"Going up to the house, Hiccup?" called Gobber from the darkness of the living room. He'd fallen asleep by the hearth again, apparently.

"I'm not looking be seen," he defended himself, "I shan't be seen."

And he'd meant it. Not even by her. He only wanted a glimpse of her one last time before he undertook his journey.

One last memory of her glowing presence through the windows of the ballroom.

Just enough that the mark she'd seared in his heart couldn't possibly fade over time.

He'd truly meant it.

Until Astrid had called his name from the darkness.

"Miss Hofferson!" He'd stepped back, eyes wild, heartbeat in his throat.

Astrid stepped from behind a tree, letting the moonlight bathe her. She looked breathtaking in the dress made of delicate blue fabric. Stylish in her long white gloves.

"It's just me. What are you doing here?" she whispered, like she was afraid to be caught.

"I'm sorry," he stammered, "I didn't wish to cause you any trouble, but I had to see you. Even if from afar."

She glanced bitterly at the glowing lights and the distant music. Then back at Hiccup. Her acquaintances would never dare talk to him directly.

Would say it was bold of him to dare address a lady so forwardly.

She wished she was born in his station or that he had been born in hers. Then she could dance with him under the candlelight's glow, her parents looking on with pride.

Then maybe she could even dance with him twice.

Astrid dared take another step forward hesitating when he backed away. She feared the pain that'd overcome his gaze.

She loved him too much.

The silence kept stretching between them like a never-ending valley until he shifted, his shoes disturbing the dried leaves in the ground.

"I had to see you before I left, but now I have to go."

"Go?" she still approached him, "go back?"

His skin was littered in freckles from being exposed to the sun. Her mother had never let Astrid's come to that.

She'd cut away her outings, just like she'd tried to cut their attachment.

He thought about her question for a moment, unsure of whether being honest could make any difference. This would be the last time he saw her.

In the end, he decided that there was no other way of loving her than honestly. That's why he was leaving after all.

"There's something I have to take care of in the North. Someone I have to find. Astrid… this might be the last I see you. I can't…" he broke off with a choked sound.

Offering her hand, she said nothing. What was there to say? She understood perfectly.

Watching her be married off to another wasn't something he could do. The thought was too agonizing.

He loved her too much. He couldn't and wouldn't torture himself with the feel of her lips on his, so he settled for the torment of the warmth of her hand.

The area was cold in the winter, but she felt nothing but heat when his fingers delicately pulled her white glove off and laid his lips on the back of her hand, and then the palm, and then the wrist, where he stopped.

His eyes were closed, and he was trying to smell her skin.

Trying to drink her in so she wouldn't ever leave him.

If he had spoken he couldn't have said it any clearer.

Astrid watched him hesitate, and the dreaded reality broke her happiness.

They were loving on borrowed time.

Inside, the ballroom of the Hofferson house was full; everybody was keen on celebrating her coming of age and engagement, and she was outside in the garden, hiding behind a tree on the pretext of needing fresh air.

She was outside, letting a man she could never marry kiss her naked hand.

They knew it would end someday, when she was old enough to be betrothed, knowing he'd never have enough for her parents to accept him.

Not now that he'd lost everything. Not now that she was to marry.

Anxiousness filled him as he helped her pull the glove back on, as she straightened her attire, making sure not a hair was out-of-place.

She looked at him, then back to her family's house, then back to him.

He waited for her to leave. To go back to her own party.

But she didn't.

Instead, eyes set firmly on himself, she took a swift step forward, and pulled him down to kiss him. Her hands settled, trembling, on the lapel of his only coat.

He hesitated for less than half a second before he was crushing her to him, their kiss deepening, loosing themselves in the other.

She wasn't sure what she wanted to get out of the kiss, but the tingling on the delicate skin her lips and his hands around her were enough even when they parted.

Short of breath, she laid her head on his chest.

Thinking.

Listening.

"Astrid, what are you doing?" he protested, but he held her tightly, afraid that if he let go, she'd leave forever. "What have you done?"

"Take me with you," she whispered, fingertips soft over his heartbeat. "Wherever you go, take me with you."

He stepped back, green eyes frantic as they searched for hers, "I have nothing to offer, I don't even have a good name. You know the risks. You know what they'll say."

Her gloved fingers scrunched the fabric of his threadbare coat as she raised her furious blue gaze to his. "I don't care. You said you're going North anyway; let us go to Gretna Green and then what can they say about that?"

Shaking his head, his hands shifted from her upper arms to comfort her tightened fists. "And then you could never come back, don't you understand? They'd never take you back after that."

Her scowl had lessened, and her voice was softer, earnest: "I'll learn to economize. We'll do our best, because I really don't care, Hiccup. If I cared I'd never have loved you. Don't you understand?"

His heart skipped a beat. Something in her sincere expression told him she meant it.

She'd really go with him.

Hope sprouted from his fingertips as her grip relaxed. "Take me with you," she said again.

Exhilaration started to grow within him like a weed left unchecked. "Yes," he said, pressing his forehead to hers, her hands firmly in his grasp. "I will."

Letting herself be married off to another wasn't something they could do. The thought was too agonizing.