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hiccanna-tidbits · 2 years

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HICCANNA MONTH WEEK 1, DAY 6 - “I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO” “WE’LL FIGURE IT OUT” DRACULA DAILY AU

*Collapses in an exhausted heap and plops this on your dash* IT’S DONE IT’S FINALLY DONEEEEE

So anyways I was talking with @ohlooksheswriting about Dracula Daily and how Jonathan Harker has some of the biggest Anna Energy I have ever seen (i.e. the appreciation of good food, the general desire to give people the benefit of the doubt perhaps a little more than is wise, politeness even in the most dire of situations, the aggressive focus on the positive in the face of imminent doom, the general vibe of “ah no!!! I can't let my people down!!! Gotta push through even when things get dicey!!!”, whether it be with sketchy real estate deals or your sister accidentally freezing the kingdom etc etc), and there’s already some pretty suspiciously romantic undertones between Jon and Drac, so I was like “OMG Dracula Daily AU for Hiccanna Month??? DRACULA DAILY AU FOR HICCANNA MONTH???” And here we are XD

Fwiw I can totally see Hiccup being a loving househusband who spends his time nerding out over books on places he’s interested in, so it works, fight me. Also, I think Hiccup deserves to do the spooky little castle lizard crawl. As A Treat! And lawyer!Anna??? Immaculate. She has Elle Woods vibes and I intend to see her put them to full use. Anyways these two invented girlboss/malewife in this fic and I love that for them.

Not me legit doing an internet deep dive researching Transylvanian food for this, just so I could do justice to Anna’s foodie/generally-food-preoccupied tendencies XD That’s basically the only aspect of this I have any confidence is like...sort of accurate to the source material. Apologies in advance for any general anachronisms and/or inaccuracies in the way property attorneys and property law are portrayed here (property law practice was something admittedly a bit heavy to research for a fanfiction XD). I got most of my lawyer info from the Dracula emails themselves, and I tried not to use any anachronisms that don’t feel like they’d show up in Frozen or HTTYD themselves, so hopefully it reads all right. It prolly doesn’t feel as much like an old-timey period piece as I was hoping for, but hopefully I ensnared at least a little bit of the classic spooky gothic vibes. Idk.

I decided to try bolding instead of italicizing for emphasis to give the whole thing a more, like...“handwritten journal” feel? No idea if it worked, but I tried! XD (Also, in case you’re wondering, Anna starts off her journal entries with “Hi friend” because she considers her journal her friend!!!)

Is this more wholesome than the OG Dracula? Oh yeah, absolutely! Did I keep the impeccable comedy of the original book while swapping out the more horrific parts for a fluffest and angstfest of a romance that would probably make Bram Stoker turn in his grave? Definitely! Listen, I was too jam-packed with internalized misogyny to have a Twilight phase in 2008, so I gotta get that angsty vampire romance nonsense out of my system now before it consumes me. So something something AU of “what if the real-estate-buying vampire...wasn’t evil??? What if he was a sadboi instead???” Sometimes I get to have a few supernatural monster sadbois who get girlfriends anyways. As A Treat. Also yes, Anna caring more about workplace romances being unprofessional than dating a dude who sucks blood is the hill I will die on because a) it’s absolutely hysterical to me and b) it feels oddly in-character??? Girlie will give you the benefit of the doubt to ridiculous extents, but not if it gets in the way of important duties and responsibilities! She also has fried post-BAR brain so like. That doesn’t HELP--

So, without further ado, join me for this fun, wacky jaunt into the life of newly-certified lawyer Anna, going on a business trip to Transylvania and hoping to collect some local recipes for her two recently-engaged best friends! She hardly expects to be so taken with her first client’s eccentricities, nor did she ever dream that a rather inconvenient and unprofessional crush on him would blossom, but life is full of surprises! Featuring Merida and the Thorston twins as Count Haddock’s slightly-unhinged freeloading eternal roommates, and a little Jackunzel on the side--as a treat!!!

Not me thinking about how if I had the drive to make this a longer thing the endgame pairing would probably be Hijannunzel to pay homage to the shameless polyamory of the source material akbsahydgewoyvd

Fic under the cut! As always, moodboard pic credits available upon request!

***

May 15

Hi friend,

Anna Runeardsen here! Or should I say Certified Property Attorney Anna Runeardsen here!!! My god, I still can’t believe I passed the BAR. I passed the BAR!!! I PASSED THE BAR!!!

Anyways, you already know that. Duh. I’ve said it like 5 times already. I’m just still in shock. Like I go to law school like “let’s see what happens! Maybe I’ll flunk out!” but then I didn’t? And here I am! Those all-nighters took years off my life I’m never getting back, though. My brain still kind of feels like mamaliga.

Wow. I have a lot of news. I don’t really know where to start, because a ton of stuff has happened since I last wrote. Maybe I’ll start with the little things?

So first off, my god, the other night I had the BEST roast chicken!!! Literally so good!!! I don’t know what it is about the cooking here—maybe turning it over a blue fire gives it a slightly different flavor? I mean yeah, I don’t know for sure Count Haddock’s been cooking with those blue inferno circle things, but maybe that’s what gives it the kinda extra-savory, smoky flavor? Anyways, he gave me the recipe! Turns out he just used some salt and pepper and cloves and a bit of saffron and then drenched it in this olive oil mix. I’ll have to see if it tastes any different when I try making it back home in Oslo. I’ll add the recipe to the collection I’m giving to Jack and Punzie.

Can I just say, by the way, how GREAT that is going??? I’ve only been here a few days, and I’ve already got 5 recipes!! I’ve got mamaliga, paprika chicken, mititei, szekelyalmas, and the Count Haddock Roast Chicken Special! At this rate, I’ll have a whole bookful of them by the time I go back to Norway. Actually, I think I am gonna bind what I have into a nice little book, and give it to Jack and Punz as a wedding gift. It’ll be so exciting to make all this new food!!!

