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maedarakat · 7 years

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Drabble: Comfort

Summary: After the events in “Sins of the Past”, Heather and Dagur prepare to leave for home - but not before their friends do something to ease their heartache.

“Oh. My. Thor. This stuff is amazing,” Tuff said, just a bit intelligibly since his mouth was full. “I’m so glad we added the salt and yak butter.”

“Right, but I think the cinnamon and sugar is what adds the real piece de resistance!”

“Agreed, that too is enjoyable. Though I tend to prefer it more savory, salty - ooh, maybe I should add some garlic? No. Onions? Definitely, no - onions always make me cry. It's so sad. It's gotten to the point I don’t even have to chop them anymore -”

Ruff lightly elbowed him, jerking her head to the open doorway of their hut. “Hey, speaking of crying, look.”

Tuffnut turned his head, wiping an arm across his mouth, just in time to see Dagur and Heather walking by, heads lowered. Heather was audibly weeping, tears streaming down her face, and her brother didn’t look much better - pale and shaken, with an arm around her shoulders as they headed to the Clubhouse.

“Oh, right. Snot had good news for us, while Dagur had some bad news for Heather.”

“Poor things. And all on an empty stomach too, I’ll bet. Hey, you think they’d want some clouds of corn for the trip back?” Ruff grinned, and gestured to the bowl they’d made. Tuffnut appeared to consider it.

“I don’t know if this would work alone as sympathy food. It’s too light by itself. Too fluffy. I’d personally want to eat this plus everything else that could conceivably be tasty after finding out news like that.”

“Huh. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Tuffnut glanced at her and grinned. “If what you’re thinking is what I’m thinking, then yes - debemos ir a la cocina, inmediatamente!”

---

Dagur sighed and nudged the mug of mead toward Heather, who had her arms pillowed under her chin. She didn’t reach for it, but her eyes flicked toward it briefly and then away in disinterest.

“Come on, sis. It’s a long trip back to Berserker island, but I don’t want to go until you’ve eaten something.”

“I’m not hungry, Dagur. And you haven’t eaten anything either,” Heather sighed.

Her brother winced, and looked down at his own untouched plate and mug. There was an apple, a few berries, some venison jerky, and a few rounds of tack. Not inedible fare, but it certainly didn’t have that Berserker kick to it. Dagur figured he’d get them home and cook them something better than this - but right now he was drained and exhausted.

What he was not expecting at all were the Twins walking into the Clubhouse, each balancing a bowl in each hand, and also a platter on their heads. Tuff had a covered basket looped over his arm as well.

Dagur’s fuse was short and his heart aching too much to want company. As funny as they looked, he would have asked the Twins to give them some space, but Tuff winked in his direction, giving him pause.

“Hey, guys. Hope you weren't thinking of flying back to Berserk on empty,” Tuffnut supplied, setting down a bowl of what looked like white fluffy pebbles. Dagur wrinkled his nose, sitting up to inspect the food . . . even if it was the weirdest food he'd ever seen. Ruff was already setting down another bowl next to it, only these ‘pebbles’ smelled of cinnamon and sugar cane.

“Yeah, not after the day you guys have had. Eat with us, and as much as you like.” Ruffnut also put down a platter of deviled eggs next to the popcorn, along with a bowl of cracked almonds, walnuts, sunflower seed kernels, shelled pumpkin seeds and dried fruit chips.

“That one’s another specialty,” Tuff told them. “An old favorite. We call it ‘trail mix’. I wanted to call it ‘mixed nuts’ but I guess that doesn't sound as appetizing.”

Dagur was actually reaching for that one when Chicken gave a delighted squawk, landing on the table and pecking greedily at the trail mix.

“Chicken!” Tuff admonished lightly, picking her up. “Don't be rude, brood. In la casa de Thorston, our guests dine first.” He nevertheless made her a small pile of popcorn and trail mix, before setting down a tray of yet more food items balanced on his head.

One was a pitcher of cold yak milk, the other a plate of what looked like round tack, except made with pecans, coconut shreds, flower petals, and a honey glaze. They smelled amazing.

“Those are Mama Nut’s cookies - she used to make ‘em for us whenever we were down in the dumps,” Ruffnut explained to Heather, who was already reaching for one. “We just learned how to make ‘em ourselves living out here.”

She smiled at Ruff and bit into one of the buttery cookies. Her eyes lit up, and Dagur felt a heaviness in his heart start to lift a fraction. “Oh. This is good! Dagur, you should try one.”

Heather all but waved it under his nose until he took a bite. She wasn't just being polite; it really did taste good. And somehow, the fact there was food that they didn't have to prepare? That was comfort in itself. “Mmm! It really is delicious - all of it! We couldn't possibly eat all of this though.”

“We got you, no worries. You can pack up as much as you want for later.” Tuffnut had a shifty grin on his face as he reached beneath the table for something. “I even have a basket for such an emergency. If you don't mind, I gotta check first for stowaways though.” He set it down in front of them and lifted the soft blanket he'd put over the top.

Piles of yellow fluff blinked open their eyes and yawned, then immediately started peeping.

Heather made a sound Dagur was certain she'd deny later and reached into the basket, pulling one out to cup warmly in her palms. “Is this where Chicken was? Raising a family? They're so adorable! Did you name any of them?”

“Oh, we named all of them. Wingnut, Mushroom, Clucknut, Puffnut, Fluffnut, Dustmote and Chicklet. Only problem is we can't tell which is which anymore.” Ruffnut shrugged and snagged a deviled egg. “They'll figure themselves out when their plumage comes in.”

Dagur tossed another handful of popcorn into his mouth, and subtly edged the plate of cookies toward Heather. “And what did you name the rooster?” he asked Tuffnut, with a teasing grin.

Tuff’s expression went stormy for a moment. “Fustercluck,” he answered with a scowl.

Heather snorted and Dagur joined her and Ruffnut in laughter, while Tuff made a show of crossing his arms and appearing to sulk. Playfully, Heather threw a few kernels of popcorn at him and he tried to catch it in his mouth - surprising them all by succeeding.

This resulted in a game of sorts - everyone trying to see who was the best at catching the fluffy white kernels in their mouths.

Dagur had to admit, this was far better than just going back home to a lonely Chieftain’s hut, where he wouldn't even begin to know how to comfort his sister. Here there was fun, tasty food, adorable baby chicks, and best of all, their friends. He paid no attention to the time or how dark it was getting, noticing that Heather wasn't too concerned with it either.

He had absolutely no problem spending the night in the stables with Triplestryke if she wanted to sleep in her own hut tonight.

There was something to be said about grief and good food. They picked the plates clean, and Dagur was touched to see Tuffnut encouraging Heather to eat her fill, simply by sneaking cookies onto her plate and topping off her mug with cold yak milk - all the while distracting her with the silly tale of how he had tracked down his wayward Chicken.

He almost didn't realize that Ruff had been doing the same thing for him, as he too listened to the story. As the night wore on, more stories were told and shared - and yet more of the Riders joined them for dinner - which became a bit more of a potluck than any sort of planned meal.

Snothat brought a mean potato salad, Astrid brought some mackerel and turnip kabobs, (that everyone politely avoided, save for one greedy dive bombing Terror - which soon afterwards was heard lamenting its life choices from one of the watchtower roosts) Fishlegs had brewed a nice soothing herbal tea, and Hiccup had his Night Fury flame-broil some salmon.

The night was spent pleasantly - a rare few hours of peace on the Edge that slowly came to an end as people headed off to catch some sleep. Fishlegs and Hiccup were wiped, and left first, though more at Heather's urging. She had a knack for telling what her friends needed.

Before any of them knew it, twilight was barely lightening the sky and Dagur had caught himself yawning almost as much as Heather. His sister glanced over at him as Astrid and Snotlout began carrying away the empty dishes.

She inclined her head toward the Twins who'd fallen asleep just a few minutes ago, surrounded by sleeping chicks nestled in their hair and the crook of Tuffnut’s arm.

“Should we get them to bed?” Dagur asked quietly, once Astrid and Snotlout had left.

“Hmm.” Heather just looked at them, fondly. “Didn't even have to sing this time. Yeah, let’s make them more comfortable.”

A few minutes later found all four of them in the stable. Chicken had gotten her chicks into the basket with her, and Dagur set the sleeping brood down gently, near Sleuther’s warm flank. He still had Tuff on his back, snoring gently in his ear. Heather was already laying Ruffnut down against Sleuther, as Windshear curled around them to complete the warm circle.

His sister certainly knew her dragon Riders; the Twins hadn't woken up even as they were carried to the stables. Had Heather not been so calm, it might even have been concerning.

Dagur laid against his dragon, letting Tuff rest against him. Amazing how the boy never woke up, just muttering about yak butter and salt and . . . nuzzling his shoulder? “Cuddly, aren't they?”

His sister chuckled and sat to his right, gently arranging Ruff to sleep across her lap and taking off the girl's helmet. “They certainly can be. I can't keep track of the times I've woken up during a bad wind-storm to find them in a pile on my floor. Or on my bed.”

She laughed at her brother's raised eyebrow. “It's not just me. They've done it to Hiccup, Fishlegs, Snotlout . . . Astrid only once, since her first reaction upon waking with someone unexpected in the room is to hurl knives and scream.”

Dagur couldn't help laughing at that. “I can only imagine how that must have gone,” he snickered.

“Complete pandemonium,” Heather agreed, smirking. “Which is every moment on the Edge, especially with these two on it.”

“You're fond of them. I think I am too. We should definitely have more nights like this - but on Berserker island. Maybe we can host a party for all the Riders? Show off our own cooking skills.”

Heather grinned warmly and Dagur felt something in his heart lift. “That sounds like something to look forward to, brother. So long as you remember to keep Berserker chicken off the menu.”

Chicken gave a burble of mild concern, but fell right back to sleep.

In no time, both Berserkers had joined her.

#rtte #spoilers #dagur #heather #ruffnut #tuffnut #rtte spoilers

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notgoodatusernamesperson · 7 years

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HTTYD as Theater Kids

Hiccup Haddock - A genius child, he developed a fascination with mechanics after losing his leg at the start of high school. He skipped most of elementary school, leading him to graduate high school at the age of fifteen. Hiccup went on to receive many scholarship offers, finally choosing to attend MIT. He graduated with a BS in mechanical engineering and is now attending Yale for a MFA in technical design and production with a concentration in stage machinery design and automation. Despite his disability, Hiccup is known for working dangerously. Lanky but strong, he is often seen hanging upside down off of rails, or climbing up ropes to lean precariously on top of a set. He possesses amazing skills in welding and stage automation and often practices his ideas in creating modifications for his prosthetic. His dream is to create a fully functional mechanical dragon that could fly around a stage.

Astrid Hofferson - After spending high involved in sports, theater, dance, student government, and all the AP classes she could handle, Astrid settled to focus on theater for her career. Although she had always planned to join the military after graduation, Astrid decided to focus on what made her happy instead of her planned destiny. She is now entering her senior year at Carnegie Mellon University, and is working towards a BFA in stage and production management. she is highly intelligent and thinks very highly of her skills, but is not much of a people person.

Fishlegs Ingerman - A huge history and design nerd. His high school experience was eaten up by musical theater, and he has multiple soundtracks memorized that he will not hesitate to sing. Fishlegs focuses his talents into furniture building and designing. He loves intricate details and will spend hours confirming historical accuracy. He is currently attending the University of North Carolina School of the Arts to obtain a BFA in stage properties. Fishlegs was raised to be a southern gentleman, and does his best to bumble through that role.

Snotlout Jorgenson - A skilled electrician who is especially talented at electrocuting himself. After being the big guns at his small town high school, and spending years essentially running the school’s theater program, he has developed quite an ego. He messes up frequently but he is good at finding creative solutions. Snotlout is working to earn a BFA in technical production from Boston University with a focus in electrics.

Ruffnut Thorston - A rough and wild punk girl who loves the organized chaos of the scene shop and is known for being a hardcore tomboy. She got involved in theater in high school as an alternative to detention and found her niche. She is a skilled carpenter with strong woodworking skills and creates surprisingly beautiful work. Currently attending the University of Southern California for a BFA in technical direction with a concentration in scenery.

Tuffnut Thorston - After growing up in California with his sister and being dragged into helping with her theater shows, he found a love for electrics. He loves to experiment and see how far he can take things before blowing a fuse or electrocuting himself. He is currently attending the University of Southern California for a BFA in technical direction with a concentration in lighting, which he will assure you is immensely different from what his sister is doing.

Heather DeRange - Orphaned from a young age, Heather spent much of her adolescence jumping around foster homes. Theater became her sanctuary along with visual art, and she became a skilled scenic painter. She now attends Penn State on federal aid and numerous scholarships. Heather is working towards a BFA in theater design and technology with a concentration in scene design, though her focus within the major is painting. Due to her background, Heather is highly distrustful and often very nervous around new people, making her introduction to the program and her fellow interns a bit rough.

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tysonrunningfox · 4 years

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Hey so I’m rereading Eret III and this is the first mention of Fuse ever, at all, and I’m dying:

Someone knocks on the open front counter and I turn to see Fuse Thorston, clutching a crumpled pile of drawings and smelling like black powder. I used to be afraid of her. She’s a year older than me, Arvid’s age, and he pulled one of her strawberry blonde pigtails when they were seven. She retaliated with a stink bomb through our front window, and I hid from her until I was ten.

Like...get married? Now? Thanks?

#eret iii #festerverse #eret iii reread #feret #fuse thorston #these old tags are full of much power

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tysonrunningfox · 5 years

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Every single one of the tragic babies in Festerverse is dumb in their own special way and I love it. I loved how in part 2 you captured the essence of being a teenager so well. Eret was so selfless and selfish all at the same time. And he was so moody! It felt entirely authentic. I hated him and loved him all at once. And Fuse.. she’s perfect. My favorite for sure

God, Baby Eret III is so stupid and good, I haven’t thought about him being all 16 and scrappy and clueless in so long. He’s so loyal and so selfish, I love my son, this ask makes me so happy.

And Fuse. FUSE. My girl. My Girl. I can’t wait for you to like Fuse even more. You…she’s just so good. Fuse. YESS. I am so stoked.

#festerverse #eret iii #fuse thorston #my girl

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tysonrunningfox · 6 years

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how extra would it be of me to ask for 23 feret... oops i'm asking for it anyway

Hey, so this basically made me cry with the cute fluff and thank you, I loved it.

Also........surprise?

Kiss prompts

Eret's snore is startling, as quiet and whistling as it is. Fuse isn't quite sure what to do with it except for sift through her memory for the last time she heard it. Six weeks, at least, she knows that much. And before that neither of them were sleeping very well and Eret was so twitchy. She usually likes it when he's twitchy, it reminds her of the most dangerous, most useful, most volatile and interesting things she's lit on fire, but she hated it when she was miserable and so over pregnant.

So his last snore was more than six weeks ago.

It was after the wedding, definitely, but more than six weeks.

She looks over at him and smiles to herself, an uncontrollable twitch at the corner of her mouth. His mouth is open, tangled hair loose around his face and hanging past his shoulders to the sharp collar bone exposed by the loose laces of his shirt collar. Arvid's shirt, she thinks, it's too big on him and even though he's skinnier than he was a few months ago, he's not that much skinnier. He can't be comfortable with his head slumped backwards and sideways against a heap of pillows and blankets, but he's obviously too tired to care, chest heaving too much for the breathy wheeze coming out of his mouth.

Fuse leans carefully over the tiny, blanket wrapped bundle between them, carefully kissing the corner of his mouth. He groans, shifting like he wants to sit up, and she presses down on his shoulder, lips sliding over his and kissing again, almost hovering over his mouth until he smiles.

"What's that for?" He whispers out of habit against her cheek and Fuse pulls back just enough to look at both sides of him at once, both blanket swaddled babies sharing their dad's open-mouthed sleeping expression.

"They're both asleep at the same time." She doesn't know how astonished she actually is until she says it, looking between their daughters again and swallowing hard.

Twins defy logic. That's what her dad said, not in so many words, but that was the idea. She'd never be in control again. But right now that doesn't feel quite real, given that the three people she cares about most are all asleep in the same bed with her. Maybe most people's definition of control is too rigid, and as Fuse knows, the best cure for rigidity is a good ground-shaking explosion.

"What?" Eret goes to sit up again and Fuse pushes him down, hand heavy in the middle of his chest so that it doesn't disturb either of their daughters' comfortable nests between his arms and sides. He curls his chin to his chest, looking awkwardly back and forth and smiling, cheeks gaining some bright color against the dark circles under his eyes. "Oh my gods, this is--was I asleep?"

"You were snoring."

"Sorry," he almost shrugs, ever expressive shoulders pinned under two tiny heads, "I can stay awake, I don't want to ruin this monumental moment." His laugh is a sincere whisper and Fuse is barely becoming comfortable with the awe in it.

She saw it first when he made her a new vest, even though she didn't recognize it at the time. She was too scared then, too miserable, too full of doubts and questions and too scared to appreciate him. Even now, she doesn't like admitting that she was scared. But he looks at her like she's impossible and it makes her chest throb with nerves and rare, fierce pride when she again looks at the way their daughters fit under his arms.

"No, sleep," she looks at their daughters' twin expressions, "I think they like your snoring, they're copying you already."

