Summary: Astrid Hofferson is an ardent fan of dragon racing, the high-speed, electrifying tournament of epic proportions. With a new season on the horizon, she wants nothing more than to get out on the track. But until she's seventeen and old enough to compete, she must live vicariously through her best friend. But he keeps her at arm's length and she doesn't even know his real name. Modern AU.
Chapter Two
The jumbotron screen flashed with big green lettering: GO!
In tight synchronicity, the racers sped away from the chequered banner and into the first corner. The track folded itself into a tight hairpin turn, the inside of the bend traced neatly by Toothless' flightpath, a black blur hurtling through the course. Looking to overtake, Eret steered Skulcrusher wide, but his larger wingspan meant he risked being forced out of bounds.
In such a close competition, he can't afford the time penalty and has to back off, thought Astrid, reading his moves with the trained eye of an expert.
Before Eldingar™[1], dragon racing code was pretty much a free for all. There was no out of bounds… or at least no reliable way of penalising riders when they cut corners. If the referee didn't pull you up for taking shortcuts, there would be no penalty for cheats. Now though, Drekahjarta, like all other official raceways, was outlined by a semi-transparent, electric blue border that enclosed the entire track; a series of criss-crossing laser beams lining the circuit fringes marked the boundaries that both beautified and levelled the playing field.
The best riders had a good sense of three-dimensional spatial awareness. Break the beam with a wingtip, lose ten points; stay within the stiliodrome limits without being forced out and lock in a speedy time and the race was as good as yours. But you had to be aware of what was going on all around you. And above everything, you needed to work as a team.
The course levelled out, but then coiled into a nauseating corkscrew path skyward.
It took agility and endurance to remain within the circuit borders during this leg of the race. Astrid felt empathically dizzy.
Eret stuck close to Toothless' tail, using the other dragon's updraft to his advantage. This tactic meant that Skullcrusher expended less energy during the climb and pulled ahead fractionally moving into the next leg.
Next, the track arched into a near-vertical drop. Toothless folded his wings into a dive down the neon blue tunnel. Skullcrusher plummeted faster, giving in to gravity, but his meaty frame was met with more resistance and he had to open his wings earlier to slow his fall.
But Toothless was far more agile. He held the dive until the final moment, pulling out of it mere millimeters from the base of the tunnel.
In a clumsy attempt to claw back the lead, Eret spurred 'Crusher through the next corner, but flew too close to the upper limit of the stiliodrome, setting off the sensor as the dragon's horn disrupted the laser feedback. The whole zone flashed red, alerting Eret to the error and he hastily corrected his flightpath in response.
The zone flashed red again, the klaxon sounding a second warning, but not for Eret and Skullcrusher. Gaining on his left was Dagur and Shattermaster who had just attempted an unsuccessful overtake in a bid for second place and accidently touched the holographic sides of the stiliodrome.
With Toothless way out in front now, and both riders disadvantaged by a time penalty, that's all they have left to race for, Astrid realised.
Toothless entered the home straight and crossed the finish line, face breaking into a dopey grin and tongue lolling out of the corner of his mouth.
With an upwards glance at his thrilled rider, he fired a triumphant plasma blast down their path. It hurtled towards one of the stands — its poor occupants screaming shrilly — but exploded before impact in a huge plume of orange flames. Astrid watched the rider's shoulders sag as Toothless flew into the blaze, emerging from the other side in a shower of smouldering sparks.
When the pair circled back around, she could've sworn he looked up at the VIP box and sent a thumbs up gesture her way.
It was track policy that not even VIP guests were permitted back inside the Pit after a race; too much lingering tension between competitors. One too many lawsuits following a particularly ugly brawl pushed her father into introducing the rule, but no way was that going to stop Astrid from trying her luck. She had to see him again before she left.
A crowd of reporters and a few highbrow media moguls crowded the walkway, kept out by a small platoon of elite security guards, denying them entrance. No doubt the reporters were hoping for an altercation between Toothless' rider and the other racers for stealing yet another victory away from them. In spite of the closed door, producers demanded coverage, so here they were, dutifully wasting their time — as if any of the racers were dumb enough to give them a story.