I still can’t believe Jack and Punz are finally getting married, honestly. Took him long enough to propose! I seriously thought I was going to have to fail and retake the BAR a few more times, and THEN maybe they’d finally be engaged. Right before the big boss man sent me out on this special mission, Punzel told me Jack stumbled up to her by the fountain in her estate garden and just started rambling incoherently. He pulled out the ring, and his hands were shaking so badly that he dropped it in the fountain??? So Rapunzel sees and she notices Jack was doing really bad at the whole talking thing just then, so she diffuses the tension by saying “well, if we’re wishing on things we’re throwing in the fountain, I wish you’d marry me!” And then she picks up the ring and proposes to HIM with it!!! Let me tell you, it was a whole thing. I really have to work on that maid of honor speech when I get the chance. They’re my two best friends in the world, and I want to do them justice!!!

But back on the topic of food! Did I mention Count Haddock does all his own cooking? I think he’s kind of embarrassed about it because he keeps pretending like he has a whole kitchen staff. When he gave me the roast chicken recipe, he said “here, let me go fetch it from the chef” and ran off into the hall, but…then I heard him doing this thing where he was like…stepping more and more quietly to make it seem like he was getting farther away? And then I could have sworn I heard him scribbling something? Anyways, he gets back with the recipe and there is no WAY he had time to go all the way down to the kitchen.

I don’t know what his deal is. The boss would probably say it’s a rich person thing. I don’t know why they’re so ashamed about cooking??? I mean, I’m not RICH rich or anything, but I’ve cooked loads of times and I never developed the black plague or leprosy or what have you. And look at Rapunzel—her family is drowning in money, and she still plays around in the kitchen! She loves keeping busy and hanging out with the kitchen staff, but it doesn’t make her any less of a fancy lady.

I’ve been trying to get Count Haddock to open up about his cooking. Just, you know, raving about how good it is, compliments to the chef, et cetera et cetera, in sort of a wink-wink-nudge-nudge kind of way. A lot of the men back home really brighten up when I shower them with compliments, so I was hoping Count Haddock would do the same. Sometimes the fellows back home will even try to one-up you and start gloating about their accomplishments if you compliment them enough! Not Count Haddock, though. He seemed really nervous, and just mumbled that he’d be sure to tell all that to the cook. I DO think I saw him blushing, though??? Kind of hard to tell—his skin is this pale whitish, and it turned kind of grayish for a second. I wonder why his blood looks so weird. I shouldn’t pry, though.

Count Haddock is actually SUCH a sweet host, and I wish he wouldn’t be so self-conscious about it! Like I’m not going to judge him for not having servants. I think it’s admirable how hard he works, doing everything himself! Did you know I caught him making my bed the other day? GOD, so many men I know wouldn’t be caught dead doing “woman’s work” or “commoner’s work” or whatever. He’s so humble!!! He really wants me to be comfortable, even if he has to do all the work on his own. Imagine what a thoughtful and attentive husband he would make! It’s not every day you find a man who’s willing to help with the housework without complaining every step of the way.

I MEAN—

God, I shouldn’t be talking like this. He’s my client, for god’s sake, and I have to keep our relationship professional. The entire firm is counting on me succeeding!!! But sometimes I—well, I don’t know. He keeps leaving these little mints on my pillow, and even the nicest places I’ve stayed don’t do that. I mean, they give me maybe 1 mint when I check in or something, but not every night or anything like that. He’s so consistent!!! Sometimes the mints even have a little chocolate coating, and I have to wonder if he remembers me saying I’m really into chocolate?

Maybe it’s just a coincidence. Either way, it’s a nice gesture.

Count Haddock is honestly such an interesting person. Unusual, but like…in the best kind of way. He’s so into Oslo—has a whole shelf of books about it and everything. I came in the other day and caught him reading…an Oslo train schedule??? A little boring for my taste, but it’s nice to see someone with an appreciation for our public transportation systems. They’re not half bad, if I do say so myself.

I started talking to him in the library the other day, and the time completely got away from me. I just got so swept up in the conversation, and he was so excited, telling me all the things he learned from his books about Oslo and recounting some of his old family stories. Did you know Norway is apparently his ancestral home? He said his ancestors used to tame dragons there!!! DRAGONS!!! They’ve been extinct for hundreds of years now, as far as I know, but Count Haddock’s ancestors saw them with their own eyes! It’s crazy. I think that’s part of why he wants to move to Oslo. To him, it feels much more like his homeland than Transylvania does.

I asked how he ended up in Transylvania, and he got really sad—completely crushed, honestly. I felt so bad—I told him we could drop the topic if he wanted. But he said it was fine, saying it was only natural to be curious. Apparently there was some huge war in Scandinavia all those years ago, and his ancestors and their dragons fought side by side. Then a terrible evil guy named Drago Bludvist found a way to control the dragons and possessed them all to leave Count Haddock’s ancestors and their village. One of his ancestors was the next in line to be chief, and his dragon was killed in battle. His spirit was too broken to continue fighting after that.

It was a little weird—he looked so downtrodden and miserable when he talked about his ancestor’s dragon dying. If I didn’t know better, I’d say HE was the one who lost a dragon. That would be ridiculous, though—no one lives to be THAT old. I guess he feels like…really intimately connected with his past family, and all their pains and struggles. It’s kind of inspiring, in a weird way—if not a little atypical.

Anyways, he says with their dragons gone, his ancestors were overwhelmed by Bludvist’s armies and had to flee. Considering all the literal dragons this Bludvist guy had at his disposal, no surprise, I guess, that he was able to chase them all the way across the continent. The only place they could find to hide was tucked away in these imposing-looking mountains, where they eventually built a fortress of sorts. They’ve been there ever since—well, Count Haddock has, anyways. He’s the last of his family’s descendants, and the rest of his ancestors’ village dispersed long before he was born.

