A/N: A/N: Okay, this random idea came to me while preparing to attend my niece's wedding-an AU set during RTTE season 5. (No offence to my niece Ingrid-it was a lovely wedding but it got me thinking about the subject of marriages and weddings in general...) The story will dip in and out of season 5 and will be AU so events won't directly follow the whole season. Hiccup and Astrid are now boyfriend/girlfriend but not betrothed yet...and suddenly there is a major problem. Will our favourite couple manage to overcome the biggest obstacles possible?

I do not own How to Train Your Dragon. Rights remain with Cressida Cowell and Dreamworks.

oOo

ONE: No regrets

Surrounded by warmth, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, Heir to Berk, Rider of Toothless the Night Fury and leader of the Dragon Riders,snuggled instinctively down under his blankets away from the cold air in his hut. He was still muzzy and exhausted, his head feeling stuffed with fluff and aching after the celebration the previous night. Somehow, Snotlout had managed to smuggle in a barrel of his father Spitelout's strongest mead and the Riders, throwing a party to celebrate the easing of the lava flows and a welcome break from the constant fight to preserve their home, had thrown themselves into it.

Hiccup shifted slightly and felt something move against him. He blinked, his head really pounding with the after-effects of the strongest mead that Berk had to offer. He recalled drinking-something he didn't have much experience at-and he sort-of remembered finding a lot of things hilarious. The twins had pranked Fishlegs and Snotlout and both his friends had ended up covered in green dye and leaves before Snotlout had tried to chase them all over the edge, ending up hanging by a foot over the drop with Barf and Belch butting him like a whinging punch bag. Hiccup's lips stretched in a small smile, his eyes still tightly closed against the day. Snotlout hadn't responded well to the swinging motion and he made a mental note to order the twins to clean up the mess when they finally emerged. Earlier in the evening, Heather and Astrid had challenged Snotlout to a drinking contest, refusing to acknowledge that the stocky rider was in any way better than they were. In the end, everyone had been giggly and slurring and someone had suggested they go on a race around the island...

He was comfortable, his body heavy with weary lassitude and he felt a hand press gently against his naked chest, silky hair rubbing over his shoulder and he felt a warm, naked body shift slightly against him. His eyes slammed open to see gold hair strewn across his vision and over milky pale shoulders, a small hand resting lightly against chest. He took a shuddering breath as he felt Astrid's leg move against his. She was as naked as he was, their limbs tangled and her body snuggled neatly into his. She smelled as she always did-of fresh air and pine with the unfamiliar sweet scent of mead-and her hair was insanely wild. It was one of the many things he adored about her-that she was controlled and precise and always looked immaculate but at night, her hair rebelled and first thing in the morning, she looked as if she had been through a hurricane. Quietly, he nuzzled into her hair.

"S'too early, babe," she murmured hoarsely, not moving and her hand slid over his skin. He realised his hand was resting gently on her waist under the covers, the soft skin dipping before rising over the gentle curve of her hip. He felt heat rising slowly in his cheeks at the realisation of what had happened. What did he recall?

"So you think you can beat me, dragon boy?" Astrid's voice, though slurred, was still confident and teasing and a surge of proper viking pride had welled in his chest.

"Any day of the week, Milady," he had replied, a smirk lighting his face. "I do ride the 'unholy offspring of lightning and death itself'!" He glanced to the side and Toothless had cracked open an unimpressed eye. "Back me up, bud! Do you think Stormfly and Astrid can beat us around the island?" The small coo of the weary dragon had only fired him up more. "Aww, c'mon baby boo! You wanna be beaten by the girls?"

He had yelped as the punch slammed into his shoulder and Astrid balled her fist for another hit.

"Who're you calling girls?" she had sneered. "I'm a warrior, the same as you!" He had drawn himself up and said the fatal words.

"Prove it."

They were flying fast and high around the coast of the Edge, the black scars of the lava flows ugly on the green beauty of the island, washed a cool blue in the moonlight. Astrid was all focus, growling challenges at him while Hiccup was hanging onto Toothless, urging the Night Fury on through the cold night. He knew that his dragon was faster than Stormfly when at maximum speed and he was tracking the girl closely. All he could think of was not losing to Astrid...because though he loved her, he had to prove to her that he still had worth. Flying was his thing, the skill he had developed before anyone else and he knew he was the most daring, the most reckless and the most skilled of the riders.

