Astrid stood up from the table, gathered her breakfast dishes, and put them in the sink. As she turned around, she accidentally slammed face-first into her mother and baby sister. "Oof! Sorry, Mom."

"Oh, it's alright, sweetie," Phlegma replied, shifting the infant from one arm to the other to give the tired one a break. Whatever had ailed her a few days ago, she'd recovered quickly and was back to her usual self again. "Hurry, now, you'll be late for training."

Astrid nodded and obediently went to her room to grab her axe. On her way out, she embraced her mother and gave her sister a little peck on the nose. "See you later, Asta," she said, smiling. Little Asta flapped her arms like a bird and made the most adorable random baby noise that made Astrid's heart just melt into a blob. She shared a "Odin's beard, this is the cutest thing ever" look with her mother, making her laugh in agreement.

"Love you, Mom," Astrid called on her way out the door, getting a goodbye wave in return. She trotted down the stairs, heading for the Training Center. As she was leaving the village, however, she saw Magnus trudging up from the docks. Just seeing him made her remember a couple of nights ago when he'd gone after Hiccup and she'd had to help him to Gothi's. Anger surged through her veins and she fought to keep her face calm and indifferent. She kept going, about to pass him, keeping her distance and hoping that she wouldn't have to say anything to him because she really did not trust her voice right now.

"Good morning, Miss Hofferson," Magnus said. Dang it. Now she had to respond.

"Morning, sir." The word "sir" left a nasty taste in her mouth, like eggnog gone wrong. Why did the man who crushed her lifelong dream and routinely beat her boyfriend have to be the chief? Maybe if she just kept walking and put a big enough space between them, he'd get the hint that she didn't want to talk.

"Are you alright, Astrid?" Magnus persisted, changing his course slightly to stay with her. So much for that endeavor. Why couldn't he just leave her be?

Calm down, it's not like he killed him. Just act normal, nothing out of the ordinary.

"I'm fine," she lied, throwing in a small yawn for good measure. "Just tired, I guess."

Instead of being satisfied and walking away, Magnus sped up a little, enough to make Astrid turn to face him. She gave him a "What is your problem?" look instead of the burn-clear-through-your-soul-death glare she had on standby.

"Now, Miss Hofferson," Magnus chided, as if scolding a young child, "I know you're lying to me. I asked you an honest question, and I expect an honest answer." She wouldn't have been surprised if he'd wagged his finger in her face.

"I'm not lying, sir!" she replied, not bothering to hide her indignation. I just never get a proper chance to see my blade cleave your skull in two, that's what's bugging me. Was Magnus seriously trying to get the same reaction out of her that he did Hiccup? If so, that wasn't happening. Astrid stood her ground. "I don't lie to anyone."

Magnus stared hard at her, and she had a feeling that were she in Hiccup's shoes, he'd have pressed harder. As it was, she returned the look in full. For a moment, nothing happened. Then Magnus tilted his head to the side a little and asked another question. "What do you know about the rebellion?"

Would this man never shut up?

Astrid drew back, more for a need of personal space than alarm. "What are you talking about?" she spluttered. Even though she knew that Magnus knew about the rebellion, it still made her nerves a bit jumpy. Fortunately, she could hide that well.

A flicker of impatience crossed the acting-chief's face. "You know perfectly well what I'm talking about."

"No, I don't."

"I think you do."

Astrid crossed her arms, keeping a firm grip on her axe. "Look, I don't know what's going on here, but if you keep me much longer, I'm going to be late to practice."

"Lie to me again, and being late to practice will be the least of your concerns," Magnus warned. "I'll let you off this time, but we will continue this discussion later, Miss Hofferson. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," Astrid replied firmly. She made sure to keep her eyes trained steadily on Magnus, determined not to be the first one to look away. She was gratified when he turned away and started walking back to his house.

Astrid spun on her heel and hurried to training. Hiccup had said that Magnus had figured out everything about the rebellion. Was that true? If it was, why did Magnus bother to ask her about it? It made no sense.

She couldn't focus on training that day. Her hope for the Berk Guard was strong, but it could only carry her so far. What did Magnus mean when he'd said they'd continue the discussion later? Would he go after her family? Her mind went around and around, trying to figure out what Magnus was up to, what his next move would be, and, if it was bad, how to stop it. Finally, after a long and painfully unproductive day, she admitted defeat and walked home. It was just going to be one of those days.

Things got even stranger, however, when, as she approached her house, she saw Magnus strong-arming a handcuffed man out the door. Astrid ducked behind the nearest house before she could see who it was; more importantly, before Magnus could see her. She circled around back behind the neighbors until she reached her house, waiting until she was sure Magnus was gone to dart up the stairs and slip inside.

Something was very, very wrong. It wasn't so much the fact that Asta was wailing so loud it made Astrid's throat hurt just hearing her, or that whatever was on the stove was burning. Astrid looked around for the source of all the confusion when she saw her mother sitting at the table, her face buried in her hands, her broad shoulders shaking. Fear coursed through Astrid's veins. Her mother never cried.

"Mom, what's wrong?" she asked, trying to cover how her voice was trembling.

