I UPDATED THIS IN JANUARY?! ARE YOU SURE?! Trippy... Here. I am sorry. Please forgive my suckiness. Also, I'd like to that 'Guest' for this little gem:

YOU STUPID LITTLE PROCRATSANATIONIST YOU.

That is not even a word, yet it is very motivational.

Tap, tap, tap.

Astrid rolls over in her bed, cuddling deeper into the snuggle warmth of her blanket.

She was having such a nice dream.

It was blurry and warped, like all dreams are, but she knew what it was about, in the way that you remember what dreams are about.

Hiccup was there. And it was sunny, and the two of them were holding hands, and the dragon-rider was saying something that made her laugh.

Such a nice dream, she thought, curling up tighter.

Tap, tap, tap.

What was that? A groggy voice asks in her unconscious.

Doesn't matter. Sleep. Dream. Hiccup...

Tap, tap, tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Astrid.

Astrid.

Astrid!

"WHAT?!" She shouts at the air, sitting up bolt right in bed, accidentally hurling her pillow at the wall and knocking her old training axe that was mounted on said wall off with a thud.

She didn't register it right away, her brain was still asleep, and looked around blearily when–

Tap, tap, tap.

Astrid whipped around, half jumping, half falling out of her bed and staggering toward the window.

A face blinked back at her, eyes less tired, but rimmed with red. And a nose with crooked spectacles perched on them.

It took a moment for her to recognize it.

Percian.

Astrid rubs a hand down her face and opened the window.

"What are you doing here?" She whispers harshly in the younger teen's face, not exactly a middle of the night person, "Why are you making such a racket?!"

Percian crosses his arms, "Technically, you made the racket."

"Well, what do you expect when you try to poke a hole through my window?!" His cheekiness isn't really helping Astrid's mood right now.

He doesn't answer, but swallows thickly, eyes averted. "Sorry."

Astrid stops in her tracks, eyes immediately scrutinizing his expression at the change in demeanor.

While Percian didn't exactly make as much of an impression as the other Order members, from what Astrid could gather he was goofy. He was somewhat oblivious to what others thought about him and liked it that way. He liked to have fun. He was easily flustered as well.

But he didn't seem flustered just now.

Astrid takes a moment to note the puffy grey eyes and the slumped shoulders, blue irises roving over what appear to be tears on his glasses.

His red hair looks as though it's been tugged on repeatedly, and he's just... Disheveled.

And sad. That's a word Astrid hates. Sadness is a weak emotion, she was told, especially if it got to you. And it appeared to have gotten to Percian.

But for some reason, she couldn't bring herself to think of him as weak.

She supposes she'll have to try and be kind.

Astrid was not heartless by any means, but being a Viking her perception of emotions and tact with people is a little warped.

"D'you–" she clears her throat awkwardly, brushing her bangs from her face, "D'you want to come in?"

"W-well, it wasn't my intention to sit outside your window all night," Percian mumbles jokingly, trying lighten things as he steps through the window.

Astrid isn't sure what to do, only watches as the fifteen year old stands there uncomfortably, fiddling with a lose thread on his tunic.

She realizes for the first time that he's not wearing his cape, and how much smaller it makes him look.

"Percian?" She says softly, and he looks up quickly and adjusts his glasses, his mouth forming an apologetic smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

"Sorry," he says again, taking a deep breath, "I came here to talk to you."

"Me?" Astrid is taken aback. Then is suspicious. Order members almost never want to talk to her, and if they do it's about something important.

Life-threateningly important.

"Yeah," Percian breathes out and his chin quivers suddenly, "I-it's Virid."

Astrid's heart stops for a moment. Possible scenarios run through her head. She can't speak. She only gestures for Percian to sit bedside her on the bed.

"S-she's gone," he says after a moment.

"Gone?" Astrid repeats incredulously, little white threads of anger lacing her tone, "What do you mean gone?"

Percian sighs heavily, burying his face in his hands, voice coming out muffled and anguished, "Kon took her. You can see his ship a couple miles away. He must've taken h-her, it's the only explanation. We can't find her anywhere and there are footprints leading away and—and—!"

"Percian!" Astrid nearly shouts, snapping the boy out of his reverie, and he looks up at her with smudged spectacles and eyes like shattered glass.

Astrid realizes something.

She remembers how Jethro looks at Nevra. And how Hiccup looks at her, Astrid. She wonders if she looks at Hiccup that way.

Yeah. She probably does.

Percian likes Virid.

Astrid stores away this information for later, and focuses on the problem at hand.

But the words don't seem to fit in her head.

Kon captured Virid.

She tries saying it aloud. "Kon captured Virid."

It doesn't fit right there either.

Her tongue looses it's moisture, mouth becoming a desert full of sandstorms.

It makes her insides feel like a whirlpool, and her breathing becomes uneven.

Yes, she knew that Kon was as vile and wicked as any living thing could be. Yes, she knew that Virid was a twelve year old.

