TWO.

Autumn came and went and the list of the dead lengthened dismally. Every week in church or Temple, the names of the fallen were listed and added to the plaques that had been hung at the back of the congregation to remind the people of Berk of those who had died for their freedom.

Hiccup had been unable to talk after the ceremony where the twins had been honoured and he had taken Toothless for a long walk that had lasted until dusk. Astrid was worried and had waited by the door, almost on the brink of lighting a lantern and going to look for him with Stormfly when his tall shape appeared from the twilight, the faithful shape of Toothless trotting alongside him.

"Hiccup!" she called and flung herself forward, her arms wrapping around his lean shape and she felt him wrap her in an urgent hug, nuzzling into the crook of her neck.

"Sorry, Milady," he mumbled. "Just needed to clear my head..." Toothless whined and the young man reached down and tousled the pricked ears. "Yeah-it was a long walk, bud," he added.

"Babe-it's okay," she admitted. "We all feel it. I-I can't believe they won't be coming back, that they won't burst through the door and yell 'Surprise!' and start stealing the biscuits. It-it doesn't seem real."

"But it is," Hiccup murmured hollowly. "Their Mom is going downhill. She's hardly going out and Mrs Ingerman says that she's almost stopped eating." Astrid nodded.

"Heather and I will go and see her," she said determinedly. "Though they were her only children and with her husband away in France as well, I can see how desperate she must be feeling..." Hiccup's emerald eyes gazed lovingly into her determined face and he kissed her passionately.

"I am the luckiest man in Midgard to have you," he admitted. "Now let's go inside so I can warm up and I can show you how grateful I am." She grinned.

"Hush you," she smiled. "People will talk." But the smile slid from his face as they walked back and his expression was pensive as they opened the door to their beautiful home.

They already do, he thought grimly. And they call me a coward...

oOo

Mrs Thorston died over the cold winter, despite Astrid and Heather's best efforts to care for the bereaved woman and Astrid had confided in her husband that the older woman had just given up with the loss of her children. The news, a week after the funeral, that Mr Thorston had died in a gas attack completed the tragedy and the whole community mourned the loss of an entire family to the conflict, so far away.

In the New Year, the letters began to arrive, pushed through the door and addressed to Hiccup in carefully printed block capitol. Each contained a single white feather-the symbol of cowardice.

The first one had him ashen and shaking, staring at the perfect white feather with wide, emerald eyes and then bowing his head. Astrid had scuttled into the Dining Room when he hadn't replied to her query about what he wanted for breakfast and had found him shocked. Furious, she snatched the feather and threw it onto the little fire in the grate, taking his hands and forcing him to look into her eyes.

"You are not a coward," she ground out, through her teeth, her eyes flashing with rage. "You are brave and stubborn and clever and inventive and needed here in the factory."

"But I'm about the only able-bodied man here now," he reminded him in a shamed voice. "I-I can't excuse myself any more. We have enough efficient products and every able bodied man has gone from he factory. The production line is almost all women now-except one-legged Sven and old Lars. They don't need me any more..."

"I need you," she told him fiercely. "I need you to look at me, to listen to me and not listen to people who have no clue what you do. What difference will you make, Hiccup? Answer me that! You are needed here!" Then she leaned up and kissed him. "Stay with me, my husband. Love me. Remind me that there is some hope...because this war just keeping going on and on...and there seems no end."

He didn't show her the other letters, opening each one and then carefully burning the envelopes and feathers. But the familiar stench of burning feathers told his wife that another silent accusation of cowardice had been made and she saw each one gnaw away at her beloved Hiccup. He had wanted to go and a large part of him was already ashamed that he was needed at home: silently, she cursed the fools who were tormenting her husband for doing his duty by staying in Berk.

But she couldn't stay silent when the talk began again in the butchers. Olaf the Generous was the owner, a man who son, Olaf junior, was on the Front Lines, though he had just been injured. The woman, in their elegant hats and long skirts were crowding round the counter, offering their sympathies as Astrid entered-and a frosty silence fell over the shop. Azure eyes narrowing in anger, she walked forward without hesitation.

"Have you got any brisket, Olaf?' she asked politely and the man nodded.

