Update 11/25/18: Looked over this as part of Persephone: the Director's Cut Edition, and didn't find anything to change. If I missed any typos or grammar mistakes, let me know.
Listen to don't ask me123 SoundCloud is an audio platform that lets you listen to what you love and share the sounds you create. Stream Tracks and Playlists from don't ask me123 on your desktop or mobile device. Lyrics to 'God Of Thunder' by NerdOut. This is the team we gathered up, / We need to stop that ragnarok, / We're gonna raise our banner up, / We need to stop that ragnarok. Shout My Name. Shout My Name. NerdOut Feat. NerdOut Feat. The Avengers: Infinity War Rap Battle.
Chapter title from Lorde's 'Yellow Flicker Beat', because it is SO Persephonestrid. 'They used to shout my name, now they whisper it'. If that isn't our outlaw princess I don't know what is.
Chapter 21: They Used to Shout My Name
The men rushed up the mountain towards the tower of grey smoke and the sound of roaring dragons. The village below was in turmoil; their catapults had been destroyed by the shadowy figure that dove down to unleash his unholy power before disappearing into the dark skies again.
However they had yet to see him near this side of the island, where the pens for captured dragons were nestled into the side of the mountain above the training arena. Whatever had caused the blaze they approached it was not his doing. The men reached the crest of the hill, weapons raised in preparation for battle, and stopped short at the sight that greeted them.
Where once had stood their glorious multistoried arena, with areas for training, combat, and even sports, now there was only a crater of twisted, melted metal and crumbled stone. Behind it the doors of every dragon pen had been blasted open.
In front of the wreckage, among a group of purring, growling dragons, there stood a young woman stroking the snout of an enormous, ancient Monstrous Nightmare who had curled protectively around her.
'It's amazing how gentle they can be when you show them a little affection. Isn't that right, old girl?' she said, paying the gathered warriors no mind.
They had heard the stories by now. The isle of Berk had tried to appease the Dragon Master's wrath by gifting him a young maiden, and in the months since other villages had reported seeing a young woman sneaking about during raids. Somehow, they had expected something different of this mysterious young woman. The girl standing before them was perhaps no older than twenty and an undeniable beauty, though there was something savage about her. Her blonde hair fell in a long braid over her shoulder, where a thick short woolen cloak was wrapped and pinned with a brooch made from an elaborately carved Nadder spike inlaid with gold. Her kransen and the hem of her simple gray skirt were decorated with dragon scales of every color. An axe was strapped to her back.
The leader of this small band of warriors, the burly young son of the chief, stepped forward and pointed his mace at the girl. 'Get away from those dragons! Those are our dragons!'
'Are they?' she asked, stepping back as the Monstrous Nightmare lifted its wings and flapped lazily into the sky. Several of the other dragons followed, winging off into the night. 'They don't seem very loyal.'
'We captured them—'
'And that makes them yours?' she interrupted, slim brows rising above cold blue eyes.
The young man grit his teeth. 'We captured them once, and we'll take them again.'
The girl smirked and kindly deflected the Gronkle trying to nuzzle against her. She took the axe from her back and hefted it in slender hands.
'Let me make this clear,' she said, and the men watched nervously as the remaining dragons prowled closer to the girl, forming a defensive ring around her. One of them, a Nadder none of them recognized, raised the spikes on its tail and sidled close. 'We can do this the easy way, or the hard way.' She smiled brightly and ran her hands up and down the handle of her axe. 'Personally, I prefer the hard way, but it's up to you.' Her smile faded into a hard glare and she slid into a battle stance. 'But one thing's for sure: I'm not letting you harm these dragons.'
Xx
'Brenna,' Stoick said, the words pushed through gritted teeth, his palms flat on the table in front of him as he called on every ounce of parental patience he possessed. 'It is very, very important that you tell us what you know about this. I know you made a promise, but there are more important things right now than keeping a secret.'
The little girl sitting before him with chubby little arms crossed over her chest was unimpressed. 'This secret is the most importantest. I'm not telling.'
Stoick's hand squeezed into a fist. 'Brenna, this is serious. I know this must be difficult for you to understand, but you have to tell us what you know. Your big sister's safety could be on the line.'
Brenna shook her head, blonde pigtails bobbing. 'No, she's safe,' she said nonchalantly. 'I know she's safe.'
Stoick took a deep breath and sighed. 'How do you know? Did Astrid tell you, have you spoken to her?'
Brenna shook her head.
'But you've spoken to someone else, haven't you. A friend of Astrid's?'
Brenna pinched her bottom lip in her fingers and pulled it up over her top one, shaking her head in defiance.