Seems lonely, honestly. I asked him how he managed, with no family to keep him company, and he claims the servants are company enough. That just made my heart hurt, since I know damn well he doesn’t have a single staff member waiting on us. Seems to me like Count Haddock’s been alone for longer than he’d care to admit, and he doesn’t want to admit how painful isolation can be.

Anyhow, he told me about all kinds of fascinating things, and just—his eyes were shining so bright and he was so giddy and so excited and he was grinning so big (yeah, I know I should probably be concerned about the fact that two of his top teeth are honed into these long, sharp points that don’t look very natural…but they look so pretty when he smiles!!! How can I hate them???) and I couldn’t bear to stop him. Then, before I knew it, it was morning already! Can you believe I was up all night talking to him? It really only felt like a few minutes! Went a lot faster than all the nights I had to stay up studying, that’s for sure.

Well, anyhow, Count Haddock said he had to take care of some business when the sun started to come up, and…wow. As soon as I left, the exhaustion decided to come back from lunch—or wherever it skipped off to when the Count was with me. The distinct feeling of numbing, on-the-brink-of-death emptiness and muddy swamp brain I remember from my exam-taking days hit me like one of those trains Count Haddock is all too fond of. I decided to take a nap, and I feel a lot better now.

Can I tell you something, friend? I know I shouldn’t be saying this. It’s probably really out of line, considering Count Haddock is a man of class and high status and all, but…okay, I’ll say it. (I know you won’t tell.) I’m worried about him. Sometimes I hear him letting out plaintive wails in the middle of the night, when I guess he thinks no one is listening. Or shuffling down the halls, looking sullen and miserable and muttering about what a terrible monster he is. I’m a little surprised—I mean, the men back home ARE embarrassed when they have to do housework or kitchenwork, but I’ve never seen any of them spiral into such a vat of self-loathing over…I don’t know, making a bed and cooking a chicken, that they call themselves a MONSTER over it. Seems a little rude to the people who actually DO do those kinds of menial things for a living, but maybe I’m misinterpreting what’s going on here. Maybe he’s talking about something else. You have to be open to a number of different scenarios when you’re looking for an explanation—in my line of work, at least.

Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not as bad as he thinks. Take it from me—sometimes you’re so sure you’re the worst person in the world and totally not good for anything, and then you graduate law school and pass the BAR!!! Count Haddock is a kind man, and he shouldn’t be so hard on himself for being unconventional. He’s a fantastic homemaker, a charming conversationalist, and an excellent cook! What could he hate about himself so much?

There IS one thing that’s a tad off-putting, but it’s probably not too big a deal.

The other night, I went out to find him—mainly just to tell him that I think he’s wonderful and appreciate his hospitality. I don’t know how long he’s been alone in here, and since he seems to regard himself so poorly…well, I don’t know how long it’s been since someone said something nice to him. I intend to change that! Everyone deserves to feel good about themselves, even when they live alone in a kind of creepy castle in the middle of nowhere and cover up weird things about their household activities and close their eyes whenever I get a cut and constantly look at my crucifix necklace weird.

Anyways, so I stopped to admire the view out one of the castle windows, and then I saw a head pop out a window a little ways below. Didn’t take long to realize it must be Count Haddock—I think I’d know those wiry, well-built shoulders and that luscious mop of dark hair anywhere. He’s hard to miss.

So he puts one of those thin, elegant hands of his (look, he gestures a LOT when he talks—I’ve become very familiar with the way his hands look. I’m not being weird or anything.) on the castle wall, and sort of…pulls himself out of the window? And then before I know it, he’s stuck all his hands and feet on the stones and is clinging like a gecko. I kind of wonder if his ancestors’ dragons infused him with reptilian powers or something. So then he scuttles down the wall, and his cloak is blowing every which way, and it was VERY weird to watch. I stood there for a really long time trying to process what—pardon my French—the FUCK just happened.

That said! I don’t think being able to walk on walls is EVIL, it’s just…kind of unsettling? I want to ask him what’s up with that. But I also wonder if that’d be too nosy. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to see?

Oh well. If this is all Count Haddock is upset about, then I think it’s fine. I wish there was a way to tell him it’s not scary. I think it’s an amazing ability, personally! (So lucrative if you want to go rock-climbing, especially.) If a little…odd. Still, I want him to know it doesn’t make him a monster, no matter what anyone else says.

May 18

Hi again friend,

Wow, do I have news!!! Some of it’s sort of disquieting, but some pretty good, so…net positive?

So the good news is that I’m pretty sure Count Haddock is into me. Like…into me into me. You know what I mean. (I’m not holding my breath for a ring or anything, since I know it took months of formal courting for Jack to pop Punzie the question! But I just have a feeling??? I don’t know, I could be entirely off-base. Like a court case red herring or something.) The bad news is that Count Haddock has some…friends? Roommates? Some guys who live in his castle and definitely want to eat me. No, I will not elaborate on that.

Just kidding! I absolutely will elaborate. It’s literally my job! I PASSED THE BAR!!! I rant to people about laws and logic for a living!!!

Anyways, do you remember those locked rooms Count Haddock told me to avoid? Because of ghosts or something? I mean yeah, I guess I can understand how spirits would be a safety concern, but I figured logistically, how bad could they be? I mean, they try to punch me or kick me or bite me or what have you, and it’ll go through me, right? And according to some of the books I’ve perused in the library, the worst ghosts can do is like…knock a cup over here and there. Well, I’ve seen Jack’s cats knock mugs and glasses over plenty of times, and I lived to tell the tale! If the ghosts come for me, this property attorney is READY.

So all this to say I got pretty bored, and I, uh. I may have gone creeping around in the rooms Count Haddock told me not to. Whoops. To be fair, I normally wouldn’t have, and just sought out Count Haddock for company, but he was running errands.

I don’t know if I mentioned, but he asked me if I could stay a little longer so I could help him learn Norwegian. He speaks mostly Transylvanian, and a little Old Norse, too. Pretty impressive his ancestral language was passed down through the family for this long! He told me his parents taught him as a kid but got kind of weird and evasive when he started talking about his childhood. I don’t know why—maybe he’s self-conscious about knowing such an old language? He doesn’t need to be. Lots of people have ancient dialects passed down through their family lineages, I’d bet!