"Oh gods," his face is an exhausted exaggeration of his usual self deprecation even as his eyes close and his breathing slows, "thought I had a few years before that started."

"I hope not." Fuse kisses his forehead and he struggles to frown through his sleepy smile, carefully brushing a hand over one of their daughters' tiny, curled up feet.

"Come here," he gestures with his chin, and she doesn't want to disturb them, but at the same time, his shoulder looks warm and comfortable and his eyes are drooping in a way that makes it impossible to swallow her own yawn. "Family nap time."

The easy way he suggests it makes her heart throb and she lays her head on his shoulder, eyes falling closed almost immediately.

#eret iii #fuse thorston #feret #open flames #festerverse #uhhh...this is how I decided to announce this?#i got this request and it felt right?#riverrockets

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tysonrunningfox · 5 years

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Open Flames: Part 17.1

Ok, so I know I missed my window but also, I’m close and I need to finish this for me so...whatever. Tee-shirt cannoning every chapter I get out into the ether and maybe people will catch up and maybe no one will but it’ll be off my brain slate.

AO3 (I haven’t updated the masterpost, archive is prettier, it’s all there)

One hour after Eret leaves, his mom asks Fuse where he is. Fuse refrains from mentioning that she would have saved everyone a lot of grief and time if she’d asked Fuse the last time Eret was missing. Fuse’s silence is half an attempt to mimic Arvid’s forced politeness and half because she’s not good with irony and Eret is actually gone this time.

One day after Eret leaves, when the chief and Eret’s dad are searching in the wrong direction, Eret’s mom shows Fuse the house. She says it’s not conventional to see it before the wedding, but seems to be coming to peace with the fact that nothing about this situation is conventional. The house is closer to the Thorstons than the Haddocks and that means something, but not as much as the flame proof walls and heavy doors do. The two cribs next to the bed make Fuse’s chest feel tight with something like worry. The future feels more real than it has before, looking at Eret’s spare weapons hanging on the wall.

One week after Eret leaves, his mom is starting to panic. Fuse can only recognize it because it looks exactly like Eret’s panic, the obsessive taking care of everyone and inventing problems to solve. It’s the first time the resemblance has been so obvious, but there’s no denying that Eret’s mom’s wide blue eyes are identical to the ones Fuse so often tasks herself with calming down. They’re even the same shape, barely tilted up at the outer corners, naturally happy looking in a way that makes their glare more impressive for the effort it must take to turn them hard and stormy.

“Sit down,” Fuse says reflexively as Eret’s mom starts cleaning the hearth for the third time today. She looks up, stunned, and Fuse clears her throat, “I mean, do you want to sit down?”

Orders calm Eret down more than questions, because questions just give him another thing to wrestle with, but that’s not a button worth pushing.

“I’m fine, Fuse, can I get you anything?”

“You can stop panicking.”

Eret’s mom surprises them both when she laughs, dropping the rag she was just cleaning with and shaking her head.

“Right, I’ll get you some tea.”

“I don’t need tea,” Fuse looks at the half full mug in her hand. “Panicking isn’t helping anything.”

“I know that,” Eret’s mom sighs, “it’s just the only thing I can do aside from getting on Stormfly and going after my idiot sons myself. What were they thinking? Oh, I know, they weren’t, running off right now with you…” She trails off, gesturing at Fuse’s stomach like it isn’t making itself very obvious without announcement. “How aren’t you freaking out?”

It took a long time for Fuse to learn that when Eret asks questions that sound rhetorical, he actually wants an answer. He wants her to put words to the obvious, to the things that make so much sense to her that she’s never even thought to try and explain them.

“Because it won’t help anything.”

“You’re pregnant with the would be heirs to the throne of Berk, but you’re not married to the future chief yet because he’s gone doing Thor knows what. Your entire life is going to be decided in the next couple months, you can’t be that calm.”

Fuse shrugs. The truth is she isn’t this calm. She’s trying to keep from twitching, irritated fire in her too warm blood making her want to spark something. She wants Eret back, she hates that she understands why he had to leave. They both understand ingredients, the way that the right things have to come together to get the right result. An Eret family sword is an ingredient in the wedding that has to happen so that they can get along with their marriage. More than that, it’s a decision to keep respecting what makes each other most comfortable, no matter how weird or inconvenient or how much things are changing.

“I trust him,” she answers simply, “he said he’d be back so he will.”

“What if something goes wrong? What if he doesn’t come back?” It’s a challenge that doesn’t sound like one. Fuse knows she’s supposed to have a backup plan and she did until Eret made it so clear how much he wants this. Plus, that was a backup plan for the babies, not for Eret. Eret has always been her only plan.

“He will.”

“You can’t know that.”

“I don’t need to know it.” It’s one of those things there don’t need to be words for. “He said he’ll be back, so he will.”

“That kind of blind faith,” she shakes her head and Fuse expects to be called naïve or stupid or weird, “is really brave.”

“It’s not blind.” Fuse sees Eret keep promises all the time, “I just expect him to act exactly like himself.”

“And I keep expecting him to act like someone else,” Eret’s mom finally sits down, rubbing her temple with pale fingers. Fuse appreciates that she doesn’t follow up and ask for an answer that’s already been said too many times.

“Knock knock,” Fuse’s dad says as he opens the front door of the Haddock house and steps inside.

“Sure Tuff, come on in, make yourself at home,” Eret’s mom scoffs but she doesn’t jump up and back to cleaning like Fuse expects. Maybe some of her Eret calming techniques do translate, and that thought makes her hopeful that the babies might like it too.

Fuse has made quite a few babies cry, usually with loud noises or smoke or random fires, but she can’t remember managing to calm one down on her own.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Fuse’s dad goes in for a hug and she puts her hand out to stop him.

“Dad, no.”

“But you’re my favorite daughter who brought the promise of Thorstonton back to the family after…how many years ago did you support Hiccup in cruelly taking my family’s deserved land from us?”

“I don’t know, thirty something?” Eret’s mom has been hit by that post agitation exhaustion that Fuse knows so well and her sleepy energy is more soothing than Fuse would have expected.

“After thirty something years of loss.” Fuse’s dad continues, “that merits a hug.”

“I’m your only daughter.”

“Astute, as always,” he sits down perched on the edge of the hearth and claps his hands together, “so, any news on the runaway Haddock? The lone fishy, navigating the archipelago alone with only a fish eating dragon for company?”

“Arvid is with him.” Fuse rolls her eyes.

“I know, he’s the dragon in this scenario.”

“Oh yeah, he sent a lovely terror mail this morning.” Eret’s mom’s sarcasm sounds more like the chief’s than Eret’s, attack instead of defense, “do you want me to go get it so you can give it a read?”

“Nope, I like the kid but he’s usually a little wordy for my taste. And the adverbs, argh.” He rubs his hands together, “any news on when he’s planning to come back though?”

“There’s no letter, Dad.”

“First my island and now my trust, when does it end, Astrid? When will you stop taking?” He’s louder than usual and Fuse realizes that he’s freaking out too. “You know, at this rate, it’ll be my turn soon and I’ll just have to take Thorstonton by force. Why do you think my sister had so many kids?”

“Yeah and I’m pretty sure that would void the marriage contract that gives the island to you.”

“There’s nothing in that contract about military coups.”

“Yet.” Eret’s mom raises an eyebrow.

“He’ll be back.” Fuse wastes the words, because neither parent’s underlying frown shifts.

“I guess Hiccup always came back,” her dad shrugs.

“He’s not Hiccup,” Eret’s mom shakes her head, looking between Fuse and her stomach and the empty axe rack on the wall by the door. “Wait.” She looks up suddenly, “I know where he is.”

“So he did send a letter?”

“No, he went up north,” she stands up, wiping her hands on her skirt, “he didn’t get to grave rob before Arvid’s wedding and he’s so Hel bent on something of his dad’s. Help me find Eret,” she yanks Fuse’s dad to his feet.

“I’m not going further north, it’s already winter and I have an autumnal complexion.”

“No, Eret Sr.,” she looks back at Fuse, “am I right? He told you, didn’t he?”

“I said I’d keep the secret for him.” The slight pout in Fuse’s voice is only because she’s pregnant.

“You did,” Eret’s mom assures, “he tattled on himself, I was just…I’m still re-orienting how I look at him.”

“He’ll be back, you don’t have to go find him.” It’s more real than a belief, it’s a fact, something so inherent to Fuse’s level ground that she’d never think about blowing it up.

“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be acting like myself.”

#eret iii #open flames #festerverse #feret #fuse thorston #fuse and astrid making nice #finally

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tysonrunningfox · 6 years

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Open Flames: Part 9

Someone help this boy, please. Or talk to Hiccup, Eret. I’ve never given you that advice in my life. Just talk to Hiccup, he’d get this one.

Masterpost

I don't mean to take a nap. I especially don't mean to take a nap outside, head pillowed on Bang's tail in the clearing behind the chief's house. I don't really notice that I'm taking a nap until I'm waking up, familiar sooty fingers on my cheek. I open my eyes to Fuse leaning over me with a concerned expression, fingernails scratching gently in my beard.

"Is it later?" She asks, debating whether to sit down next to me or not and I interrupt the decision, wrapping a sleepy arm around her waist and pulling her down against my side. Her head smacks a little too hard into my shoulder and I flinch, but if anything, the twinge makes me sleepier and I rest my cheek on her hair, shushing her gently.

"Just a few more minutes."

"Eret," she smiles through a stern tone, hand firm on the center of my chest as she sits up. "You didn't leave."

"I know," I sound whiny accidentally and clear my throat, "we don't need to talk about that when we could sleep."

"We do need to talk," she thumps my chest with her palm and I sigh, opening my eyes and staring at the sky. Perfect blue, small puffs of clouds drifting in front of a too bright sun. Bang's scales are a perfect cool pillow and I almost roll over and capture Fuse again because there's only so much fight anyone could put up against napping right now.

"Yeah."

"About earlier."

"I know," I huff, reluctantly scooting backwards to prop myself against Bang's tail. I rub my eye with my knuckle and Fuse curls into my side a little more conventionally as my hand finds that waist that's not quite familiar. Close, but new. New enough to wake me up with an uncomfortable lurch from drowsiness. "Yeah."

"You stayed," she sounds disappointed this time but not with me, and I squint down at her, seeing mostly shiny strawberry blonde.

"I did more than stay."

I kind of asked Fuse to marry me. In a weird, roundabout fuck-the-chief way, but still, I asked her. And she didn't only not say yes, but she started crying, and it hurts in a way I don't want to deal with. I know it shouldn't hurt this way because she loves me and she says it and she feels so good curled against my side. So good and comfortable and familiar, and the more I rub my fingers over her waist, the more this feels like how it's supposed to be. Bang is adding to it somehow, his eternally cool scales under my head and shoulders while the sun is warm on my face and again, I consider diverting this into naptime.

Or, you know, something else. If we weren't within sight of the chief's back door, that would be a distinctly more definite consideration.

Wait, can you do that when the girl is pregnant?

I frown involuntarily thinking about the fact that Rolf definitely has a book with that information in it. I'm not asking him and if I ask Fuse, she'd probably ask him. Not directly, or anything, but--well, if we were married, I could ask married people what you do about stuff when your wife is pregnant. It stings in that still fresh scrape of a wound and I bite my lip.

It was kind of a proposal. I suggested going and getting married. I thought about it. I figured it out, I half planned what our house would look like and I liked thinking about that, so much. But it wasn't real, necessarily. It's not like I asked Tuffnut. I didn't save up any silver or anything. I have no money, I don't think. I kind of just put all my money into that jar Aurelia collects coins in and ask her for it back when I need any. I definitely didn't negotiate with my parents.

It was a fake proposal, wasn't it? I can deal with that.

"Eret," Fuse sighs, heavy, her flat tone faltering at the edges as her fingers curl into the front of my shirt, one finger dipping into the V of it and stroking the edge of a fireworm scar.

"You know I wasn't actually asking you to marry me or anything, right?" I laugh, surprisingly convincing because Fuse lifts her head and stares at me, blue eyes narrowed. "It was just...you know, a concept. An idea. Not a real, typical proposal or anything."

The pause drags out like a Whispering Death using my nerves as a shield to bore into solid rock, silent and painful. Fuse sighs suddenly, tucking her face into my neck with a little too much force, her lips disproportionately gentle against my skin as she talks.

"Good."

My heart drops, the vision of a house that's ours depicted in a similar mental artistic style as my parents’ house in its prime disappearing to mist. But it's a relief too, because Fuse's entire body relaxes as she leans into me, her stomach warm and solid against my side.

"Yeah, I was just wondering where we were going to put a baby, so I said some hasty things." It's a joke. They don't feel hasty. They don't feel as slow as the chief and my mom wish they did, but they definitely don't feel hasty.

Fuse doesn't get the joke because she relaxes further, one leg sliding over mine as one hand slips under my shirt to brush against the edge of my scars.

"Babies are small," I try to continue my streak of good luck, "I'm sure we'll find like a corner or--"

"You didn't have to stay because of me," she sound disappointed again, weirdly, but not in me, also weirdly, because she starts kissing my neck again, determined, the hand against my scars splaying slightly. "Especially while you're gone fixing this." There's a harshness in her tone that accompanies teeth on my collarbone and I don't really know how to argue, especially because everything she's saying is true. She's at least factually correct and her hand is moving up as her mouth moves down and I nod.

"Shouldn't take too long." I'm not really sure what I'm talking about after the last few weeks, but it doesn't matter that much. Not now.

"Either way." Fuse grins sympathetically and I close my eyes.

Making Fuse a new vest is kind of fun. Not only because it's a project that no one else has input in but because I get to sit in Smitelout's comfortable stool in front of the fire, stretching leather and stitching along my charcoal marks, focused on only one thing at a time. Fuse doesn't think she needs a new vest, of course, she just keeps saying how she's supporting me and not asking for anything. I guess this is for me more than for her. And that's fine, it helps her anyway.

And it has the dual purpose of calming me down, at least until the chief shows up at the forge window, knocking on the counter in a dorky way that made me laugh before he betrothed me to some random princess. It doesn't matter that Elva is nice, I still flinch when I see him, feeling sixteen and unprepared. There are some kinds of unprepared that my knife's weight against my leg doesn't help.

"Hey chief, Smitelout isn't here right now," I sit up, rolling my shoulders and stretching the stitch sore fingers. "She said she'd be back whenever I was done."

"Sounds like her," he leans on the counter. His face is cautious, but just enough to feel vulnerable and I stab another careful stitch through the leather in my hands, checking the strength before going again.

"What do you need?"

"You, actually," he looks at me with that uncomfortable blend of understanding and assessment and I shift in the chair. "I was just with Aurelia, she got a message from Arvid, something about dragon trappers."

"Oh?" I sit up straighter, "really?"

"Yeah, he found something," the chief shrugs, shoulder bouncing under old, soft leather armor. "That's what Aurelia told me to tell you, I didn't pry too much further."

"I should go talk to her," I fold the vest carefully over my arm and stand up, "thanks for the message--"

"What are you making?" The chief stares at the folded leather and I shrug.

"Vest."

"For you?" There's no feeling in it, like he's asking for me to fill in self-incriminating gaps and I grit my teeth and shrug.

"Maybe it'll fit. How's Mom?"

"You live with her occasionally, you tell me."

"She seems...healthy." I joke like I haven't been avoiding her. I've been avoiding everyone, really, except for Fuse. And villagers, of course, just...family. As much as I feel like I need advice, I don't want it.

"New vest for Fuse?" He raises an eyebrow, leaning elbows on the counter like he expects me to talk to him. I hate that I kind of want to, I hate remembering how easy it was even a few months ago. We were ok, weren't we? That's almost worse than the other changes.

"Yep," I nod, "I can finish it later."

I hate that he wouldn't be a bad person to talk to about this, all things considered. He knows what it's like to have a child with someone he's not married to. He knows how the relationship is with said child after they didn't grow up under his roof. I hate that all he'd do is tell me to get married and I'd have to admit that it's the only path forward I'm seeing, which will sound like agreement instead of understanding.

"Ok, I get it," he shakes his gray head and laughs, a bit sheepishly, "you don't want to talk to me."

"Yeah, I don't." I lie with a shrug, my face carefully flat like Aurelia keeps trying to show me. I'm not good at it, not like she is, but the chief gives me a tired shake of his head.

"I just wanted to tell you again that I'm proud of you for deciding to stay here this week." He says it like a compliment but it doesn't feel like one, knowing I've got to go talk to Aurelia.

"Yeah, great choice that was, considering Arvid found trappers without me and now I have to go get a message from Aurelia about it. She worries about him like she forgets he's a giant man with a giant sword as soon as he's out of sight." I scoff, cleaning up the needle I was using and probably putting it away in the wrong place. Whatever, Smitelout is going to yell at me later no matter what. "If I'd been there, maybe I could have done more than send a message."

"You haven't even seen the message yet."

"I know it's probably about something I should have been there for."

"You can't be everywhere at once," the chief sighs like he knows how true it is and I think of the vest in my hands, made to expand without my help or presence.

"I know."

"Can I ask why you decided to stay?" He can't know anything but I feel cornered anyway and frown at him.