'Listen to me, Brenna,' Stoick tried again, his patience wearing thin. He remembered Hiccup's toddler days; all insatiable curiosity and stubbornness and taking apart his toys to see how they worked rather than playing with them. At the time he had been glad to see those days go, happy that Hiccup could dress and feed himself without making a mess or pitching a fit (most of the time, at least). Now, though, he'd take the tantrums and the tears and the spilled bowls and the oatmeal smeared across Hiccup's face and in his beard if it meant just one more day with his son. 'The person you met, he is a very bad person, and you can't trust what he told you, not even about Astrid. If he asked you to keep a secret, then you can't trust him. You have to tell us what he said.'
Brenna considered this for a moment, sparse blonde brows knitting together and lips pursing in thought. She smiled and shook her head. 'No, I can trust him. I can tell. He's Sissy's friend. I know I can trust him. He knew about my Bad Dream Song.'
Stoick raised an eyebrow. 'Your what?'
'Her Bad Dream Song,' Ingrid spoke up from behind him, where the Hofferson parents huddled together, anxiously watching. It had taken them weeks to decide whether or not to tell Stoick about what Brenna had said, still reeling as they were, but after a few weeks of failing to get the little girl to tell them anything, they decided a figure with more authority might have slightly better luck. 'She gets nightmares, and she'd go to Astrid and they made up this little song to sing when she got scared.'
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Stoick turned back to Brenna. 'What else did he tell you? What else did he say about Astrid?'
Brenna sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes. 'What part of 'it's a secret' don't you people understand? I'm not gonna say anything.'
Both of Stoick's hands turned into fists on the table and he leaned closer towards the little girl. 'Brenna, no more games. You have to tell us.'
She crossed her arms and jutted out her chin. 'No. Not telling and you can't make me.'
'Brenna Hofferson. I am you chief. Do you know what that means? It means I am in charge, and when I tell you to do something, you have to do it.' Stoick wasn't sure that a child this little really understood authority, but all attempts at being kind and gentle had failed. It was time to be firm. 'As your chief, I am ordering you to tell me what you know about Astrid and the man you spoke to!'
'Not telling!' Brenna said, her little voice rising.
'Brenna, tell us.'
'No!'
'Brenna—'
'No! NO NO NO!'
His patience snapped. 'TELL US!' he shouted, his fist slamming down on the table.
He regretted his actions immediately. The little girl's eyes went wide and he watched her bottom lip tremble, a high pitched whine starting in warning before she burst into tears.
'That's enough!' said Ingrid, rushing forward and picking up her wailing daughter. Brenna wrapped her arms around her mother's neck and buried her face in her shoulder. 'This is going nowhere. She's obviously not telling us anything else!'
Stoick sighed in frustration and shook his head. 'I'm sorry for losing my temper, but we need to find out what she knows, especially given what we now know.'
'Regardless,' Ingrid said, glaring at him. 'She's just a little girl. She doesn't understand what's happening.' She stroked her daughter's hair until the sobs subsided into muffled sniffles. 'We'll try to get her to talk later if we can, but I can't guarantee anything. You know how children are.'
She turned on her heel and Stoick watched them go before sinking into his seat. There had been nothing for a week after that raid, but slowly the letters started.
Ten raids in the last month on various islands and she'd been spotted at eight of them, soaring above the village on her Deadly Nadder, or else on the ground, fighting Vikings off of downed dragons.
It was strange, really, the way these other chiefs described their people's encounters with this young woman. There had always been fear surrounding discussions of the Dragon Master, but it was surreal hearing them apply that fear to Astrid as well. The Dragon Master stuck to the skies, swooping down to dole out destruction or pull dragons away from certain targets (ostensibly to send them on to more valuable targets.) He was a dark, mysterious figure that never got too close if he could avoid it.
Astrid, on the other hand, was often seen on the ground, in the fray, communing with dragons or swinging her axe at anyone who tried to harm one. She seemed to be making an effort not to kill or seriously harm anyone, all the reports agreed. Her axe was often blunted; she made non-lethal attacks, preferring the flat side of her axe or the handle to the blade. There had been a lot of bruises and broken bones along with plenty of cuts and scrapes, but the worst anyone had suffered were a couple of lost toes.
Protecting her always was the Deadly Nadder, who was reportedly slightly less discerning about her use of deadly force, though there had yet to be any deaths from her either.
And of course anyone who got past the dragon and put Astrid in too much danger often found themselves nose to nose with the Night Fury and his rider.
Stoick thought back to the night of the sacrifice, to the look of terror on Astrid's face. He thought of how she had begged him not to do it, how she had brought up Hiccup, how she had insisted his death was not her fault.
Hiccup would be ashamed.
The girl who had failed to save him from a dragon, now helping the dragons.
They should have chosen someone else, someone weaker, less vindictive.
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No, it wouldn't have worked anyway, Stoick thought to himself. They had meant to give the Dragon Master a distraction, the equivalent of a bed slave, perhaps. Instead they'd given him, at the least, an ally, and at the most, a bride.
