Hiccup's Bride Alternate-B Chapter 45

Epilogue – two weeks later

"Oh, for Thor's sake, son!" the Viking chief exploded. "What is wrong with you? You were never the biggest or the strongest, but at least you used to try to be a decent Viking! This is the third raid in a row that you came back with no kills and no plunder! How do you expect to take my place as chief some day if this is all you've got?"

"You just gestured to all of me," Ardan complained.

"I've done my best to protect you from the others," Bunirabit the Bold went on, ignoring his son's comment. "But this crew of roughnecks can't be led by anyone except another roughneck, and you are not measuring up. The others know it, too. They're talking about finding another chief, somebody with a son who can take over some day. If they do that, what do you think will happen to you? And me, for that matter?"

"Dad... I'm just not a killer!" Ardan burst out. "I've tried to be a good Viking. I've tried to be a good son. I've tried to do everything you've asked of me, but... that just isn't me! I wasn't cut out to be a raider!"

"Don't be ridiculous!" his father snapped. "You're perfectly good with your weapons; you're one of the best hunters in the tribe. What's so hard about killing Irishmen instead of Irish stags and Irish boars and –"

He was interrupted by a loud hammering at the door. It was Bjorn, and he looked perturbed. It took a lot to perturb Bjorn. "Bunirabit, you'd better get out here, fast!" The chief sighed and stepped outside... and immediately saw what Bjorn was talking about.

Seven young people, four boys and three girls, were standing in a line in front of his house. They were armed and armored for battle, but weren't brandishing their weapons at anyone. Standing just behind them were five huge dragons – red, tan, blue, green, and black – and they were surrounded by a flock of at least thirty much smaller dragons. The island of Eire hadn't seen a single dragon in over a hundred years, never mind a whole flock of them. Chief Bunirabit just stared at them for a few seconds. Then one of the girls stepped forward, slapping her axe-handle into her palm.

"I'm back," she said without emotion, "and I want what's mine."

"You again?" he forced himself to say.

"Yeah, it's me again," she retorted. "My real name is Astrid, daughter of Gunnarr, and I brought some friends with me this time."

"What do you want?" He noticed his men slipping out of their houses and forming a loose circle around the intruders.

"Payback!" said the muscle-bound boy with the curly horns on his helmet.

The boy with the missing leg stepped forward to join her; a gravid warrior girl joined him a moment later. "Your tribe imprisoned a free-born girl without a trial," the boy said firmly.

"And tried to force her into marriage with neither her consent nor her father's consent," the pregnant girl added.

"Those are good enough reasons for my little warband to burn your village to the ground," the boy finished. "But if you give back the coat and the boots you stole from her, we'll call it even."

"I guess you never heard of plunder," Bunirabit answered. "We took them, fair and square, and they don't belong to you anymore. And I don't like it when half-grown children make threats and try to give me orders. I'm the chief of this village. I give the orders. I'm about to order your deaths."

"Are you giving those orders because you really want to fight dragons?" Astrid asked. "Or are you just putting on a show so your warriors won't think you're weak?"

"What difference does it make to you?" he shot back. "Last time you were here, you got out with your life, and that's all you're going to get this time, if you're lucky. Maybe you didn't notice, but my men have you surrounded. They were ready to rumble for one girl; now we've got three to fight over!"

The seven youths turned to each other and began to laugh. Bunirabit folded his arms and glared at them. Behind him, Ardan had brought out his bow and arrows and his father's mace. The chief hefted the mace and slapped the handle into his other hand.

"You have a strange sense of what's funny," he growled.

"You have a strange sense of what 'surrounded' means," the boy with the curly horns answered. "We've got dragons! And we know how to use them!"

"Yeah!" the thin, not-so-pretty girl added.

Bunirabit allowed himself an honest chuckle. "Should I be afraid of a 'warband' that's full of beardless boys and pregnant women? Your dragons might look scary, but if they're tame enough to ride, then they're no danger to anyone! That threat didn't work; try another one."

The legless one turned to the pregnant one. "Words aren't working, Thora. He wants another threat. Give him one."

