ㅤat first, håkan only nodded—once for her question if she had startled him, twice for everything she said after, and a third time purely because his tongue had forgotten how to work. he still had not grown used to those wing of hers; regal crystals with light whispering along their edges. her eyes too, as if they had trapped stars there. and all that… pink and purple. he had only seen those colours in sunsets. the two of them truly were from different worlds. before queen glimmer could take his silence for hesitation, håkan cleared his throat, blinking hard, as though to remind his body he was not, in fact, in a dream. “ahem. y-yes, absolutely!” he said, the words a shade too sheepish. “no denials on my part, ma’am.” aside from the fact he was in no position to refuse a queen’s request, part of him wondered if that wasn’t exactly what queens did by definition: command, rule and protect, like she did. were queens not much like chieftains? the difference, to his mind, was mostly in the trappings: his father wore a mantle, she wore a crown. and soon enough, the fur cloak would be his. the thought pressed cold and heavy at the back of his mind, and he pushed it away.
ㅤby the way she worded matters, hiccup suspected she had expected more resistance. perhaps southern rulers found their burdens of a different shape; perhaps their duties were softened by magic castles, floating crystals, and winged beings beyond his understanding. he wanted to ask if queens rolling out of bed and hiding away was a common custom here, but he tucked the question into his pocket—something to wonder aloud during breakfast, when bellies were full and the queen’s eyes were not upon him so keenly. håkan was fairly certain that, if he were a hnefatafl piece in a market, glimmer would be turning him over this way and that, weighing him in her palm, deciding whether she ought to take him or not. unlike what most would expect, it was not an unpleasant sensation.
ㅤthe dragon rider took the book she offered thoughtlessly, his mind lingering elsewhere. “you already know this,” he said, voice low, “but i do not know etheria, nor love your land as you do, your majesty.” his thumb traced the edge of the page, and he caught himself picturing the world as a sleeping giant dragon, just like tales told by greying seers—as if he could run his hand on its spine and ask for its secrets. “but i would love to know everything about her.”
ㅤtheir eyes met, briefly, before hiccup was drawn once more to the shifting shelves, the strange lights and maps the guards had called ho-lo-grams. “it’s incredible,” he breathed, gesturing with one of his hands. “different from anything i have seen in my entire life. i thought places like this only existed in legends. i mean, it’s just…” a chuckle followed, as if that finished his sentence. again their looks crossed, and again hiccup darted away, his head dipping in that old, unconscious habit. “so… thank you, your majesty, for allowing me this chance.” the formality sounded clumsy in his mouth. “i promise i—”
ㅤhe stopped. his eyes had fallen to an illustration, and his pupils widened like a child’s. “wait… is this—? is this a valkyrie on a dragon? and not just any dragon!” the ræsi pointed, grinning now with unrestrained delight. “it’s a razorwhip, or—no, it could be a deathsong. definitely a sharp or mystery class.” and suddenly all the manners he had struggled to hold onto flew straight out of the window. gods, if only fishlegs were here—he would have loved this. “does this dragon have a name?” håkan asked, leaning in, index running through its silhouette. / and then, almost under his breath, he slipped a thought he thought he had kept inside: “the wings aren’t as fluffy as yours.”