Slipping between cameramen and glamorously made up news anchors, Astrid broke through to the front of the crowd. Catching the attention of the nearest guard, she tried flashing her golden pass in his direction, but his beefy arm swung up and blocked her path.
"Please, two minutes?" she asked, trying to scoot past his broad frame.
The guard shook his head and positioned himself more obstructively between her and the entrance, arms folded across his torso. She pursed her lips and stuck out her hip.
Not above pulling rank, Astrid tried again. "I'm Astrid Hofferson. My dad chairs the BDRC—"
The reporters quietened to a background buzz as the huge door at the end of the walkway slid open. The obstinate guard wasn't listening anyway, so she opted to press pause on arguing her case… just for a moment.
"She's with me," spoke a voice from behind the security guard.
When the guard moved aside, standing there was just the person she came to see, coated in a thick layer of ash and still fully kitted out in his riding gear. The guard's eyebrows shot upwards into his hairline.
The noise of the clamouring reporters returned tenfold like the crushing wave of a tsunami when the rider held out his hand for the second time that day; an invitation inside. She slipped her hand into his, not minding the black smudges of soot that now caked her fingers — totally worth it — and let herself be pulled into the Pit. The door slammed behind her, shutting out the nosey reporters.
The two of them stared at one another for a beat, then doubled over in stitches.
"Did you see the look on his face!?" Astrid laughed, contorting her features into a pale imitation of the security guard's befuddled expression.
"No-No, it was more like this!" wheezed the rider in a brief moment of composure. Astrid laughed even harder. "Am I right?"
"How the heck do I know?" she managed between fits of giggles.
"Wha— Oh." He must've forgotten he was still wearing his helmet. What a dork.
She tapped his visor, underlining his silly slip-up. "Secret identity and all," she echoed their first conversation in a melodical tease.
Mirroring her action, he reached up and tapped a finger to her nose, leaving a trail of charcoal ash over the tip. She scrunched up her face, crossing her eyes to look at the mark. The funny expression earned an entertained snort from the rider and she beamed back at him, glowing.
She felt his gloved fingers wriggle between her own and realised they were still holding hands. He let her go and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. Astrid imagined the adorably bashful look playing out on his features and resisted the urge to yank off his stupid helmet.
Before she could give into temptation, a force barreled into the rider's calves that sent him stumbling forwards. Astrid moved out to catch him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Appearing guiltily from behind his rider, Toothless all but pushed the boy aside a second time in his excitement to greet her, tail swishing like an excited puppy.
"Hey Toothless," she cooed, straining to scratch him under his large chin with the tips of her fingers. "What a race! Congrats."
He purred in reply, stretching his neck up to give her better access to his favourite spots. His rider was still leaning on her heavily …Huh, deceptively muscular… she noted as she struggled to support his sculpted body.
"Thanks for that, bud," he grumbled, peeling away from Astrid.
She looked down at her clothes and the lovely new smears of soot decorating the front from where he had been pressed up against her. It would wash out, but it would mar her outfit for the day. Not that she minded, nothing could spoil today.
"Sorry," he apologised. "Let me…" He brushed a hand down her chest, adding to the smears instead of clearing off the mess. Then abruptly jumped back when he realised exactly where he was touching. "Gods — I didn't mean to…" he trailed off, embarrassed.
She turned red, slugging him on the shoulder, but not that hard and only to cover up her own awkwardness.
"Don't sweat it," she assured, not ready to meet his eyes… or the general area where she supposed his eyes would be if not for the mask.
As if on cue, her phone buzzed in her pocket, the electronic chime filling the vacuumous silence. It was Dad.
"I've gotta go," said Astrid after hanging up. But instead of slipping her phone back into her pocket, she did something completely spontaneous. "Can I have your number?" she asked, hoping she didn't sound too keen.
"No!" —Hmm… not what I was expecting. Overreaction much?— "I—uh mean, not right now? I don't know my number off by heart and my phone's buried under all my gear..."
It kind of sounded like he was making excuses, but she didn't push it. "Sure, do you want mine? You can add it in later," she offered, deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt.
Behind his rider, Toothless ambled over to the nearest team's desks and started rummaging around, knocking a few desk toys to the floor as he went.