"At least you tried," she nodded, and smiled viciously. She put her fingers to her mouth and made a sharp whistle. All of the small dragons were suddenly facing her, as though waiting for instructions. She said a single word; it sounded like "Drakkaris!" Just like that, all Hel broke loose.

Bunirabit had faced Irish hordes, Viking tribes, Roman outposts, and slave uprisings, but he had never faced a foe like the one that suddenly took flight amid a rush of flapping wings. The tiny dragons were everywhere at once, and nothing could stop them! In the space of a few minutes, they flamed the roofs and walls of most of his village's buildings. His warriors broke their formation and went scrambling for water buckets to fight the fires. Only a few actually tried to fight the Terrible Terrors.

Lars, the one-eyed one, got lucky and hit one with his hammer as it flapped by. The tiny blue dragon crumpled like a wet rag and fell to the ground a few feet away. The Viking raised his hammer for a killing blow... and was sent flying by simultaneous blasts of fire at his feet from a Night Fury and a Gronckle. Thora ran over, picked up the little dragon, and cradled it in her arms like a baby. It made a sad, confused chirp; it was stunned and it might have a few broken ribs, but it seemed all right otherwise.

She looked up at Bunirabit, and her face hardened. The five big dragons picked up on her rage, and it only fueled the rage they already felt. Smoke curled out of Hookfang's nostrils; Stormfly snapped her tail spines erect; Meatlug pawed the ground with her stubby legs; Barf and Belch hissed angrily; and Toothless' mouth and back lit up with a purple light from within as he prepared a full-strength firebolt. For the first time since the Battle of the Red Death, a Viking had struck down a dragon, and now it was the dragons' turn. Bunirabit realized he was looking at the complete annihilation of his village, his people... everything.

"Enough! We give up!" the chief shouted in a panic. He knew that, by surrendering before the battle had truly started, he would probably lose control of his tribe. Compared to losing his life, that seemed like a fair trade. "Call off your dragons! We'll give you whatever you want!"

"We can't call 'em off!" Tuffnut shouted back. "You made 'em mad; now you deal with it!" Hookfang let out a quick squirt of liquid flame that coated the front wall of their Mead Hall; Belch sparked angrily and glanced to see whether Barf had breathed out any green gas yet. Then Meatlug fired a blast of molten rock that smashed in the burning wall of the Mead Hall. The building collapsed with a crash and a shower of flying sparks.

"You could try bribing them with fish," Hiccup suggested over the roar of many fires, "but they're so angry now, I can't promise you it will work."

"Fish?" Bunirabit protested. "That's our food supply! We'd have to empty the drying shed to feed that many dragons! Without those fish, we won't make it through the rest of the winter!"

"Father, we won't make it through the next ten minutes if we don't calm down those dragons!" Ardan exclaimed. He took off at a run toward the fish-drying shed; his father followed with less enthusiasm, which dropped to zero when he realized that the shed's new roof was on fire.

"Dad, come on! We've got to do this, or we're all dead!" his son shouted, pulled the door open, and ran inside. A moment later, fish began flying out the open door as Ardan threw them as quickly as he could. Bunirabit grabbed them and began hurling them toward the full-sized dragons. An appeal to a dragon's belly, even a very angry dragon's belly, will never be ignored. Stormfly was the first to catch a flying fish; the others realized that a free meal was being lobbed at them, and set their rage aside for a few seconds so they could catch their own meals. The Terrible Terrors caught on quickly, and swooped down to snatch the smaller fish out of the air. By the time Ardan ducked out of the burning shed with the last of the fish, the entire dragon flock had been pacified enough that they weren't flaming anymore.

The five dragons stood in the center of the village, watching the buildings burn. Their riders stood next to them, and the Terrors landed in a circle around them. Bunirabit and Ardan stood in front of their longhouse, which was one of the few buildings that wasn't engulfed in fire. The rest of the Vikings kept their distance from the dragons as they silently watched their homes and everything they owned go up in flames.

"My coat and my boots, please," Astrid said flatly.

"I don't know where they are," the chief said helplessly.

