throat, held in a small, steady hand.
Astrid chuckled. She would recognize that messy auburn hair anywhere.
Hiccup’s voice, now amplified by the courtyard’s acoustics, rang out, clear and cold. “Put down your arms, or I will slit your King’s throat!”
The guards below yelled and clamored, unsure of what to do.
“I’ve also poisoned him,” Hiccup’s voice added calmly. “If you want the antidote, you need me alive. That includes everyone from Berk, too.” As if to prove his point, Alvin wretched again.
“Who… who are you?” Alvin choked out.
“I’m your enemy,” Hiccup said. “It was my mistake thinking we had already captured all of our traitors. Looks like Mildew also has been working for you this entire time. You revealed your traitor without any accomplices. Elementary Maces and Talons”
“I have your Queen!” Alvin gasped.
“And I have you,” Hiccup replied. “Checkmate, Alvin. Are you going to martyr yourself for your cause?” His voice then grew louder, more boisterous, taking on a theatrical, commanding tone that shocked Astrid. “You fell right into my trap! I knew there was a rat, but I didn’t know who. So I just gave him a juicy piece of cheese and let him lead me right to his hole! You thought you were trapping my army, but you’ve just been invaded by Berk and were none the wiser! I give the signal, and your entire castle falls! Surrender now, or we raze your city! Your legacy!”
Alvin just struggled, speechless.
Hiccup then yelled at the top of his lungs, a cry full of passion and fury. “FOR BERK! FOR THE QUEEN!”
And from the courtyard below, her captured, defeated army roared it back as one. “FOR BERK! FOR THE QUEEN!” Their cries echoed through the valley, creating the illusion of a much larger force, sending waves of panic through the citizens and guards of Outcast.
It was the final straw. Alvin surrendered.
Per Hiccup’s shouted commands, Astrid and her warriors were immediately released. She didn’t wait. She charged into the keep, taking the stairs four at a time, her sword drawn. She burst onto the balcony to see Hiccup holding a knife to a whimpering Alvin, looking utterly in command.
“Mildew was the spy,” were the first words out of his mouth.
Astrid turned to Eret, who was right behind her, and nodded. Eret ran off to find the traitor. The other Berkians arrested a complaining Alvin, who was still demanding the antidote he would never receive.
Astrid stared at Hiccup, her mind reeling. “That plan…” she breathed. “It was incredible. But… maybe next time, let me in on it? I thought… I thought we were all going to die.” She understood that he had left her in the dark so her reactions would be realistic, but it had nearly cost them everything. “When did you plant soldiers in the castle?”
Hiccup just laughed. A tired, relieved sound.
“What’s so funny?” she asked, confused.
“I was bluffing,” he said. “The whole thing. Alvin was never poisoned; he just has a weak stomach. There were no warriors in the castle. It was just me. I knew Alvin was smart, that he plans for every countermeasure, even ones that don’t exist. So I exploited that. It was the only thing I could think of to save you.”
Astrid bristled. Her sword, which she had sheathed, was back in her hand in an instant. She stalked toward him, glaring, towering over him. “You dare bluff with your Queen’s life on the line?”
Hiccup met her gaze, not backing down an inch. “Berkians never retreat,” he said quietly. “I had to do something.”
She glared at him for a long, tense moment. Then, she punched him square in the shoulder, knocking him backward onto his butt.
“Ow! What was that for?!” he yelped, rubbing the spot.
“That,” she huffed, her anger deflating, “was for bluffing with my life on the line, Hiccup!” She let out a long sigh and offered him a hand to help him up. Her voice was much softer now. “But thank you… for saving my life.”
He accepted her hand, and she pulled him to his feet. They stood there for a moment, the adrenaline fading, the reality of what had just happened settling in.
“You know,” Hiccup said, his voice quiet and serious, breaking the silence. “For the longest time… I resented you.”
The words hung in the air between them, a stark and unexpected confession that made Astrid’s heart stop.