"You can, but I don't see what it'll get you." I roll my eyes at him and it doesn't budge his concerned expression. That pisses me off, because somehow, no matter what I do or don't do lately, he's completely immovable. He won't get mad at me or react to me or make me chief and it makes me want to push him, but that's a sixteen year old answer to the problem. I sigh and decide on a scrap of the truth, "I guess I just kind of freaked out a little bit. It won't happen again."

"Oh, don't be so sure about that," he reaches through the forge window to pat me on the shoulder and I let him. Maybe I'm feeling a little sympathetic knowing there's some theoretical child of mine on its way. I'd hope that even if I mess up as much as the chief has, they'd at least let me awkwardly shoulder thump them.

Oh Gods, I've been so worried about where to put a baby that I haven't even really dug into how to not mess one up as it grows up. That's something I definitely don't know how to do.

"I guess that's fair, I am good at finding new things to freak out about," I clear my throat and try not to look at his face too hard. The clueless, disconnected expression of parental concern with no idea as to the gravity of my situation is frankly terrifying. I start flipping through everything Arvid and I ever got away with and everything the chief doesn't see and know about me and Stoick and Aurelia and my blood feels cold in my veins.

"Anything I can help with?"

"Nope." My eye twitches a little and I blink hard to stop it, "just a normal...freak out, not really your department of expertise." That feels a little mean to say but makes me feel better too, because I did stay when I thought Fuse was mad at me. Maybe that's a tiny step in a different direction from the chief's footsteps. Then again, I'm already on a different path because he was already chief when he was my age. And I'm not going to be chief until I fix whatever Arvid found and Fuse is thinking about being chief's wife and I don't have time to go back around that bend right now. I clap, bringing myself back to attention as much as the chief. "I should go talk to Aurelia, then."

"I'll walk that way with you," he narrows his eyes at me even as he smiles, a surprisingly authentic imitation of my mom's mind reading expression on his face, "I've got to go check in on something anyway."

"Something's not quite my name, but it's close," I try to brush him off, shrugging a stiff shoulder as casually as I can. "I'm fine, I just need to go figure out whatever Arvid's message said." While not telling Aurelia that Fuse is pregnant and also that I've realized that I'm probably just as doomed to be a dad like the chief as I am to have red hair or be scrawny enough to get confused for Arvid's toothpick. "It'll be fun."

"Have you been having any of that?" He jokes, falling into step beside me, and I ignore the sudden urge to whistle for Bang. I don't actually want to get to Aurelia's house faster today and I also don't want the chief to see me avoiding him as I take a few laps around the island before getting back to work. Especially when he raises his eyebrow and I wonder if he happened to look out the back door that afternoon I decided to stay here. But he wouldn't keep quiet about that, and even if he did, Mom would get it out of him and there's no way she'd keep quiet about it so I divert him, holding up the half-finished vest.

"Uh, yeah, I'm sewing."

"Right, sewing, your favorite past time," he rolls his eyes, looking pointedly at my arms, "I should pick up a needle more often."

"It gives you lots of time to think," I say honestly, hoping that it's enough to convince him to go away. And that makes me think of the kid I haven't met yet, Fuse's eyes as disinterested in talking to me as I am about the chief right now and my heart stutters. Worse, the chief seems to get the dismissal and decide, for some reason, that today is the day my stubbornness is to be heeded instead of argued with.

"Well, if you want to talk about it--"

"I'm still squatting in your house, remember?" It comes out a little bitter and I force a laugh, "I know where to find you."

Aurelia writes off my twitchiness with alarmingly little interrogation as she explains what Arvid found out. Letters are coming into the island from somewhere other than the main dock and that means that the trappers not only know about the current, but they know they're being monitored. Arvid is planning to stay another week to wait for me and as much as I don't want to go, I'm a little relieved that we agree I shouldn't fly out early because waiting for the next shift change is less cause for alarm.

That means I get time to talk to Fuse about it, at least, and she nods, steely and committed to the concept even as I want her to beg me to stay. Or not beg, I don't want her to feel like she has to beg, but ask? Maybe? Because I can't decide to stay, not now, but I also can't even think about leaving her alone in this without my throat feeling tight and we still haven't talked. She has the new vest, at least, and that makes me feel better, but I don't understand how she can be so confident. Or worse, maybe she's not and she's not telling me because she thinks it would make me stay, except that doesn't sound like her. I can't start questioning that now.

And it's not that Fuse can't handle herself, of course she can, of course I know she can. I just can't stop thinking about something going wrong and no one knowing. As amazing as it feels to see that this is all real, it also just keeps reminding me how real it is. Women die from being pregnant and not just having the babies, I know that much.

If Arvid were here, I'd tell him, honestly. I could trust him to keep it relatively quiet and keep an eye on Fuse. I'd probably only get a few bored looks about getting married, finally, at long last, and he probably wouldn't go out of his way to make me feel bad about Fuse rejecting the idea of a proposal to maybe get married somewhere else. But he's not, because I was dumb enough to send him when I shouldn't have because I should be on that island and this problem would be solved already and--No.

I exhale, hitting my head against the nearest wall a couple times and leaning against it.

I know the answer. It's just going to hurt a bit.

“Are you ready to go?” Aurelia asks without looking up when I push her front door open an inch and peek inside. It’s easier to stare at the redecorated wall than have her read my mind before I get the words out.

I thought lying about this for so long would be harder, honestly. I wonder if I should ask Fuse if I should tell Aurelia, but if she said no, how could I leave without anyone knowing enough to help her if something goes wrong? And I trust Aurelia. I’ll tell Fuse when I get back, she'll forgive me. This is a forgiveness situation, not a permission one. I'm quoting Fuse quoting her dad there, so I don't see how she could see issue with the logic. It’ll be fine. Everything is going to be fine.

“Uh...almost,” I step inside, stuffing my hands in my pockets and nodding at a map of the archipelago hanging on the wall. “That’s new.”

“You’re being weird,” Aurelia looks up, eyes narrowed. “Why are you being weird?”

“I’m not, I just...I like the map.”

“I’m not mad about you sending Arvid anymore,” she rolls her eyes, “I’m sorry, I just--I’m not used to you pulling rank on me like that, but of course, you get to. And maybe it was better that he was there instead of you, I’m not sure you could have caught this without escalating.”

“Why is everyone so sure I escalate everything?” I frown, scuffing my boot on the floor.

Telling Aurelia is the right thing to do, she can watch out for Fuse while I’m gone and keep things calm and it’s all going to be ok. I just can’t figure out how to say it. Pregnant. I don’t think I like that word. It sounds so final and serious and doesn’t leave room for me to be happy about more Fuse in the world because it also means I’m going to be a father and I don’t know how to do that.

Hel, Aurelia is the one person who might understand my logic on that one. She’s also the chief’s child and while he hasn’t been dangling chief in front of her for four years, they haven’t always gotten along as I can attest first hand. They’re like Mom and Arvid, honestly, their entire relationship changed when she moved out and he couldn’t nag her about dragons all the time.

If only she were as understanding about the fact that I'm also not a husband.

“You came here to talk to me, why don’t you spit it out so that you can go pack? I’m assuming you haven’t packed yet.”

“How much do I really need to pack?” I pat the knife on my belt, “I should be good, given my reputation for escalating.”

“I don’t really have time to chat right now, so if you aren’t going to tell me whatever it is you came here to tell me, I’d like to get back to work.” She’s not kidding and I momentarily feel bad about what I’m about to drop on her. I hardly ever notice how tired she looks, but right now I’m just going to add to the dark circles under her eyes and I’m apologetic in advance.

It’s for Fuse. She needs someone looking out for her while I’m gone and worse than that, she doesn’t think she does. I can trust Aurelia to slide food under her nose three times a day and make sure she doesn’t go blowing stuff up without backup.

“I have to tell you something.” I get the words out and pause, gesturing in front of me and looking for the next piece.

“Ok, what is it?”

“It’s...don’t freak out.” I bite my lip, crossing the room and sitting down in the chair beside her, wringing my hands together on the table.

“Why would I freak out?” She raises an eyebrow, “what did you do?”

That makes me laugh, a tired, nasal laugh that I probably should have held in, “it’s only partially something that I did--”

“Thor’s beard, I know that tone, you found another warlord didn’t you?” She starts shuffling papers around, reaching for what looks like some kind of inventory. “How do you keep doing this? It's only been a few months--”

“It’s not a warlord.”

“Ok, dictator, pirate king, invader, conqueror, whatever this one is calling themselves--”

“It’s not a warlord,” I flatten my hands on the table and look at them instead of at Aurelia. “Or, you know, maybe it is. In about twenty years after I’ve been a horrible father.”

“What?” Her eyes bore into the side of my head and I turn slowly to face her, wincing in anticipation of her reaction. “Fuse is pregnant?”

“Kind of? Well, not kind of, definitely. She’s definitely pregnant. It’s starting to show, like, her stomach I mean. Obviously.” I bite the inside of my cheek to shut myself up and it only works temporarily because Aurelia is staring at me with inexplicably silent judgement. “I expected you to react. To say something or something.”

“That’s why you wanted Arvid to go, isn’t it?”

“Well...yeah,” I wring my hands together, “and I really don’t want to go now, but if it’s this tense I don’t see a way around it and I just need someone that I trust to know, alright? In case something goes wrong or--”

“Nothing is going to go wrong, I’m on it,” she nods, setting her small, cold hand on mine, “you’re--I know you hate hearing this, but you’re going to have to marry her now, you know that, right?”

“You’re right, I do hate hearing that.” I bite my lip, “but I know. I know you’re right and we’re going to have to get married but I can’t even think about that right now because I’m freaking out about the fact that I have to leave and I’m going to keep having to leave and I’m so worried I can’t think straight.”

"Have you brought up getting married somewhere else?” She asks innocently, like a reminder, and my heart drops into my stomach like a heavy, hot stone.

I could tell her that the concept wasn't so much rejected as vaporized, but I can already imagine the pity in her face and I think if she directed it at me, I'd crack.

“Not yet."

"What are you waiting for?" She rolls her eyes and I shrug.

"I’m not chief yet. I’m not even chief, how am I supposed to be a father? I’m never going to be chief if I drop this peaceful solution halfway through because this entire thing started because the chief thought I couldn’t do anything peacefully.” I stand back up and start pacing, yanking at my hair like it could help me think some way through this. It's more true than I want it to be. "And if I get married and then become chief, I'm always going to feel like the chief just made that decision because I did what he wanted as opposed to him actually thinking I can do it."

“Ok, but what does that have to do with Fuse?”

“Nothing,” I sigh, “it has to do with me.” Or it would have nothing to do with her if I'd been smart enough to say 'Christians' instead of Elva. Or maybe even then, it's not like Christians could make me chief, not without a lot more drama.

“Yeah, and there's a new deadline on you figuring it out. I'm just saying.”

“Trust me, I know.” I look at all the ways she looks like the chief and try to count the differences. His eyes but she narrows them differently. His mouth but a different frown. “It’s not important now, I guess. I have at least a week to think on it.”

“I don’t think there’s much to think on,” Aurelia shakes her head in fond annoyance and if I were feeling more mean and less exhausted, I’d tell her how much that particular motion looks like her dad. “Or I guess you already did the thinking. Or the lack of thinking. Whichever gets your girlfriend pregnant.”

“Lack of thinking,” I nod to myself, “definitely lack of thinking.”

“Does Fuse know you told me?”

“Nope, she doesn’t want to tell anyone either.”

“Have you asked why?” Aurelia raises an eyebrow, “because if it’s about your marriage hangup--”

“No, I haven’t asked why. She hasn’t really seemed up to it, honestly, she was throwing up and sleeping all the time and now she's catching up on work like...well, her. And it’s a challenge to get her to stop working and eat under normal circumstances, you know how she is.”

“So you want me to monitor and feed your pregnant girlfriend while not letting on that I know she’s pregnant.” She nods to herself, looking remarkably like Mom accepting a challenge. That gives me hope. “You owe me.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“And congratulations, by the way.” She twirls her braid around her writing stick, half thinking and half dismissing me. “Future dad. Gods, it’s weird to think of you as a dad.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Hey, at least Future Dad is guaranteed to take significantly less than four years to drop the modifier. I think I already like it more than Future Chief.

#open flames #eret iii #festerverse #feret #fuse thorston #aurelia haddock #tbh festercup has finally won my whole heart #who is this man #i love him #also aurelia and eret talking makes me want to sleep for 9 years #and fuse #the boy is tired #fuse #thirsty thorston #my girl

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tysonrunningfox · 6 years

Text

Open Flames Part 8.5

I needed to understand Fuse’s brain and I still Don’t, because she’s Beyond me and I am just the sentient, tortured presence behind Eret’s weird little self, but then I realized that I clearly needed to share this.

Masterpost

Only Eret can make Fuse so simultaneously proud and fiercely jealous at the same time. And then she feels guilty for being jealous, even though it won't help anything, and it wastes time and energy she could put into helping him. And it's starting to seem more and more like he doesn't need her help, even if he's so sincere about reminding her that he wants it, and she's trying so hard not to hear pity where there is none. Eret says so many things at once, there are so many layers to the careful, coddling hands on her shoulders and face and the gentle words and the apologies she doesn't need for things she shouldn't be upset about that she can barely think straight around him sometimes.

The truth is she's not sure why she cried this morning, it came out of nowhere and compounded with every bit of selfless comfort that Eret offered when he shouldn't have to.

Fuse fidgets with her vest after leaving Hotgut outside, shoving the reinforced front door of her house open with a shoulder and pausing when she sees her parents and Darren eating at the table. Her mom gives her a sympathetic look.

"Eret gone again, honey?"

"No, he stayed." The guilt, again, confused and victorious in her stomach where nausea only recently made room for other, far more unpleasant feelings. Eret stayed because of her and as happy as she is that he cares so much, it just reminds her of his mom at the pier with a bag she packed, helping without him having to ask her to.

"Shouldn't you be happy about that?" Her dad asks around a mouthful of bread, "you two aren't even married yet, it's way too early to stop liking each other."

"Shut up, Tuff," her mom throws a chunk of cheese at her dad and it bounces off of his head onto the floor, where Chicken VII starts pecking at it, excited. "There's food on the hearth if you're hungry."

Fuse starts to brush her mom off but her stomach growls like it personally heard the offer and it's hard to avoid rubbing the strange new shape of it. It feels like concrete data she hasn't had time or space to think about, and the way Eret looked at her when he touched it only adds on to the pile of things she has to solve. It's a bigger pile than ever, taking up space in her brain and shed and room in a way she's not used to at all, triggering the stupid, useless guilt like a pressure plate every time she remembers it. Eret is dealing with so much more. Eret's list is a mile long and he still has time to help her, even if he loses sleep over it. She shouldn't need so much help, but lately, every problem she solves seems to spawn two new ones in its place.

She scoops up the rest of a loaf of bread and a block of cheese and starts heading to her room, only to be interrupted by Darren's most irritating sing-song voice.

"Are you sure you're that hungry? I think your butt's getting bigger--"

"Shut up," Fuse cuts him off with a glare, adjusting her vest again. It's true, she knows it is, but she doesn't necessarily like Darren pointing it out, especially when she knows he's just trying to get under her skin.

Especially because it works, like her skin is way thinner than it used to be.

"I'm just trying to help you, you might want to watch your butt if you want Eret to keep watching your butt."

Fuse tucks the loaf under her arm and takes a handful of powder out of her lower vest pocket to smash it onto Darren's chest with a puff of blue-gray dust. It's expired after hanging on a hook for the better part of a year, but it should still itch like poison oak if Darren gets his clothes wet.

"Not inside," her mom cautions her, glaring at Darren, "as much as your brother deserved that."

"He deserves more than that," Fuse glares at him, "and it's not flammable here."

"Here?" Darren squeaks, "what do you mean by here?"

"You'll see. Maybe." Fuse wrinkles her nose at the smell of him. She expected that to go away with the nausea but it didn't, if anything, it's worse now that feeling sick is less constant and more triggered by random, sudden things.

"What does that mean?" Darren looks between their parents and Fuse is relieved to see that they're both unsympathetic.

"Don't comment on a lady's weight, son, especially if she's armed." Their dad says with a shrug.

"It's Fuse, not a lady." Darren's grumble picks at Fuse's open emotional wound again, because it's true. She's not a lady, not even in the Viking sense where a bit more spitting and cursing is allowed, but there's still not room to strike without checking in first.

"Even more dangerous," her dad sighs, brushing some of the dust off of Chicken VII's feathers with gentle fingers. Fuse takes that as her cue to walk away and she manages to shut herself in her room before anyone says anything else.

Her room is covered and filled with hints of Eret. There's gifts he's given her and the vest he made her all resting on shelves that he installed himself after the fire. Fuse doesn't understand how he leaves his mark so thoroughly on things, why his intent hovers around them like mist every time she looks at them. She used to think the only way to really make a permanent mark was a crater, but even then, the dust settles eventually and no one remembers when it was anything but a hole.

Fuse decided to bomb the princess, it's everything that came after it that she didn't plan on.

First, it was bad enough coming back to Eret so distressed, like his biggest worry was upsetting her instead of being married off by the chief to someone he didn't know or love. It was the thrill of success as much as the need to remind him that she had his back, entirely and always, that had her pushing him into her shed. She didn't think he'd be disappointed in her though, and even though he never admitted it, she saw it in his grim expression and heard it in the way he talked to the chief, promising to fix other people's messes.

