Well. Here's the last chapter.

A sequel would pick up after the second movie. There are a lot of great fics that deal with post-HTTYD2 so I'm not as set on it as I once was. But I'll think about it, and you can tell me if you're interested. My writing tumblr is nneurosis, and it's far and away the best place to reach me. Plus, I might do you a drabble.

Thank you for reading.

To Hiccup's surprise and delight, it was Stoick who insisted on a huge party to unveil the completed stables, nearly seven months after the village council had first accepted the plans.

It was September now; Hiccup had spent the rest of the winter refining his design with help from Gobber, and they broke ground on the first day of spring. Astrid took charge as the project's foreman when it became clear that Hiccup couldn't quite handle conceptualization and execution—one day he became so overwhelmed in the midst of arguing with his father and Gobber over some logistical quandary, he'd just taken off on Toothless and stayed gone for the rest of the day. Maybe fearing his standing might suffer in the chief's eyes, Astrid had filled Hiccup's vacancy. She told him about this later, in casual passing, but it made his heart swell. He would have been hopeless without her, really.

She stayed on in the leadership role, overseeing the collection of all lumber used in the construction, felling a hundred trees in a month, many of them single-handedly, and coordinating the transportation of materials halfway across Berk into the caves, assisted by the combined efforts of the other dragon riders and their bigger, stronger companions. Meanwhile, Hiccup half-lived in the caverns, watching the structure grow to astonishing, satisfying proportions under his careful conducting.

And it was beautiful. The stables, sturdy and intricate like a beehive. The massive and elaborately engineered hangar, where just an hour ago the villagers had finished slapping on a final coat of paint. Indeed, it was so lovely, Stoick decided that the party ought to be in the stables—so Hiccup gave his morning to helping haul furniture into the caves, and his afternoon to barrels of mead and crates of salted cod and stacks of fresh bread, now laid out across tables, awaiting the festivities. Through the hangar's gaping entrance, he could see the sun going down. Gobber began to light the stables' wrought iron hanging lamps. Hooligans trickled down the stairs, laughing, shouting, some of them already drunk. From Hookfang's stall on the second level, Snotlout's voice drifted down, warning his dragon about the particular flammability of his new home—not that he needed to, Hiccup had made sure all the wood was treated with a fire-resistant resin made from discarded dragon scales, a very useful invention.

Eventually it grew so crowded in the atrium space that Hiccup felt he could no longer lurk there without being drawn into conversation, so he went to slip out, planning on a late return when the party was well underway and he could engineer an escape with Astrid. But, as a poet would remark some many years later, the best-laid schemes of mice and men—Stoick blocked his exit, a grinning obstacle.

"Oh, hi, Dad," he said, trying to disguise his dismay.

"Son," Stoick put a pan-sized hand on his shoulder, "You'll make a speech tonight."

"A speech?" echoed Hiccup, glancing over his shoulder. He felt a little adolescent fear kick at him; there were dozens upon dozens of his people gathered here, and he would have to speak in front of them, cold?

"Aye! You did this," said his father, with a sweeping motion to the dim, vast tiers of dragon stalls. He nudged Hiccup away from the staircase leading out, back toward the masses. "They want to hear from their future leader. A chief talks to his people, son." Much to Hiccup's chagrin, Stoick had a point. But it didn't mean Hiccup needed to be here now.

"Okay, Dad. Speech later. Gonna go—" He slipped under Stoick's arm, to the stairs. "—work on my remarks, you know. Wanna be sharp!" As he turned and sprinted out, he heard his father laughing down below.

He was halfway to the surface, pressing himself against the walls of a landing to let a family pass on their way to the party, when he heard a voice from one of the tunnels off to the side. "Psst!" Twisting around, he saw the bright blue of Astrid's eyes in the lamplight. She leaned against a wooden support, winked at him—when the villagers had passed, he crossed to her, grinning.

"Waiting for me?"

She chortled. "Looking for me?"

"Maybe."

Astrid slipped her hand into his, and drew him into a tunnel he knew wound around the second tier of stalls. While the stables were sometimes maze-like—he had been limited by what tunnels already existed in the caverns—the centrality and openness of the atrium always anchored one's location. He could hear the party going on there, now in full swing.

Hiccup leaned forward as they walked, speaking into her ear. "My dad wants me to give a speech in front of everyone."

"Sounds like a good idea." He spied a smirk on the corner of her lips, irritating, endearing him.