"The nerve of some people," Mrs Anderson commented and Astrid spun to face her like a striking snake, her face pale with rage.

"What did you say?" she demanded.

"You heard," the older woman sneered. "Having the nerve to show your face when your husband is a coward..."

Astrid slapped her so hard she stumbled back a pace, the sound echoing loudly round the scrubbed shop.

"How dare you," the blonde young woman ground through her teeth. "Hiccup wanted to sign up back when War was declared...but he is in a reserved occupation. He's an engineer in the Munitions Factory."

"So?" Mrs Larson replied sarcastically. "All the other men have gone."

"Men who work on the production line, whose jobs can be performed by woman," Astrid snapped. "I know-I work there. But Hiccup is the engineer and designer. He went to University and it would take years for someone else to learn his job or have a quarter of the skill or imagination he has. He is needed here."

"We already have enough weapons," Mrs Anderson sneered. "He's just hiding."

"Coward," Mrs Larson condemned him and Astrid slapped her as well, then grabbed her brisket in its brown paper, handed over the money and walked out of the ship, her cheeks red with embarrassment and rage. Her palms itched to attack the women, to ram the words down their throats and make them understand that Hiccup was no coward...but she knew they wouldn't listen.

There was a kind of hysteria tripping the town that demanded everyone be sacrificed to the guns, no matter age or marital status or suitability to fight-and no one would listen to the fact that her husband was exempted service because of his contribution to keeping the munitions flowing.

And worse, she knew that Hiccup believed it as well. The shame was starting to eat at him, making him more and more withdrawn and though she did everything she could, she knew that she was slowly losing him.

oOo

The boy from the telegraph office knocked and entered Hiccup's office just as he was stretching his cramped neck from hours correcting blueprints and sketching new designs-and he was instantly on alert, rising and almost snatching the little folded paper from the boy's hands-though he tipped him a farthing for his speed in running the message to the factory. With trembling hands, he unfolded the message and read it twice, then closed his eyes and covered his face with his hand.

Steeling himself, he walked down the stairs to Spitelout's office, speaking to the manager of the factory and Spitelout instantly agreed with his plan. The older man, gently patting Hiccup's shoulder, walked quietly out, before asking his secretary to send Astrid and Heather into the office.

The two young woman walked in promptly, their eyes widening as they saw Hiccup perched in the edge of the desk, his face sombre. Astrid closed the door and ushered the frozen Heather to the chairs, forcing her to sit and taking the seat at her side, her hand capturing Heather's. Trembling, the raven-haired woman stared into her foster brother's sad eyes and braced herself.

"Who is it?" she asked. Hiccup swallowed and looked to Astrid for support. She nodded, sympathy welling in her eyes.

"Dagur was killed in action last night," he said.

"NO!" the girl erupted, rising and pulling away from Astrid. "NO! He can't be dead! He promised to come back..." Hiccup caught her hands and stared into her eyes, reading desperate denial.

"I'm so sorry, Heather," he said wretchedly. "It was an attack on their trench. Dagur detected it and led the counter-attack, saving Fishlegs and Snotlout in the process. He killed twenty enemy soldiers-but he was shot during the fight. He died of his wounds on the way to the hospital tent. He was a hero..."

"No..." she wailed, collapsing back in her seat.

"I'm so sorry," he tried but she glared at him, her eyes suddenly flashing with rage, even as tears streamed down her face.

"Don't say that!" she snarled. "If you were sorry, you would go out there and protect my husband. He's all alone there with only Snotlout left! If you were sorry, you wouldn't hide here like a coward instead of fighting for your country. If you were sorry, you would...you would be as devastated as I am..."

"Heather, I..."

"Astrid-can you take me home, please?" she said angrily. "I don't want to be here any more!"

Looking up helplessly, Astrid saw Hiccup nod, his face colourless and eyes dark with pain. He looked broken, his shoulders slumped and head down. Heather didn't even look back at him as she marched out, her head up and eyes flashing with anger. And though Astrid knew it was just a reaction to the grief, a way of transferring her anger at her brother's loss, the fact Heather had landed such a devastating blow on her husband made her truly worry-because she already knew Hiccup was on the brink.