Xx
' 'Dragon Girl'? Is that the best they can come up with? 'Dragon Girl'? Hope that one doesn't catch on.' Astrid tossed the poster onto the small stack of others she'd already looked at and picked up another. She shifted, her weight resting on her elbows as she lay on her stomach on the furs and cushions of their bed. Hiccup lay on his back beside her, watching her lazily, still wearing that soft smile of post-coital bliss and nothing else.
Astrid smoothed the wrinkles out of the parchment and held it up so Hiccup could see it as well. Like the others in the stack Hiccup had surprised her with it was emblazoned with the words, 'WANTED: ALIVE' above a sketch of someone she could only assume was supposed to be her.
'This one doesn't even look like me!' she said, laughing. 'What's happening with my nose? They haven't got the shape even close to right.'
Hiccup laughed along with her and pointed at the drawing. 'What's happening with your nose? What's happening with your eyes? Why are they so far apart, you could fit like three more eyes in there!'
'I'm pretty sure every island in the entire barbaric archipelago needs to hire a new sketch artist. These have all been terrible.'
Hiccup grinned at her. 'I could do some sketches of you and send them out if it bothers you that much.' Astrid rolled her eyes and flicked his nose. He swatted her hand away and pointed at the text at the bottom of the poster. 'At least this one gives you a cool name, though. 'Bride of Dragons', that's pretty cool.'
Astrid frowned. 'I don't know.'
Hiccup rolled over onto his stomach and nudged her shoulder with his own. 'Really? Why not?'
Astrid shrugged. 'I don't know. I mean, it's better than 'Dragon Girl', and it's a lot better than what that other one called me; 'Dragon Master's Whore', I mean, seriously, that's just insulting, but it still just paints me as yours or something.'
Hiccup kissed her ear. 'You are mine.'
She leaned into his touch, skin still sensitive after their earlier lovemaking. 'You know what I mean. Besides, 'Bride of Dragons' sounds more like I'm bedding the dragons instead of you.'
Hiccup plucked the poster out of her hands and dropped it onto the 'read' pile. 'Well, let's see what else we've got, then shall we?' He reached over her to pick up another poster.
'There's no way that's me!'
'At least they got your nose right.'
Astrid buried her face in her hands. 'That's all they got right.' She giggled into her palms. 'These are all so terrible.'
'Ooh, babe, this one calls you the 'Valkyrie of Destruction.' Now there's a name.'
Astrid looked up. 'Really? 'The Valkyrie of Destruction.' Hm. I like that. Maybe that'll catch on.'
'What, you don't want 'Dragon Girl'?'
She shoved his shoulder playfully. 'What else, come on?'
Hiccup picked up another poster. 'Ouch, 'Whore of Dragons'.'
'What?!' Astrid snatched the poster out of his hands. The drawing wasn't much better; she was sure this particular artist had gone out of his or her way to make her look ugly. 'Whore of Dragons? What kind of rotten, troll-breathed, dung brain came up with that? Where's this from? The Visithugs. What did I ever do to them?!'
'You burned down their armory.'
Astrid tossed her tangled hair over her shoulder and the poster into the fire. 'Only on accident. I was just trying to calm that Zippleback down. 'Mistress of Fire', now that's a good name. See that's respect. The Meatheads get it. The Visithugs could really learn a thing or two from them. Do they really think it's wise to insult someone who has the power to rain fire down on their heads? I mean come on, at least try to win my favor.'
Hiccup laughed. 'You sound like an angry goddess.'
'Good,' she chirped in reply, smirking. 'I'm the Valkyrie of Destruction, remember. I choose who lives and who dies on the battlefield.' She grinned at him. 'Speaking of which, why do all these want me alive? I mean the ones I've always seen for you call for dead or alive, but all of these very specifically say alive.'
'Dunno,' Hiccup replied, picking up the stack of posters they'd already read and riffling through them. 'Probably something to do with my dad. Yeah, here.' He pulled one poster out of the stack, one of several that actually mentioned her by name. 'Look at the bottom: 'The bounty will be given to anyone who can return Astrid Hofferson to Stoick the Vast, chief of Berk, alive.' Berk wants you back alive; my dad probably put the word out.'
Astrid hummed in thought as she read and reread the words. 'Wonder what they want me back for, after all this.'
'Put you on trial, maybe? I don't know.' He swapped the poster for another one. 'Here's another one that calls you the Valkyrie of something. Fire, this time. And—that's all of them.'
'Was there this much indecision when it came to naming you?' Astrid asked as Hiccup rolled onto this back again.
'Nah,' he said, stretching his arms above his head. 'They all kind of latched onto Dragon Master pretty quickly.'