They paused at Stormfly's stall, which was empty but for Astrid's axe propped against a beam and a layer of rushes on the wooden floor—hers was one of the stalls built out of the rock, it protruded into the main chamber. The sound of the festivities grew louder once they entered the nook; if he stepped to the outer railing, he would be looking down at everyone like on a balcony.

Preoccupied, Astrid kicked at the rushes. "Look at this." He could see the planks of lumber better now: they were ill-spaced, big gaps between, all of different widths. She tested her weight on a particularly rickety board and it clicked dangerously. "I told Tuffnut he could work on Stormfly's stall, but I thought he'd be supervised," she said, glaring.

Hiccup frowned at the structural issue, but he was certain this was the only part of the stables Tuff had been allowed near, so not a huge concern. "Gotta say, that's ninety percent your fault for being too trusting."

"Whatever. Can you just get Gobber or someone in here to fix it?"

He gave a small bow. "First thing tomorrow, milady."

"Good." She sucked her lip, and took a step toward him. "So you're nervous about the speech, huh?"

"Well, you know. Me, public speaking," he said, and saw her smile at the deflecting shake of his shoulders. Arms across her chest, she started to circle him.

"I've seen you give a lot of speeches. Good ones. You know how to convince people."

He raised a finger, shaking his head. "That's different—convincing people when if you don't… I mean, the stakes are different. I can't just chat with the whole of Berk about the stables, what am I going to say?" The thick colored beams ran past them, all over the cavern, bigger than words. "I think it speaks for itself."

"Then say that." Smiling, she stepped into him, and naturally their arms wound around one another. Down at the party, someone started up a slurred song about a warrior and a fair maid. "It'll be fine," she insisted and, to silence the small doubtful noise he made in response, she kissed him.

It had been another long nine months of refusing to stand too close in public and jokingly referring to their nights together as trysts and becoming more creative in their avoidance of procreation. He thought everyday of asking her when, if ever, they could confirm what the village had long suspected—not even an engagement, just whatever would render acceptable his desire to greet her with a peck on the cheek or to take her hand during difficult civic debates. They had perfected their system of private mutual support, and he had trouble with the notion that they couldn't do the same in public. Once it was known that Astrid would be his wife, there'd be no denying his demand that she be admitted to the important conversations where he needed her most. They would have to see her for what she was, their future co-chief, and the whispers would cease.

But he was afraid, too. Apprehensive that, should he suggest it, she would wrench away what he did have of her company. Not a rational fear, but it was enough to keep him patient in awaiting a decision from Astrid to go public.

And it wasn't as though he suffered. She kissed him harder, and then moved her lips to his neck. Suddenly it was burning hot in the cold rocky climate of the cave—or perhaps his blood had stirred. Probably the latter. Yeah, no, definitely the latter. "You want me to help you relax?" she muttered. Her breath blew balmily against the sensitive skin along his jaw.

"Whatever you want," he managed, but she could probably hear the answer to her question in new, higher pitch of his voice. Giggling, Astrid nudged him backward, maybe to pin him against a pillar before doing whatever it was she intended to do—he had a few ideas—but before they got there, a terrible thing happened.

He took a step back on to one of Tuff's rickety boards, and the joint where the wood had been secured gave way.

Hiccup fell back, and Astrid fell on him, and they slid down the board—both screaming at the shock of it—landing hard on the first floor of the cavern in a flurry of hay and limbs and squeaking, rolling a few feet so that Hiccup lay on top of her, clinging to each other as they caught their breaths. He patted her face, trying to make sure everything was still there, in tact.

"Astrid! Are you okay!"

She grunted and pushed his hands away. "I'm fine." Relieved, he kissed her and then pressed his cheek to her chest in a tight hug—weirdly, she didn't seem responsive, but he was too frenzied to consider it.

And then, as he was lying there trying to recover from the panic, he felt her voice shaking by his ear. "Hiccup, I really think you should get off of me."

For the first time, he noted how silent it had gotten. Not just between them, but in the whole room, in the whole cave, as if the party—as if the party…

Feeling his lip begin to quiver, he raised his head slowly, and looked out from where they'd landed beneath Stormfly's stall. It was a little alcove, used for storage, and it opened—without the protection of any wall or screen or door—right on to the main chamber.

The main chamber where the entire population of Berk currently stood, staring at them.

