Astrid's Point of View
The door slammed shut behind me, rattling the hinges.
For a moment, everything was still. Silent.
Then the storm hit.
With a snarl ripping from my throat, I grabbed the nearest thing—a wooden stool—and hurled it across the room. It shattered against the wall, splinters flying through the air.
The rage inside me boiled over, hot and uncontrollable.
I smashed a clay bowl off the counter. Kicked the table onto its side. Threw a chair so hard it cracked in two against the hearth. Anything within reach became a casualty to my fury, until the once neat, modest home was a wreck of broken wood, shattered pottery, and strewn furs.
Panting, I stumbled to the sofa, my arms trembling from the violence.
I sank down, chest heaving, sweat cooling against my skin.
Silence returned.
But it was a different kind of silence now.
Thick. Waiting.
Mocking.
"Well, that was a lovely little tantrum," a voice purred from the shadows of my mind.
I froze.
I knew that voice.
I always had.
It was her.
The part of me I had locked away for years. The part my father tried to kill. The part that never forgot. Never forgave.
Dark. Twisted. True.
"How are you doing, Astrid?" she cooed sweetly, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Feeling better after smashing up your lovely little prison?"
I clenched my fists so tightly my nails bit into my palms.
"Shut up," I hissed under my breath.
"Oh, don't be like that," she crooned. "You're pissed. Furious. And we both know why."
Her voice turned sharp, venomous.
"Years, Astrid. Years of pretending to hate the one person who ever mattered. All because of your precious, useless father—the same fool who thought strength was more important than love. Who decided Hiccup wasn't good enough for you."
My throat tightened.
"No..." I muttered. "It's not that simple—"
"Isn't it?" she cut in, voice slick with disdain. "He forced you away from him. He made you turn your back on Hiccup. Made you mock him. Hurt him. All because he said so. Because if you didn't..." Her voice dropped into a cruel whisper, "he threatened to marry you off to Snotlout."
I shuddered.
The old memory—the threats, the shouting, the cold, hateful look in my father's eyes—burned through me like acid.
I squeezed my eyes shut, but it was no use. The truth was there, waiting.
And the longer I thought about it, the blacker my heart twisted.
"He was supposed to be ours," my darker self whispered. "Our beloved. Our future. Ours. And they stole him from us. Made you betray him. Made you break him."
I shook my head. "I didn't want to—!"
"But you did," she said, almost giddy. "You did what you were told. You played their stupid little games. You let them break him. You let them tear him down because you were afraid."
Her laughter was dark and cruel.
"But deep down... every time you watched him bleed, every time you heard the village mock him, didn't it make you want to kill? Didn't it make you want to tear them apart?"
I opened my eyes slowly.
The room blurred at the edges, red seeping into my vision.
"I'm your darkness, Astrid," the voice purred. "Your real desires. Your real thoughts. You can lie to everyone else, but not to me. You wanted blood. You still want blood."
I stared down at my hands.
They were trembling.
Not with fear.
With hunger.
A low, almost imperceptible growl escaped my throat.
The longer I sat there, the darker my thoughts became. Images of Berk burning. Of those who laughed at him—crying, begging. Of my father—rotting.
The bloodlust in my chest grew thicker, heavier, and suffocating.
The silence inside my wrecked home was heavy, pulsing with something darker than anger.
And then... she spoke again.
"You know," the voice purred from the corners of my mind, "how much we always wanted him."
I squeezed the edge of the sofa, wood splintering beneath my grip.
"Do you remember?" she whispered, sweet and poisonous. "When we used to spy on him... follow him through the alleys... watch him when no one else bothered to?"
Images flashed before my eyes—memories I had buried so deep I almost believed they weren't real.
Catching glimpses of Hiccup slipping behind the mask he wore for Berk. Those rare, beautiful moments when the bitterness broke through. The way his green eyes turned hard, cold, furious.
The way my heart had pounded in my chest every time it happened.
"I loved his eyes then," the voice said, almost reverent. "I loved the hate buried beneath his silence. Loved it more than the fake smiles he was forced to wear."
I trembled, breath shallow.
"It never mattered if he was weak or strong," she crooned. "We loved him either way. We always have. Because he was ours."
I shut my eyes tight—but it didn't stop the flood.
The memories of his clumsy boyhood... and the forbidden hunger that grew inside me even then. The hunger only fueled now, now that he stood revealed in all his brutal, beautiful strength.
"And look at him now," she whispered, voice dripping with dark glee. "Look at that body he forged in the shadows. Those scars that paint his skin. That strength that radiates from every step he takes."
My breath hitched.
"You want him, Astrid," she laughed lowly. "You always have. You want to run your hands over every scar. You want to pin him beneath you... or be pinned. You want to make him yours."
I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood.
"You want to fuck him until he forgets there was ever a world without you," she hissed. "Own him. Brand him. And you don't care if another shares his heart—you'd take him anyway. As long as you are his. As long as he is yours. Nothing else matters."
The emotions broke through me like a dam—rage, lust, hatred, need.
I snapped.
"What do you want?!" I snarled into the room, fists shaking, bloodlust rising hot and thick inside me.
The voice laughed again—sweet, victorious.
"I want to merge, little one," she said, voice almost tender now. "No more hiding. No more shame. No more pretending we are anything less than what we are."
She paused, letting the words sink in like venom.
"I want us to become whole. To destroy anything that stands in our way. To take back what was stolen. To reclaim our beloved."
I stared blankly at the broken room around me.
The broken girl inside me.
She was right.
I was right.
There was no more need for hiding. No more need for the mask.
It was time.
Time to tear away the lies. Time to claim what was mine.
My lips curled into a slow, twisted smile.
"Fine," I whispered, voice shaking with anticipation. "No more holding back."
The darkness inside me surged forward, wrapping around me like a lover's embrace. And I let it. I welcomed it.
A shudder wracked through me as the pieces of myself, light and dark, merged.
When I stood, I was not the Astrid Berk once knew.
My eyes gleamed darker than the night outside, burning with feral, possessive hunger. My smile was a blade dressed as a kiss. My very presence bled violence.
My voice, when I spoke, was dark and possessive, a low growl that promised blood and devotion in the same breath.
"Hiccup... wait for me," I whispered, my body trembling with anticipation. "I'm done hiding."
I licked my lips slowly, savoring the taste of what was to come.
"It's time I became a part of your life, darling," I purred, voice thick with obsession. "Time to tell you everything. Time to be with you... forever."
I stepped toward the door, unbothered by the wreckage around me.
"No matter what it costs," I vowed darkly. "Even if I must give up my humanity."
I smiled wider—sweeter and more savage than anything I had ever allowed myself to show.
"It was never needed anyway."
I would carve my place at Hiccup's side with blood and fire if I had to.
And I would kill anyone who dared to stand in my way.