It was just the first time the mess was hers.

She didn't decide for him to leave, especially so much and for so long, and for the first time without her. She didn't decide to hit dragon hunters, if she had, she would have done a better job and he wouldn't still be dealing with the problem. She definitely didn't decide to get pregnant, she didn't decide to impose this time limit on them. She didn't decide for Eret's eyes to light up when she told him, for him to practically glow with the news like only rare explosives are supposed to.

She didn't decide to change things, the change all just spawned out of the crater of her decision, like Snaptrapper heads peeking out of a nest one by one.

Bitterness, like guilt, is another useless emotion, but Fuse can't help but feel bitter that she knew Eret was important before anyone else did and now she has to share him with everyone who doubted him. She's proud to hear him giving orders, sounding like the chief she knows he's going to be, but it makes him feel distant, like he belongs to something else. To someone else.

It makes him sound like his mother's son and that's who he has to be as chief.

Fuse was never particularly troubled by the fact that Astrid didn't like her, so she didn't expect to be so instantly frustrated when Astrid decided she was alright after all. It was like she was being judged when she didn't even know it and suddenly, she became useful in a way Astrid would tolerate. She's never needed approval, but that didn't prepare her for the abrasive itch of unwanted acceptance, like a wild dragon rubbing up on her leg. And now that she's pregnant, there's no ignoring it, Astrid is going to be in her life, approving or not but always judging, forever.

And it's worse than that because Eret said it himself, his mom handles the chief's wife part perfectly. It makes Fuse jealous of things she doesn't think she cares about and that's worse than wishing she were different or better, because she doesn't wish that. She kind of wishes that Eret didn't have to be chief, and that's awful, because he wants it so much and he'll be so great at it. But in the moment, she kind of resents the pressure it puts on her, especially since she'll be competing against the person who's always thought her least capable of the job of supporting him.

Which might be kind of fair, considering the last decision she made ended up making Eret's life so much harder.

The bread is good, but dry, and Fuse wishes she'd grabbed some water before shutting herself in here. She could go out and get some, of course, maybe even spill it on Darren to be sure he itches the way he deserves, but she feels exposed because he noticed something was different. It was different when only Eret noticed, because she told him, and because he's dealing with the difference too, on top of everything else. Even then though, as much as his careful, awkward joy makes her think of a future where this works out, she doesn't want things between them to change.

She likes not being married to him. She likes how it makes her feel unbiased, like she's following him because he's right and not because she has to. She likes being a Thorston, a step away from the Haddock-Hofferson alliance that holds so much sway and spends all of its time in everyone's private business. Of course, she wishes she could see Eret more, but it was never a problem until now because she could go with him, and just like many of his other problems, all of it started with the chief pushing marriage on him one way or another.

But Fuse couldn't control the chief, she could only react.

That's true now too, of course, all she can do is react, but it's Eret and he keeps startling her. He's never wanted to get married and all she heard when he proposed going through with it for a house, all she could think of was that things were already different. Are already different. Her vest doesn't fit and he's gone all the time and he wants to live with her, even if it involves marrying her.

She wasn't lying when she said she was happy about the pregnancy. Well, not so much the pregnancy, but the idea of a family with him. That's something she wants, of course it is. She confronted the possibility years ago, because despite the disorder of the last few months, Fuse still feels like someone who plans ahead and for multiple scenarios.

But this morning when he suggested marriage, she felt the weight of that Haddock label for the first time, heavy in her mind and on their future child. How is she supposed to raise an heir if she can't reconcile herself with being the chief's wife and maintaining all that goes with it? Especially when the position is already dutifully filled by the person Eret probably respects most. It's not like Astrid is going to step aside and let Fuse be the one to pack Eret's bag, if Fuse even thought of things like that reliably enough to volunteer.

Fuse has spent most of the last five years involved at least peripherally in the complicated web of Eret's parents and siblings and the thing that still overwhelms her the most is the number of perspectives Eret has to integrate into his decisions because he's so scared of disappointing someone. He tries to explain it to her, the contrasting fears and opinions and motivations that he either hates or believes or some twisted combination that makes her almost wary of the chaos he must hold in his head. There are three or four people in every decision or event meant for two and Fuse rests her hand on her stomach, nibbling on the block of cheese, afraid that she's just adding another one to the burden and confusion that Eret has to navigate everyday.

She lets that fear sink in, irrational and unavoidable and unproductive as worrying about it is. Getting through this is impossible, of course, because it'll never stop. The pressure, the diplomacy, the problems cascading onto him one by one will be constant and there's no way to cut off flow or dam it up. All she can do is support him the way she knows how, she can listen and talk him down. She can give him tools and hold him to the truth, even when he blows it so easily out of proportion. She's vaporized enough bedrock to know how to mimic it, the bigger question is if Eret knows how to stand on it.

Fuse snorts to herself and lays back on her bed, staring at the ceiling with her hand tapping rhythmically on her stomach.

Maybe the biggest question is if his mom will let him.

And suddenly, she finds herself understanding Eret in a way she never quite has before. She understand that urge to prove himself, to make people think that she's more than they did initially. She doesn't just want to support Eret, she wants to prove that all of Astrid's judgements about her were wrong, because if she wins that impossible approval, she'll understand her own path forward. She's going to make this easier on Eret, and she's going to do it first.

#open flames #eret iii #festerverse #feret #fuse thorston #fuse's pov is too powerful for a mere mortal to wield #also i love it because fuse is the only one on the planet who loves eret as much as i do

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tysonrunningfox · 6 years

Text

Open Flames: Part 4

Fuse is in this one and my heart is out of my body.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Fester

“Who figured out the code?” Princess Elva asks, looking between me and Aurelia and cradling her bandaged arm. The edges of her shirt where the sleeve was cut away are partially burned and I recognize the telltale pink hue sticking out of the end of the bandage. I wish I had some ointment to share with her because seeing a burn that big makes the fireworms around my chest pang sympathetically.

“What code?” I look at Aurelia and she has that steely eyed expression she gets when she realizes the way through a conversation is direct and risky.

“The code in the letter I sent.” Elva looks at me and stutters slightly, wringing her hands together, “you know, the one about the betrothal.”

“You sent that?”

I’m going to have to tell Fuse that she missed her target, aren’t I? And now her target isn’t just another royal kid in a tough situation, apparently she’s the one who sent the letter. For everyone’s sake, if we manage to turn this awkwardness into an agreement, stipulation number one is keeping Fuse out of local airspace.

“I broke the code,” Aurelia lies, because she didn’t get a chance to even see the letter, I know that. I told her what was going on as I threw a bag of dinner onto the boat and threatened to load her up too if she didn’t move faster.

“I wish you would have written back first,” Elva cradles her head in her hand and grimaces. She has dark hair and pale features, sharp dark eyes darting over us like she doesn’t trust us at all but doesn’t have another choice. “But all things considered, I’m not sure there would have been time.”

“That’s what I got from the code. A real sense of urgency.”

That’s a thing that Aurelia and the chief have that I don’t. Sometimes, they just lie. They put feeling into it too, if I don’t know they’re lying, sometimes even I believe it. I can’t lie without feeling Mom’s eyes digging into the back of my neck, even if she’s a six hour flight away.

“Well, you got ten of them. I think there are at least ten more still alive,” the princess looks at me, “and my father, he was with them, trying to keep up with their old world order.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Aurelia’s sincerity is honest and it props up her lie. “That wasn’t what we intended.”

“Wait,” I frown at her, “are you saying we planned to bomb them on purpose?”

“I broke the code, Eret,” she’s snaps, warning me to shut up with her eyes, but I’m irrationally irritated that she’d try to take credit for something that Fuse did. And it sound like she killed some people that the de-facto leader of this tribe wanted dead, so that’s even more impressive, all things considered.

“We didn’t know about the bombs,” I blurt, “well, Berk did--well, I guess not because we’re here speaking for Berk and I’m future chief so I am Berk--not that I speak for everyone on Berk because I didn’t know about the bombs--”

“What Eret is trying to say is that we didn’t know all of the targets, specifically, only the urgency--”

“No, what I’m trying to say is that Berk didn’t do it, it was F--I mean my...” I stumble over what to call her, because I’m sitting in front of someone that sent a letter trying to betroth themselves to me, “my Fuse.”

She gets to call me her prize yak, she can’t get mad about this.

“Your Fuse?” Elva frowns, “you made the bombs?”

“No, Fuse did, I--”

“His girlfriend,” Aurelia sighs, “she wasn’t too happy about the chief getting a letter offering up a betrothal.”

“You aren’t chief?” Elva looks like this is all a little too much to take in at once.

“Almost,” I insist, “he just has to say the word, any day now.”

“Girlfriend,” she tries out the word like it’s not something she’s familiar with. Her norse sounds like it’s her native tongue but she pronounces some things differently, an accent I don’t know that might be far enough away from mine to call it a dialect. Or maybe she just doesn’t speak Haddock, that’s a problem more often than Aurelia likes to admit. “You’re betrothed?”

“No--”

“Honey, you just dodged a very pretty but very dim projectile with this one here, let’s keep figuring out your problem.”

“I wouldn’t say she dodged it, she just said her dad died,” I whisper behind my cupped hand, “and dim? She’s burned--”

Aurelia cuts me off with a sharp, insulting look and I nod, blinking slowly at her.

“You mean me, don’t you?” I scoff, “when you said pretty, I thought you meant Fuse. I’m not pretty--”

“That literally couldn’t matter less right now.” Aurelia and Elva share one of those dangerous looks that means I’m somehow a man outside of their smarter than me little woman club and I stuff my hands in my pockets, playing with the flint Fuse gave me.

“I have a beard, I’m not pretty.”

“I think it’s the flowing hair,” Elva suggests quietly and I slump down under the uncomfortable weight of her examination.

“And the big blue eyes with the inch long eyelashes,” Aurelia rolls her eyes and they share a diplomatic laugh at my expense before Aurelia turns back serious, “anyway, all of that start to this situation is...unfortunate, but it sounds like you wanted our help, and we’re willing to give it to you to prevent escalation. What’s going on?”

Elva trusts Aurelia, I can see it in the way she bites her lip and looks at me warily for a second, like she’s wondering if she can say this in my presence, but she decides I don’t look too suspect, I assume, because she starts talking. I thought I wiped out all the trappers in this tribe a few months ago, but apparently we weren’t as thorough as we needed to be. Aurelia asks a bunch of pertinent questions and learns that the trappers leftover were trying to take back control from Elva’s father, who let them move into the new houses first so that they’d think they were being catered to while everyone else tried to find a solution.

That solution was apparently me, and the power of Berk behind me, and I don’t know how to feel about that but mostly, I’m a little preoccupied with what’s wrong with my eyelashes, now that I know Aurelia is on course to prevent a war. Can eyelashes be too long? What’s wrong with the size of my eyes?

“I think we’ve got a plan,” Aurelia pats Elva gently on her unbandaged shoulder, “we’ll go back to Berk and assemble a first building crew and bring some materials. We’ll stick to just a few people so that it takes long enough to root everyone out this time. Eret, should you stay to make sure nothing escalates while I run back there and get supplies?”

“Uh,” I look at Elva and the way she’s living and breathing and remember again that Fuse is unaware of that fact, “I’ve got to tell Fuse about...stuff.”

Elva speaks up before Aurelia can insist that she could tell Fuse and not escalate the situation, “it’s best you two leave now, my guard...he’s not a friend, I don’t think,” she looks down at the blood seeping through my shirt from the mild spearing I experienced at the door. “It’d be better if it seemed like I sent you away to come back with a better offer. For now.”

“Maybe you’ve got a shot at this,” Aurelia says appraisingly, shaking Elva’s hand. I do the same and she grips my hand a little harder, like she’s trying to seem more serious with me.

My new best friend Gunther is standing outside but it doesn’t appear that he heard anything because he just sneers at us and returns attentively, and a little maliciously, to guarding his princess. He doesn’t wave back when I wave at him and I can honestly say I’m a little hurt. He stabbed me, I thought we were going to be close.

“Not the worst in there,” Aurelia ignores John as we get back on board the boat and I jump onto the bench to grab my axe from the mast. “If I could make one suggestion though, it would be, oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s about time to marry your Fuse so that you have a word to call her that scares off betrothal offers.”

“I have a Fuse to scare off betrothal offers.” I sit down, “are you going to give me extraneous advice the whole way back or are we going to talk about how to smoke these assholes out?” I push away from the dock and Aurelia takes the sail, turning the boat back towards home.

“Eh, I was going to mix it up.”

“Of course you were.”

00000

It’s past midnight when we get back to Berk and Bang grumbles at me when I swing onto his back and offer a hand to Aurelia.

“Ride home?”

“No thanks,” she yawns, “I’ll walk. I’ve got to figure out how to tell Arvid that I’m sending him on construction duty.”

“That won’t work? You can’t just say ‘Arvid, you and Eret are going on construction duty to root out some dragon trappers that escaped the last purge’?”

“It’ll work, but he won’t want to go, and he’ll pout.” She shrugs, “and if we’ve only got twelve hours before he has to leave for a week, I really don’t want him to spend it pouting--”

“Lalala!” I shove my fingers in my ears, “that’s what I get for offering you a ride home? You just...bring that up...with my brother and the you…”

“Just because you have to tell Fuse that her target escaped doesn’t mean the rest of us have to be miserable.”

“I just have to be double miserable, ok.” I shake my head at her, “Arvid at the docks, mid-morning, no mention of what happens between now and then, alright?”

“Sure, Eret,” she waves and starts walking home, hands gesticulating as she talks to herself.

Another reason I’m glad Fuse and I aren’t married. I can just tell her things. I mean, that might have to do more about Fuse being Fuse and Arvid’s tendency to pout but it’s just another thing to add to the list of things that would change if I did marry her. She wouldn’t get to blow up anyone trying to betrothe themselves to me, the chief would have a say in our relationship, I’d take a bunch more time trying to tell her things in a husbandly way and I don’t know how to do that.

It’s not worth thinking about now and I kick Bang into the sky, spotting the telltale orange glow of a Thorston bonfire on the ridge and steering him towards it.

How am I going to say this? I have to say it so that she doesn’t think finishing the job is on the table, because Elva seems kind of nice and harmless and incredibly understanding, all things considered. That and she’s helping us get rid of the rest of her dragon trapper problem, and she and Aurelia got to a solution pretty damn quickly, it’d be nice to have an ally that doesn’t try and pick fights before me so that I have to come in and clean up the mess.

But Fuse isn’t going to like any of those reasons. She’s especially not going to like the fact that I’m going to be leaving for a week at a time and she can’t come with me.

And I left when she thought I was mad at her.

Fuck, maybe there’s no good way to say this.

She’s standing and walking towards me before Bang even lands and when I jump off to face her, she’s wringing her hands, still looking at the middle of my face instead of my eyes, like she waited almost three solid days for me to answer if I was mad at her.

“Come here,” I throw my arms around her shoulders, pulling her into a too tight hug that traps her hands against my chest as I bury my face in her braid. “I’m not mad at you. I missed you.”

Her whole body relaxes and she wiggles her hands out from between us and wraps them around my lower back, sighing into my shoulder.

“How was it?”

“Three days almost solid on a boat with my sister, my inferiority complex is at full steam,” I stall, holding onto the hug for another second before I have to again, deliver bad news. I swear, most of being chief is just hearing bad news, figuring out how it’s not that bad, and then telling it to people who assure me that it’s worse. “Did you wait up?”

The crowd around the bonfire isn’t the usual Thorston-Ingerman group of twenty but I don’t really have the attention span to count everyone there. Two nights of sleeping in shifts when the water was still enough for me to trust Aurelia’s steering is catching up to me and Fuse takes most of my focus when I’m well rested.

“Eret,” she grabs my waist and pushes me back a few inches to see my face. There’s a shiny flecked smudge of something across her forehead and I try to rest mine against it. She leans away so that I can’t, eyes serious and blue even in the dark and I wish her tactic of shoving me somewhere private worked on her, but there’s no way I’m breaking that focus. “How was it?”

“We should go somewhere and talk,” I sigh, reluctant to let go but making due with holding her hand.

I’m leaving in the morning and she doesn’t know. I’m going to be gone for another week and she doesn’t know. I want to tell Elva where to stick her giant craters, and for the record, that’s immediately and wholly into the her problem bucket.

But I promised. And it’s the right thing to do. And I can list out all the reasons why but I don’t want to think about them. Even though I have to, because I have to be at the woodpile in six hours with the chief’s clearance to load up building materials.

Ugh.

“We’re at war?” She doesn’t move when I tug on her hand and Darren hoots behind her from the log he’s sitting on.

“Did you hear that? My little sister started a war!”

“We’re not at war!” I call back to them, silencing tired cheering into grumbles. “It’s a long story, can we just go somewhere I can sit down to talk about it.”

“Yeah, my parents are asleep,” she guides me towards the front door with a purpose, ignoring her brother hooting again. I glare at him but the effect is lost in the dark, even though I’m still blushing when she practically drags me into her room and shuts the door quietly behind us.

Oh gods, her bed looks so comfortable. My back hurts so much. I haven’t sat on a cushion, let alone slept in a bed since she beat me up with the floor of her shed. Everything hurts.