Anyways, I wrote a letter to Jack and Rapunzel and the big boss man telling them I was staying a bit longer and assuring Jack and Punz I’d be back in time for the wedding. Count Haddock said he’d run all the letters to the post office to save me the trouble—such a gentleman!—although he grabbed all the envelopes in his teeth and gecko-ran down the wall again when he thought I wasn’t looking. I mean, I don’t mind when he does this—it’s kind of morbidly fascinating to watch, actually—but I do have to wonder why he doesn’t just use the front door.

So the hours sort of dragged by, and I guess I’ve read basically all I can in the library. Everything else is in Old Norse or Transylvanian, and I mean…it’d be nice to learn a couple new languages, but I don’t think I could do it in one night, you know? And okay, against probably my better judgment, I decided to go check out this ghost business. How bad can it be? It’ll spice things up a little, at least!

Heh. Spice. So many nice spices here! Did I mention that Count Haddock made the most delicious mititei the other night? It’s these little meat rolls with sour cream inside and all this paprika, saffron, and cloves sprinkled on it, and I LOVE IT!!! Really, if Count Haddock didn’t have all that old family money, I’d suggest he go into hospitality or the cooking business or something. Punzel’s an amazing cook, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t think she’s ever made me stuff this good. Am I a bad friend for saying that…? Maybe I’m just a little preoccupied, since Count Haddock is so…I don’t know…

Oh, right. I was talking about the ghost adventure. Well, it didn’t actually turn out to be a ghost adventure, but it sure was…something.

So anyways I was bored out of my head, so I wandered around and tried a bunch of the doors. This one was actually unlocked, and it led into this big fancy room with all these couches and tables and stuff—maybe a parlor or something?—and this HUGE panoramic window!!! Like I could see the whole SKY and all this silvery, moon-washed forest and hills and landscape and I am here to tell you it was EPIC. It’s times like those that I wonder if this is actually the best business trip ever, despite the lizard-walking and the weird lack of servants and that one thing Count Haddock does around mirrors where he sort of tears up and runs away.

I found this one nice velvety green loveseat-looking thing, and I wiped the dust off (only a little bit—victory!) and just laid on it for awhile and admired the view. It was kind of relaxing, taking in the nightscape and the moonlight and feeling this weird kind of peace. Ironic, since this castle seems like it SHOULD give me the major creeps, but…I guess in that moment, it really didn’t. It felt almost like…home. Is that weird?

Probably. I feel like I should be more concerned about the fact that I don’t really mind not having seen the sun for a while. How long has it been? A week? Two weeks? Ah, well—it’s not like I can’t remember what daylight looked like. Granted, my memory historically hasn’t been the best, and I probably wouldn’t have passed the BAR without lots of…whatever Ingrid Olsen was slipping me, but I can remember what’s important, okay?! Or not important, maybe, so much as like…things that don’t make me feel like I’m drowning in information. Point being, I’m not forgetting how sunlight looks anytime soon, so I can just file that away in my brain and focus on the moon right now. Or at least that was my train of thought last night.

I think I must’ve dozed off, because the next thing I knew, I heard these voices drifting over from the corner. My first thought was “ah, great, how am I gonna tell the big boss man that I’ve lost it??? That’ll be so bad for business!” But the voices seemed way too distinct for my brain to have made them up. I mean, one of them had this really thick Scottish accent! Why would my brain randomly make up a Scot living in Transylvania?! It doesn’t make any sense. And if there’s one thing they taught me in law school, it’s that MOST things have a rational explanation behind them, and the occasional completely illogical nonsense is the exception rather than the rule, etc etc.

Anyways, I kind of slowly sat up to see what was going on, but I tried to be inconspicuous about it. I didn’t know who these people were, and I mean…just because Count Haddock lives in a creepy castle and is really nice doesn’t mean EVERYONE who lives in a creepy castle is going to be really nice, you know?

Besides, I was like, are these people even supposed to be here?! Count Haddock never mentioned living with anyone besides servants, and these people didn’t look like servants. They seemed to all be fancy ladies—well, it was a little hard to tell in just grayish moonlight, but the Scottish lady had this huge, luxurious mane of red curls, and the other two had this long, shiny blonde hair. And they didn’t really hold themselves like the common folk would, I don’t think. Does Count Haddock have a bunch of aristocratic squatters?! How did they even get in here, with all the locked doors???

I probably don’t need to tell you, but I really didn’t trust these strange girls. I mean, I study property law—I KNOW you have to be careful with squatters. I decided to eavesdrop for a while, just to figure out what was going on. Here’s what I got:

Scottish Lady: I’m telling you two, he wouldn’t have let her wander in here if he didn’t want us to have a little scran!

Blonde Lady #1: Ugh, you’re so stupid. Isn’t he doing a property deal with her or something? He probably doesn’t want her sucked yet.

Scottish Lady: Wait. THAT’S the lawyer?!

Blonde Lady #2 (who actually had a pretty deep voice, so come to think of it…was probably actually a guy with long hair??? My mistake): So what? Lawyers are a dime a dozen! We drain this one, and the head lawyer guy in the firm will just send another one.

Scottish Lady: You gommy! What are we going to tell him, ‘Ah, our bad one of your employees mysteriously vanished while staying in our castle! We’ll do better with the next one, we promise!’

Blonde Guy: Sounds like Hiccup’s problem, not ours. He’ll be fine, he can reason with anyone. And didn’t you JUST say we should suck her?

Scottish Lady: Yeah, but I didn’t know that’s the property lady! I thought she was just some village lass he charmed in here.

Blonde Guy: In THAT kind of business casual?

Blonde Lady: Ugh, I don’t CARE anymore. She’s starting to look too delicious for me to care what Hiccup thinks. He can find himself another lawyer.