"Yes," he answered easily. "But I don't have a pen." He appeared to visibly deflate.
Toothless waddled back, something trapped between his jaws. A pen. He poked the rider in the side with the tip and he took it gratefully. A string of saliva was still joined to the dragon's maw, but he didn't seem to care. The rider yanked off a glove, drool-pen poised and she reeled off a set of digits. He scribbled them down on the back of his hand.
"Text me," she told him.
"I won't hesitate," he replied — a whispered promise — as she slipped back out through the double doors in search of the middle-aged Drekahjarta patron who was her lift back home.
Sunday
Unknown: hi it's… errr… me? 10:10
You: Hi, Me 10:16
—You changed contact name to "Me"—
Me: how r u? 10:16
You: Frosty. Was starting to think you'd forgotten about me. 10:17
Me: never. 10:17
Me: did the soot come out? 10:18
You: Eventually. 10:18
You: You need a name. 10.18
Me: i have a name 10:19
You: An Alias. I'm tired of calling you 'rider' or 'you'. 10.20
You: How about Dragon Boy? 10.20
—You changed contact name to "Dragon Boy"—
Dragon Boy: how about no 10.21
—You changed contact name to "no"—
You: If you insist, no. 10.22
no: stop it 10.22
You: Make me, Mr. no. 10.23
no: how? 10.23
You: I dunno, come up with a better name. 10.25
no: you're the only one who has a problem with my name. you think of one 10.26
You: I did. 10.26
no: a good one 10.27
You: Fiiine… 10.28
no: astrid? 10.57
You: Nightfall 19.36
no: i like it 19.48
You: Really? 19.49
no: yh it sounds badass 19.50
—You changed contact name to "Nightfall"—
You: Good. I was working on it all day lol. 19.51
Nightfall: aww i feel special 19.53
You: Don't let it go to your head. 19.54
Nightfall: me? never. im hurt 19.55
You: Haha. Good. 19.55
Nightfall: :P 19.56
Aside from messaging Nightfall, Astrid had barely been on her phone. She had been powering through the mountain of homework that she was assigned the week before as she'd left herself no time to do it on Saturday. Her father had been busy at work making preparations for the next race of the Thunder Run and hadn't been around much lately. That was why when Monday rolled around, she was completely and utterly blindsided.
Fortunately Ruffnut got to her first, bounding up to her the second she set foot on campus. "Tell me everything! How did you two meet? What did he say to you? Something obviously happened, so spill. Spiiiiil!" pleaded the other girl, voice pitching as she drew out the syllable dramatically.
Ruffnut was hanging off her every word, which was… unusual to say the least. Normally Ruff's crazy weekend stories took precedent first thing in the morning, last thing at night, and all times in between.
"Huh, spill what? Care to fill me in?" she asked, shifting her bag strap higher up her slender shoulder as they walked together in step.
She was accustomed to Ruff's nonsensical melodrama, but this was something else. Astrid shook her head, noting how the entire student body seemed to be eavesdropping on their conversation.
"The tea!" pressed Ruff. "What happened on Saturday at the races between you and that mystery rider guy?"
"How do you know about that?" Astrid asked, suddenly very cagey. She didn't want to give her friend any more amunition than she already had. But that was difficult considering she didn't even know what Ruff thought she knew. Gah, too complicated, too early, too little sleep…
"What rock have you been living under!? It's all over social media, everyone's talking 'bout it," she exclaimed.
Ruff loaded up one of her most frequented blogs, dedicated to dragon racing, then DragonNet, then FaceBerk, then TerrorMail… She was right, it really was everywhere. It was just two images. The first was her outside the Pit, holding Nightfall's hand; juxtaposed with picture two, a very incriminating snapshot of her emerging, covered in soot. A red circle drew attention to the black smudge on her nose. Damn reporters, pulling at strings.
The caption (though superfluous to requirement) read: How do you think that got there?
"I can explain…" Astrid began. Ruff waited, uncharacteristically patient, for a personal record (a count of ten) as she floundered for words. "Honestly, nothing happened—"
"There is a sooty handprint on your boob," the other girl deadpanned. "Try explain your way out of that one and stay fashionable."
