The shepherd drives the wolf from the sheep for which the sheep thanks the shepherd as his liberator, while the wolf denounces him for the same act as the destroyer of liberty. Plainly, the sheep and the wolf are not agreed upon a definition of liberty.

- Abraham Lincoln

Dance Among Wolves

Chapter seven, Definition of Liberty

The young German captain is back a couple hours later. He wears the same dirty sweater, stained and filthy, and he looks slightly more rested, but he still has bags under his eyes. He steps through the bulkhead, calmly chatting with the two guards that are posted with them. After a small chat the two are dismissed and head back into the rest of the submarine.

The crew is spread across the various bunks again. The twins share one, and are vast asleep. Bucket and Mulch have taken up the task to huddle with the young Gustav, who is no longer shivering. Astrid and Gobber sit opposite of each other, and had been in the middle of their discussion about the curious circumstanced of the attack on them, and the strange story of the German.

"Essen." The German captain said softly, yet clear enough to have his voice carry through the room. He carried a couple of simple tin cups, the top one filled with spoons. "We have soup, the cook will bring some over shortly." He explains as he sets the cups with spoons down. "I thought I'd join you for lunch."

"You're most welcome." Gobber says as he looks at the captain.

The German smiles kindly and sits down next to Astrid so he can easily look at Gobber. Astrid subtly shifts away, but the captain pays her no mind. "When we surface we should have a smoke again." The German captain says calmly as he leans forward. He looks towards the bulkhead, seeing none of his crew. "All these lots can be a bit, boring." He says with a soft chuckle.

Gobber smiles at the man, but his mind is filled with that night. He looked at Astrid for a second, noticing her hopeful look. "Can I ask you a question?" Gobber asks calmly. "Captain to captain?"

The young German looks intrigued, but as he opened his mouth the cook walked in with a medium sized pan. "Ah, lunch." The young boy says as he stands up from the bunk. The cook places the pan on the metal floor and Hiccup takes a deep breath through his nose. "Ach, Tomaten und Basilukum." He says in flawless German, Astrid listens to it, it sounds so foreign, yet, strangely calm. There is a kindness in his voice, a sweetness. "Fleischballen?" He says, an almost childlike hopefulness in his voice.

"Kapitän, wofür sehen Sie mich?" The Cook says as he moves his hand to his chest, clearly feigning hurt. "Aber natürlich."

The captain laughed, not chuckled, laughed. "Schön." He says as he rubs his hands together. "Ich servieren das, keine Sorgen."

"Danke, Herr Kapitän." The cook says before he passes through the bulkhead again.

"Schön." The captain repeats as he turns around again to face the group. "So, soup?" He asks calmly as he picks up the tin cups. "It has, eh, flesh-balls." He explains with a smile that should never accompany the words flesh-balls.

"Meatballs?" Astrid asks carefully.

"Ah, yes, meatballs." Hiccup corrects himself. "Danke." He kneels next to the pan. "For that," He begins. "You'll get the first bit." He says as he looks at her with a smile. It was genuine, at least Astrid was convinced herself it was. He pours the soup into the cup and hands it to her. "Careful, it is hot." He adds as he gives her the soup. Their hands touch, it feels normal, calm, nothing special.

It unnerves her.

She just touched the hands of the enemy, an enemy of the world just touched her and he felt, normal, human. It was strange. She didn't like thinking of her enemy as human. It made things easier not to. It was easy to convince herself that every German commander was some sort of evil sociopath. It made it easier to cheer when news was heard that they sunk something, shot down planes, shot people.

Gods she was really starting to hate the war.

Was this how the German captain though of them? Surely it couldn't, he had shown such kindness, such devotion to saving them. He saw them as they were, human, helpless, at his mercy.

She still doubted it. She had the image on her mind when she first saw him, in his uniform, a man of war. A man that backed a government who invaded Poland, Denmark, Norway, Austria, Czechoslovakia, France and the low-countries. Who had subjected countless people to living in occupation.

