The Dragon Training Arena on Berk was a disaster zone. The air still carried the smoky tang of dragon breath, and the ground was a patchwork of claw marks, scorch stains, and scattered equipment. Astrid Hofferson stood in the center of the chaos, hands on her hips, her blonde braid streaked with dirt and her leather armor smudged with soot. Sweat glistened on her brow as she hauled a heavy iron cage back into place, her toned muscles flexing with each determined tug.
“Thor’s hammer, if I have to clean up after one more reckless dragon stunt, I’m gonna start charging Hiccup for maid service,” she muttered under her breath, kicking a stray helmet out of her path with a metallic *clang*. “Or maybe I’ll just chain Snotlout to the arena and make him scrub it with his ego.”
She was mid-grumble when a scrawny figure stumbled through the arena’s entrance, nearly tripping over a charred log in the process. Gustav Larsson, all gangly limbs and nervous energy, froze as soon as he spotted her. His freckled face turned a shade of red that rivaled a Deadly Nadder’s tail spikes, and he clutched a poorly balanced spear as if it might somehow save him from embarrassment.
“Uh, A-Astrid! Hey! I didn’t, uh, expect to see you here,” Gustav stammered, his voice cracking on the last word. He adjusted his too-big helmet, which promptly slid over one eye. “I mean, obviously you’re here. You’re always here. Not that I’m watching or anything. I just—uh—needed to… ask something.”
Astrid straightened up, wiping her hands on her skirt and fixing him with a piercing, amused stare. She crossed her arms, her posture radiating authority, and tilted her head as if sizing up a particularly unimpressive dragon hatchling. “Well, spit it out, Gustav. I’ve got enough messes to clean up without adding your nervous babbling to the pile.”
Gustav swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing like a buoy in a storm. “I was wondering… if maybe… you could, uh, train me? Like, privately? I mean, I know I’m not exactly… good. Yet. But I wanna be! I wanna be like you. Not exactly like you, ‘cause that’s impossible, but—uh—better. At riding dragons. And stuff.”
Astrid’s lips twitched into a smirk, and she took a deliberate step closer, her boots crunching against the gravel. Gustav instinctively took a step back, nearly toppling over a barrel. “Private training, huh?” she drawled, her voice dripping with playful menace. “You think you can handle me one-on-one, Gustav? ‘Cause I don’t go easy. Not even on clumsy little dragon rider wannabes who can’t hold a spear without poking themselves.”
Gustav’s eyes widened, and he fumbled with the spear, nearly dropping it. “I-I can handle it! I mean, I think I can. I’m tougher than I look. Sort of. And I really want to learn. From you. ‘Cause you’re… uh… amazing. At training. And fighting. And… everything.”
Astrid let out a sharp laugh, her blue eyes glinting with mischief. “Flattery won’t save you from a face full of dirt, kid. But I’ll give you points for guts. Barely.” She circled him slowly, like a predator toying with prey, her gaze raking over his lanky frame. “You’re a walking disaster, you know that? I’ve seen baby Gronckles with better coordination. But fine. I’ll train you. If you think you can keep up.”
Gustav blinked, a goofy grin spreading across his face. “Really? You mean it? I won’t let you down, Astrid! I’ll be the best student you’ve ever had! Well, maybe not the best, but I’ll try really hard—”
“Slow down, hotshot,” Astrid cut him off, holding up a hand. Her tone was firm, but there was a teasing edge to it that made Gustav’s ears turn pink. “We’re doing this on my terms. That means no whining, no excuses, and definitely no tripping over your own feet. Meet me in the forest at dawn tomorrow. And don’t be late, or I’ll have Stormfly use you as target practice.”
Gustav nodded so vigorously his helmet rattled. “Dawn. Forest. Got it. I’ll be there. Early, even! You won’t regret this, Astrid. I’m gonna impress you. You’ll see.”
Astrid arched an eyebrow, her smirk widening. “Oh, I’ll see, alright. I’ll see you fall flat on your face at least three times before breakfast. But hey, if you surprise me, I might just go easy on you. Might.” She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Don’t count on it, though. I like making boys like you sweat.”
Gustav’s face went from pink to full-on crimson, and he let out a nervous laugh that sounded more like a hiccup. “R-right. Sweat. Got it. I mean, not got it, but—uh—I’ll be ready! Dawn! Tomorrow! I’ll just… go now. Before I say something else stupid.”
“Too late for that,” Astrid called after him as he stumbled toward the exit, nearly knocking over a rack of shields in his haste. She shook her head, chuckling to herself as she watched him disappear around the corner. “That kid’s gonna be a handful. Good thing I’ve got plenty of ways to keep him in line.”
She turned back to the mess of the arena, grabbing a broom with renewed energy. As she swept away the debris, her smirk lingered, her mind already spinning with ideas for tomorrow’s training. Gustav didn’t know what he was in for, but Astrid was determined to push him to his limits—and maybe have a little fun while she was at it. After all, nothing heated up a cold Berk morning quite like breaking in a nervous newbie.
“Poor guy doesn’t stand a chance,” she murmured, her voice laced with wicked anticipation. “But damn if it won’t be entertaining to watch him try.”
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