"He fell on top of me," she tried.
Ruff didn't buy it. "That's no excuse for getting all handsy."
Astrid huffed. "He didn't— the dragon—"
"—Was in on it!" she interrupted, staring at her as if she had just uncovered some deep-rooted conspiracy to make a pass at her friend.
"Do you want to jump to crazy conclusions or do you want to hear what really happened?" silenced Astrid, ready to tell the whole truth and set the record straight.
Ruff backed off, looking pleased. Astrid felt totally played. "Do tell, Miss. Hofferson," she prompted with a grin.
The girl begrudgingly proceeded give an accurate recount of the events of her weekend to Ruff, omitting only the fact that she had given Nightfall her number and that they had texted a little the day before. She figured the truth was easier than getting caught in a lie; the twins were like human lie-detectors anyway, so there really was no point.
"So you didn't make out? Yawn," said Ruff dismissively.
"No. We did not," she replied evenly. "I didn't even see his face." She said that part louder so everyone could hear, but it didn't do much good — they just weren't ready to drop it yet.
They arrived at their lockers with a few minutes to spare before period one, but Astrid already felt exhausted. Everyone was staring at her, trying to listen in on her conversation and uncover a new part of the story and it was really grating.
Just when she thought it couldn't get any worse, Snotlout appeared as if summoned by some higher power, Hel-bent on torturing her.
"Babe! I had such a great weekend," he called out as he strutted towards them. His raised voice drew the gazes of everyone who wasn't already watching Astrid.
"That's nice for you," she deflected.
"For us," he corrected. Where is he going with this? "See, there's something you should know. I'm the rider." He looked up at her through his lashes, trying to be alluring or something… honestly who knew with Snot. Suffice to say it was not working.
"Pfft… Nice try." Astrid turned to leave. This was his most ridiculous ploy to date. But as far-fetched and hilarious as it was, it got old fast.
"You don't recognise me? Maybe this will refresh your memory…"
Catching her hand, he pulled her into his chest and puckered up. Delivering a swift kick to his unmentionables, Astrid broke free of his hold and took a step back. His knees gave way and he collapsed like a tent with no poles, spineless, fillitted. Expelling a rattling wheeze, Snotlout's bulging eyes turned on Astrid with a heated gaze, cursing under his breath.
Unaffected by his pathetic whimpers, Astrid stepped over the puddle of Snotlout and made her way to homeroom.
Monday
Nightfall: im sorry. i should've known that would happen 16.25
You: It's fine. I dealt with it. 16.29
Nightfall: i know 16.29
You: wdym? 16.31
Nightfall: i know you can take care of yourself 16.31
You: Damn straight. 16.32
The next day, Astrid was prepared for the stares. She got to her locker early and managed to avoid Snotlout completely. On the plus side, she bumped into someone else. Someone she had actually been hoping to run into again.
"Hey, Hiccup," she greeted.
His head shot up, colliding solidly with the locker door panel. Rubbing the injured spot, he spun around to face her. "Astrid. Hey! Hi, Astrid. Hi, Astrid," he stammered.
She raised a brow, but didn't comment on his broken greeting. "So… I've been meaning to ask you about something," she began.
"Oh, yeah?" He seemed to squirm nervously under her gaze. "About what?" he asked, puffing out his cheeks and straightening out his crooked smile into a thin line.
"About how you can repay me… for saving your skin last Monday. I had to put up with Snotlout for the entire week," she reminded him, wrinkling her nose at the unpleasant memory.
"Right, of course…heh. What else?" he asked rhetorically, voice cracking and pitched a little too high to feel natural.
Strangely though, he appeared to relax a little more; the tension in his shoulders eased and he met her eyes. The crisp evergreen hues were pretty… mesmerising even.
"Well… I was wondering if there was a teeny-weeny—" she demonstrated the measure with her forefinger and thumb "—chance that you could find out if my application to dragon training has been accepted…?" she probed delicately.
Dragon training was the exclusive crash course run by team Þruma. Astrid had submitted her application last month, hoping to get a spot on their intermediate programme, Stormur Elta[2]. Whoever placed first in dragon training got their own racing dragon, advanced training and an all access pass to the Paddocks. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity to be fast-tracked into the team's elite ranks.