He was sitting by the fire when she finally got home from comforting Heather. Once home, Heather had broken, sobbing and incoherent and Astrid had needed to send for the doctor to administer a sedative. Finally, Heather had slept-and only then could Astrid turn to her husband, who was as hurt and devastated by the loss of his 'brother'. Silently, she had slid onto the couch by him and folded her feet up under her body, wrapping her arms around his body. Slowly, he had responded, leaning against her and turning his red-rimmed eyes to her. The emerald was dull, the spark of life muted in his grief.

"She's right," he murmured.

"No, she's not," Astrid said. "She's hurt and devastated and angry at the war and whoever killed him. You were just the closest person she could lash out at."

"But she's right," he murmured. "I should have been there..."

"And what?" she asked him sharply. "Gotten killed? Hiccup-you aren't a soldier. You aren't a fighter. You could have been killed-and then we would both have been mourning."

"But it would be better than feeling like this," he told her sadly. "Like I am betraying them by being safe here. Like I am betraying Berk by not fighting for it. Like I am betraying Dad by being the coward they all call me."

"Hiccup Horrendous Haddock-you are not a coward!" Astrid snapped and stared at him. "You are a wonderful, brave, inventive man who I love. Dagur knew the risks-and he wanted to go. He died protecting his brother-in-law and his friend...no matter how many times he deliberately got Snotlout's name wrong..." Slowly, there was just the hint of a smile on his lips.

"He used to tell me he only did it because it was hilarious to watch Snotlout gape like a cod when he found a new alternative to 'Snotlout' to use..." She snuggled into him and kissed him gently on the cheek.

"My love, Dagur saved his friends and knew what he was doing," she murmured. "He was a hero. Remember him as that." He kissed her and then buried his face in her shoulder.

"I don't know how much more I can deal with," he sighed. She stared into his desolate eyes.

"You don't have to deal with it-because you have me," she reassured him. "We'll get through this together."

oOo

Spitelout announced that Snotlout was wounded to the whole factory and Hiccup and Astrid offered their heartfelt condolences. Heather had apologised for her words once she had woken the next morning but the damage had been done and though Hiccup said he hadn't paid any attention, Astrid knew her friend had cut him to the bone. The news that another of their friends had been hurt just compounded his feelings of guilt and inadequacy. Especially when he received the letter from his father.

April 8th 1917.

My dear Son,

I am writing to you because I cannot write to Spitelout in this matter-but you need to know.

Snotlout has been injured...but I have a strong suspicion that the gunshot wound he has was self-inflicted. There is a strong suspicion-which Fishlegs has confirmed-that your cousin is struggling. The loss of his close friends the twins and then Dagur, who died saving him and Fishlegs, seem to have shattered his confidence. He is going quiet, having nightmares and seeking ways out of the front lines.

He has shell shock.

Fishlegs confirmed that he was strolling down the far end of the trench and no one was around. There was a shot and Snotlout claimed a sniper or enemy soldier shot him in the leg. He was taken to the hospital and treated but he will be off duty for some months.

But when I went to see him, I saw what I have in many other soldiers-that broken, dull look in the eye of a man who has seen to much death and destruction. He asked whether there were any positions at HQ and if I could put a good word in for him. And I know that he won't be able to go back to the front lines. He will be sent, of course, and then he will either break or refuse to go over the top-and then he will be court martialed and executed by firing squad.

I cannot let that happen.

I have asked Doctor Gothi to see him. She is a wonder for eighty and I know she will insist he is discharged on medical grounds for his own protection.

Please do not tell Snotlout that you know-or Spitelout anything about this matter. I wish to protect him. As a wounded veteran, Snotlout can retain his honour and maybe begin to regain his health and confidence as he gets away from the horrors of the trenches. Please be kind to him when he gets home and ask your wife not to punch him as she would normally do: I feel he would not cope with that just now. Maybe one day.

I remain your loving and proud

Dad.

Hiccup handed the letter to Astrid and her azure eyes scanned the words, chewing her lip. Then she looked up and said what they both recognised.

"It's just Fishlegs left now-and he's alone there." Hiccup nodded and took her smaller hand in his larger, calloused one.

"Don't tell Heather yet," he murmured, kissing her cheek. "Let me find a way of breaking the news to her." She nodded and looked up into his careworn eyes.