“You said you wanted to sit down,” she gestures impatiently at the bed and starts pacing, hands behind her back.

“If I sit down I’m going to fall asleep,” I wipe my sea salty hands over my face and groan. I should stand. At least to talk through this. “Ok, ok. Let’s just talk through this really fast and then I’ll take a quick nap, assuming you aren’t mad at me after I talk to you, and then I’ll go start talking to the chief before I leave tomorrow--”

“We’re leaving tomorrow?” She picks up a rucksack from the rack on the wall and starts stuffing clothes into it. I reach out and pat her arm, wincing before I even say it.

“You can’t come with me. I’m leaving tomorrow morning.”

“What?” She drops the half filled rucksack and I can’t even look at her without wanting to abandon the whole idea. I look at her shelves instead, rebuilt after the fire and fuller than they used to be. It’s not just clothes and drawings now. There’s that book of old designs I had Rolf bind for her for Snoggletog, its cover always slightly open because of the wrinkled pages I couldn’t quite get flat. That was right after the fire, most of her things were gone but I had a few old things stored in the backroom of the forge. There’s her old vest, positively dingy next to the new leather one. There’s her ready tied pack of blankets, always ready for me to tell her we have to go somewhere.

I promised.

I’m the worst. I deserve how mad she’s going to be at me.

“That tribe you bombed...what we really didn’t expect is there were trappers within them that they were trying to figure out how to surrender to us. Apparently the letter the chief got had some sort of code in it, asking for our help and well, you happened to take out most of the trappers with your uh, little bombing trip.” I pause and wait for her to form an expression. She’s still blank, staring at me, hand outstretched from dropping her rucksack on the floor.

“What about the princess?” She asks. I edge between her and the door, chewing on the inside of my cheek for a second.

“Her name is Elva, she’s pretty severely burned, her dad is dead, but she’s in charge now.” I put my arm out to stop her if she makes a move towards the shed, “she asked for our help rebuilding and rooting out any remaining dragon trappers still with them in exchange for...I mean, I don’t think she could wage war on us, it’s a pretty tiny new tribe. But she’s smart and Aurelia seemed to like talking with her. And that is valuable water. And we have to take care of the trappers that we know about.”

“She’s alive.”

“Yep.”

“I missed,” she crosses her arms and sits down on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. “And you talked to her. And she sent a letter betrothing herself to you.”

“Ruffnut told you that part, huh?” I sit down next to her, leaving a couple of inches of space for her to be mad, and the bed is so soft I could melt into it. It smells like Fuse and soap and soft warm blankets and I’m aware of how bad I smell. Oh gods, I need a bath. That’s not going to happen, probably. “I didn’t know she wrote it herself until I was talking to her. Not that it matters. Not that I would marry her--”

“I trust you,” she cuts me off, “it’s her I don’t trust. It’s anyone who doesn’t know about…”

“Hey,” I risk putting an arm around her and she’s rigid but doesn’t shove me off, “I’m the only one you need to trust.”

“I don’t trust myself,” she shakes her head, “I’d push harder to go with you but, what would I do if I saw her? On top of sending you that letter, now she’s the one target I’ve ever missed.”

“Something crazy, probably,” I kiss her temple and linger there for a second, the comfort of the mattress leaking up my spine like a slow bloom speed stinger hit, rendering me slowly useless. “I half expected you to try and get past me to get more bombs and try again.”

“I thought about it,” she nudges my head away from hers and shifts to rest against my shoulder, head heavy on my collar bone. “But if I do, you might have to leave for longer.”

“I’m sorry,” I rub her back, trying not to melt backwards into the mattress, “I hate it. It’s the right thing to do but I really don’t want to do it.”

“How long are you going to be gone?”

“A week.”

She groans. I give up and lay down, kicking off my boots and curling up around her. I shouldn’t fall asleep here but I don’t think I really have a choice at this point.

“I forgot to mention. A week at a time, it might take a few to get everything figured out. Maybe longer if it leads to other dragon trappers.”

She groans louder, grabbing my arm over her waist with both hands and pressing it into her stomach.

“Of course.”

“Are you mad at me?” I yawn, nuzzling against the nape of her neck and adjusting the pillow under my head. Pillow. An actual pillow.

“Not mad enough to be worth missing you for a week without this.”

“Fair enough,” I close my eyes, “can you wake me up before dawn? I’ve got to go haggle building materials from the chief.”

“Yeah, I’ll come with you for that at least.” She strokes the back of my hand with gentle fingertips, and I feel momentarily guilty for getting salt all over her bed. “Get some sleep.”

She doesn’t have to tell me twice.

#open flames #eret iii #festerverse #feret #fuse thorston #aurelia haddock #fuse my heart honestly #eret you're so good #you're my son #i'm rooting for you #please take a nap

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tysonrunningfox · 6 years

Text

Open Flames: Part 7

I did that thing where I existed in my own head about this too long and convinced myself it was awful but then I went and reread it and I’m like, this is fluff with a dash of angst and a splash of funny and Stoick, the thirteen year old brat, and no one else knows what a brat he is so this is fun fuck it. I outlined and the next chapter is half “shenanigans”. There are multiple places where I just have to make “shenanigans”. Don’t let me take myself so seriously, it’s lame and it makes me act lame.

Masterpost

When I wake up, Fuse is gone. I panic, all the emotional rush I was too tired to feel earlier coursing through my veins as I pat across the blankets and fall off of my bed onto the floor.

“What was that?” Fuse’s voice carries up the stairs and she’s here and ok and I relax with a groan, rubbing my shoulder where it hit the wooden floorboards first.

“Eret fell out of bed,” Stoick shouts downstairs as he appears in the doorway and I blink at his silhouette. Someone opened the door at some point. Probably the chief. That’s probably what woke Fuse up.

She needs her sleep and the injustice of the chief taking that away because of some stupid rule makes me instantly, hotly angrier than I have been in a while. Because Gods, Fuse is pregnant. It’s my baby. She said she needed sleep and someone got in the way of that and I sit up, glaring in the general direction of the stairs.

“Is he ok?” Fuse asks and Stoick shrugs.

“Is he ever?”

“Hilarious,” I stand up, stretching my neck and shouldering him out of the doorway when he doesn’t move in time.

“Oh, you wanna go?” His fists hit my arm in a couple of featherweight punches that I ignore and he runs down ahead of me with a laugh, skidding into the chair beside Fuse and leaning his elbow on her shoulder. “Too slow.”

“How long have you been up?” I kiss the top of Fuse’s head, batting Stoick’s arm away from her shoulder and glaring at him. It hits me that he’s going to be an uncle, an actually related uncle and I stack that onto the feelings I don’t have time to make sense of right now.

His Stormcutter trills at me from its roost in front of the fireplace, cocking its owlish head like it’s daring me to touch him again. And I spent years thinking Toothless was entitled.

“Not long.” She looks a little better, some of her usual color back in her cheeks. I feel like I’ve spent the last four years worried about everyone and everything and it all pales in comparison to the strange protective guilt I feel now. I did this to her. She’s pregnant and it’s mine and her nausea is just the first thing I can’t protect them from.

“Do you need more tea?” Stoick asks, too chipper, like he always is around Fuse and what’s normally kind of funny is suddenly aggravating.

“Sure,” she goes to hand her empty mug to him and I reach for it.

“I’ll get it for you, really.”

“She asked me,” Stoick snatches it, sticking his tongue out at me and darting over to the fire. I take his seat, scooting closer to her and putting my arm over her shoulders.

“I’ll get you tea,” I insist as she leans her head against my chest with a sigh.

“I wanted him to give you the chair,” she whispers and I snort, fiddling with the end of a tangled braid.

“I want him to go away.” I pull her closer to me when Stoick sets the new cup of tea in front of her and lingers for a moment, like he’s expecting praise, or something.

“Thanks,” Fuse picks up the mug, her elbow digging into my thigh as she leans on me harder.

“Do you need something else?” I ask Stoick, shifting so that Fuse’s pointy elbow is gouging into a new and not yet painful part of my leg.

“Dad caught you with your door shut,” he raises an eyebrow, pointedly scratching his chin where he insisted he found a hair last month.

“Ok.”

“It’s kind of funny how that’s only a rule for you,” he looks at Fuse, “it’s only a rule for him, you know--”

“No one thinks you need that rule,” Fuse cuts him off, “thanks for the tea.”

It’s the kind of blunt dismissal only Fuse can pull off without sounding mean and I stifle my laugh in her hair, only looking up when the front door opens and the chief walks inside as Stoick slips out with his dragon, thank the Gods. The chief looks at me knowingly, like he also thinks I’m supposed to care that he caught Fuse and I sleeping behind a closed door. I don’t worry about him reading my mind the way I do Mom, but the secret still rises to the front of my mind.

Fuse is pregnant. The chief is going to freak out. I’m still waiting to freak out. I almost want to tell him to watch him freak out. I bet his eyes are going to bug out of his head.

“Good...mid-afternoon,” the chief finally seems to get that I don’t care that he caught me and Fuse sleeping, even if he doesn’t get that I have bigger things to care about. “How’s the rebuild going?”

“More of a build at this point.” I shrug and Fuse sits up, leaning her elbows over the table and sniffing at her tea. I know it’s more polite but I miss her weight against me and I also don’t care about being polite to people who don’t let Fuse and I sleep without inviting Stoick’s assistance. “It’s going fine, Ingrid gained the trust of a couple locals so I think I can trust it not to fall apart for a couple of weeks.”

Gods, how could I leave?

That thought smacks me like a war hammer at exactly at the wrong time, while I’m trying to look normal and talk to the chief. Fuse already had to put this together while alone, she already had to figure out how to tell me. It hits me that she had something half scripted because she was nervous, like talking to me had become such a phenomenon she had to plan for it, and I want to tell someone else, anyone else to take things over.

“That’s good news,” he grins, “I could use your help shoring Berk up. We had some spring flooding over on the East bay and dealing with it has been a pain.”

“It has,” Fuse agrees, sipping slowly from her mug, “I’ve been trying to help with a secondary dam but it’s slow.”

“And while that’s taking both our time, everything else is stumbling along without much supervision.” The chief smiles at Fuse. They’ve made peace, I guess, and I’m glad, given the circumstances, especially because I’m remembering that I look like him when I smile and as much as I like to ignore it, he’s my actual father.

And even though I’ve come to respect and even like him as a chief when he’s not trying to marry me off, I wouldn’t say I’ve largely benefitted from his attempts at parenting considering they involved trying to marry me off.

There it is, the start of a freak out, at least now I know I’m not suddenly stable or anything like that.

“Aurelia is doing her best,” Fuse says a little defensively, like she’s not as cheery with the chief as he seems to be with her, “but she’s been spending a lot of time trying to track down anything about those trappers by going through the last few months of communication.”

“Yeah.�� My voice cracks and Fuse frowns at me.

Oh Gods, it’s already happening, Fuse is the one pregnant and she’s looking at me like she’s worried about me and I’m going to have to leave in a couple of weeks and if she marries me, it’s all about heirs. Or it would be if the chief ever actually handed over the title. Fuse has to know that, she thinks of everything, but I’m just stumbling through the concept now. I can’t breathe. I rub my chest with my knuckles, pushing hard enough that my bruise throbs and my lungs remember what they’re supposed to be doing.

“Ouch, what happened there?” The chief asks, as if it matters, as if I’m not already making everything about me.

“Smitelout,” Fuse frowns and I squeeze her shoulder.

“No, it’s--I’m fine, chief. I’ll check in with Aurelia and get up to speed. And Fuse, don’t worry about helping him with the East Bay situation, I’m on it.”

“I can help,” she insists and it makes her look more tired. I kiss her on the forehead and stand up.

“You shouldn’t have to. I’m on it, ok?”

“Eret,” she huffs and eyebrows a straight, frustrated line as she stands up, “I said I’ve got it.”

“Ok,” I back up, gesturing between her and the chief, “just let me know if you need help--”

“I will,” she looks at the bruise on my chest again and I wish I’d paused to put my shirt back on, it just feels like another way I’m drawing attention when I shouldn’t be.

“We’ve got it,” the chief tries to comfort me with a grin I can see straight through. He’s assessing me like he’s been doing a lot lately and I can’t tell if he’s seeing something he doesn’t like or missing something he wishes he were seeing. I don’t know what else I could possibly do, but obviously, what I’m doing isn’t right or enough.

“If you need anything--”

“I get that,” he cuts me off, “but I bet Fuse and I can handle it.”

“I could handle it--”

“I know you could handle it, Eret,” the chief sighs, “and I know I messed up with the whole betrothal thing, but you can’t keep being everything to everyone all the time. Trust me, you just end up missing out and not on the things you want to miss out on.”

Fuse blanches at the mention of a betrothal and I’m worried she’s going to throw up. I hate to say it, but the chief is right, I’m already missing out. Fuse had to learn she was pregnant without me here, she had to talk to Rolf. I haven’t even apologized for that yet. I can’t imagine the dual nausea of talking to Rolf while pregnant.

The chief is staring at me like he expects an answer and Fuse looks worried, because I’m still making her worry about me instead of the other way around.

“Ok.”

“Ok, you’ll relax a bit?”

I barely bite back asking the chief why he hasn’t crowned me yet and if his reason really is that I’m doing too much and not relaxing enough.

“I’ll go talk to Aurelia,” I get out instead, turning to focus on Fuse because the idea of walking away from her right now is physically painful. “If--I mean, you’re good, right?”

“She’s fine,” the chief rolls his eyes, “you’re going to worry yourself gray at this rate.”

“Like father like son,” I mumble and the chief’s eyes light up, happy at the comparison. We’ll see about that, chief, considering Fuse is already frustrated with me and it’s still day one.

00000

“Can I have this wood?” Arvid asks me at the woodpile, one morning when I’ve been home about a week. He has Wingspark loaded up with an unusually large stack of long, straight logs, their bark removed.

“Why?”

“Because I need it for a project,” he shrugs, “Mom wants to build a house.”

“Again, why?”

He shrugs again, staring at me unblinking but bored and I look at the woodpile behind me, full despite how much he took. I guess our loggers were a little overzealous in replacing what we took to rebuild Elva’s island with.

“Fuck it, sure, just write it down, alright?”

“No problem,” he clicks at Wingspark and she lumbers along after him, pausing to sniff at my hand for a treat. I don’t have anything but I scratch behind her horn, looking thoughtfully after Arvid for a second.

I expected lying to be harder. I expected everyone to be asking after us all the time. But in reality, aside from the quiet and increasing desperation I have to check on Fuse every morning, nothing outwardly looks much different.

Yet.

I want to ask when that’s going to change, because in a lot of ways that’s a deadline for figuring out how to tell people or what to tell people, but I don’t think it’s necessarily something Fuse wants to talk about. She doesn’t seem to want to talk at all, actually, I think it would get in the way of her nap-on-me time, which has really seemed to take priority. Between that and my convince-Fuse-to-eat-something routine, we haven’t had time or privacy for anything else.

And I know I shouldn’t push her, because she’s the one dealing with more of this than I am, and I know she wants to keep it a secret just like I do, but not talking about it is killing me. And if I were going to tell someone, which I’m not, because Fuse doesn’t want to, Arvid would be very close to the top of that theoretical list, if not at the very top of it. It’s a tie between him and Aurelia, honestly. Maybe my dad is up there too, although I think he’s bound by some parental contract to tell Mom, and she’s the bottom of the list.

Only because of the way she’d look at me though, all disappointed and reserved, like she’s waiting for me to finish acting before she decides how pissed she is. I wish I had her advice right now. I wish I had anyone’s advice.

“Why does Mom want to build a house?” I call after Arvid, fighting every urge to run and catch up with him while my to do list for the day weighs me down where I stand.

“Ask her,” he shrugs again, “I just said I’d help, I’ve been getting enough practice at it.”

I have a sneaking suspicion that he knows more than he’s letting on, which honestly became a given ever since he married Aurelia and spends all his time absorbing the information she radiates like a Nightmare putting out warmth, but I don’t have time or energy to investigate it right now. Especially now that he reminded me of all the houses being built on Elva’s island and the fact that I’m supposed to go back there in a week.

It’s a thought I manage to shake until I’m home and surrounded by papers on my bed and Fuse appears in the doorway.

“Hey!” I stack all of letters riddled with Aurelia’s notes and shove them to the side, giving Fuse a place to sit. “What’s up?

“Stoick let me in,” she explains, pointing down the stairs with her thumb and lingering in the doorway, “are you busy?”

“Not that busy,” I pat my bed, “how are you?”

She deliberates for a second before shutting the door behind her and sitting down beside me, “fine.”

“Fine?” I laugh, my hand rubbing her lower back through the smooth leather of her vest, “not nauseous? That’s great!”

“I was nauseous earlier,” she puts down the letter, “but it passed and now I feel alright. How about you?”

“I’m not nauseous--wait, that’s not what you’re asking.” I wipe my forehead, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I’m--mmph.”

She cuts me off with a kiss, lingering like she hasn’t been, her hand cupping my jaw and sliding down to my shoulder. It’s the kind of kiss that makes the closed door compete with the idea of Stoick being downstairs and when Fuse’s tongue slips briefly into my mouth, the door starts winning. Fuse knows me too well because she pulls back with a tired smile and glances at my stack of papers.