The manager of Þruma, Stoick the Vast was in charge of admission, so there was a chance that as his son, Hiccup might actually know who had made the cut. It was a long shot, but what was the harm in asking?
"I would, but I'm sworn to secrecy." He mimed zipping his lips, turning the lock and throwing away the key.
Astrid laughed and played along, catching the key and moving closer to unlock and unzip his mouth. "Please, I'm really good at keeping secrets," she promised.
"Now that is a theory in need of testing…" he agreed cryptically. "Alright…" He paused for dramatic effect... "Yes. Your application was one of the first to be accepted. Kudos." He grinned.
"You mean it?" she asked, studying his face for any sign that he was pulling her leg. No way. Hiccup can be sarcastic, but I don't think he would lie to my face, she reasoned.
Hiccup nodded in affirmation. Her face split into a delighted smile.
"Yes!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around his neck.
She released him just as quick, tucking a tuft of fringe behind her ear self-consciously. For a moment, he reminded her of someone else and she had lapsed into misplaced familiarity.
"Thank you, Hiccup."
This meant everything to Astrid. She always knew she'd get out there; she was born to race. Being accepted into Stormur Elta was the start of her dragon racing career — she could feel it in her bones. Watch out Nightfall, here I come.
The hardest part was not being able to celebrate yet. Knowing in advance came at a price; she had to keep the news to herself or Hiccup could get into trouble for telling her. For now it was their secret, at least until Þruma contacted to let her know her application had been successful.
"It was nothing," he said nonchalantly. "Oh— and I guess I'll see you there."
"Huh?"
"Dad stuck me in training this year," he shrugged. "We're going to be in the same set." His voice was distinctly lacklustre.
"You don't seem excited," she pointed out.
How could anyone not be excited about starting dragon training? The course was pretty competitive, so maybe he felt like he was taking the place of someone who deserved a spot on Stormur Elta. Perhaps dragon racing didn't interest him, but he didn't want to let his dad down. Whatever it was, she couldn't be sure and could only wonder.
"Not really, but that is a long story," said Hiccup. "When it comes to dragon training, Dad and I don't exactly see eye to eye. He's very set in his ways… you'll see what I mean at training," he promised, but it felt a lot more like a warning. "I'll see you around." Hiccup half-smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes and left for class.
"Yes — and no more avoiding me!" Astrid called. She felt like she had to bring it up, just to make sure he knew they were friends now.
"I wasn't!" he called back, faux-affronted. "And I won't."
He traced a cross over his heart and was gone, swallowed up by the crowds. But not before Astrid caught the slant of a genuine smile hanging on his lips.
[1] The official dragon racing codex states that all stiliodromes must have the latest Eldingar™ systems in operation. The software was designed by Ingerman Consolidated. and first used in the 2030 Thunder Run.
[2] Storm Chaser — the intermediate dragon training course. The beginner's set of lessons is called Skýjab (a truncated version of the word cloudburst in Icelandic) and the advanced set is called Fellibylur (Hurricane in Icelandic).
A/N: So many favourites and follows, I am so happy :)) Thank you everyone for the amazing response to the last chapter! As always concrit is very welcome, so please keep 'em coming! Did Astrid's punishment fit Snotlout's crime? I'm not sure anymore lol. Did some scenes feel underdeveloped, whereas others waffled on forever? I can't tell! SeNd HeLp….
Anyway, here are the responses to reviews:
Night Fire or The Creature: Thank you :) I hope you enjoy this second chapter.
RachlovesHTTYDFranchise: You're right, the main focus of this story is going to be Hiccstrid XD I have so many more ideas since you mentioned a Cinderella Story for where to take this next, so thank you!
Madur94: Thank you :) The info about racing helmets was actually taken from stats for a Formula 1 driver's crash helmet. You're right that it should deform to absorb force, but it's the soft foam on the inside that deforms in an accident, not the hard outer shell.
PaperView: Thank you! Obviously I am continuing this story, so thanks for your encouragement :)
BlackJack072: How could I not update after your lovely review? Thank you!