But that little pirate was possibly tougher than any other viking Astrid knew.

"Percian," she turns to him, "Are you absolutely sure?"

He runs a hand through his spiky locks miserably, shoulders drooping, "Of course. Everyone's looked everywhere. She's nowhere to be found. A-and it's not as though Virid w-would just abandon us. She knew best of all of us that Kon was coming and what would happen. She wouldn't just leave." His eyes bore into hers so intensely and so morosely that Astrid can't help but feel her heartstrings tugged.

She lays a hand on the younger boy's shoulder. "I know." She tells him earnestly. Because she does.

Virid's voice echoes in her mind. Hiccup's me big brother, blood or not, and I've already told ye how I deal with people who hurt me family. I'd watch yer step if I were ye. Get me?

She wouldn't just leave.

Golden eyes blink at her, in her mind's eye, eyes wise beyond their years. Amber orbs with specks of warm brown and fiery orange, irises that are reckless and guarded all at once. Eyes that are just the slightest bit off, showcasing the soul that's just barely stopped teetering on the edge of good and bad.

Eyes that don't trust and shouldn't be trusted.

But eyes that Astrid has come to put her faith in anyway.

Virid wouldn't.

"We'll get her back." Astrid mutters determinedly. She turns to Percian, "I promise."

His mouth lifts at corners, "Thank you."

The quiet that sets over them isn't entirely uncomfortable, just the two of them sitting there lost in their own thoughts.

A sudden one seems to slap Astrid across the face. "H-how's Hiccup taking... all this?" She gestures haphazardly, flinching slightly at the hand motion she'd picked up from Hiccup himself.

Percian sighs loudly, lips pulling downwards again, "He's a mess. He won't talk to anyone, he's just thrown himself into battle strategies. He won't even come out of his cabin."

Astrid comes to a stop at the door that reads 'Hiccup'. She folds her arms and takes a breath.

She straightens her armor, brushes the bangs from her face and pushes the door open determinedly.

She can do this.

She's Astrid Hofferson. She can do this.

Hiccup sits with his back to her head bowed over a desk, charcoal pencil scratching away at a parchment Astrid can't see.

"Guys, I told you a million times," he drawls without looking up, voice sounding scratchy, "I'm completely fine."

"That's one of the biggest lies I've ever heard," Astrid replies flatly, enjoying the way he jumps.

"A-Astrid!" He whips around in his chair and it's physically painful to see his face.

His eyes are red and there are dark circles underneath them, his hair's so messy that even his eyebrows are having a bad day, and Astrid wonders if he knows his shirt is on backwards.

His head hangs slightly as though he's only realized his current state. He stands up almost reflexively and his hand twitches like he wants to grab the back of his neck but he doesn't.

"I uh, wasn't expecting— I mean I didn't, um..." He swallows loudly. "What are you doing here?"

Astrid rolls her eyes because the answer is obvious, but decides to play along. "Can't a girl visit her boyfriend?"

Hiccup coughs and Astrid silently revels in the bright flush of his cheeks at the terminology.

"Yeah, of course, but I just, I mean–"

The blonde shieldmaiden sighs and walks forward, because she's impatient and doesn't want to beat around the bush.

"Hiccup. Look at me," she snaps more harshly than she meant to, but darn it all, he's being so impossible.

His eyes are so green and so shiny. Yet they look so empty. Barren like a starving stomach, achingly dull, like someone reached inside of him and plucked his soul out.

Astrid has no clue what came over her, but suddenly she throws her arms around his shoulders and she wishes she had something blunt and unkind to say to jarr him out of this but she doesn't.

But it's okay, because he squeezes back.

She feels something drip onto her shoulder, and feels a sob rack his being, and she pulls back jerkily, leaving Hiccup looking confused and slightly hurt.

"Are you–" she begins disbelievingly, though the evidence is right in front of her face, "Are you crying?"

Hiccup's face burns with shame and embarrassment. He wipes them away like he's angry at himself, "I-"

"No," Astrid stops his explanation, bringing his hands back and watching with some kind of morbid fascination as the tears track down his cheeks. "It's just..."

She closes her mouth to think.

Astrid has never seen Hiccup cry.

Not even when they were children, and Snotlout shoved Hiccup into the lake. Not even when he burned his hand in the forge and had to wear bandages for a month. Not even when Hiccup's mother died.

And Astrid tells Hiccup these things, a revelation breaking through as he gives her a wry smile.

There's a reason.

Hiccup doesn't let people see him cry.

No wonder, Astrid mentally berates herself. All anyone ever did was tell him that he wasn't good enough, that he was useless, a freak and a nuisance. Why would he give us another reason to shun him.

So Astrid leans back into the hug, squeezing twice as hard. "Go ahead. Cry. You need it."

And he does.

And Astrid swears that she's going to make the person who made him cry like this pay.