“You sound preoccupied,” she gestures at my pillow, “I was just hoping to get a nap, I don’t mind if you’re working.”

“Maybe I mind if I’m working.” I raise an eyebrow at her and Stoick yells something downstairs, taking some hard earned ground back from the closed door in their eternal argument. The chief’s muffled voice answers him and I hear Mom laugh and sigh. Nevermind. Plus, Fuse really does look tired, so I pick up the top letter in the stack. “Go ahead and sleep, I’ll do my best to keep the door shut.”

“It’s not your fault if you can’t.” She lays down behind me, fidgeting to get comfortable, and I jump at her cold fingertips against my back, under my shirt. She traces the edge of the scar on my hip and over the bumps of my lower spine and her breathing slows like she’s drifting off. “I never answered your question the other day.”

“Which question?” I trace over a suspicious line of runes, an offer to deliver something to an island I’ve never heard of before but phrased in a way that makes it sound close.

“You asked how I felt about the concept of us having a baby.”

“Yeah?” I perk up, reminding myself that just because it took Fuse longer to get here than me doesn’t mean it’s going to be bad. “I mean, you answered, you said you felt nauseous, which is fair--”

“I’m happy about it too.” She yawns, cuddling closer, her knees curling around my hip. “Also I’m nervous and really want to stop throwing up soon, but I’m kind of excited.”

I grin, looking back over my shoulder at her. Her eyes are shut and her hair is draped across most of my pillow, tangled and smudged in something blue and shiny. It feels less selfish to be happy now that I know she is too and that excited voice in the back of my head reminds me of the prospect of having two of her around. I can hope, at least, I can’t imagine that even Fuse would want another Eret. There’s a surplus already.

“I love you.”

“Love you too,” she mumbles, snuggling closer and pressing her face into the pillow to block the light.

Fuse’s quiet snores make it easier to focus on reading and I get through the short stack of letters that Aurelia thinks are important more quickly than I expect to. It’s not great news. It sounds like whatever trappers that are left on Elva’s island are looking for allies or markets to sell in, I’m not really sure which. That means I need to get back out there and see what might have turned up in a week without much management. They’ve had a chance to get bold, maybe they’re willing to do or say something else stupid.

A particularly loud snore puffs against my back and I look back at Fuse. She looks pretty when she sleeps. Well, she always looks pretty, but it’s daintier when her face is relaxed and her usual aura of chaos and determination is turned down a notch.

She got in the habit of sleeping by me when we were off Berk a lot, dealing with trappers. She’s never said it directly, but I think it’s a carryover from the whole volcano incident, because in the months after that she couldn’t sleep unless I would be there when she woke up. And she just told me she’s nervous about being pregnant and I’m about to leave to somewhere she can’t follow to deal with a dangerous situation that she doesn’t like.

But I don’t know what else to do, I can’t just drop this situation on someone else, it has to be me. It’s important. It’s my big piece of proof that I can solve things peacefully and maybe the chief will finally see that I’m ready and--

“Dad told me to open your door,” Stoick flings the door open and it smacks against the wall. Fuse wakes up with a jolt, scrambling for my hand, and I don’t think before throwing the first thing in my reach at the grinning brat in the hallway.

It happens to be my boot and it collides with his face with a satisfying thump.

“Dad! Eret threw his shoe at me!”

“Get out.” I stand up and grab the edge of my door with a white knuckled grip, “I mean it, move or this is going to slam into your face.”

Stoick rolls his eyes and I flex my arm, making a show of just how fast I’m going to slam the door. I’m not actually, because I know full well that the chief would do something dramatic and irritating like take it off its hinges entirely, but it’s still fun to see Stoick scramble backwards, eyes wide.

“Fine, but…” He looks around for a way to retaliate, “I’m going to steal your shoe. Finders keepers.” He picks up my boot and waves it at me.

“Whatever,” I shut the door and lean my forehead against it as he runs downstairs. “Maybe I should come work at your house for a while.”

“I wish.” Fuse is adorable when she’s grumpy and half awake, frowning with her arms crossed. “I’ve got some stuff to get done, I’m almost out of mining charges.” She leans into my chest when I turn to face her, requesting a hug and pressing her sleep warm face into my shirt. “I just couldn’t focus earlier, I should be good now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” she backs away and reluctantly turns the doorknob, “I’ve got to get this done if you’re going to get any iron out of that other island anytime soon.”

“You don’t have to help with that.”

“I know I don’t,” she scowls and I can tell she’s frustrated mostly with the situation but probably at least partially with me, “but if I do, you’ll be done sooner and we’ll have one less thing to worry about.”

“True.” Maybe I’ll even be chief by then and I can just...decree something. I don’t even know what.

“Ok,” she steels herself, leaning up to kiss me briefly before opening the door the rest of the way. “I’ll see you later.”

“I’ll walk you out.” I follow her down the stairs and to the front door, glaring at Stoick on the way as he feeds his dragon a fish out of my boot.

As soon as Fuse is gone, the chief clears his throat, looking up from fixing his saddle and raising one graying eyebrow at me.

“You know, if you didn’t live here anymore…”

“Right, because that’s easier than telling Stoick to stop being obnoxious.”

“I hadn’t thought to compare the two,” the chief nods, thinking to himself, “but I think you’re right. Getting you married and out of the house is slightly easier than telling Stoick to be less obnoxious.”

I laugh at that and the chief looks equally tired and pleased with himself, glancing in Stoick’s direction like he’s surveying a threat. I wasn’t that bad at thirteen, there’s no way, I don’t think Mom would have let me live.

“I am the stubborn sibling,” Stoick shrugs, “do you want your boot back?” He holds it out towards me, fish scales visible on the fur lining, and I wrinkle my nose.

“I think I’m good.”

#open flames #eret iii #festerverse #feret #fuse thorston #stoick ii #arvid hofferson #hiccup let the kids sleep you monster

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tysonrunningfox · 6 years

Text

Open Flames Masterpost

Four years after falling into a volcano at the end of his year long agony of learning who he was and trying to discover who he wants to be, Eret III still isn’t chief. And he’s still not married to his longtime girlfriend. And when a betrothal letter from another, new tribe offers a solution to both issues, it sets the next string of events in Eret’s life off a bit...umm, explosively.

(Italics are side scenes not in Eret III’s voice but placed in the right place for reading...if only someone would do the same to the fester page. If only. Does anyone know anyone with the power to do that who has an entire organized spreadsheet of links and just keeps putting it off? Not me, that’d be crazy...)

#open flames #eret iii #fuse thorston #feret #festerverse

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tysonrunningfox · 6 years

Text

Goodbyes

But not forever because I’d die like...please keep talking to me about the boy? And the siblings? And the Fuse, my girl, and fifty one year old second chance Hiccstrid who stole my heart and just...that’s an open door, alright? Like, please keep it open? I know I need to write something else but damn, I can’t have a complete separation here. I can’t.

Tumblr (Will be overhauling soon) | AO3

The noise in the Mead Hall hits me like a physical weight after almost two months in the chief’s house and I pause in the doorway for a second, searching the crowd and maybe even waiting for a lull. For the crowd to pointedly look away like they all know something I don’t and confirm that the last year has been an elaborate dream during a coma from some unrelated head injury. At some level, it still makes more sense for me to have knocked myself out in that forest fire a year ago than it does for me to be at Arvid and Aurelia’s wedding feast with the Haddock crest on my pin. But the Hofferson sword he dug up this morning remains firmly planted in the center ceiling joist above me.

“I figured you might need this,” the chief appears out of the crowd beside me, holding a mug of what smells like mead towards my left and only unbandaged hand. The smell turns my stomach with its sickeningly sweet familiarity and I shake my head.

“Nothing hurts. Promise.” I try to show him by lifting my bandaged right arm as much as I can against the sling and the thick wool shirt and cape combination that Mom insisted I had to wear, but I don’t get too far. Stupid fancy clothes. Pouting got me out of some of the jewelry, although I’m still not sure how worth it that was, given how Ingrid was glaring at me the whole time from under her own pile of new clothes.

“No, I just--I mean, good, that’s good news, but I thought you might need it because your half-siblings just married each other.” He shrugs, wincing slightly like he’s not sure it’s something he should say, and it probably isn’t, but his daughter just married his wife’s son so I’m not judging the word vomit too much.

“That’s not the hardest thing I’ve made peace with lately.”

Maybe it’s temporary, but I can’t get annoyed at him the way I want or even the way that I used to. Maybe being stuck inside the last couple months with a rotating shift of family who all worked together to make sure I didn’t do anything myself or have any fun at all made the chief feel more like part of that family. In some strange, annoying, non-parental way, but part of it just the same.

Like Rolf keeps saying, it’s a documentation nightmare, and like with all documentation nightmares, I’m trying and succeeding at not getting too hung up on it.

“Are you sure?” He offers the mead again and if I’m not crazy, he’s swaying a little bit. “Might be your last wedding feast for a while without people pestering you with advice the whole time.” He raises an eyebrow at me.

“Whatever that means…” I laugh, brushing him off. As little I’ve been allowed out, it’s not really at the top of my freedom agenda to figure out whatever cryptic thing the chief wants to talk about.

“Well, are you going to see Fuse tonight?” This eyebrow wiggle is definitely drunk and it looks dumber against silver hair that it looks like he tried to comb. More likely Mom insisted on combing it, considering how many times today she threatened to trim mine. “Liquid courage in case you need to have any big conversations…”

I saw Fuse at the ceremony, but she was further back in the crowd. And I know she comes by the chief’s house almost every day, but seeing her will be different when she’s not taking care of me. Even though I haven’t needed that much care, because I’m fine and I’ve been fine for weeks.

“I spent enough of the last two months drunk, chief, I think I’ll sit this one out.”

“That makes one of us,” he sighs and the red shade of his face is sneaking past jubilant, heading quickly through tipsy and coming out somewhere in trashed drunk, “I avoided it for years, but it finally caught up to me.”

“What are you talking about?” I resist the urge to laugh at the way his head is bobbing slightly off center, even though it’s kind of my turn, given that everyone has repeated the greatest hits of my drunken sleep talking back to me for months now. But sometimes, a future chief is the bigger person.

Well, that and I’m hoping he says something ridiculous. I’m not chief yet.

“I have a married daughter,” he drinks from the mug he brought for me, “I’m old.”

“Is that how that works?” I snort, “I hate to break it to you, but I think you’ve been old for a while.”

“That’s what Astrid said,” he shakes his head, “guess I should just accept it as truth at this point.” He raises his mug in a sad sort of cheers and something over my shoulder catches his eye. Before I can check what it is, a familiar hand slides into mine.

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” Fuse squeezes my fingers and drops them and no matter how comfortably she’s been touching me, somehow it’s never enough.

It’s definitely not enough when I look at her and she’s smiling at me unguarded, her hair pulled back from her face with soft, pink-hued braids.

“Huh?”

“You know,” she tugs on the edge of my bear skin cape and bites her lip like she’s looking for the right words. “In actual clothes.”

“Oh,” I slide my arm around her waist, the ends of her hair tickling my wrist, and it’s still thrilling that she leans into me. “You should have seen me trying to get a shirt on over this,” I hold up my bandaged arm and the armpit of my crisp new shirt tugs at my skin where it’s not hanging quite straight. “It took me three tries. Ingrid was laughing so hard I thought she was going to pass out.”

“Maybe you need help out of it,” the chief says and I’d entirely forgotten he was standing there. I jump, reflexively pulling Fuse closer as she flushes, looking down at her feet. The blush adorably reaches her earlobes and stretches partially down her neck in a way I never get to see when her hair is in it’s usual messy braids and my chest tightens.

And of course, in parsing through that, I realize that the chief just has to make me sound like an idiot who can’t take care of myself when Fuse is around. I try to tell him to go away with my eyes but unfortunately, the last couple months have vastly depleted the potency of the Hofferson glare and he wasn’t ever that susceptible in the first place.

“I can get it off by myself,” I huff at him and he snorts. Fuse looks at me and blinks like Aurelia does when she’s waiting for me to catch up and I freeze.

Oh gods.

“No, no, I didn’t mean it like that,” my face feels like it could light the forge from a distance and he still looks so smug and drunk and oh gods, that even worse. “But you did, that’s...disgusting, for one--”

“Eret,” Fuse laughs, tips of her ears bright red as she pats me on the shoulder with a rare, unbandaged hand.

“It’s just,” I look up at the chief, “not funny. And none of your business. And I’m going to go find Arvid and Aurelia now so…” I try and tug Fuse with me but of course the chief has to keep talking.

“Wait, just a second, while you’re here there’s something I actually wanted to ask you about,” he looks at Fuse, patting his pockets and spilling mead down his arm, “I don’t have my notes right now, but there’s a cliff over on Bogsbreath island that looks like good granite for the sea wall that we talked about--”

“Sea wall?” I hate being out of the loop with everything that’s going on. I keep hearing snippets and seeing half finished drawings, but apparently a broken arm means my head is useless. “What sea wall?”

“With that volcano gone, waves are higher from that direction. Last week’s thunderstorm had them breaking about five feet below the hanger.” The chief is one of the only people who can talk to me about what happened without staring at my arm or my scars and I appreciate it even more when Fuse flinches, eyes darting to my sling as the corners of her mouth tilt down. I pull her closer to my side with the hand on her hip and she lets me, her shoulder curling under my arm. “I was thinking a kind of primitive sea wall a couple miles off of the coast might fix it without getting in the way of the thermal vent.” It’s the chief’s turn to be sheepish, but it’s different, because it’s about him being wrong not me being hurt, “dragons are still migrating towards it. Mostly old ones, and numbers are stable but--”

“It’s probably best we stay out of their way.” I’ve earned the right to be smug about it but the chief sighs at my tone anyway.

“But, as I was saying, we don’t really have the material available right now so…” He looks back at Fuse and she’s surprisingly silent, leaning into my side a little harder and staring flatly at him. “Ok, I’ll spell it out, I was wondering if you could try to break down this cliff I found on Bogsbreath island into usable material.”

“I…” Fuse exhales and shakes her head, oddly stiff, “a whole cliff? And granite? I…” She looks up at me, fully regrown eyebrows knitting together, “that might be a little...out of my abilities, Chief.”

“Fuse,” the chief chuckles, “it’s not like it’s an entire volcano.”

“No, I mean it.” Fuse shrugs and definitely doesn’t sound like she means it. Her voice is thin, like her usual firepower isn’t there to back it up, “I’m not sure how to take down a cliff. And Eret needs me here--”

“I’m fine.” I’m not really, I’m worried that there’s none of my favorite giddiness on her face at the prospect of taking down an entire cliff. “You should go.”

“I really don’t think I know how to do what you’re asking.” She shakes her head, shoulders stiff under my arm.

“You just blew up an island, I bet you can figure it out.”

“Really, Chief,” she shakes her head, her hair tickling the back of my hand, “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

That’s even more obviously a lie. And a lie she sounds sad about, like there’s something in her way she doesn’t think she can ask for help with.

“Do you need parts or something?” I look around the room, “is Smitelout giving you trouble? I’ll--”

“No,” she steps out from under my arm, “I just don’t know if I can.”

That’s honest. I look between her and the chief, who’s drunk enough he seems content to watch us talk with that weird smile on his face, like all his plans are working out.

“I’ll go scout it out with you.” Those are truly the magic words, or more likely, any words suggesting I do anything fun or more than ten feet off of the ground, because Mom chooses this moment to walk up next to the chief, leaning her head on his shoulder. Her mug of mead looks less than full and her face is almost as red as his is. “Hey, Mom,” I try to act casual, “great feast, right?”

“You look suspicious,” she smacks her lips and takes a drink, “what’s going on?”

“He wants to come scout a cliff with me,” Fuse crosses her arms, making eye contact with my mom, I’m assuming to avoid my betrayed expression. “That I’m supposed to blow up.”

“And who told you that you were supposed to blow it up?” Mom glares at the chief and he’s drunk enough to be brave enough to tap her chin with his knuckle in answer. She sighs, nostrils flaring and eyes sappy and fond and I look away because that’s still gross. “Hiccup...”

“I want to go, Mom.” I look back at Fuse and her eyes are oddly, pleadingly wide. “It’s been two months. Imagine what a pain in the ass I’ll be if you try to keep me locked up any longer.” I point at my arm, “these bandages? Coming off next week, allegedly, just try keeping me inside when I’ve got two arms at my disposal.”

“Locked up? Uh huh, I can see how shackled down you are right now.” She shakes her head and the chief grins at her again, all lovesick and gray-haired and irritating and I should have walked away when I had the chance.

“Doesn’t seem like he minds that much.”

“I’m right here,” I look at Fuse for backup, “I want to go with you.” I don’t think I’ve ever seen my mom drunk, but I hope she actually is as I weigh my next tactic. “I mean, I’m still the future chief, I’m pretty sure I can go without asking anyone, but I’d rather go with you.”

Fuse’s cheeks color a little more and I jut my lower lip out like worked when I was newly injured. I thought at some point, she’d realize how stupid it looks and stop falling for it, but that hasn’t happened yet. Hel, maybe she does know it’s stupid, but still likes it for some reason because she sighs, tucking her hair behind her ear and looking back at the chief and my mom.