Scottish lady: Maybe you’re right. A quick little slurp couldn’t hurt.

Blonde Guy: Yeah, that’s the spirit! We’ll leave enough for her to sell us the land plot or whatever.

Blonde Lady: Aw, Thor, YES! Dinnertime! Uhhhh, someone else go first, though. I don’t want to get thrown out the window again.

I really had no idea why they were talking about me like I was some kind of fancy buffet, but I decided I didn’t want to stick around to find out. I tried to slink out while they were bickering, but these people were alarmingly fast. I’d barely started to get up before they suddenly surrounded the couch, the blondes on either end and the Scottish lady eyeing me up in a way I was not super crazy about.

“Oh, beautiful young lass!” she purred. She climbed on top of me before I could even move, and before I knew it, she was straddling me. I pretty much froze up because I mean…no one is EVER that forward with me that fast, let alone strange women I’ve just met. Also I mean. I’ve never given much thought to liking women like THAT. I mean…I guess I’m not opposed, and maybe what happens in weird Transylvanian castles can stay in weird Transylvanian castles, but the fact remained that I didn’t even know this lady’s name and she was already looking at me like she wanted to…I don’t know. Do things not really discussed in polite society.

“Our hair matches. How about that?” she said, in kind of this thick, breathy voice. She picked up a lock of my hair and twirled it between her fingers, pressing it up against her own curls. They were in fact pretty close in color. But, man, was that awkward. I’m not super stingy about my personal bubble or anything, but that was a little much. Like, not because she’s a lady or anything—that part I was strangely okay with. More because I only met her five minutes ago (if you can call this making someone’s acquaintance), and also the metaphors comparing me to dinner weren’t my favorite.

She leaned down and whispered in my ear “you know what else is a very pretty shade of red?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out. But did I have much choice at that point?

That’s about when she lowered her face to press it against my neck (which I might have been into otherwise, but for god’s sake, we were NOT at that point yet!). Then I felt two very sharp teeth piercing into the skin just below my jawline.

I barely had time to start panicking before this huge roar shook the room, louder and fiercer than the dragons I’ve read fairy tales about. OR the ones Count Haddock described.

Then someone’s hand was around the Scottish lady’s neck, and she was being yanked into the air. I saw this flash of green eyes and white fangs, and that’s when I realized.

God, it was Count Haddock. And I had NEVER seen him that furious before. It seemed like every part of him was radiating rage. He was tensed up like a panther ready to spring, his eyes all flaming malachite and his teeth bared like a wolf’s. He took the Scottish lady and slammed her against the wall, hissing.

I honestly never imagined he was that strong, what with those skinny limbs of his. Some kind of adrenaline rush helped, I imagine.

I was stunned. I couldn’t say anything—I just laid there. Count Haddock was friendly, but I never knew he cared so…passionately about my safety. It’s flattering, thinking back on it. At the time, though…well, I’ll admit I was a little taken aback.

“Great Odin’s ghost, what is WRONG with you?!” he spat. “Attorney Runeardsen is our guest, and this is NOT how we treat guests! You dare lay so much as a FINGER on her when I’ve told you to leave her be?!”

The Scottish lady choked, and Count Haddock threw her at the blonde lady. They both stumbled back, the blonde man scurrying over to hide behind them.

“What, you let your little pet go wandering about the castle, and you’re surprised when we think she’s free for the taking?” the Scottish lady said scornfully.

Count Haddock stepped in front of the couch, shielding me from his three strange cohabitors. I saw he was so angry he was shaking, and he had to run a hand along the wall to steady himself, His fingernails dug into the wood like claws, and left long gougemarks.

I hadn’t noticed before then how sharp his nails were. Maybe seeing those two pointed front teeth so often desensitized me to sharp things on Count Haddock’s person. Maybe I should have been more alarmed. Truth be told, though, in the moment I was glad he was pulling the intimidation card on my behalf.

“She’s not my pet,” he snarled at his cohabitors. “She’s my business associate. If any of you so much as LOOK at her again, there’ll be hell to pay. You want Ms. Runeardsen, and you’ll have to go through me.”

“What’s so special about her?” the blonde lady griped. “She’s just a property lawyer! Can’t you get another one?”

“Yeah! We’re hungry!” the blonde man added crossly. “You haven’t brought us anything to eat in two weeks.”

I remember thinking, huh. They don’t look too worse for wear, for not having eaten in a fortnight.

Count Haddock scoffed. “A lot of business you have complaining when you three haven’t paid rent in 400 YEARS! I’ve been sharing my home with you, letting you freeload century after century, and THIS is how you thank me?!”

“Oh, here we go again, with the rent lecture,” the Scottish lady complained.

“Yeah, when are you gonna let that go, man?” the blonde man demanded.

“I’ll let it go when your lazy behinds start getting your OWN meals,” Count Haddock shot back, starting to sound tired.

“Why ARE you so enamored with that lawyer, anyways?” the blonde lady asked.

“Oooooohhhh!” the blonde man sneered. “Hiccup’s in looooove!”

The Scottish lady let out a harsh cackle. “Don’t be daft, both of you. He can’t love any more than we can. Not anymore.”

“Speak for yourself.”

Count Haddock’s voice softened, the anger and frustration seeming to drain out. He turned to face the three freeloaders, and I caught a glimpse of the side of his face.

His expression was tense, and his eyes were glistening in the darkness. He looked almost…sad.

“Maybe you’ve decided you can’t love anymore,” he said quietly. “But I’m not so sure.”

His whole body suddenly looked so crumpled and broken, and more than anything I just wanted to hold him. Sweep myself under that dark green cape of his and wrap my arms around his waist and tell him everything was going to be okay and he wasn’t unlovable and that I’m so grateful he probably saved my life. But with everything happening so fast, and his three creepy friends so close by, I just…I still couldn’t move.

“So, what?” the blonde man whined. “We don’t get any dinner? You promised!”

Count Haddock sighed. “FINE. You really don’t deserve it, after that horrifying stunt you pulled, but dinner’s in the bag.”

