Lasting Impressions.

The Hofferson Estate, which had previously been enjoying the quiet contentment of a lazy afternoon, was in a state of chaotic panic. Astrid, having heard her name screeched by her mother, all but stumbled down the stairs in her haste. It was in fact the first time that Mrs. Hofferson had spoken to her daughter in three days, and to hear a note of such acute hysteria in her voice sent Astrid running from her room. Upon finding her mother with her face buried behind the curtains of the window that overlooked the front garden, the girl paused.

"What's happening?" She pushed back her feathery bangs and blinked in alarm. Servants were scurrying around her in haste, and they glanced at her with curious expressions.

Mrs. Hofferson pulled away from the window with a snap and fixed her daughter in a wide-eyed stare. "Tell me you know why Lord Stoick's son just arrived," she demanded, closing the distance between her and her daughter. There was a frantic way to the way she moved, her hands brushing at the girl's dress and pinching her cheeks. "Is he bringing a message from Mr. Jorgenson?"

Astrid's brow slowly furrowed with realization. It'd been over a week since she'd spoken to the young man at the Jorgensons' ball. Or rather, it'd been a week since their conversation exploded into harsh accusations and she'd torn herself from the room in an angry rush. She'd made a specific effort not to encounter him for the remaining duration of the ball, and her attempts had been successful. She couldn't account for the unannounced visit.

"I haven't the impression that they're particularly close," Astrid mumbled. Her mother's fingers picked at her hair. "Stop it! I like my braid."

"Awful child!" the older woman hissed, her voice tight but her eyes pleading. "After what you've done to that family, you can't even summon the decency to put some effort into your appearance? It's Hiccup Haddock, for goodness sakes!"

"He's just a man, mother." Her words were absent and distracted as she looked to the window. She waved away her fussing. "Where is he?"

"The stables," the woman answered with a sharp sigh of exasperation. "Byron says he's watering his own horse."

It was all Astrid needed from her. With another annoyed bat at her mother's reaching, she pulled away and crossed the foyer to the front door. Mrs. Hofferson made a sharp noise of confused protest, but the blonde ignored the sound and tugged the door ajar. Shouts of orders to the servants followed her outside.

The day was warm, unusually so for the last weeks of winter. Chickens could be heard clucking from the back yard, and the scent of flora was thick in the air. As the blonde made her way to the stables with something akin to wariness, she pursed her lips in thought. A message from Snotlout Jorgenson would only irritate her and reveal a pathetic side to the man. She'd rather Mr. Haddock have come to endear himself to her, for if she was honest, she'd thought of little but the tall, easy gentleman since the ball.

But that was unlikely, after the things she'd said to him. Astrid was flushing with both a little embarrassment and a bit of ire as she came upon the stables. She could hear a voice and the nickering of horses.

"- going to ask her to please sit," Hiccup Haddock was saying as Astrid came to peek around the entrance. He'd tied up an unfamiliar black steed to an empty carrel and was patting the beast's side as he paced back and forth. "Then I'll ask her for a word alone- or is that too presumptuous? Ugh, I'm out of practice, Toothless. Anyways, she probably won't speak first- I'll have to come right out and say it."

Astrid watched with fascination and some amusement. The horse was beautiful, a sleek and shimmering creature that exuded power and speed. Currently it was following his rider's jacket pocket, from where Mr. Haddock pulled a piece of carrot. His eyes didn't watch the horse as it gobbled the proffered treat. After consuming his carrot, the steed looked up and pinned her with a pair of exquisite green eyes.

She started, but stepped fully into sight, keeping a hesitant hand on the doorway. The horse- Toothless, he'd called it- nudged the young man with his nose.

"She'll say, 'fine, thank you,'- or maybe not. She never does anything I- would you quit!"

With an annoyed exhale through his nostrils, the beast nibbled at his rider's jacket with a pair of very visible teeth. The irony wasn't lost on her, but she didn't give into the amusement the sight stirred. That caught the man's attention, and his gaze cut to Toothless, who whinnied toward Astrid.

Mr. Haddock's eyes turned to her, widening to see her waiting patiently. She slid her fingers from the wooden door frame and folded her hands in front of her. There was a beat of heavy silence as he shifted on his wooden leg to face her.

"Miss Hofferson," he began, running a hand through his wild hair. "Good afternoon."

"Good afternoon," she greeted likewise. Then she pressed her lips into a thin line, making it clear she wouldn't be the first to speak. He'd been the first to throw an insult, and therefore could be the first to make attempts at resolution.

It was a sick enjoyment she indulged in, watching him squirm and search for words. Then, after a moment, he let his hand drop and said, "I've just come from my uncle's estate."

A strange deflating feeling made her chest go cool. Astrid laced her fingers together and licked her lips, cutting her gaze away. "Might you have a message from your cousin for me, then?"

"No." Mr. Haddock shook his head. "Though I dare say he likely does have a few words for you."

