Chapter Text
It had been a very long time since anyone had spoken her name, and even longer since she had seen the girl who now spoke it. The sword that was pressed to her neck was a far more familiar sensation. The man behind her had yanked off her hood, and the girl she had caught in her snare had said her name. Sorine inclined her head as much as she was able without slitting her own throat.
“Astrid,” she replied her lips twisting in a semblance of a smile. The man behind her stepped forward in front of her, still keeping the sword raised as recognition flashed in his gaze. “Hiccup, to what do I owe the pleasure?” she said dryly, rubbing a finger across the thin red line on her neck. Her dragon finally caught up with her landing behind her and wrapping its tail in front of her defensively. Strikestorm must have smelled the few drops of blood trickling down her neck because she bristled, little bolts of lightning crackling above her skin.
“Woah!” Hiccup said, backing up slowly with Astrid, both of their hands raised placatingly. Sorine put a hand on Strikestorm’s nose calming her.
“I know Berk has taught you to fear dragons, but she won’t hurt you unless you attack us,” she explained keeping her voice steady though she knew she was unlikely to convince them. Before she could utter another word in Strikestorm’s defense, a Deadly Natter and a Night Fury landed in front of Astrid and Hiccup. They were accompanied by several other figures from her childhood, all riding dragons.
“Woah Toothless,” Hiccup shouted barely stopping the night fury from shooting plasma directly at her. She released a breath dropping her arms from in front of her as Hiccup continued. “I think we may have had a misunderstanding,” He said as the four dragon riders behind him simultaneously shouted
“Sorine?”
They flew back to the edge, where Sorine wearily explained the circumstances that led from her kidnapping from Berk by the Berzerkers to her false identity as a dragon trafficker that led to their confrontation. They mostly simply stared at her with openmouthed shock, except for Astrid who refused to look in her direction. When she was finished with her tale she stood brushing off her dress which now more closely resembled a tattered black shroud. Astrid stormed out of the keep folowed by the twins and their ceasless chattering.
Fishlegs hugged her tightly saying “I’m glad you are back.” She smiled weakly at him before walking out to Strikestorm and resting her forhead against the skrill’s nose.
“Do you need to rest? That was a long flight,” she murmured. Strikestorm growled softly and she turned to see Hiccup behind her.
“You can stay in my cabin for now,” he said “It’s the only one with enough room for Strikestorm,” he explained. She nodded her head in thanks and padded after him. After Strikestorm was settled and she had taken off her quiver she expected to fall asleep immediately, but instead she laid in the bed and stared Hiccup where he sat and tinkered with his prosthetic leg. He smiled at her slightly and his gaze caught once again on her left eye, as all of the riders had since seeing her again.
“You never said what happened to your eye,” he said his gaze carefully neutral. Her hand unconsciously went up to touch the scarred flesh that used to be an eye.
She rolled her eye before remarking “You never said what happened to your leg.”
“Touché,” he crossed his arms “I asked first.”
“Are you five years old?” she asked tilting her head and holding his gaze. He looked away first with an exasperated sign before starting.
“I was caught in a dragon’s fire. Toothless saved me,” he said patting the dragon’s head affectionately, “But he forgot that I had two legs.” The dragon grumbled and shot a plume of smoke out of his nostrils. Sorine smiled, then thought better of it. “It’s your turn,” he reminded her.
She rolled her eye. “A dragon hunter cut it out because he thought it would make me more compliant,” She smiled again this time completely feral, “It didn’t.”
Neither of then spoke after that and Sorine eventually drifted off into an uneasy sleep. The dream started the way that it always did. She was a healer like she dreamed of being when she was Gothi’s ward. They had snuck up on her while she was collecting herbs, and then she was bound and on one ship, and then on another. The man who had taken her eyes was running towards her, her arrow struck true, plunging into his heart but it didn’t stop him. She fired another arrow, then another, but still he ran towards her knife raised. He was atop her, his knife arcing towards her, she screamed and… woke with a start desperately trying to claw air into her lungs, but she was in a wooden room, or a ship cabin and there was a man next to her, awake now. She scrambled away but he placed his hands on her shoulders, his voice low and steady as he commanded her to breathe. She obeyed, shakily at first but soon her breathing returned to normal. She avoided his gaze and he didn't say anything more as they drifted back off to sleep.
When she awoke it was to an arm being extracted gingerly from underneath her and the sudden absence of the warm body she had been pressed against. She pretended to be asleep for a few minutes longer, before refilling her waterskin and checking Strikestorm’s saddlebags. She climbed up onto the saddle and took one last long look at the edge, and then they were airborne. Her long black hair whipped in the wind some sticking in odd directions from the electricity. She refused to look behind her, she wouldn’t stay where she wasn’t welcome. And well, even if the others wamed to her she couldn’t live with Astrid’s hatred. She would rather never see her again then to see the look Astrid had given her yesterday. It was a waking death. When they were children she had thought pain was not seeing if the love she felt was reflected in Astrid’s azure eyes but it was nothing in comparison to the hatred she now saw there. Tied up as she was in her own emotions, she still really should have noticed that she was being followed.