So he had hung back, tracking Astrid until they rounded the last bluff and the cliffs that marked their base came into sight. And then he had leaned forward and the whine of Toothless's wings slicing the air as he accelerated past her, blasting by the Nadder and grinning at her as he passed. He heard her scream of fury and smirked as the raced down to the platform in front of the stables and landed, leaping from the saddle to smugly grin at his girlfriend as she landed, moments too late. He grinned.

"I win," he had said, the smug smirk earning him another sharp punch to the arm. He yelped again. "Why-why would you do that?" he protested, clutching the point of impact and staring at her with a wounded expression.

"That's for beating me!" she scolded him fiercely.

"But if I let you win, you would punch me for letting you win!" he argued, backing up a step and she opened her mouth before nodding.

"Absolutely right!" she told him sternly and he gave her a very defensive look.

"So I get punched no matter what?' he asked her. She nodded.

"Of course," she told him confidently.

"But-but-but...why?" he asked plaintively. She looked at him and then a smile tilted her lips.

"Because you are a skinny, one-legged, dorky..."

"Hey!" His protest was more hurt than angry.

"...caring, brilliant, brave, very hot dragon boy..." she concluded, closing the distance between them. "And I love you." Staring into her azure eyes, he had straightened up and leaned close.

"I love you too, Milady," he had murmured, his lips pressed sensuously into hers, his hands cupping her cheeks, tips of his fingers sliding into her silken hair.

...and then fragments. Staggering back to his hut, the door slamming closed behind them. Fumbling with clothes, buckles and fastenings clumsily freed by urgent fingers as their lips had seemed glued to each other. There had been touch and heat and urgency...and Astrid had made the most extraordinary noises... And then silence, warm and golden and safe. Her arms around him, her body against his, her scent in his nostrils. Peace. Contentment. Valhalla.

His eyes stared at her, widening further as the fragments coalesced.

Oh. They had really...finally...

Oh Thor...and it had been because they were drunk and didn't care about...anything.

He had really had sex with Astrid Hofferson.

She was going to kill him.

Scratch that. His FATHER was going to kill him...and then ASTRID'S FATHER would kill him TWICE!

She fidgeted against him and he almost flinched back, the gentle brush against his most sensitive areas reminding him that he was naked...and Astrid had seen...everything. She moved again, her arm stroking across him once more and he felt himself stir in response to the touch. Shame burned in his cheeks and he curled up a little, lying on his left hand side as he usually did with his truncated left leg tucked under his right, wondering what she would think now she was sober. Would she regret it? Would she realise what a broken and disappointing specimen he was and reconsider being his girlfriend? She deserved so much more than a Hiccup. He just hoped she would remain his friend because he really couldn't manage without her in his life.

He blinked, resting his cheek hesitantly against her silky hair. She was his friend, his strength, his certainty. He knew he tended to be distracted, considering too many options, suddenly losing himself in a new idea or project and obsessing while Astrid had clarity and decisiveness. Too many times, when he had pulled an all-nighter in the forge, she would come for him with breakfast and tea, making him rest and eat when he would have neglected himself. She kept the others in line, enforcing the rules and ensuring the Base ran smoothly. She was his better half, the only thing that could make him fit for the role of Chief because he couldn't cope with a whole village and the dragons and his friends without Astrid.

She shifted again and her azure eyes fluttered open, sweeping up to meet his anxious emerald gaze. Smiling lazily and giving him a squeeze, she craned her neck so she could stretch up to kiss him gently.

"Morning, babe," she murmured. His eyes sparkled, hopeful once more.

"Morning, Milady," he smiled, seeing her blink a couple of times and begin to realise where she was...and how little she was wearing. Her expression changed to surprise and-to his shame-dismay. She pulled away from him, leaving him feeling bereft as she pulled the blanket towards herself to cover her chest.

"Hiccup," she said carefully. "Why are we here?" He swallowed the sick feeling that suddenly surged in his stomach and was nothing to do with the probably hideous amounts of mead he had imbibed.

"What do you remember?" he asked her gently, almost not daring to breathe. Please, Odin, don't let her be ashamed. Her brow furrowed and she stared at him.

"We were flying...you won, you wretch..." she murmured and he managed a pained smile. "We...we...did you...?" He nodded, slowly looking away.