“I really don’t think I can do it, but I’ll scout it out.”

“And I’ll go with you,” I nod, waiting for my mom to shut me down. She’s tired when she sighs and takes more of a gulp than a sip out of her drink.

“I know how trying to stop you works out.” There’s a strange moment of that terrifying female telepathy that I’ll never understand when she nods at Fuse.

Even with the look, it doesn’t feel like permission and I relax. After months being chief or at least partly in charge, going back to being someone who had to ask for water was more shocking than I could have anticipated. And this is just another piece of proof that things have changed and the changes are sticking. Mom can’t tell me not to do things. She can give advice and I should probably take it the majority of the time, but they aren’t orders anymore.

“In that case, I should go tell Stoick I’m taking my dragon back tomorrow,” I offer Fuse my hand and the escape from the chief’s weird attention that it implies and she takes it. She follows me towards the other end of the hall but more importantly, away from the chief and my mom before they can make any more gross faces at each other. Or comment anymore on Fuse and me. Especially that one. Especially the chief.

But I also need to talk to her, because Fuse not wanting to blow something up is unheard of and she has some reason she wouldn’t say in front of the chief. I pause in a slightly quieter bubble next to the line of ale casks against the wall and Fuse drops my hand to pick up a mug for herself. I can’t help but notice that her long pale fingers are uncharacteristically soot free and unbandaged and I feel bad that she’s spent so much time with me that she hasn’t had any in her workshed.

It’s silly, but I miss the soot. I like how her bandaged fingers leave streaks on me that I find later, like greasy little souvenirs.

“Do you want some?” She offers, voice brightly off kilter and I narrow my eyes, leaning back against the edge of the table.

“You’re trying to distract me.” I gesture at her and my eyes follow, lingering for a second on the deep green belt around her waist before flicking back to her face. “Why don’t you want to blow up that cliff?”

“The chief said it was granite,” she shrugs one shoulder, not quite holding eye contact.

“You love blowing up granite.”

“No,” she sighs, mouth twitching to the side slightly and I try not to smile at what a profoundly bad liar she is. She avoids me for her mug for a second before looking back at my face and shaking her head. “It’s my third favorite, maybe, but how did you know that?”

“I just knew you liked it, I didn’t know you had a definitive ranking.” I tease her and she blushes, always unsure if I’m insulting her until I smile. This is better than being so drunk it reoccurred to me that I was nearly naked every few minutes and sputtered about it all over again. Sometimes, I almost hate how much I remember more than I hate the long fuzzy periods that I can’t quite put together.

“I don’t,” she shrugs, a strand of shiny pink falling over her shoulder, “I should have said in the top five, but—”

“But what?” I reach out and grab her wrist, sloshing ale on the ground between us but pulling her in anyway. I don’t know why it’s cute that she has a ranking system or cuter that she’s defending it. I do know that it almost makes me more concerned that she’s so hesitant to blow something up, because that means something might really be wrong. “I’m sorry, I’m just going to need an actual, scientific reason to believe you can’t at least try to obliterate something.” My hand slides from her wrist to her shoulder and I kiss her forehead.

“Eret,” she sighs, almost chastising, and it makes me all too aware of my knee against hers and her shoulder blade that’s obvious against my palm without the vest I haven’t seen in weeks. And as overwhelming as the crowd was when I first walked in, now the background hum is only making it easier to focus on her, even if being this close makes it hard to focus on anything except the fact that she’d let me kiss her.

More than that, she’d kiss me back. Maybe I could use my fully clothed disguise to convince her that I’m not hurt and she’d keep kissing me instead of acting like I’m going to break.

“What?” I pull her closer and she freezes when her arm bumps against my sling, pulling back slightly. “It’s fine. It doesn’t hurt.”

“You wouldn’t tell me if it did.”

“Probably not,” I look down at my pale hand sticking out of the linen and wiggle my fingers, “but it doesn’t.”

She looks up at me through her eyelashes and if it weren’t for my brother appearing in my peripheral vision, I could almost pretend that we were somewhere more private.

“There you are!” He points at me, the new silver ring on his finger startlingly obvious in a way I wouldn’t have expected. I stand away from the table and Fuse shifts away from me, tucking her hair behind her ear like she can hide her red face behind her hand. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” He’s too loud and I almost expect everyone to be irritated at a Hofferson acting up, but the people who glance over at us laugh and shake their heads. “Thorston!”

Fuse opens her mouth to respond but doesn’t get the chance because Arvid hugs her, pinning her arms to her sides and lifting her a good foot off of the ground. She yelps, looking at me with adorably wide eyes and he squeezes her another second before setting her down and turning to me. He wobbles slightly and I raise my eyebrow.

“Are you drunk?” I ask and he shakes his head.

“I’m married.” He shows me his silver band. I recognize a ring of Wingspark’s scales inlaid in divots that are Smitelout’s obvious handiwork. It doesn’t look half bad, not that I’m going to tell her that. “Look at this, I’m completely married.”

“As opposed to partially?” I look at Fuse, who still seems a little startled, and pat her shoulder. “You’re actually drunk, aren’t you? I didn’t think that was possible.”

“You’re my favorite brother,” he grins and claps his hand on my shoulder hard enough that my teeth clack together. “Where’s Rolf? Fuck that guy, you’re my favorite.”

“He’s drunk,” Aurelia walks up next to Fuse and shakes her head, sighing with obvious fondness at my brother. Somehow, it’s weird that she doesn’t look any different than she did this morning, and it occurs to me that my younger sister is someone’s wife. “He’s so drunk.”

“I’ve never seen him drunk,” I laugh, “I didn’t think it was possible, honestly.”

“He’s a friendly drunk,” Fuse frowns, patchy red clinging high on her cheeks. I’d guess she’s used to being explosive and even after a couple of months defused -- ok, that’s funny-- she’s probably not used to bear hugs sweeping her off of her feet. I’m just glad she and Arvid have reached some kind of truce after a decade of stinkbombs and glaring at each other.

Arvid kisses Aurelia on the temple, picking her up with one arm and swinging her in a circle. She’s resigned to it but smacks his forearm after a second, signaling for him to set her down and he does, remarkably gently considering how hard he squeezed Fuse. Aurelia shakes her head at him and looks at her own ring with an almost calm smile.

“Apparently,” Aurelia sighs, “and he chose a great day to do it. Really,” she looks at Fuse for another of those confounding female moments. “I’m guessing he’ll fall right asleep tonight.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” I look him up and down, taking in the slow sway of his shoulders relative to his feet. Being the only drunk one is miserable, being the sober one while my drunk siblings make a fool of themselves isn’t as bad.

“It’s not.” Aurelia shakes her head and Fuse grabs my hand.

“Why not?” I try to intertwine our fingers but she seems more interested in steering me than actually holding hands. “Sleeping it off is usually a good tactic.”

“You wanted to find Stoick, didn’t you?” She tugs but I don’t move, looking between her and Aurelia. It feels like another secret and I narrow my eyes.

“Well, yeah, but I wasn’t done with the rare opportunity to make fun of Arvid while he’s drunk.”

“Hey,” Arvid frowns. “I’m not that drunk.”

“You’re drunk enough, husband,” Aurelia smiles through what seems like secret-associated irritation when she uses the title and I get a little stuck on the fact that Arvid is someone’s husband. Arvid has a wife. “Drunk enough that I don’t think that title will actually be official until you’re done nursing your hangover.”

“What?” I look at Fuse for clarification and her nostrils flare slightly as she tugs on my hand again. That’s the face she makes when she’s embarrassed for me, and I’m more familiar with it than I should be comfortable with, but I don’t see what I’m doing right now. If anyone should be embarrassed, it’s Aurelia, of course he’s her husband—“No!” I glare at her, my sling straining against the reflex to point at her, “no, don’t talk about…that—”

“It’s my wedding, it’s kind of a part of a wedding,” Aurelia rolls her eyes, apparently too irked with my drunk brother to be embarrassed, “the consummation is implied—”

“I’m your brother. He’s my brother,” I take my hand from Fuse’s to point at Arvid and he laughs, sharing a mushy, mutual expression that makes fun of me in a context I don’t want to think about. “You guys are so gross.”

“Gross?” Arvid snorts and Aurelia shakes her head at me before looking at Fuse.

“Good luck with him,” she scoffs, a tinge of the chief’s joking suggestion in her expression and I shake my head.

“I’m going to go find Stoick, who isn’t gross—”

“Because he’s nine?” She has to try and get in the last word and I scratch the back of my reddening neck where it’s chafed against the strap of my sling. Fuse links her elbow through mine and I let her tug me away this time, shouting over my shoulder.

“And congratulations, by the way, because at least one of us has manners!” I shake my head when Arvid laughs and look over at Fuse. “I didn’t need to think about that. I was doing so well not thinking about that.”

“I tried to interrupt,” she must see Bang’s tail slash above the crowd when I do because she changes direction towards it without me nudging her, “but you were determined.”

“I’m too stupid for you to protect, apparently,” I sigh, bumping my shoulder against hers and grinning when Bang spots me and warbles, shaking his wings and making Stoick laugh from where he’s perched on his back. “Hey bud,” I untangle my arm from Fuse’s to set my hand on Bang’s nose and he croons, tail whisking across the wood floor.

“Hi Fuse,” Stoick greets her before me and I can’t really blame him, especially when she seems so pleasantly surprised, her eyes lighting up even as her shoulders stiffen slightly. She still doesn’t quite know what to do with him and she waves, chewing on her bottom lip. “Hey Eret.”

“I’ve got some news, dude,” I lean on Bang’s head with my left hand, scratching behind a short frill on his neck. Mom hasn’t been letting him inside enough because she has some crazy belief that if Bang and I were left even momentarily in the same room, I’d suddenly be in the sky and far away from the chief’s stuffy house. She’s right, but it’s still not fair. “Do you want to hear the news? Oh hey, guess what, I’m telling you anyway. I’m cleared to fly,” I pat Bang’s head again, “so tomorrow morning, you’ve got to give me my dragon back.”

“No,” he whines, laying down across Bang’s back and hugging him, “who am I going to take to class?”

“It’s terror training,” I nudge his back, “you have your own terror—”

“But then I can’t fly there,” he sits up cross-legged, “you could just fly with Fuse and I could keep him one more day? Pretty please?” He asks Fuse more than me and she shrugs.

“He could, but I think he’s been missing Bang as much as he’s been missing flying.”

“Fine,” Stoick puts his biggest, greenest eyes on, “could you give me a ride to training then? Please? If Eret is taking Bang away?”

“Squirt, I already told you I’d take you to training,” Ingrid walks up behind me and when she doesn’t give me her usual punch in greeting I look and see her holding Rolf’s baby. My half-nephew, or whatever the term for that is. He’s been around the house a couple of times since I’ve been coherent enough to help Rolf flesh out a few pages in the dragon manual and it’s not as awkward as it could have been. Rolf even let the chief help, some, likely because he was constantly pre-occupied with the fact that Ingrid kept practically stealing his firstborn.

“I’m hurt,” I put my hand over my sling in the vague location of my heart, “squirt is supposed to be my nickname. You’re replacing me?”

“Don’t be such a baby,” she rolls her eyes, bouncing her nephew on her hip and cooing at him. He takes her metal hand in his pudgy, tiny one and starts gumming at it. “We’ve got enough of those around here.”

“Speaking of that, does Rolf know you have him?”

“What? Are you going to tattle on me to Rolf?” She laughs, “that would make your Uncle Eret a traitorous little twerp. Yes, it would.”

“Ingrid,” Stoick clambers off of Bang’s back and adjusts his stiff new clothes, standing in front of Ingrid and tugging on the baby’s sock. “Fuse can take me to training tomorrow, you don’t have to.”

“I didn’t actually say that,” Fuse looks at me a little panicked, like she’s not sure how to get out of it, “Eret and I are supposed to go scout something for the chief.”

“Mom’s letting you leave the island?” Ingrid raises her eyebrow at me, “are you sure that’s safe?”

“I’ll be with Fuse.”

“That didn’t protect you last time,” Ingrid doesn’t snap but it’s not gentle either and the baby hiccups around her metal finger, his little face crumpling like he might cry that easily. He looks like Rolf more than his wife, I think, and maybe I’m projecting but there’s something like Dad’s brow there above warm brown eyes.

“That’s not fair,” I sigh and Bang presses his face to my leg. Stoick gets bored with the lack of attention and runs off and Ingrid and Fuse stand tensely opposite each other for a minute.

They didn’t hit it off right away, or so I heard. I was mad when I first heard it, because Ingrid owes Fuse more than anyone except for me, because Fuse was the one who talked her down when I didn’t know where to start, but they came to some kind of an arrangement after a couple days. Or I think it was a couple days. I don’t remember much except it was a lot easier to be quiet when Fuse was holding my hand instead of a family member looking at me like I was going to break.

“It kind of is,” Fuse says simply and I shake my head at her.

“No, it’s not—”

“I’m not even bringing any bombs.” Her voice is as serious as the determined look in her eye as she looks between me and Ingrid so quickly I’m not sure who she’s trying to convince.

“Dad’s been out a few times,” I add, “he hasn’t seen any signs of trappers anywhere nearby.”

“You don’t have to convince me that I can’t change your mind,” Ingrid shakes her head, adjusting the baby’s weight against her hip, “that’s why I have a new squirt. He still thinks I’m cool enough that he listens to try and impress me.”

“I still think you’re cool,” I make some stupid face that makes the baby smile and tug on her fingers. I haven’t minded having him around. Maybe that’s because no one makes me hold him or change his diaper, and he always laughs at my funny faces. Not that it means much, he laughs at the chief too, but I like to pretend it’s nicer when it’s me.

“Really Hofferson?” Smitelout spills half a mug of ale on Bang’s back when she stomps over, pointing at Ingrid’s hand, “you’re letting the best contender for this year’s ugliest baby contest chew on that?”

Bang nips at her heel and I nudge him away with my foot, glaring at her.

“This is my nephew,” Ingrid rolls her eyes, taking her metal fingers out of his mouth and wiping them on her new dress. Mom made her dress acceptably too and I think she hates it as much as I do if the way she’s really rubbing that baby drool into the wool is any indication.

“Well,” Smitelout blushes and stutters, taking another gulp of her ale before continuing, “look at him, how could I have guessed that?”

“Oh my gods,” Ingrid cocks her hip, ignoring her nephew tugging on her loose hair as she turns on Smitelout. “You can’t walk around insulting people’s babies.”

“I knew it wasn’t your baby,” she rolls her eyes and Fuse raises her eyebrows at me in a way I read as her wanting us to make our exit.

“Ok, but you still shouldn’t really insult babies—”

“There you are,” Rolf steps nonchalantly over Bang’s tail and holds both his hands out, lifting his son under his armpits and cradling him comfortably with a glare at Ingrid. “You can’t just walk off with him.”

He sounds worried and that just reminds me that Rolf is a dad and Ingrid is an aunt and Arvid is a husband. I’d say I’m the only one lacking a new title but it hits me that it’s future chief and I really wish I’d been allowed into the public before this because all of these changes at once are overwhelming for all the right reasons and that’s a phenomenon I’m not used to at all.

I’m good at dealing with parallel lines of sadness, but tonight feels like so many happy strings weaving with the ends of the sad and towards a future I hope is better than the last year has been. And I know that making it better is more my responsibility than ever because my title carries a different kind of pressure than anyone else’s.

“Oh, it’s Rolf’s kid?” Smitelout snorts, “the ugly makes sense.”

“Always a pleasure,” Rolf sighs, his voice taking on a deep, bitter character like he thinks better of himself than to stoop to this level, “Jorgenson.”

“Yeah sure,” Smitelout waves him off.

“No, not yeah sure,” Ingrid doubles down on the argument with her hands empty, poking Smitelout in the shoulder, “that’s my nephew.”

“And that wasn’t enough to overwhelm the Rolf in his appearance, that’s all I’m saying…”

“Let’s go,” Fuse takes my elbow and scratches Bang with her other hand. He accepts it as a temporary goodbye, snuffling against her palm and crooning at me as we walk away from Ingrid and Smitelout’s escalating argument.

“At least they sound like they’re having fun,” I lean back on the table when she pauses to get herself another drink. I can’t tell if it’s affecting her at all, but then again, she hasn’t really had a chance to drink much without the next interruption.

“Who does?”

“I don’t know,” I shrug, “Ingrid and Smitelout in particular, but it seems like everyone is having fun.”

“Yeah,” she looks around and then back at me, the corner of her mouth twitching into half a smile. Her lower lip is damp and the shine makes it hard to look anywhere else, especially because the longer I’m out of the house, the less I feel like an invalid.

I know that the last few hundred times Fuse kissed me, it wasn’t strictly out of pity. She did want to. She wouldn’t have kissed me at all if she didn’t want to, but I can’t say that they all felt like kisses. A lot were trying to keep me grounded and more were in an attempt to keep breathing worth the pain while my ribs formed back into one piece, and I appreciate them, but they didn’t do anything to quell the constant heat in my chest whenever I’m around her.

And now I feel like I’m at a feast with Fuse and she looks beautiful in a clean, nervous way that I hardly ever get to see and my wrist tingles from where her hair has been tickling it all night. And no matter how close to me she’s been, she was never wearing a dress that makes it so obvious how well the curve of her hip fits in my hand.