Who had sunk countless of ships, merchant ships. Including her uncle's.

"Miss." The accented voice broke her thought. "Do you have it?" He asked as he looked at the cup he was still holding in his hand, not sure if he could let go yet.

"Oh, yes." She says as she grabs it tighter. The captain slowly let go of the cup, handing her a spoon with a smile. He turns to the rest of them. "Who's next?"

Astrid watches as the captain passes around more soup, serving himself last. The soup is delicious, it surprises her how well it was made. The food they ate on Grump wasn't bad, but it did not reach the quality of the soup she is currently enjoying. Maybe it was the circumstances.

She can't help herself during the meal, occasionally glancing to the German captain. He eats his soup with vigour, yet does it with an amount of elegancy. It is a mix between a farmer and a noble. He had the manners to be at a gala or ball, but ate at the speed of a peasant.

She turns her head, looking at Gobber. The old captain has a sympathetic smile on his face. The look they share tells Astrid enough, he had also been looking at the young captain.

The silence in the room was broken by the young German, who wiped his chin. "If I may ask." He starts politely. "What were you transporting?" He asks as he takes another spoon of soup, he calmly swallows it. "I noticed your ship laid quite deep in the water."

The crew looks at him with a shocked expression, and they can see the captain switching gazes between them. Astrid notices how his gaze changes, going from his curious look to one of realisation and slight horror.

"Oh, erm.' He stammered. "I'm sorry." He says as he looks at his soup. "That was an, eh, wrong question."

"Inappropriate." Astrid says mutters.

"Yes," He says as he looks at her. "An inappropriate question." He corrects himself. "I am sorry."

Astrid looks at him, her gaze perhaps a bit too harsh. His eyes avert her gaze, turning to the ground, the wall, his soup, anywhere that isn't her eyes. She studies his face, she can see him biting the inside of his lip, and every time he blinks it last just a bit longer then it would normally. His head is facing the ground, and his eyes meet hers occasionally. Glancing up at her with a guilty expression.

Guilt. Damnit. Another one of those things this young man has that seems so natural, so fitting, so, so human. She despises it, despises how he can be so humble about it, so calm.

Gobber's voice breaks her thought. "So, Sir Haddock." He begins, earning him the gaze of the young captain. "What took you out to sea?"

Hiccup looks at the older captain, his expression turning into a smile. "My father was a fisher before the great war." He explains calmly. "He joined the, imperial navy when the war broke out, stayed in it until the thirties." He takes another spoon of his soup. "It was only natural for me to turn to the sea as well." The young German explained. "I was studying English literature at the time." He explains with a chuckle.

"Drafted?" Gobber asks calmly.

"No, volunteer." The young man explains. "Everyone did." He adds calmly as he looks around the group, Astrid still keeping a stern gaze on the German captain. "My father's connections helped me make captain." He explains. "Competence kept me there."

"Good to know," Gobber says with a smile. "That we are in good hands."

The young captain looks at him with a curious expression, before continuing his story. "We started in the, erm, east sea?" He says as he snaps with his fingers, trying to come up with the right term. "Baltic, yes, the Baltic sea."

Again, Astrid watches him smile, she noticed it earlier. Almost every time he forgets a word, he'll get fidgety, usually snapping with his fingers. But when he gets it right, he'll smile, a warm genuine smile. Something that felt wasted on a person sitting in a hot submarine, miles away from the nearest coast. It unnerves her.

"The Atlantic is a different beast." The captain continues in his accented English. "Ships are more difficult to find." He adds as he drinks the last bit of soup from his cup, wiping his chin afterwards. "Especially sailing here during winter." He explains. "You must know the struggle." He says, motioning to Gobber, Bucket and Mulch.

It is strange, he is her age, she's certain. But somehow, he feels older, as if he's among the age of Mulch and Bucker, maybe even Gobber.

"But this," The German begins again as he points around him. "This must be your second war, right?" He asks as he looks at the three older men. They nod in unison.