He saw Gobber and the twins and Snotlout and Gothi and Phlegma and Mulch with Bucket and Silent Sven shielding the eyes of a little girl. He saw Fishlegs actually turn his back, as if he felt the need to give them some privacy. The expressions were mixed—horror, surprise, amusement, discomfort. He knew what they saw. He'd heard the phrase, a roll in the hay. Hiccup thought, with a great deal of certainty, That's it. We're dead.

Knowing his face was red enough to rival a good sunset, he climbed off Astrid and helped her to her feet. The silence in the room turned to a low titter. People starting to mutter to each other. Astrid had color in her cheeks, too, but it looked more like the flush of exercise and surprise than real embarrassment. Her jaw was hard, fixed, as she glared out at their audience. He knew what this meant for her—suddenly, he was awash with guilt.

Ruff turned to Tuff, breaking the stillness with a shout: "TOLD YOU! You're cleaning Barf and Belch's stall for a month."

Somehow, this statement ushered in a round of applause from the partygoers, who were now laughing, toasting, trading jokes about the whole thing as their eyes flicked between Hiccup and Astrid, and whoever they'd partnered with in gossip. Some of the glances they got were devious, reprimanding. Disrespectful. For Odin's sake, he would've preferred disappointed silence to laughter. It was far from how the two of them had intended to introduce themselves as a couple—this wasn't how they wanted to be seen by their future subjects, as some sort of adolescent joke. Hiccup watched Astrid; her hands balled at her sides, she turned away from him, and from the crowd, making a few steps toward the exit.

Panic seized Hiccup. He caught Stoick's expression for a moment, inscrutable on the opposite side of the room. Probably ashamed. But Hiccup had an idea. To fix all of this. Sort of. Maybe. Well—it was worth a shot, you couldn't call him risk-averse.

With a multitude of eyes already following him, he made a dash through the crowd for the cavern's central staircase, bounding up half a level so everyone could see him properly, on a stage. More stirrings from the Hooligans, more laughter. He stood above them, drawing himself up as best he could. He was taller than he'd once been. He thought he maybe had another couple of inches to go. He hopped a little in place.

"My father has asked me to make a speech!"

The noise didn't die down—if anything, it seemed to swell now that everyone could stare at him. He tried not to look at the alcove, he knew people would notice him checking on Astrid, but he had to make sure—she was still there, yes, peeking out from behind a support beam.

"My father has asked me to make a speech!" he said again, louder, feeling his chest boom with the words.

They were paying attention now, smiles and whispers dying from their mouths. He'd stopped hopping; he stood there now, thinking how it looked when Stoick spoke to the people like this. Trying to fill himself with that same authority and honor and reason.

Hiccup went on, "He asked me to make a speech about the new stables. He said that this was my project, like I could tell you something about it that you don't already know." For the first time, he noticed his heart had been hammering at his chest for a good ten minutes now, but finally his pulse began to even out. "But I can't. Because it was my idea, maybe, sure, but—but it was just an idea. We're not standing in an idea. We built this together, all of us. This belongs to Berk." The glow of pride came over the faces in the crowd—faces he'd known his whole life. His dad used to quiz him on names during the council meetings—and that man over there, who is that? Hiccup knew everyone. "Thank you for helping me."

They clapped. An altogether less humiliating ovation. But he didn't step down; he took a deep breath.

"And none of it really could have happened without Astrid Hofferson—Astrid, could you come up here?" he called above the applause, which faded at the interruption. People were gaping now. Astrid emerged from her hiding place, scowling up at Hiccup. Hesitating. "Please!" Disgruntled, she started to weave through the villagers—all of them staring at her like a goddess incarnate, breathtaking but scary powerful. She climbed the steps and stood beside him with her arms across her chest and her shoulders hunched. "Astrid," he told the crowd, but he watched only her, "was the first person to tell me the stables were a good idea. She's been the first person to say that about a lot of…" She glanced at him, weary, a little sad. "If it weren't for Astrid, we'd probably still be at war with the dragons."

Silence in the room. No one had ever heard this said of her. Hiccup got the credit, usually, and he knew better than anyone how unfair the popular version of events was.

"So, anyway." He'd gotten quieter, as the need to raise his voice waned. "I just wanted you—everybody—to know that. Because she's going to be my co-chief, one day." Astrid's mouth fell open, she stared at him. "You'll have to listen to her just like you listen to me. Might as well start practicing now." She turned her gaze out to the Hooligans, eyes wide on both sides; it was as though they were meeting her for the first time, and she them, more than a girlfriend, more than a chief's wife; a queen. A leader in her own right.