She didn't answer that. She knew.

A painful, awkward silence ensued. Her heart, which had shrunk to hear from whence he'd come, engaged in a warmer, quicker rhythm at his answer. But still, she was resolved not to be the one to speak until she knew the reasons for his coming.

"You..." The young man swallowed, patting Toothless and taking a few steps forward. "You declined his proposal. My cousin's."

She raised a brow. "You think I receive so many that you should feel the need to specify?"

"I came to ask why." His gaze pressed into her with the effectiveness of a physical touch, and Astrid had to resist the urge to shudder. The sun was warm on her back.

Though her mother would have fallen stricken to hear her reply, Astrid could only think to answer with halfhearted hostility. "Is it not enough that I have to endure the label of a capricious flirt because of your family? Must I also be forced to an inspection of my motives?"

"If they have to do with me, yes." A bright heat rose to Astrid's cheeks as she watched him advance. He stopped a respectful distance away, but his eyes still held the enchanting power of a caress across her neck, her shoulders.

At his words, she lost all of hers. "I can't confess to knowing what you mean."

Mr. Haddock's hands flexed at his sides in a tell of nervousness. The little action settled her some, though she still couldn't calm the fluttering of her heart. "At the ball," he began with a swipe of his tongue across his lower lip. "You were... I spoke in an incredibly inappropriate manner, and for that I apologize. There is a certain talent for polite conversation that my family owns, but would easily say that I lack. I've always blurted whatever comes to mind."

She glanced to the floor, finding herself guilty of the exact fault he named. "If it eases your conscience any, your cousin isn't innocent in that aspect either."

He chuckled a little. "No, I would agree with you." There was a humor in his eyes that she suddenly realized she'd been craving. She'd missed the frank, guileless discussion, the honest display of emotion that he seemed incapable of restraining. Something about the way he decided not to value what society deemed right both set her on edge and excited her. She liked that he took her anger and made her want to laugh.

"My behavior aside," he continued, "while I regret having said some of the things I did, if any of them had some impact in affecting your decision to reject my cousin, then-" He cut himself off, and then tried again. "Then I refuse to apologize for them."

Astrid was taken aback. Her eyes widened as she evaluated his serious expression. "You don't blame me for your relative's unhappiness?"

"Not if his happiness would have been at the expense of yours." The young man shook his head. "I spoke to you of my idealistic values, of the notion of love and its necessity in a marriage. It's my weakness, that I seem to make an idiot out of myself at any given opportunity. But you so clearly pointed out my hypocrisies that night, and I don't plan on giving you another example by scorning a decision I indirectly encouraged."

Somehow he had a way of making her want to run in two different directions, to go back to the safe standards dictated by propriety and hide. And to cross the restraining boundaries and step somewhere illuminated by excitement and humor and life. Astrid opened her mouth to say something, but he interrupted.

"And I find I can't allow this to go any further without stating that- that hearing of my cousin's misfortune was the most pleasant event I've experienced since you left my company that night." His face took on an almost pleading expression, a way of asking for something she had no idea of how to provide. "It is my greatest hope that your motives for rejecting my cousin's proposal fail to include a love for someone else. Because after thinking of nothing but you for days on end, I've decided that your love is something I desperately want to earn."

"My love?" The word fell breathlessly from her lips. It was such a far fetched idea, something only whispered about by schoolgirls and romance novelists. It'd been scandalous enough for him to admit his fascination with the thing to her. But to ask her of it? Her pulse skipped.

"Please, allow me to rectify my statement." His fingers curled into fists, and he shut his eyes for a moment before opening them once more. "I can only attest to having felt the love for a father, or a dear friend. I'm unsure that I've ever experienced the kind of love I told you I'm waiting for. But, Miss Hofferson, the girl I spoke to at my uncle's ball- what I feel for her is the closest I've come so far. And if you truly are the person I met that night- that sharp-tongued woman brave enough to expose me of my prejudices and capture a heart I've kept locked up since my accident-" He looked at her with something as light and warm as the sun streaming into the stables. "Then I want her to know that I think I'll find love in her. And if she finds it in me, too, then I'll ask for her hand the very moment she tells me so."

Astrid was stunned. Her hands trembled in front of her, and she lifted one to brush a loose piece of hair behind her ear. Though she'd had to force her gaze away from his because of the sheer intensity of his words, she found herself looking back at his face. It was handsome, honest, endearing in an unusual kind of way. It was the picture of her thoughts for the several nights since she'd seen it last.

"I hope your silence isn't an indication of your apathy for me as well," he half laughed in an attempt at a joke.

For the first time in three days, since she'd turned down the Jorgensons and broken her parents' hearts, Astrid smiled. It was shy and small, but she couldn't suppress it. Her galloping pulse didn't calm, but it was accompanied by a new fluttering that made her dizzy.

"Please." She took a step back and motioned towards the house. She breathed a little laugh. "Would you care to stay for dinner?"