The Dragon Training Arena on Berk was a battlefield of chaos, and Astrid Hofferson was its reluctant general, armed not with an axe but with a scrub brush and a bucket of soapy water that sloshed with every furious swipe. The air reeked of charred wood and dragon soot, a lingering reminder of the morning’s disastrous training session. Debris littered the ground—splintered shields, half-melted helmets, and clumps of what might have been yak hair, though Astrid didn’t dare investigate too closely. Her blonde braid swung like a whip as she hauled a broken barrel to the side, her toned arms flexing under the strain.
“Lazy louts,” she muttered, her voice a low growl as she kicked a stray piece of timber. “Can’t even clean up their own mess. I swear, if I have to scrub one more wall because Snotlout thought ‘target practice’ meant torching the arena, I’m gonna tie him to Toothless’s tail and let Hiccup take him for a spin over the ocean.”
She dipped her brush into the bucket, the water now a murky gray, and attacked a particularly stubborn patch of soot on the stone wall. Her movements were sharp, precise, every stroke fueled by irritation. “And don’t get me started on the twins. Ruffnut and Tuffnut couldn’t clean a spoon if their lives depended on it. Probably think ‘tidy’ is a type of dragon.”
A shadow fell across her, and she didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. The overly confident stride, the faint jingle of mismatched armor, the sheer audacity of interrupting her mid-rant—it could only be one person. Astrid straightened, brushing a strand of hair from her face with the back of her hand, leaving a streak of soot across her cheek. She turned, her blue eyes narrowing at the sight of Gustav Larsson, all cocky grins and misplaced swagger, standing in the arena’s entrance like he owned the place.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the walking disaster with a death wish,” she said, her voice dripping with mockery as she planted a hand on her hip. “What do you want, Gustav? Come to burn down what’s left of the arena? Or are you just here to gawk at me while I do all the work?”
Gustav, barely out of his teens and sporting a patchy attempt at a beard, puffed out his chest, completely undeterred by her barb. His brown eyes sparkled with mischief as he sauntered closer, a little too close for Astrid’s liking. “Astrid, my fierce shieldmaiden, I’m wounded,” he said, clutching his heart dramatically. “I didn’t come to gawk—though, I gotta say, you make scrubbing walls look like a battle worth watching. I’m here with a proposition.”
Astrid snorted, folding her arms and giving him a look that could’ve frozen a Gronckle mid-flight. “A proposition? From you? This oughta be good. Let me guess—you want me to babysit your sorry hide while you try to ride a dragon and end up as its lunch?”
He grinned, unfazed, and leaned against a nearby pillar, which promptly wobbled under his weight. He caught himself just in time, pretending it was intentional. “Close, but not quite. I want private dragon training lessons. From you. The best of the best. The goddess of the arena. The—”
“Spare me the flattery, Gustav,” she interrupted, rolling her eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t fall out. “I’m not some swooning maiden who’ll fall for your half-baked compliments. Why in Thor’s name would I waste my time training a kid who can barely hold a sword without tripping over his own feet?”
Gustav straightened, his grin faltering for only a second before it returned, twice as bold. “Because I’m a quick learner. And because I’ve got heart. And because, let’s be honest, you’re bored out of your mind cleaning up after everyone else. Why not take a chance on me? I’ll even sweeten the deal—first lesson, I’ll bring you a barrel of the finest mead I can steal from Gobber’s stash.”
Astrid barked out a laugh, sharp and biting, as she stepped closer, her presence towering despite their similar height. She jabbed a finger into his chest, her voice low and dangerous. “First of all, you’re not stealing anything from Gobber unless you want a peg leg up your backside. Second, I don’t have time for your nonsense. And third, if I wanted entertainment, I’d watch a Nadder peck at your sorry excuse for armor. Go bother someone else, Gustav. I’ve got soot to scrub and idiots to curse.”
But Gustav, damn him, didn’t back down. He caught her hand before she could pull it away, his grip surprisingly firm, though he released it just as quickly when her glare could’ve melted steel. “Come on, Astrid,” he pleaded, his tone shifting to something softer, almost earnest. “I’m serious. I want to be better. I want to be like you. Fearless. Unstoppable. Give me one chance to prove I’m worth your time. One lesson. If I’m as hopeless as you think, you can kick me to the curb and I’ll never bug you again. Deal?”
She stared at him, her jaw tight, searching his face for any sign of mockery. But there it was—a flicker of genuine determination beneath the bravado. Astrid sighed, dragging a hand down her face and smearing more soot in the process. “Fine,” she snapped, her tone leaving no room for argument. “One lesson. But it’s on my terms, got it? You show up late, you’re done. You whine, you’re done. You so much as breathe wrong, and I’ll feed you to Stormfly myself. We meet tomorrow morning, before dawn, in the secluded forest outside Berk. If you’re not there, I’m not waiting. Understood?”
Gustav’s face lit up like a dragon’s flame, and he pumped a fist in the air. “Yes! You won’t regret this, Astrid. I’ll be there, bright and early, ready to be molded into a warrior by your capable, beautiful hands.”
She groaned, turning back to her bucket to hide the faintest twitch of a smirk at the corner of her lips. “Get out of here before I change my mind and use you as a mop instead,” she shot over her shoulder. “And don’t think for a second I won’t make you regret ever asking for my help, Gustav. I’m gonna whip your sorry hide into shape so hard, you’ll wish you’d stayed in bed.”
He backed away, still grinning like an idiot, and gave her a mock salute. “Looking forward to it, my fierce dragon queen. See you at dawn—don’t miss me too much ‘til then.”
Astrid didn’t dignify that with a response, instead dunking her brush back into the water with more force than necessary. She listened to his retreating footsteps, the arena falling silent once more, save for the drip of water and the distant roar of a dragon. She scrubbed harder, her mind already racing with ways to make Gustav eat his words tomorrow. Push-ups until his arms gave out. Dodging drills until he was a sweaty mess. Maybe even a little sparring to wipe that smug grin off his face.
But as she worked, a tiny, traitorous thought flickered in the back of her mind. There was something about his persistence, his sheer nerve to keep pushing despite her sharp tongue, that intrigued her. Just a little. Not that she’d ever admit it.
“Stupid kid,” she muttered to herself, a smirk finally breaking through as she shook her head. “He’s got no idea what he’s in for.”
And with that, Astrid Hofferson turned back to the soot-stained wall, her thoughts already drifting to the forest at dawn—and the chaos she’d unleash on Gustav Larsson.
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