"Hiccup-babe?" she asked. "After work-I have something I need to discuss with you as well." She kissed him and he smiled.

"Do you want to tell me now?" he asked, his tone distracted and she chewed her lip then shook her head.

"No-it can wait," she smiled. "Nothing important. You head off for work-because you're opening up today, while Spitelout is off comforting his wife and daughter about Snotlout." Hiccup nodded and pulled his coat on.

"I'll see you at lunch?" he asked and she smiled.

"It's a date, my love," She promised.

oOo

Hiccup had to head out for a meeting at lunchtime, so Astrid didn't see him until he came back home after work, a good hour later than she did. The stew was bubbling in the oven and she had laid the table and had a nice pot of tea brewing, waiting for him. But she noticed something different as he walked in: there was a new light in his eyes and a determination, a self-confidence she hadn't seen for a while. While the stew cooked, they sat staring at the fire and he took her hand, his eyes serious.

"We need to talk," he said calmly and she stared at him, hearing a gravity in his words.

"Yes, we do," she admitted. He sighed and shook his head.

"I've signed up," he told her straight out. "I leave at the end of the week."

"WHAT?" she exploded, staring at him in shock. "But I...we..."

"My meeting at lunchtime was the recruiting office fitting me in," he explained quietly. "I-I just can't do it any more, Astrid. The looks, the whispers, the letters, day after day, silently calling me a coward. And Heather..." Astrid was shaking her head desperately.

"No," she whispered. "Heather was wrong! She apologised! She didn't mean it..." He gave a pained smile.

"Yes, she did," he said flatly, his eyes betraying the pain he had endured, day after day for so many months. "Milady, I can't be called a coward any more. My latest designs have been submitted for patenting and then can go into production-so I am no longer needed. Spitelout will be able to manage-and we both know that Snotlout is coming back, so he can help."

"But we agreed," Astrid accused him with rising anger. "You promised me, Hiccup! I thought you were safe. I promised your father I would keep you safe!" He leaned close and rested his forehead against hers.

"But you can't, my love," he sighed. "Here, I am dying of shame and guilt. My friends are just dying, period. And Heather's only relative, her husband is alone in France. I promised I would look out for her. And the only way I can do that is to be there to protect Fishlegs!"

"But you're her relative as well..." Astrid protested, her heart shattering with grief and fear. "What if something happens to you?" He shook his head.

"It doesn't matter if Fishlegs is safe," he told her sadly. "She made that clear. I'm sorry, Astrid-but I have to do this. She's lost her parents and now her brother. I can't let her lose her husband as well..."

"So what about me?" she asked him suddenly, the anger fierce in her voice. "Don't I matter any more? My parents are also dead, my brother died when he was a child and now my husband-all I have-is running off on a damned fool errand to France to get himself killed protecting someone else's husband. Just when I need him most." She rose and walked away from him. "The stew should be ready now, Hiccup. Help yourself-I'm not hungry." He rose and raced after her as he heard her footsteps speed up the steps, reaching the foot of the stairs as she hit the top.

"Astrid-I'm sorry but I have to do this..." She paused and looked back down at him, her face pale and eyes shining with grief.

"I'm pregnant, Hiccup," she told him savagely. "I've been holding off telling you until I was sure. I saw the doctor before I came in to work today. That was what I was trying to tell you earlier, what I wanted to tell you at lunch. So thank you. I guess I'll just have to manage this alone-because you've run off to salve your conscience about something that isn't true and left me when I need my husband to care for me for once."

Then she turned away and walked into their room, slamming the door with a finality he had never heard before. Shaking, he sat on the bottom step and covered his face in his hands.

"What have I done?'

oOo

Astrid was sobbing on her bed, the green satin counterpane clutched to her as she shook with grief. She had been so overjoyed at the long hoped-for news that she had wanted to make absolutely sure, especially after the two desolating miscarriages she had suffered previously. But the doctor had been very sure and satisfied as he had examined her. She was three months gone and her blood pressure and urine tests were perfect. She was safe to tell her husband but her joy and optimism had been shattered by his devastating news, the one thing she had been determined to protect him from. She knew the whispers had been hurting him more and more and she was hardly speaking to a dozen women who had made the mistake of calling Hiccup a coward.