Astrid moved the pile farther from the bed before curling up at Hiccup's side. 'I guess it's a much more obvious title.'
'Give them time, they'll settle on something for you too,' Hiccup said as he pulled the blankets and furs over the both of them.
'Hopefully not on 'Dragon Girl', or 'the Dragon Master's Whore',' Astrid said around a yawn.
Hiccup grunted in reply: a small, distinctly annoyed sound. 'I don't like that they call you that. You're not my-my whore.'
She'd heard him use the word before, heard it roll seamlessly off his tongue in reference to actual prostitutes, but when applying it to her there was a pause, a dip in volume, a hesitance. Astrid looked up at the side of his face to see him frowning at the ceiling. She smiled and wrapped her arm around his torso and threw a leg over his, snuggling closer. 'Well, you can burn down their armory for me.'
His lips quirked and some of the tension left his face but his expression remained serious. 'Astrid,' he looked at her, green eyes piercing in the soft glow of the firelight. 'What are we?'
She giggled. 'You're going to have to be a little more specific there, babe.'
He didn't return her smile, which worried her. 'I mean what are we, as far as our relationship goes? What would you label us?'
Astrid hummed and rested her head on his chest. 'I dunno. I've never really thought about what we are. We just sort of…are. But…' She twirled her finger in the sparse red hair of his chest. 'I mean I guess you're my boyfriend.'
'It's kind of more than that, though isn't it?' Hiccup asked, his breath ruffling her hair with every word.
Astrid took a deep breath and released it slowly. 'Lovers, then?'
'Maybe,' Hiccup said quietly.
Astrid sighed again and sat up, determined to have whatever conversation Hiccup was trying to avoid. 'So what would you call us?' she asked, looking down at him.
Hiccup shrugged and sat up. 'I don't know,' he said. 'That's why I'm asking.'
Astrid titled her head. For some reason Hiccup couldn't quite meet her eyes, which meant there was something he wanted to say but wouldn't. 'But you don't seem to like the answers I gave.' She leaned down and peered up at Hiccup until he could no longer avoid her.
He pursed his lips into a tight line and sighed.
'They don't really sum it up, though do they?' he said, something pleading in his eyes. 'We live here, together; you share my bed, we do everything together, as partners, as equals.' He shrugged. 'The thing is, Astrid…' He faltered. His eyes squeezed shut and his cheeks puffed full of air that he blew out, shoulders rolling. 'Okay, okay, just.' He sighed again and faced her, that determined look she so loved on his face. 'I'd feel weird calling you my wife without a wedding, but doesn't this, us, feel more like a marriage than anything else?'
Astrid let the confession sink in. It did feel like a marriage, if she was honest. It had for a long time, though not always in the same way. She'd been acting as something of a strange little housewife for him since she'd arrived here, and had continued more or less with those duties ever since. And now of course was the added romance between them. But calling herself his wife, or indeed, calling Hiccup her husband, felt wrong somehow. Or, not quite wrong, but not right either.
It was an idea she felt she could acclimate herself to over time, but not something she could immediately accept. She'd be happy to call herself his wife one day, but as for right now, and perhaps it was the lack of an actual wedding that did it, she didn't feel she could call them married.
She must have remained silent for too long, because she watched Hiccup wince and groan. 'And, I freaked you out with that question, didn't I? I'm sorry, just forget it—'
'No, no, it's fine,' Astrid assured him, placing a hand on his knee. 'You're not wrong.' She looked down. 'Although I don't know that I'd call us married. Not that I wouldn't ever want to, it just—'
'Doesn't quite fit yet?' Hiccup supplied and she nodded, meeting his eye and they both laughed softly. Hiccup took her hand in his and gave her a warm smile that made her stomach flutter. 'I wanna marry you one day,' he said seriously, and her heart leapt to her throat. 'I don't know how we'd do it, with the whole being outlaws thing, but I'd marry you in a heartbeat if I could.'
She sucked in a tremulous breath. Hiccup's free hand reached for the small of her back and he pulled her closer, into his lap. 'It doesn't have to be official, or legal, or signed and sealed in paper and ink somewhere. But I know for sure that I am never going to love anyone other than you. I'm never going to want anyone but you, for the rest of my life.'
Her hands rose slowly to his shoulders. She wanted to say something but she couldn't seem to speak around the lump in her throat. 'Hiccup…' she finally managed.
He gave her a look so full of affection and adoration that she thought her chest might burst. 'Boyfriend, lover, husband, I don't care what you call me as long as you call me yours. Because that's what I am, for the rest of my days. I'm yours, if you'll have me.'
She nodded, completely dumbfounded, swept away. She couldn't speak; there weren't words big enough for what she was feeling, and if there were she wasn't equipped to find them.
She did the only thing she could think to do: she kissed him.