He walked over to the door and grabbed a large bag he had left there, slinging it over his shoulder. As he came back, I noticed something long and mangled sticking out of the top.

It was—and I wish I was joking—a human arm.

I thought all that talk of sucking and slurping and eating me was some kind of bizarre metaphor, but I guess not. Count Haddock and his friends, evidently, actually do eat people.

I guess my brain decided that was enough stress for one night, because the next thing I knew, I blacked out.

When I woke up, I was in my own bed. Pretty sure I didn’t sleepwalk all the way back here, so the only thing I can figure is that Count Haddock carried me. It’s vague, but the last thing I remember before I passed out is feeling his arms scooping under my legs and shoulders.

He must’ve carried me like a bride. Like Jack is going to carry Rapunzel after their wedding this summer. And all the way down the hall, too. And then he tucked me into bed and blew out the candles.

The thought shouldn’t make me blush as much as it does. I know it’s unprofessional. (Not to mention he also eats people.) But something about him…

The more I came to, the worse it got. As in, I realized he also left a glass of water on my bedside table and a platter of little mints and fresh Belgian chocolates, folded all my clothes on the floor and put them on a nearby chair (look, it is HARD keeping my room tidy, okay?!), and even changed me into a nightgown. All these little favors for me while I’m not even conscious, on top of keeping me safe from those strange roommates of his? How are you supposed to maintain a “strictly professional” relationship with—well, with someone like THAT? Someone who treats you so softly, and senses your needs better than you can, and is willing to unleash the wrath of a thousand ravenous beasts on anyone who may wish you harm? I mean yes, I should check up on what exactly the cannibalism situation is, but other than that…

I don’t know. Call me a naïve, wide-eyed sap, and a sorry excuse for a certified property attorney, but I don’t know if I can be “just colleagues” with Count Haddock. Something in me tells me we’re meant for something more.

Is that stupid? Probably. Nonetheless!

Human-flesh-eating aside, could you ask for a more perfect man??? I think not!

May 20

Hi friend,

Okay, SO. Hiccup finally told me what’s actually going on.

Yes, Hiccup! Uh…so Count Haddock and I are on a first name basis now. But more on that later.

So it all started when he called me in for dinner. So much good stuff last night, let me tell you—there was this kind of fried pancake thing called clătite brașovene, covered in batter and with beef, mushrooms, and breadcrumbs inside. It tasted amazing!!! He also made me this stuff called “robber steak,” and you really HAVE to try it—bacon, onion, and beef, red pepper seasoning, what’s not to love??? It reminded me so much of the little kebabs you can buy on the street back in Oslo! You know, the ones you give to the cats?

I got so excited when I saw the kebabs that…I think I squealed? Kind of unprofessional, but oh well. Probably so is lizard-walking down walls on all fours and feeding human bodies to your roommates, so Hiccup’s not in a place to judge. Anyways, I DID get a little embarrassed, and I guess I expected him to look amused, but he just seemed…sad?

And I couldn’t help it, I told him how much his robber steak reminded me of all the cats I buy street food for (and there are a lot…Jack’s always teasing that I’m going to blow through my first real paycheck buying dinner for every stray in Oslo), and how it felt like a little piece of home. And I swear, I think he teared up at that.

His tears weren’t…clear was the thing. It kind of looked like there was a little blood in them? He wiped them away too quickly for me to really tell. Anyways, his voice got curt and he corrected me, saying it wasn’t HIS robber steak but his COOKS’, and I shouldn’t group him in with commoners, etc etc. It sounded stilted, though, like he was rehearsing a script. And he wouldn’t meet my eyes as he said it.

He started to leave—and yes, I’ll admit it was a little undignified, but I called after him and asked him to stay for dinner. Not even to eat (seeing as he somehow always manages to eat before me), but just for company. It gets so lonely here, and he really did seem so melancholy. I thought maybe if we had an engaging conversation, we could perk each other up!

But he rushed off, saying he had to make dessert—and then immediately correcting himself that no, the COOKS had to make dessert. And he was gone, and, as usual, I had to eat my clătite brașovene and my robber steak in silence.

It was a long time before he came back. I was starting to doubt he would, thinking “dessert” was just an excuse to leave. Nonetheless, I waited at the table after I finished, admiring the paintings on the wall. Mostly portraits of sophisticated-looking young men, all in varying styles of dress from different time periods. Count Haddock’s ancestors, I assume—although oddly enough, all these men looked exactly like him. There were some pictures of those three strange people I ran into the other night—recent commissions, probably. And, of course, your standard gorgeous hill, forest, mountain, and river scenery—all landscapes in daylight, I noticed.

For as often as Count Haddock stays up all night, he doesn’t have many paintings of nightscapes, or the moon and stars. I guess he figures if he wants to see those, he can just look outside.

I was so wrapped up in the dining room art gallery that I started when the door opened. And there he was after all, holding a platter with some kind of cake on it.

I think it was meant to be…cozonac? It was hard to tell, honestly, because the whole thing was kind of flat and saggy and odd-looking—and when he cut it open, it was a mess of walnuts and melted chocolate that just sort of oozed out everywhere. It didn’t look anything like the pictures I’ve seen, but I’ll tell you what—it DID look delicious.

“I made this for you,” he said. No correction, no last-minute insistence that it was the kitchen staff. He swallowed hard and seemed to force himself to meet my eyes. He was fully owning up to producing this dessert that loosely resembled a cake, and I thought that was beautiful.

“You’ve been a great guest, and really helpful, and you’ve taught me so much about Oslo and Norway,” he added. “And I wanted to make you something with chocolate. Just, uh. I hope you like it.”

He started to back away, a little less quickly than he had with dinner. He hesitated, glancing from the table to the door like he couldn’t decide whether he should leave.

I chanced my input again. “Count Haddock, won’t you stay?”