“What?” She cocks her head at me and I shrug. “You’re staring.”

“You just look really pretty tonight.” Out of all the things I’m thinking, it’s the right thing to say out loud because she steps closer to me, resting her hand on my ribs on one of my fireworm scars. They’re still sensitive, not in a bad way, but I shiver slightly at the drag of clean wool against the edges of it.

“You too.” She says quietly, biting her lip, and I frown.

“Did you just call me pretty?”

She blushes, stuttering slightly like she’s worried I’m actually offended. I don’t think I am, but I’ve also never been called pretty before. Not that I’m drowning in praise about my appearance, but it still strikes me as weird. I’m not sure I want Fuse to think I’m pretty.

“I meant you look good tonight.”

“But you said pretty. I’m pretty?” I scratch my chin, “not that I don’t like a compliment but aren’t I a little...bearded to be pretty?”

“What would you prefer, then?” She sets her drink down and cups my jaw with her now free hand, fingernails scratching through my beard. I rest my hand on her hip and her fingers curl slightly against my ribs.

Maybe she meant that we should leave further. I’d be ok with that, I made my appearance.

“I don’t know. Handsome, maybe? Rugged?” Gods, I want my other hand back. Next time I almost die, I’m breaking my left arm. I feel like every time I touch Fuse, I’m getting inferior information. “Because you’re pretty, and if you’re pretty, I’m definitely not pretty.”

She kisses me, soft lips lingering a little longer than she usually lets them as she cups my jaw more firmly, her fingertips grazing my ear with a tickle that sends lightning down my spine. I follow her as far as I can when she pulls back, getting in one last peck before my arm gets in the way.

And I don’t want to be here, I’m sick of sharing Fuse with families and crowds. She’s finally looking at me like I might be durable enough to kiss again and I really want to convince her that she’s onto something there.

“When you said let’s go…”

“What do you mean?” She cocks her head and picks up her drink, her blush highlighting freckles across the bridge of her nose.

“I just…I don’t know, we could keep talking somewhere that my crazy family doesn’t keep appearing.”

She narrows her eyes at me, the tips of her ears going a warm, pale pink shade that almost matches her hair.

“What do you want to talk about?” Fuse is awkward and pretty and sweet when she asks questions she doesn’t know the answer to. It makes me want to hug her and again, this stupid sling is in the way of absolutely everything.

“Not much. I’d just like to be alone with you,” I shrug, stroking the line of her hipbone with my thumb and smiling when she bites her lip. Her house is empty, I bet.

“I figured you’d want to stay out as long as possible.”

“Eh, crowds are overrated.” I kiss her forehead again and kind of miss her hair’s usual acrid smell. I hope she does bring bombs tomorrow, I’m ready for some action and for her to be sooty again. “And it’s a lot, you know, no one let me out of the house and suddenly the whole village is here. I think I have a legitimate phobia that Mrs. Ack is going to spring up next and pinch my bicep.”

“The bandages should deter her,” Fuse looks at my sling again, frowning.

“It doesn’t hurt.” I remind her, rubbing the side of her waist and stepping back to lift my arm as high as the sling will allow. “Really. No pain.”

I’m not lying. Worse than that, I’m scared about how my arm is going to look and feel when I finally get it back. I tried not to care when the healers tightened the bandages but there’s that looming feeling that when it comes off I’m going to look scrawnier than I did a year ago, like the chief’s influence finally found a crack to manifest in.

She doubts me. Then she looks over my shoulder and sighs, her cheeks puffing out with a momentary roundness that makes me want to kiss them.

“My dad’s walking over here.”

I drop her hip and stand up straight, tugging at the seam of my shirt that isn’t quite right against my side. She shakes her hair behind her shoulders and takes another sip of her ale before raising it in a feeble toast.

“Just the adorable young couple I was looking to interrupt,” Fuse’s dad—and he feels like Fuse’s dad and not Tuffnut right now when I’m thinking so hard about how good her side feels under my hand—sizes me up like a dragon he doesn’t know is threatening yet or not. I stand up straight. The sling digs into the back of my neck and I swallow, fidgeting to shift it sideways.

“Dad,” Fuse glares at him, shifting half a step away from me and crossing her arms.

“Uh, good evening.” I hold out my left hand and he shakes it with is right, grinning like the awkwardness of the grip is a good thing and not like it’s making my heart drop. “Sir.”

“Pretty sweet feast,” he looks around and nods and then looks back at me, “a wedding feast, even.”

“Uh,” I look at Fuse, wondering if there’s some secret way to answer her dad and she shrugs, “yeah. It is.”

“You said you were looking for us,” Fuse prompts him and he looks at me another second before shrugging. He’s not hostile, like I guess I was scared of after seeing some fathers’ opinion of Arvid. If anything he kind of reminds me of the chief in that he’s happy to see us standing together. This is more of a vicious happiness, like he’s thriving on the awkward anxiety I can feel leaking out of my pores, but I’ll take it.

“Yeah.” He nods.

Especially because I keep thinking about how many times Fuse and I have napped in the same bed and I didn’t ask her dad’s permission and I don’t know how to do this. He’s staring right at me, does he know how much I want to kiss his daughter? Did he see us kissing a second ago? Does he know that I’ve been in her bedroom? And that she talked like she was planning to get me there again even after I well...was really happy to be there. Or parts of me were.

He’s staring at me. What if he can read my mind and I just gave away everything? I’m not really sure what to do with my hand. The sling is finally making a positive impact on my life because I only have one arm to flail around.

“Is there anything I can do for you? Like, do you need me to do anything or talk to the chief about anything or--I can weapon?” I cough, “I mean, I can make weapons. Theoretically,” I point at my sling, “when this comes off. If my arm still works.”

“You don’t know if your arm is still going to work?” He raises an eyebrow and looks more like Fuse than usual with the expression.

“I’m assuming it is.” I shrug, “hoping, really. I guess.”

“Hmm,” he strokes his chin and looks between Fuse and I again before laughing, reaching over and trying to ruffle her hair. “That was fun. Ok, that was really fun.”

“Not for me,” Fuse glares at him, straightening her hair.

“I just had to make you squirm a little bit,” he explains with another shrug, “it’s tradition. Or it is now, because that was hilarious, you look like you think I’m going to beat you up. Or hang you upside down off of some precarious perch. Which I’m not. Probably.” He narrows his eyes and I shake my head.

“No, uh, sir, I wouldn’t do anything to make you have to beat me up. Or...the other thing.”

“Sir? That’s funny, kid.” He pats me on the bad shoulder and I’m relieved when my arm doesn’t throb. “No, really though, if you weren’t good enough for my Fuseykins, you not only wouldn’t be standing here, you would have ceased to exist in solid form long before I ever got the chance to threaten you.”

“That’s not funny,” Fuse says with that vulnerable edge I can’t quite place and her dad scoffs.

“You think I’m funny, right Eret?”

I think that this is bizarre and uncomfortable, but in a very real way I want him to like me. I want him to like me the way that I wanted the village to like me when I was first trying to fill the chief’s shoes, but it’s more important because it’s about Fuse. If I’ve learned anything about romance, it’s that for everyone around me, it ends up being filled with hard choices, and I want to be the easy choice. I want to make things easier for her, finally, after so much time tangling her in my impossible problems.

“Yeah,” I nod, “I bet I looked really scared.”

“I like you,” he claims, pointing at me, “and I mean, I’m like the lowest possible bar here. You’ll have to talk to her brothers. And her cousins. She’s all of our little girl--”

“Stop,” Fuse cuts him off, voice hushed and almost nasal, like it’s half a whine. And that’s cute the way that all cracks in her calm exterior are and I try not to look like I’m thinking about how cute she is. “Just invite him for dinner like we talked about, this is all unnecessary.”

“But also fun,” he turns back to me, “tomorrow night?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Right, good answer,” he points at Fuse, “now I’ve got to talk to you about something, oh daughter of mine.”

“Can it wait?” She leans back into my side, glancing purposefully at the side of my face, “I’m a little busy.”

“Nope.”

“Dad, please.”

“It’ll only take a minute,” he scoffs at her, “and there’s a certain ambiance of the space right now that--”

“Fine,” she looks back at me and sighs before walking away with him, “I’ll see you later.”

“Or tomorrow morning. Either way.” I hope it’s later tonight, but from the way her dad puts his arm over her shoulders and starts telling her something about ‘The Island of Thorstonton’, I kind of doubt it.

Without Fuse, the room is instantly overwhelming and even though I see my siblings sitting together, I almost think about grabbing Bang and going home. Maybe I could even fly, considering Mom appears pretty busy with Rolf’s baby--her grandbaby, because she’s a grandmother now too-- and the chief and isn’t watching my every move. Then again, there’s something kind of exciting about my first flight in two months being off island with Fuse tomorrow. Waiting would make it more of an event, I guess.

I yawn, looking around until I see Gobber sitting in the corner, tapping his foot and looking bored. Or maybe me being bored makes him look bored, whatever. Either way, he gestures at the bench next to him when I walk over and I take a seat, leaning my good elbow on the table and resting my chin on my hand.

“It’s good to see you up and about.” He pats me on the back and I sigh.

“Oh trust me, I’ve been up and about for a while,” I shake my head in my family’s general direction, “it’s just that I haven’t been allowed out. It seems like everyone’s very sure I’ll spontaneously combust if I see the sunlight or an ounce of freedom.”

“Well, you did give it your best shot,” he looks at my arm, “how much longer are you stuck in that thing?”

“I get it off next week, thank Thor,” I wiggle my fingers, “I’m worrying what’s left under it at this point. I thought I was skinny before.”

“Well, if you need to help out at the forge to get back up to well...I was going to say strength, but you’re still you. I shouldn’t expect too much,” he laughs at his own joke and I roll my eyes.

“What a kind and generous offer, rife with opportunities to make fun of me. I’ll think about it,” I sigh, “I probably won’t have time though, I’m assuming, the chief needs someone to help him hold this place together.”

“Now that all the drama settled down around here, I’m sure there’s something else on its way. It’s never quiet for long.” He looks at me strangely and I refuse to acknowledge that he’s aged from the image of him I have in my head, the one who scared me into showing up on time every day and kept me honest with a steady hook hand.

“This is Berk when it’s quiet?” I look back out at the crowd, now more adult than child, the liquor flowing a little more freely. Arvid and Aurelia are kissing and a few rowdy voices usher them towards the door with suggestions I don’t want to think about. “I’m not sure it’s ever quiet.”

“You’re starting to get it, lad,” he uses my shoulder to stand up, “I should be getting to bed. Have to save some energy for the next wedding. Coming up soon, I’m assuming...” He laughs like that has something to do with me and pats my back.

“I have no idea, the chief hasn’t told me anything.” I shrug and he shakes his head at me before limping towards the door, peg thudding on the wood.

I hear him mutter something about me being clueless, and that’s something I’m glad hasn’t changed.

“I didn’t want to interrupt your date, but I wanted to say goodbye,” my dad nods at Gobber in passing before restraining himself from helping me up. I appreciate it more than he knows.

“Date?” I laugh, “my date with Gobber? I think it was going well.”

“You know what I mean,” he adjusts a sac over his shoulder and I frown.

“Wait, goodbye? You’re leaving now?” I knew he was leaving after the wedding, but I didn’t realize he meant the middle of the night.

“The tide’s going out soon and I’ll make better time out of the archipelago,” he glances at Arvid and Aurelia. She’s dragging him away from the mead, laughing, her feet slipping across the floor. “And I don’t think they want me in the house tonight any more than I want to be in the house tonight.”

“Gross,” I wince, “why does everyone have to keep reminding me that my siblings are going to...you know, tonight? Wait, don’t answer that, then we’d have to talk about it more and...no.” I shudder, shaking my head like I can rattle the thoughts out through my ears.

“Come here,” he pulls me into a hug, ignoring the sling and squeezing a little too hard. “Don’t grow up anymore while I’m gone, alright?” He looks older too, but in a different way than Gobber does. It’s a sturdy old, like an island that’s finally stopped shifting enough to be habitable. I wonder if he still loves Mom and then kind of hate myself for even thinking that. Of course he does, otherwise I don’t know how I could be so sure that he still loves me.

“How long do you think you’re going to be gone?” I pat his back and he stands back to look at me, like he’s taking a mental picture.

“A few weeks, maybe six. I’ve got supplies for six but we’ll see how it goes.”

“Maybe I can go with you next time,” I offer and I’m looking for acceptance more than permission. I want him to be happy at the thought of me going along with him.

“If you think the chief can handle Berk without you.” He weighs the option and smiles, “I wouldn’t mind the company.”

“Really?” I grin, “I’ll try and be back in fighting shape.”

“I can’t wait,” he ruffles my hair and it feels like as much as he wishes I were a little less grown up, he’s glad to have the offered backup.

“Can the tides wait a minute?” Mom’s voice is hesitant but not unkind as she approaches with Rolf’s son in her arms. The baby laughs and reaches two pudgy arms towards Dad, fingers wiggling in the air, “someone else needs to say goodbye.”

“There’s my big boy!” Dad takes the baby and holds him over his head for a second before hugging him and Mom’s eyes go distant as she watches. I wonder how much the baby looks like Rolf did and I feel like I’m getting a glimpse of what existed before I showed up and changed everything, for better or worse. “I couldn’t find him earlier, I thought he might already be asleep.”

“Ingrid had him,” Mom scoffs, “as always.”

“You’re just as bad,” I look at Dad and think Grandpa and another thing clicks into shape in preparation for whatever’s coming next. “Let me guess, Rolf doesn’t know where he is right now.”

“Rolf knows everything, you know that,” she shakes her head at me, “and I’m just enjoying having a baby around.”

Some things I’m not too sad about leaving behind and I can tell she shares that opinion from the way she looks between me and the baby with Rolf’s sandy hair and Dad’s eyebrows.

“You got everything?” The chief is a little more sober than he was earlier but he still leans on Mom’s shoulder, tickling the baby’s foot when Mom takes him back. Now Dad is the one looking lost and I hope he finds what he’s looking for. Maybe he can show me when he gets back because I’m still missing pieces.

They feel like my ribs though, painful and slow closing, but healing in time. It’s deciding which gaps I’d like to force back open, which ones are meant to be lessons and not scars.

“Everything’s packed up, I’m looking at six weeks on the outside.”

“Write when you can,” the chief instructs and it’s almost a friendly order, like the ones he gives Fuse. Transactional, like my dad is part of the chief’s sphere again instead of being a thorn jabbed into it.

“Eret said he might want to come with me next time,” Dad squeezes my shoulder and Mom looks between us before deferring to the chief with worry in her face where anger used to rest so easily.

“Depending on what you find, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have a future chief of Berk investigating whatever’s going on.” He shrugs and Mom gives me a stern look.

“Provided that future chief of Berk is entirely healed.”

“Of course, Mom. I don’t have a deathwish.”

“No, you tried one of those and it didn’t stick.” The chief holds his hand out and Dad doesn’t hesitate before shaking it, his grip just a little too firm if the chief’s white knuckles mean anything. “Be careful out there.”

“Yeah,” Mom gives him a brief, awkward side hug with a babbling baby between them, “take care of yourself, alright?”

Bang chimes in with a croon from across the hall like he’s been listening this whole time and Stoick laughs, patting him on the head. Dad hugs me one more time before walking out of the hall and Fuse catches my eye from where she’s still sitting with her dad, asking me if I’m ok with a twitch of her eyebrow. I nod and she smiles at me before going back to listening to her Dad, pink hair glowing in the torchlight.

Mom goes to give an impatient Rolf his baby back and the chief lingers, pausing for a minute before resting his hand on my shoulder. I don’t shrug him off. It would be ruining the wrong moment and I don’t have time for that.

“You know, I don’t think you getting out there is a bad idea. I have missed your help these last couple months, but maybe it’s best for you to see what you’re dealing with before I retire.” He looks at me the way that Gobber did, like I make him feel younger or older and he’s not sure if he wants to narrow down which. “I’ll work on your mother.”

He looks the same he always has, but the absence of fury about it makes him seem smaller, more human. Maybe that’s what the last year really did to us, we’re all more human than when we started.

“I don’t think she’d stop me,” I shrug and look back at my family, the big, scrambled group of them, “until then, sticking around here isn’t so bad.”

“No, it’s really not.” He squeezes before letting go and he feels just as much a part of my picture as everyone else does.

This is Berk. It’s more than the cliffs and dragons and seas. It’s the people. The people in this room, my family and friends, the ones who pretend not to rely on me as much as I pretend not to rely on them. It’s the dragons. The dragons who came back even when they could have left. It’s the collision of the two, the place where my family came together again and again until finally, one of them was right.

Because we’re Vikings, and that means danger is implied and stubbornness can sometimes win over sense and logic. It means that fights only fizzle out when we stop picking them and that only happens when someone wins or a bigger enemy brings us together. And it won’t stay calm for long, it never does, but when proverbial flaming shit hits the fan next time, at least now I know we all have each other.

#eret iii #festerverse #fuse thorston #aurelia haddock #arvid hofferson #feret #arvelia #ingrid hofferson #hiccstrid #smitelout jorgenson #stoick ii #i'm honestly going to cry #like...it's the end of an era #please come ask me about the boy

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