She curled up, clutching her hands to her middle. There was just the subtlest of fullness there that her fingers could detect though nothing anyone could see yet but she had sailed through the morning nausea and fought her way through the awful tiredness that was like dragging around another person on her shoulders. Hiccup, distracted by his shame and the excessive hours he pushed himself through, hadn't noticed her struggles. She had been awaiting the return of his goofy smile and the delight sparkling in his eyes at the news he was finally to become a father. But that would never happen now, because it was ruined: he was leaving her and she had blurted out the news in a moment of anger. And now he was going to war and her child may well never know his or her father.

"I'm sorry, little one," she whispered. "I failed. I couldn't stop him doing something stupid. And now he's off the France where he'll do something crazy and get killed."

A knock sounded at the door. "Astrid?"

"Go 'way," she mumbled, curling up on the counterpane and the door opened, the creak loud in the awkward silence. She sniffed.

"I can't," Hiccup said awkwardly, sliding his tall, lean shape into the room. He had shed his coat and was there, in his brown pants, suspenders and white shirt with green bow tie. "Astrid...we need to talk..."

"Nothing to say," she said, sitting up and staring at him bitterly, her eyes swollen and nose puffy. She swiped tears off her cheeks and stared defiantly up at him. "You ruined it." He sat by her, his head bowed and elbows on his knees.

"How-how was I to know?" he asked her helplessly. She glared.

"Well, if you weren't so wrapped up in yourself, you would have noticed my breasts are tender as hell, I'm no longer drinking tea and and I've stopped eating breakfast because I feel sick in the mornings, usually until lunch," she snapped. "But instead, you feel sorry for Heather, you worry about Fishlegs and you just expect me to go on as if nothing has happened. But I can't, Hiccup. The only way I have held it together is because I know you are safe. And once you have signed up, they won't release you. So I will be alone while I'm expecting and birthing our child..." The unspoken warning was there. Which I may not survive anyway. He blinked.

"You should have said something," he said tonelessly.

"So should you!" she attacked.

"You would have tried to stop me, to talk me out of it," he reminded her.

"Of course I would!" she shouted. "Of course I would! Because that place is Helheim on Midgard, Hiccup. Three of our friends are dead. Thousands of others are dead. Casualties flood back. Your cousin, one of the most self-absorbed and mentally strong people I know has broken under the strain. And you want to go because Mrs Anderson and Mrs Larson and all those clucking ninnies are jealous because you are safe. Thor, I should chop your leg off myself so you couldn't go!"

"Why didn't you say anything?" he asked her, his tone bitter. She sagged, her hands resting over her lower stomach.

"You know why," she said in a broken voice. "The last time was so horrible...I tried to forget about having a family. I really felt I couldn't face it...but when I started feeling the symptoms, I was scared, okay? Scared it would happen again. Scared I would bleed so much like last time. Scared I would lose the baby. Scared I would die. But as I missed the second month, I knew I had to get checked so I booked into the doctor and he was pretty sure but he wanted to confirm with a test. It came back positive yesterday."

"I could cut my own leg off," he murmured, "though I may be shot for desertion..." She inched closer to him and he slowly sat up, turning to wrap his arms around her. She leaned into him, arms winding around his lean shape and burying her head in his chest. He kissed the top of her head.

"Mutton-head," she mumbled against him, listening to his heartbeat.

"I've messed everything up," he sighed.

"Your pride is definitely bigger than your brain, babe," she mumbled against his chest. He lifted her face up and kissed her tenderly.

"Take this as my promise to you: there will always be a Hiccup and Astrid," he said gently, his hand stroking loose strands of golden hair off her damp face. "I'm coming back. But I have to try to keep Fish safe. I owe it to Dagur...my 'brother'. He gave his life to save Fish..."

"You are NOT to give yours," she told him firmly. "This little one needs his or her Dad. I want you to promise to come home." His emerald eyes widened.

"I-I can't possibly promise that..." he began and then he kissed her. "I promise," he sighed. "Somehow, some way, I will come to you. No matter what..." She managed a small smile.

"I'm holding you to that, babe," she whispered.