And that’s when he sat down, smiling at me so softly that I felt warmer than the sun could ever make me. I don’t think the sharpest front teeth in the world could have made it any less beautiful.

“Call me Hiccup,” he said. “And yes. I’d like to stay this time.”

He cut me a piece of cozonac-ish cake, and was silent as I began to eat. When he did speak, his voice came out as this like…ashamed mumble, almost.

“I haven’t been honest with you.”

I was tempted to tell him that was obvious, but that seemed rude. I kept eating my dessert and looked at him expectantly.

“There…aren’t any kitchen staff, Anna. I wanted you to think I was some…normal, dignified nobleguy, with prestige and class and all that. Just your average member of the gentry, not…well, whatever the townsfolk say I am. But there aren’t any cooks. I’ve been preparing all your food myself.”

I barely managed to keep myself from laughing, and nearly choked on the cake in the process. “Hiccup,” I got out, fighting to keep my voice level. “I know.”

He gave me a weird look. “Wait. You do?”

“You’re not exactly subtle,” I told him. “And I know you’ve been making my bed and cleaning my room and leaving little gifts on my table. I think it’s endearing, and you’re without a doubt the BEST host I’ve ever had. You shouldn’t be so embarrassed just because this sort of thing is below your station, usually. Only the humblest AND noblest of men would work this hard to help a guest feel welcome.”

His cheeks darkened, and he looked away. “I mean—well, I DO appreciate that. But that isn’t the only thing you should know.”

And that, dear friend, is when I learned the whole truth. The full, would-be-court-approved testimony.

The Haddock story didn’t end with them fleeing Scandinavia and disappearing into Transylvania for the next several generations. Drago Bludvist was relentless, and he wasn’t about to let the foes who made his conquests so difficult get off easy. He slaughtered most of the Haddocks’ village and hunted down the survivors, ambushing them just when they finally thought they fled far enough.

The only ones to survive the second assault were the Haddock son and two of his friends. And this Bludvist guy, well…apparently, he had a pretty twisted sense of humor. He got a powerful warlock ally of his to put a terrible curse on all three, trapping them in a limbo where they could never age, supernaturally strong and fast forever (not bad perks honestly), but they had to subsist off human blood to survive and could never be in sunlight without getting burned. And so they found someplace out of the way, somewhere to hide from everyone who called them monsters.

Hiccup was crying by the time he finished the story. And I knew I wasn’t imagining it this time—there WAS blood in those tears.

And that’s about when I figured it all out. The pictures—they were all of HIM. He was the one who lost his dragon to Bludvist’s armies. And he was the last Haddock son, cursed with the worst kind of eternal life. Centuries old.

I thought he was being hyperbolic the other night, when he said his three roommates haven’t paid rent in 400 years. I guess not?

In any case, I couldn’t deny it any longer. I knew then that he was hungry for my blood. I knew then that he constantly must fight the urge to kill me, every instinct in him screaming at him to rip me apart. But I also knew then, without a shadow of a doubt, that no part of him WANTED to be that way.

I mean, I’m an attorney, for god’s sake. I can recognize fake crying when I see it.

And this boy had lost everything. His family. His tribe. His draconic best friend. His fiancé.

(I really don’t know why I still feel so weird about him having a fiancé several centuries ago. I guess it didn’t occur to me he might, although it shouldn’t be surprising—he’s an attractive man! Still, thinking about it makes me feel…uneasy for whatever reason. Funny how that’s eating at me more than him literally having to eat people to live, huh?)

That’s about when he confessed what I suspected all along: He was terribly lonely, locked away from the sun and the city and forced to live this kind of parasitic life. I can’t say whether he was venting in the heat of the moment, or if he had been working up the courage to admit this to me. Whatever the case, it only seemed to make him crumple more.

And I couldn’t help it, friend—something in me gave way. I don’t think I’d ever seen someone look so lost, and…shattered. In that moment, I decided “strictly business” etiquette could go to hell—if someone’s in immense distress, who am I not to help?!

So, in only the most unprofessional of ways, I rose from my seat and sat next to him, throwing my arm around his shoulder. He leaned into me in a way that made me think he had not been affectionately touched in a very, very long time.

For a while he cried into my neck, and I rubbed his shoulder and his back the way Elsa used to do before we grew apart. He stopped only to assure me he would wash the blood and tear stains out of my new suit as soon as he got the chance (having no staff means that, regrettably, he has to do all the washing himself. I did make sure to tell him he’s been doing a superb job of getting the sweat stains out of my blouses!). I told him not to worry himself over it, and I would be happy to help if laundry proved to be too much for him to handle right now. I’m sure resisting the urge to eat your delicious-smelling new friend is a trying affair, and I figure one gets stressed rather easily anyways when subjected to an eternal existence of sucking human blood in order to not die.

He told me, a little unsteadily, that I was the nicest person he’d met in 200 years. Every time he goes into town (to get cooking ingredients or new soap or what have you), everyone is always so rude, hissing and clutching their crucifixes and whimpering prayers. Last time Hiccup asked the grocer how his family was doing, the man called him hellspawn and told him he hopes his castle gets struck by lightning and goes up in a terrible inferno to match his personality! He also insulted Hiccup’s sun umbrella, saying it was severely out-of-fashion, and threw a bag of garlic at him that left burns that lasted weeks! Look, I know sucking blood can be a bit off-putting, but everyone deserves basic common courtesy, whether they eat people or not. Like come ON, have some maturity!

Anyways, I guess I soothed him after a while, because the crying died down—more like small sobs now and again instead of outright bawling. Once he seemed past the worst of all of it, I admitted something was confusing me. How was he so lonesome when the three strange people I met last night lived in the castle too, and apparently had been for quite some time? He chuckled a little darkly at this.