"I think we..." he admitted. "Sorry..." He pulled away...but as he was on the edge of his narrow bed, he fell backwards with a cry, slamming hard onto the floor. She peered over the edge, seeing his naked shape curl up and turn away from her, head down and ashamed. Her eyes widened, seeing his lean shape cringing back. She had seen Hiccup shirtless, knew that his lean shape had muscle, toned and firm from years of smithing and riding but she had never properly seen his leg because he was horribly self-conscious. Leaning further forward, she saw his pale shape cringe more, the light scattering of freckles on his shoulders highlighting the hunch of his body but her eyes lingered on the truncated limb, seeing the ugly scars from where he had sacrificed himself to save his village and his friends. It was a noble wound, a wound won in battle...and one he was ashamed of.

Quietly, she sat up and slid from the bed, walking slowly to crouch by him. She was very confident in her skin, proud of every wound and scar as testament to the life that she had led but she knew years of bullying, of sneers about his size and appearance had taken their toll on Hiccup so she gently clasped she shoulders in her hands, feeling him flinch under her touch.

"Babe?" she said softly.

"Sorry," he mumbled. She sighed.

"Hiccup Haddock-look at me," she said sternly and he warily twisted to stare into her concerned eyes, her hair still wild around her face. "I regret nothing, okay? Not one second with you-no matter what we got up to." The uncertainty and shame in his eyes eased a little but he was still half-curled away, shielding himself from her, as if she would scorn him. As if she would... "Oh, you fool," she sighed.

His eyes widened and he looked into her face, seeing sympathy and concern filling her eyes. Astrid wasn't a demonstrative person and expressing her feelings was something she had never really learned as a child. A Viking was strong, brave, fearless. If you were hurt, you shut up and coped. If you were afraid, you were weak. A Hofferson was never weak, never scared, never cowardly. But being with Hiccup had started to soften her hard edges-not too much, because she was the best warrior Hiccup knew, save his father perhaps-and she still struggled sometimes to express herself...but she knew him. And she loved him-every inch of his goofy, distracted, brilliant, brave, self-conscious, caring, inventive, dorky shape. So she wrapped her arms around him and felt his arms wind around her, his head burying in her shoulder.

"You mutton-head," she murmured, kissing his cheek. "You thought I would reject you when I saw...all this naked Vikingness..."

"Not really the Viking ideal..." he mumbled. "Still a fishbone..."

"Not even close," she whispered in his ear. "A fishbone wouldn't have been able to do what you were doing last night..." He gave a shy chuckle against her shoulder and then lifted his head, his lips quirked into a small smile.

"Hmm...was it...alright?" he asked, his eyes staring deep into hers. There were just occasional moments when he once more showed that horrible lack of confidence that was the product of his harsh upbringing. This was one such moment, compounded of shame, embarrassment and his longstanding feelings of inadequacy. But from what she recalled, there was nothing inadequate about the boy she had given herself to. Her hand pressed against her cheek and he leaned into the gentle pressure.

"Hiccup, I will never regret a moment I spend with you," she told him gently. "And maybe this was sooner than I imagined and not how I thought it would happen-but I will never regret a second we spend together. I love you, Hiccup. And I want to spend my life with you...so if you want to survive to spend that life with me, you won't breathe a word to Snotlout or Tuffnut about this..." His eyes swept over her face and he leaned in, kissing her tenderly.

"You're the only women I have ever wanted,Astrid," he told her, leaning his forehead against hers. "You're my best friend...best human friend...and my rock, my strength, my certainty. And while I know it won't all be rainbows, there's no one else I want want there to weather the storm with." She breathed hard, her eyes suddenly stinging with tears at the fierce sentiment and she blinked hard to dispel them.

"My dragon boy," she breathed. "What was it you said? There will always be a Hiccup and Astrid." He chuckled, tightening his arms around her. If his father found out, he would be disappointed-because Hiccup was held to a higher ideal than the rest of the Vikings of Berk. Many couples consummated their relationships once they were betrothed-but not the Heir, the Chief's son. He was expected to be pure when he married, as was his wife to be. Just as he had been expected to be a paragon of dragon-fighting prowess when he was obviously a runt and a talking fishbone. And while Stoick was becoming more supportive and understanding of his son-because he had realised that Hiccup wasn't the most normal Viking-Hiccup doubted he would just let this breach of custom pass. But Hiccup was the Viking they needed on Berk-and he really hoped Stoick would recall this when he found out. His lips ghosted her cheek once more.

"Then lets get back to bed," he murmured. "We've still got a while before the dragons want their morning flights...and about six hours before the others get up." He smirked and he levered himself to his foot, his arms wrapped around her warm shape. "And I'm sure I can think of something to fill the time..."

A/N: 'Rainbows' line is courtesy of my niece Ingrid.