"I'll get them," Ardan said. He scooted into the longhouse, and came out a minute later with Astrid's brand-new winter gear. She took them from his hands without a word.

"You went to war... you ruined my village... over some stupid girl-clothes?" Bunirabit complained.

"We're friends," Hiccup said firmly. "We look out for each other."

"I could afford to buy a new set every day for a year, if I wanted to," Astrid said, "but these are special. They're the first brand-new clothes and boots I ever owned, and I paid for them with money I earned myself, the hard way. I wanted them back."

"Only a total idiot would come between a woman and her footwear!" Ruffnut added.

"Besides, it's the principle of the thing," Fishlegs chimed in. "Nobody likes having their stuff taken away from them."

Hiccup nodded. "It was your bad luck to steal from a dragon-rider who has dragon-riding friends. Next time, do a better job of picking your enemies."

"Yeah, yeah, this has all been fun," Snotlout complained, "but are we done here?"

Hiccup and Thora glanced at Astrid, who shrugged and nodded. "Yeah, I guess we are. Let's go home."

"Wait!" Ardan exclaimed as he stepped hesitantly toward them. "I know you don't owe me anything, but... will you take me with you?"

"We can't take him!" Tuffnut burst out. "He's the enemy!"

"We could take him as a prisoner," Fishlegs noted. "That would be very traditional."

Hiccup and Astrid stepped forward to face him. "You have no idea where we're going or what we do there," Hiccup began. "Your tribe and your family are here. Why would you want to go with us?"

Ardan glanced shyly at Astrid. "I know I'm not the only one who left everything behind for a better life." Then he faced Hiccup. "I'm the misfit son of a chief who's about to get deposed. I don't think I have much of a future here. As long as you're Vikings, I know I can find a place in your tribe."

"We don't do much raiding," Thora told him. "We're mostly into hunting and fishing. After living on the frontier, you might find our lives kind of dull."

"I can hunt just fine," Ardan replied eagerly. "And how can you say your lives are dull when you ride dragons?"

"Is that what you really want?" Hiccup asked him.

"I've spent my entire life on Eire," he said. "I never even saw a dragon until that night when Gunborg – I mean Astrid made her escape. Even then, it was just a big dark shadow in the middle of the night... but it changed me somehow. I'd heard all the stories about how dragons are stupid killers that steal food and wreck villages, but Astrid, your dragon came to your rescue! You rode on it!" He sighed. "Would it ever be possible for someone like me...?"

"No!" Snotlout shouted.

"Yes," Hiccup said firmly. "All it takes is an open mind, and a willingness to set some basic Viking attitudes aside." He smiled. "You haven't noticed, because you've been so intent on this conversation, but Stormfly is standing right behind you and she's checking you out."

Ardan spun, startled, and found himself face to face with a very big blue dragon. He went rigid. The Nadder bent down, sniffed him several times, and cocked her head so she could see him. He stared at her. Very hesitantly, he reached out his hand until it rested on her nose.

"So you're the dragon who took Astrid away," he said softly. Stormfly stepped away and rose to her full height, glaring down at him. He pulled his hand back.

"Ardan, is she the real reason you want to go with us?" Hiccup asked pointedly.

"Well... umm..."

Astrid reached up to scratch under her dragon's chin. "It's only fair to tell you, I'm not in the market."

The young Viking's face fell. "Is there someone else?"

"Well, there's this guy from the Bog-Burglars who's courting me, but I haven't told him yes or no," she replied. "Honestly, I'm not looking for a man. But if the right man came looking for me, I'm willing to be persuaded."

"I got it!" Snotlout burst out. "Him and the Beany guy can fight a duel!"

"And the winner gets my hand in marriage? I don't think so," Astrid retorted.

"No, I'll get your hand," Snotlout smirked. "But the duel would be fun to watch."

"Hey! Do I have any say in my son's destiny?" Bunirabit suddenly growled.

"Sir, it doesn't sound like your son fits in very well around here," Hiccup answered him. "Berk is great for a misfit who wants to find his place, especially if that place is on the back of a dragon."