The young captain looks around, all of them had finished their meals. "Schön." He says calmly, smiling. "I hope you all enjoyed the meal." He says as he stands up from the bunk and starts to collect cups, putting them on top op the pan. "I'd tell you what's for dinner." He jokes. "But it's a surprise." He finishes with a chuckle.

She breaks at that, a joke, a simple fucking joke. She stands up right as he turned to her. The captain taking a small step back in the tight compartment to give her some space. "How?" She almost hisses. "How can you be so calm? So composed?" She asks with a hostile tone. "You sink ships! You kill people, leave them to die in freezing water."

She can see the young German is taken aback by her outburst, but she isn't sure if it's because of her words or her sudden stance. "Astrid." She hears Gobber says behind her, trying to calm her.

"No." She hisses to Gobber, turning back to the captain of the submarine. "How many people have you killed? Just the other day, how many did throw to the freezing waves?" She asks sternly. The captain stayed still, his face a mixture of emotions Astrid could not decipher. "Ten?" She begins. "Twenty? Thirty?"

"You need to stay silent." The young German says as he regains his composure, his face still an unreadable mixture of emotions.

Tears start to well in her eyes, anger overtaking her completely. "No! You need to listen." Astrid says, taking a step towards him. "You need to realise what you do! The people you kill, the families you destroy." She says, looking him in the eyes.

That's when he moved, his face changing, suddenly a stern, emotionless mask. He takes a step forward, towards her. It's like he hit a switch, he suddenly stands tall, confident. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"You don't know!" Astrid says almost screams back. "You don't know what you do to those people, to their families!" She adds. "You destroy lives, everywhere!"

He took another step, standing right in front of her, barely any space between them. "You will be calm, you will be quiet." He says sternly.

"Or what?" Astrid asks defiantly. "You're gonna kill me? Strike me down, defenceless against it, like you do with all your targets?" She spits. "You're a murderer." She says. "You might not pull the trigger, might not fire the shot, but you make it happen!" She says.

"And you don't?" The young German snaps back in a different tone. Less stern and more natural, more raw. "What were you shipping? Dolls? Potatoes?" He asks rhetorically, his voice venomous. It startles her. "No, iron, coals, war materials." He answers his own question. "And what will that be used for?"

She stays silent, admittedly, she hadn't thought much about what they shipped. Britain needed iron, they shipped iron.

He notices how she stays silent, that she is taken aback, but he doesn't relent. "What will it be used for? Forks and spoons?" He asks again, his voice surprisingly low. "No, Engines, planes, bombs." He says, she can hear anger and hate dripping from his voice. "So if I'm a murderer, you are too."

She stands still, frozen in place. How dare he. How dare he compare himself to her. She wants to say something, to tell him why he's wrong, why it's different. But the words escape her.

So she does the next best thing.

He never sees it coming, it's sudden, it's quick. The rest of Gobber's crew gasp as the German captain recoils from her hit. Her hand hurts from the sudden impact, but it is more then compensated by the way the young captain recoiled after she hit him, the way his hand instantly went for his cheek afterwards.

It was a victory, be it short lived. She feels two large hands on her shoulder, pulling her back. Gobber pulled her deeper into the compartment, turning them around so he stands in front of her. She peers alongside him, watching the captain of the submarine slowly straighten himself, his hand leaving his cheek. His back is facing them, and Astrid feels a mixture of fear and excitement the moment he starts to turn around.

But it all fades when she sees his face. She had expected anger, the same anger she felt, or maybe fear, or surprise in his eyes.

She had expected anything.

Instead, the captain looks calm, although his breathing was faster. He is calm and composed again, although not as much as before. A red print is clear on his pale cheek, and Astrid accepted it as her victory. He shoots a glance at her, stern, authoritative. She swallows behind Gobber. Her victory feeling much less significant now.

He turns his gaze away, looking at Gobber. He clears his throat, the second before he speaks taking too long for Astrid's nerves. "You are lucky she is not of my crew." He says, his voice clear, albeit accented again. "I expect better of yours." He adds, his voice low and threatening.