It took a while for her mother to calm down because she was sobbing so hard, but eventually she regained control of herself. "Get Asta," she said. Astrid went over to the crib and picked up her sister, momentarily comforted by the baby's weight in her arms, before her worries about everything else took over again.

Phlegma was the same way. She reached for the baby, not answering Astrid's initial question until Asta was soothed enough to not be screaming anymore. Her mother inhaled deeply, exhaled, and then finally spoke. "Magnus came by while you were at practice. Started asking me questions about the rebellion. Your father came home and immediately went on the defensive, shielding me and Asta, but to Magnus, that was enough for him to know that something else was going on."

"Did they fight?" Astrid asked, though her brain denied it. The house was too clean for a scuffle between two Vikings to have happened this recently. Although her mother was a chronic neat freak.

Phlegma shook her head. "No. Magnus threatened to take you and Asta to prison if he tried to start something. Your father stood down and left with Magnus."

The pieces had come together in Astrid's mind, but the scenario they depicted was so horrible, she wouldn't accept it. The man she'd seen Magnus force out of the house—that couldn't be her father . . . could it?

Phlegma put one hand on her shoulder, suddenly looking very, very old, as if she'd aged thirty years since Magnus left. "Astrid . . . your father's been arrested."

***

Back at the smithy, Hiccup laid his wet clothes and boots out on the bed to dry. Normally, he'd have strung them out on a clothesline, but he hadn't set one up yet. Wrapping one of the blankets around his shoulders, he knotted the corners below his neck to make a cape of sorts so he wouldn't be entirely naked if Twig came by again. She'd gone back to the herd for something to munch on and said she'd be back later.

Walking barefoot across the bedroom, Hiccup kneeled beside the chest at the foot of the bed and tested the lid. It had a padlock on it, and, unfortunately, wasn't the dummy lock Hiccup had been hoping for. All the same, breaking into someone's personal belongings—even if it seemed like they'd left a long time ago—felt wrong. Better to leave the chest alone.

He heard something tapping from across the room, looked up, and jumped out of his skin when he saw a Skrill standing hunched over in the doorway. They stared at each other for a while in a wary silence broken only by the faint whisper of electricity coursing through the dragon's veins.

"C-can I . . . help you with something?" Hiccup stammered, half terrified, half fascinated, as he gazed upon the hulking creature that stood before him. He'd thought it was small the night before, only because the other dragons around it had been standing taller, but here in the house it was so large, Hiccup wasn't sure how it had even gotten this far without smashing into something. The dragon was mostly a silvery-gray, with streaks of violet down its wings and neck. It had no front legs, but supported itself with the claws on its wings like Monstrous Nightmares did. A long, graceful, spiky tail curled around its feet, providing balance and stability in the air.

The lightning dragon raised its head and sniffed the air, then made a low grinding noise in the back of its throat and finished by cocking its head to the side a little, as if asking a question.

Unless he planned to die by electrocution, Hiccup knew it was a bad idea to touch the Skrill, so he'd have to find another way of communicating. Maybe he could guess what the dragon was trying to say. "You're . . . wondering what I'm doing?"

The Skrill nodded, slowly moving closer.

"Well, I was trying to see if I could get this chest open, but—" Hiccup started to say, but was cut off by a sharp hiss as the dragon's body convulsed suddenly and a bolt of white fire shot past him, reducing the lock on the chest to cinders. Hiccup leaped back with a shrill cry of alarm, somehow ending up perched on the windowsill without losing his balance. His wide-eyed gaze darted from the dragon to the chest and back again. The Skrill raised its head and sniffed loudly.

"Bless you," Hiccup managed to say.

"Mmmm," went the Skrill. It looked at the obliterated padlock on the floor and sat down, then made a sad cooing sound, as if it was apologizing.

"It's okay," Hiccup replied. What else was he supposed to say to fifteen hundred pounds of pure electric power?

Reluctantly, he kneeled in front of the chest, opened the charred remains of the lid, and looked through the contents. Scrolls, books, writing utensils, and the like. They were very hot, but no actual damage had been done. The lock and chest itself had taken the brunt of the shot.

A high-pitched trill sounded from the window. Hiccup turned around to see Twig climbing in through a hole in one of the shutters. She glided to his shoulder and curled her tail around his neck again. Hey, Hiccup, Sindri!

The Skrill rumbled a greeting.

"Sindri?" Hiccup repeated, watching the bigger dragon for confirmation. "That's your name?"

The Skrill nodded, sitting up straighter, looking pleased.

He's one of my closer neighbors, Twig stated. We go fishing together a lot. I'm telling you, fishing with a lightning dragon of any kind is freaking awesome!

"How is it awesome? I thought Skrills couldn't use their lightning in water," Hiccup replied, confused.

Oh, he doesn't actually get in the river. He just sits on the bank and shoots a few currents downstream. We get soooo many fish that way, it's not even funny. You should come watch it sometime.

I might just do that, Hiccup answered, smiling. Thank you.
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Hey, guys! Sorry this took so long. School started back two weeks ago and I've been really busy.

Please don't forget to comment!