"Father, I'll miss you, but what can you and this tribe offer me, aside from an early death?" Ardan added. "This place where they're going... Berk? It sounds like a place where I could fit in. I might even be a dragon-rider some day! That's better than being 'Ardan the Awful' for the rest of my life, isn't it?"

"Would I ever see you again, son?" the chief asked.

"Sir, this place is about a day's journey away on dragonback," Thora answered him. "If he comes with us, it wouldn't be goodbye forever."

"Besides, he really wants the girl!" Tuffnut added. Astrid favored him with one of her trademark dirty looks.

Ardan shook his father's hand firmly. "Dad, I'll be back some day. I promise. But I need to find a life, and I think it's waiting for me where the dragons are."

"And where the girl is!" Tuffnut threw in.

Ardan turned to face Hiccup. "I know I'm new in this group, and I don't want to start off on the wrong foot, but... is that guy always this irritating?"

"It's his specialty," Ruffnut exclaimed, "but I'm worse!"

"You are not!" her brother shot back.

"I am too!"

"You are not!"

Hiccup turned to Astrid. "Is it going to make you uncomfortable if we bring this guy back to Berk with us, seeing how he's going to spend half his time pursuing a dragon of his own, and the other half pursuing you?"

She shrugged. "If I can deal with you and Thora, then I think I can deal with anybody! I can handle him."

"Okay," Hiccup decided. He turned to Bunirabit. "As the son of the chief of Berk, I'm informing you that we are taking your son away as a hostage. If you or your tribe ever bother us again, he'll be the first to go."

"As if that would ever happen!" Bunirabit said bitterly.

"Exactly," Hiccup nodded. "In practice, we won't treat him like a prisoner; he'll become one of us. I have a feeling he's going to fit in just fine." He turned to his friends. "Let's go. Ardan, you'll ride behind Fishlegs; he'll tell you how we do things, and he'll probably tell you more stuff about dragons than you ever wanted to know."

"That would take some telling," Ardan said eagerly. "I want to know everything!"

"Then Fishlegs is going to be your friend," Astrid noted.

"But not my only friend, I hope," Ardan said hopefully. She gave him a brief smile, not enough to suggest anything, but enough to give him hope. The young Viking climbed up behind Fishlegs, Thora mounted Toothless behind Hiccup, the others climbed aboard their own dragons, and Berk's dragon riders headed for home, their numbers augmented by one.

The End

o

A/N
This might well be my first foray into the Astrid-runs-away theme. It's not as popular as the Hiccup-runs-away theme, but I'm sure it's been done before. It didn't start out as an attempt to reuse someone else's story line; it just turned out that way because, if I take the idea that Astrid won't submit to an arranged marriage and develop it logically, running away is the only thing she's likely to do. I considered some other possibilities, like her arranging a little "accident" for Thora so she can claim Hiccup, or running far away and marrying a total stranger just to spite everyone, but none of those seemed very likely for her to do. (The running-far-away idea eventually morphed into her misadventure in Eire, so it wasn't a total loss.)

Someone has commented that the second ending to "Hiccup's Bride" didn't have much to do with Hiccup or his bride. This third ending has even less to do with the original topic. So why didn't I make it a separate story? For one simple reason: people who have hit the "Follow" button on "Hiccup's Bride" will be notified when this story begins to get posted, so they won't miss it. A brand-new story could slip under a lot of people's radar.

One thing that does make "Hiccup's Bride" unique is that it may be the only fanfic out there with three different endings. To those of you who are desperate to know, "Who did Astrid pick? Beanzinger, or Ardan, or somebody else, or nobody?" the answer is, "It's not important." This story isn't about Astrid finding a husband. It's about Astrid finding herself, and being true to herself. If you really want to know who she ended up with, feel free to write your own ending in your head. They call it "fan fiction."

At some point on Feb 20, 2016, this story went over the 300,000-view mark. To all the readers who helped this story reach that number: thank you so much.

Somewhere during late 2018, this story went over 400,000 views. It's my #2 story; only "Lightning and Death Itself" has more views. Again, thank you.