She can feel Gobber's hand twitch behind his back, holding her. "My apologies sir." He says quickly, his tone humble. "It won't happen again, I promise."

"It better not." The German says as he turns, other sailors have by now rushed to the bulkhead. Hearing the commotion. The young captain turns away, says a quick order to sailors and heads off into the far end of the submarine.

He pulls the curtains of his hut closed behind him and sits down, sighing. His men had seen him stomp out of the room, what would they think. Should he have been sterner? If one of his own men had done that, he knew what he should have done, was this different?

He breathes deeply, calming himself, he stayed composed, perhaps not during the argument, but during after she hit him. That was a victory. It is easy to let emotion take hold, as he noticed before. A knock startles him out of his thoughts.

"Captain?" He recognises the voice of Eret, and he rubs his eyes. Hiccup takes a deep breath and answers.

"Come in." He says calmly. Eret slides the curtain open, looking down at the young officer sitting on the bed. He does his best to stifle a laugh in his throat. But Hiccup hears him. He looks up at him. "How does it look?"

"Like your wife caught you with the neighbour." Eret answers as he leans against the frame of the opening. "That blonde one did that to you?"

"Yes." Hiccup admits. "She's a fierce one."

"What happened?" Eret asks calmly. "Didn't do anything stupid did you? Tried your charms on her?"

Hiccup chuckles softly "If only." He says. "We got into a discussion, though me a murderer, not pulling the trigger, but causing the death, that sort of stuff."

"And I assume you said she was correct and ended the discussion there." Eret says sarcastically.

Hiccup let out a chuckle. "No, she said I didn't realise the damage I did to people, to families." Eret whistles softly as Hiccup explains that. "So I rebutted her, said she was as much a murderer as me, sailing a bulk carrier."

"You always have a way with girls." Eret says with even more sarcasm. "You just know what makes them tick."

Hiccup stays silent, accidently betraying himself to Eret. "What is it?" He asks, looking at the young Captain.

"Hmm?" Hiccup responds as he looks up, feigning innocence. "What?"

"You don't hide things from me Haddock." Eret says calmly. "You're thinking, you know something you don't want to know."

"Remember April?" He asks.

Eret lets out a sigh. "April, uneventful and challenging, or Weserübung?." He asks. Weserüburung was the codename for the intervention in Norway and Denmark, securing valuable ports for iron for the Germany.

"Fourty." Hiccup answers. "That April."

"I remember." Eret says calmly as he watches the captain touch his reddened cheek. "What about it?"

AN:

HAHAHAHHAHAHAHA, I'M NOT DONE WITH YOU ALL YET!

But yea, new chapter, woop woop.

ANYWAAAAY

Time for proper author's notes.

So yea, it's been a while, and admittedly, I'm sorry. I'd like to say schools been tough, or life's been tough, or anything else is to blame. But it's basically just down to me being tough. See, I'm kind of shy about the fact that I write fanfiction in public, so I tend to not talk about it in my regular group of friends, as in, my study budies and stuff. Which makes it difficult to write when all I ever do is sit in the living room with my laptop all day. So yea, I didn't write, I just gamed.

The chapter is a bit shorter, I wanted to put a big and important part of the story in here, but I figured it should take a bit more time before I let that happen. It'll happen next chapter probably, so look forward to that, like, next year or so? JK, hopefully later this holiday season.

Because that's the thing, it's the season of giving, and you guys have given me a lot. Every review, be it criticism or be it encouragement, it's helped me grow, as a writer, but also as a person. You are all amazing, and there's always a lot of praise going out to writers and artist in fandoms, but the simple truth is that they wouldn't exist if people didn't read or viewed their works, they wouldn't exist if there weren't people like you!

So yea, you are awesome!

Anyway, It's pretty late, and I better head off to bed.

You guys are awesome, you guys better stay awesome. And yes, I'm pretty excited about the 3rd film in the frenchise. It's bound to be good.

*knocks on wood*

Anyway, take care!

- R4y