He remembered what she'd said the first time he offered the position to her—you're giving up a lot of your power. And to publicize that concession… she probably thought he was crazy. Maybe he was a little crazy. But he didn't want to be something to limit or inhibit her, some sacrifice of freedom for love. Partners. He offered her his hand, and she took it, shutting her mouth.

He said under his breath, "Say something to them."

"I don't have anything to say."

"Just one thing."

She shut her eyes for a moment, squeezed his hand, then turned to the crowd. "I'm… honored. Berk is… is my home, I care about it. I'm going to do what's best for it. For Berk." Astrid tossed Hiccup a pained look, but he figured that was enough. He grinned in reply.

"ARE YOU ENGAGED?" shouted someone at the back of the room, an anonymous male voice, making Hiccup jump.

"NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS," Astrid roared back, immediately, making Hiccup jump again. Embarrassed by her own forcefulness, she drew back and added, "Sir." The Hooligans laughed, and Hiccup saw her smile for the first time throughout this ordeal.

Taking advantage of the break in tension, he waved to the crowd and pulled them from the stage. The people parted to make way, bowing to the two of them. Judging from her expression, Astrid had starting to climb from frazzled to confident. They met Stoick and Gobber on the other side of the room, where his dad shook her hand and clapped him on the back. Gobber whispered something to Astrid and she laughed—with the way they were eying Hiccup, it was probably a joke at his expense, but today he could take it.

After Stoick and Gobber came an army of well-wishers—they formed a line for a while, actually, like this party had taken on a new connotation under Hiccup's brash announcement. Eventually Astrid got carried away by Ruff, for what girlish purposes Hiccup didn't know, but the disbanding of the royal couple killed everyone's interest in talking to him, so he had some mead with Snotlout and Tuffnut and Fishlegs. More mead than usual. More mead than ever.

So when Astrid came upon him several hours later, he was drunk.

He sat on the far end of the hangar, away from the activity, dangling his legs off the side. Berk's harbor lay a hundred feet below them. She could see the alcohol in the lopsided grin on his face, hear it in the song he hummed to himself. "This is the worst place for a drunkard such as yourself to be sitting," she declared, plunking down beside him.

"Ah. But I have the ultimate safety net." He gestured up: she spied the green of Toothless's eyes. He was curled up on the edge of the hangar's roof, and greeted her with a squawk.

"I see."

Sighing, drowsy, he put his head on her shoulder, and then into her lap. "What if I slept here?"

"I'd push you off the edge, into the harbor."

"True love with us, eh?"

She laughed, started to work a little braid into his hair. "The stables are amazing, Hiccup. You really did it." She couldn't believe it—that they were sitting on something as huge as this hangar, and it was all made by the hands of Vikings. She'd known they were a strong people, but this was beyond anything anyone had ever dreamed—excepting Hiccup.

"We did it." He pouted up at her. "Didn't you hear my speech?"

"I did, I heard your speech."

"Did you like it?" he asked eagerly.

"I loved it. Not so hot on the part where you made me get up there with you, but you did a good job making people… it was good, it was smart."

Hiccup struggled to sit up, and she steadied him; she did not actually want for her boyfriend to fall into the harbor. "Hey. I meant what I said, I wouldn't lie to Berk. I couldn't have done it without you."

"I didn't say you lied," she replied, hesitating.

He gripped her upper arms, trying very hard to be serious through the mead, face screwed up in concentration. "I want you to say, 'We did it together.'" Astrid rolled her eyes, but he shook her gently to get her attention. "Please say it, Astrid!"

She groaned, "We did it together."

"Thank you." He kissed her on the cheek and she made a retching noise, then struggling from his embrace and got to her feet, pulling him with her.

"Okay, time for bed, big day tomorrow."

"Big day? What's tomorrow?" he asked, eyes half-lidded. She thought of his book of plans, the newness, the promise of change. The changes that had already occurred. Even the two of them, they were not the people they'd been three years ago, and he was right: they'd done it together, except for when they needed to be apart. And when they were apart, they let each other go, and there was togetherness in that. Even when she was alone, he was with her, and she with him, her friend and husband and partner. Not sentiment, just fact.

"I don't know, exactly." She looped his arm around her shoulder, supporting him. A big day. "With us, they always are."