Hiccup's official thrall and unofficial girlfriend.

When they were young, Astrid had a lot of ambitions and drive. She wanted to become Berk's greatest Shieldmaiden. She got her first axe when she was five years old and she would take it everywhere. While her peers had stuffed animals, she had her axe, dragging it around everywhere and making notches with it all over the house.

And then... her Uncle's head became too big and he had an idea.

Her mom told her to go to bed early while her Uncle Finn arrived. Astrid was only nine years old, so she wasn't entirely sure what was going on until it happened.

It was the annual attack of the Flightmare. The Hooligan Tribe was scrambling to fight it off, but it wasn't just any dragon. It glowed with an unholy light, flying too fast for any of the hammers and axes and throwing-things to catch them.

Like always, Stoick led the charge against the Flightmare, swapping between hunters trying ot pin the thing down, others trying to keep the beast from stealing anything. The Flightmare was a beast of rage, so it never stole food like other dragons. It merely showed up, smashed some buildings and left.

What happened was a blur, and soon enough Astrid's parents had snuck up and grabbed the Chief by both arms as Finn brandished a sword, intent on running their chief through.

Fate had a sense of irony it seemed, as Finn suddenly froze just as he was about to kill his Chief, struck with a paralyzing fear from the Flightmare's glow just long enough for Gobber and Spitelout to show up and tackle the rest of the Hoffersons.

They were all locked up and held for trial the next day. Treachery of this kind was considered the highest of crimes on the Isle of Berk, and their lives were the Chief's now. He could have had the entire clan executed if he wanted to. Instead, he shown mercy.

"Mercy" in such circumstances meant that the perpetrators and their closest kin were branded and banished, Outcasted for life. Astrid's parents and uncle grit their teeth as the glowing orange brand hit their skins.

"Stop!"

It was Hiccup.

"Hiccup! You can't be here for this!" Cried out the Chief.

"B-But, Astrid didn't do anything!"

"The boy is spittin' in the face of the law!" Cried out Mildew, who never missed seeing judicial cruelty like this. "You goin' to show weakness at a time like this?"

"You do realize that if he wasn't, he'd have your head too?" Asked Gobber. "If Stoick were like any other Chief, you and your entire family would be dead."

It was true. Mildew was technically of Clan Hofferson, though not in their immediate family.

"Please, Astrid's my friend!" Cried out Hiccup, feeling sweat trickle down his face at the sight of the brand.

Stoick gave out an exhausted breath as he massaged his temples. Things were hard enough without his son seeing him enact necessary evils.

"You don't understand, son. Astrid might not have been involved, but she won't be able to survive on her own. Their status will banish them from all Clan affairs, but they would at least have each other. The rest of the Clan won't take her in."

"Well... what about us?"

Whether a cruel mercy or a blessing in disguise, the Haddocks came up with a compromise: she would become a thrall to Clan Haddock and Hiccup offered to take responsibility for her. By Berk Law, she would become his property, and her disgraced status will be unchanged until the day Berk's seat of power changed to Hiccup, whereupon he can decide to keep her or grant her amnesty.

Astrid wouldn't look him in the eye when he was the one who placed the collar around her neck, nor would she respond when he hugged her.

Being a thrall on Berk wasn't exactly an ideal way of living. Sure it was better than being outcasted or being a Thrall to some other tribes in the Archipelago, but slavery was still slavery. She was basically the Haddock's personal maid. Cleaning, cooking, delivering messages, enduring dirty looks from the villagers.

She missed her axe, thralls not allowed to touch weapons. The closest she had ever gotten was a small knife used for chopping vegetables, and it was too dull to be considered dangerous for people. There were some days where she wanted to stab Stoick with it.

Stoick didn't beat her, but that was probably because she didn't belong to him. He was always cold to her, often pretending like she didn't exist, let alone that they lived under the same roof.

Hiccup was a different story.

Hiccup was always nice to her, even when she wasn't. He traded witty bards with her, they gossiped, they laughed, they cried, etc. While she wasn't allowed a weapon, she was allowed personal property if he approved of them, and he was usually the one who bought her things. He had brought books and scrolls that she might have liked, he would always buy her changes of clothes. She wasn't really into jewelry, but she appreciated it whenever he got her some.

Accept for necklaces. They always gave her anxiety, reminding her of her collar.

Years went by.

Hiccup was still a skinny stick compared to most of his peers, but Astrid tried not to judge. She couldn't be a dragon killer either. It was against the law. Stoick would yell at him for being in the way before ordering Astrid to escort him back home. Do their usual duties, the next raid would happen, Hiccup tries to help in his own ways, Stoick yells at him, rinse repeat.

"I mean, I try to be more Viking-like, but I'm not sure if I have it in me," said Hiccup, who was busy putting Astrid's hair into a braid.

"Not with that attitude," said Astrid.

"I was doing great with a sword, then Dad takes it away until I can 'use it the proper way'. Left-handed, right-handed, aren't results enough?"

"Maybe you're just not a sword guy."

"Yeah."

Hiccup finished lacing the braid up and she felt his chin on her shoulder. She blushed at his touch.