Twenty Five: Defenders of Berk

                                    

                                          
Twenty-Five: Defenders of Berk
                          
It was dark and cold when they finally made it back to the village, having finished off the roasted mutton in the Outcast camp. The teens had been enthused at the prospects of becoming defenders of the tribe and were planning when they could come up to the cove for lessons, leaving the exhausted Hiccup wondering when he would fit in all the training around his smithing and general avoiding Snotlout. But the spark of determination that lay buried in his breast, the last vestiges of his duty as Heir, kicked him and reminded him that he could do this. So he had agreed and set the next date.
                          
But in the quiet of Astrid's house, she had lit the fire and then turned to him, eyes sweeping over his stiff form and the developing bruises on his face.
                          
"What were you thinking?" she demanded, advancing rapidly on him. His eyes widened and he backed up a step.
                          
"That if I could get the kids and Fish away, then I would have achieved something..." he mumbled, his eyes dropping. Astrid paused and then slowly approached him, her hand gently reaching out and snaring his.
                          
"I meant me," she said more gently, ducking her head to try to lock her azure eyes with his emerald gaze. He gave a rueful version of his lopsided smile.
                          
"Ah," he managed and shrugged. "I thought it was Snotlout and he made some pretty specific threats against you...which I really couldn't risk..." Her eyes flashed with irritation.
                          
"You know I can take care of myself, right?" she asked him and he nodded with a sigh.
                          
"I was hoping you could take care of me too?" he asked with a hopeful look. "I mean, if Snot and his gang got their hands on me, I needed you to rescue me." Her eyes narrowed as she processed his words. Her hand drifted down and brushed over his midriff.
                          
"Did you need someone to rescue you this morning?" she asked him softly, feeling his hands curl around hers and carefully lift them from his middle.
                          
"Snotlout has fixated on you now, Astrid-because he knows hurting you will hurt me," he told her seriously. "He threatened to harm you...badly..."
                          
"I met Sven and Lars in the forest on the way to get the dragons," she revealed, seeing his head snap up, his eyes narrowing with concern. Then she gave her smug smile. "Took 'em out, babe. I needed to get help for you." He gave a small, proud smile.
                          
"Be careful," he repeated. "If all four of them were there, you might not be so lucky..."
                          
"Show me," she said gently and tugged at the hem of his tunic, seeing faint stains against the woollen fabric. Nodding, he lifted the fabric up, hissing in pain as he slid the fabric over his shoulders and off. Immediately, Astrid's quick fingers began unfastening the bandages, leaning forward as she unwrapped his middle and hissed in shock at the burns. "Hiccup! Oh Thor...you should have told me..." His hand rose to gently lift her chin.
                          
"And do what?" he asked calmly. "Look pathetic? Have you storming off to threaten Snotlout? Astrid-there's nothing to be done except be grateful it was done to me, not you..." Her eyes widened then and her expression turned stricken. His fingers stroked her cheek, tracing along her jaw. "I would suffer every agony in the Nine Realms before I let him mutilate you."
                          
"That rancid mud-sucking yak-loving son of a deformed half-troll..." she growled and he gave a chuckle.
                          
"And there's the woman who killed an Outcast with a single axe throw in the dark while flying on a dragon," he smirked. "Astrid, just bind them up again and we can get some rest. It's been a long and far-too-exciting day..." Professionally, she got him to sit on the bed and carefully salved and rebound his wounds, wincing at the bruises from where he had been kicked. Wordlessly, she gave him an old green tunic to sleep in-made from the remains of the tunic that the twins had destroyed and he slipped it on before resting back and watching her. He never tired of seeing her rebraid her hair before bed and make her final preparations, his heart fluttering like a bird in his chest and swelling with his love for her. Quietly, she shed her armour and climbed into bed next to him, passing her body gently against his and wrapping her arms around him. His head nuzzled affectionately against her.