It turns out the four of them used to be great friends, a very long time ago. The blondes—a twin sister and brother, Ruffnut and Tuffnut—were the only other survivors from Hiccup’s village, and only others (that he knows of) to be afflicted with the vampire curse. That’s what his condition’s called, apparently. They were all each other had for a while. Merida, the Scottish lady, came a century or so later. She was a princess on the run from an arranged marriage, and she stumbled on Hiccup’s castle in her quest to go where no one could ever find her. Hiccup, Ruffnut, and Tuffnut invited her in, but Ruffnut ended up liking her too much to make a meal out of her, so she made her into a vampire instead. Apparently you can transfer the curse through some specific type of biting—who knew? I guess it makes sense, with those big pointy teeth and all.

They were thick as thieves, those four, back in the day. All kinds of running around the woods, climbing trees, scaling cliff faces with weird lizard wall-clinging skills. Seeing who could lift the thickest tree trunk (it was usually Merida). Dining on the town’s most depraved, stumbling on Hiccup’s castle on their run from the law.

But over the centuries, Hiccup and his friends grew apart. The main reason, he told me, was…“diverging opinions on the value of human life and such,” as he put it. Eventually, they ran out of deplorable townspeople and traveling ne’er-do-wells and bandits to eat, but the need for blood remained.

So Hiccup tried to live in moderation, taking only what he needed to survive. Occasionally even feeding on wildlife, for as far as that would get him. The others, however…

It sounded like an addiction of sorts—getting a little too fond of how lively and powerful they felt just after feeding on a human. And they wanted more, and more, and more…and kept finding ways to justify the killing to themselves, until they barely saw anything wrong with it at all. Makes me nervous, thinking of what they would have done to me the other night had Hiccup not showed up.

(I asked what happened after I passed out, and Hiccup told me his friends took their dinner and scuttled out the window in a huff. I didn’t ask who the “dinner” in the bag had been. Maybe I’d be happier not knowing…)

These days, Hiccup’s three cohabitors have gotten lazy, preferring to let Hiccup do the hard work of putting himself in danger to get them all food. They’ve been freeloading for…300ish years now, he tells me? And he dutifully provides still, despite how tumultuous things have gotten. I guess out of obsolete loyalty to his longest-standing friends, no matter how…morally questionable they’ve become. Or maybe grief for the friendship that once was. As is, though, he feels he has little in common with them anymore.

He told me how it breaks his heart, seeing how much the curse twisted the three of them. Often, he can’t even bear to be around them—to see what they’ve become. So he stays away, seeking them out only when it comes time to feed them. But the resentment, the anger that they’ve let themselves stray so far into the darkness—I can tell it’s still there. And the bitter loneliness of seeing his three best friends go down a disturbing path that he doesn’t have the heart to follow…it must weigh on him terribly.

“And that’s not even the worst part,” he told me when he finished the story. He stood suddenly as he said it, knocking my hand off him. It was difficult to imagine what could be significantly worse than having to regularly drink human blood, but nonetheless I gestured for him to continue.

“Ruff, Tuff, Mer, and I…” His voice shook as he said it, and he gripped the table like a lifeline. I wondered if the tears were going to come back.

“We were planning…” He trailed off and took a breath. “I’ve been trying to reach out to them. For, I don’t know, the last 50 years or so. Trying to rekindle the friendship we once had, because I couldn’t bear an eternity alone. Even if my only alternative was to spend it with people who had become…well, bloodthirsty and completely depraved. But I wanted someone. So the four of us made a plan—I made a plan. To try and make them happy. I thought maybe then, they’d love me again.”

He frowned at me and stiffened, like he was trying to hold himself together. “We figured it had been so many centuries that no one in our ancestral lands would remember who we were. If Drago had some kind of lineage, they surely would have died out by now. So we decided to return to the homeland in Scandinavia—to Oslo.”

“Of course!” I nodded, because it all made sense then. “That’s why we talked through buying all that land. You want to go home.”

“I was hesitant at first,” he admitted. “I was worried there were too many scenarios where we all ended up discovered and slaughtered. But the idea grew on me. I read books and newspaper articles and learned how much the outside world had grown since our time. And I realized how much I’ve missed the fjords and the sea cliffs and everything else. So I started setting everything in motion.”

He paused, like he was waiting for me to scream or wail or flee in terror or what have you. I planned on doing no such thing! I’m a professional, after all.

“Anna,” he added bluntly, when I didn’t provide him with a sufficiently horrified reaction. “We eat people. And we bought land in and planned to move to YOUR hometown. Shouldn’t you…I don’t know, be more concerned?”

Huh. Well, when he put it like that, I DID understand why this was concerning.

I couldn’t find myself too surprised, though, that this was the story behind everything going on. I’ve suspected something was up for a while now, and Hiccup and his roommates being cursed, blood-sucking creatures of the night fits with what I’ve seen. After all, what good is a lawyer if they can’t piece together the evidence they gather and arrive at something resembling the truth?

Hiccup doesn’t eat human food. No one in town will work for him. He can lizard crawl up the side of buildings. He has two front teeth perfected for breaking skin and drawing blood. He’s constantly in distress over seeing himself as some sort of “thing of evil.” His friends were talking about sucking me and draining me and calling me a meal. The townsfolk are terrified of him. He always disappears at dawn. He has circles of blue fire just lying around. Really, him being a blood-drinking night creature explains all that better than perhaps anything else could.

As absolutely absurd as it all sounds. But if law school taught me anything, it’s that oftentimes the truth is a LOT stranger than you think it will be. You can’t ever rule anything out until you have significant evidence against it—and it’s quite the opposite, in this case.

Strangely enough, I found I wasn’t hugely bothered with the idea of him coming to Oslo. It took me a moment to realize why.

“Well, you have to have blood to live, right?” I said. “So either you’ll be eating people here or you’ll be eating people in Oslo. What difference does it make where you are?” He gave me kind of a weird look, so I elaborated. “I mean, obviously the ideal number of people you would be eating is zero, but it sounds like that isn’t an option.”

He gave me what seemed like a genuinely apologetic look. “Anna, your friends…your family….”

Oh. Right. Jack and Punzie. Elsa. My colleagues at the firm.

I guess some part of me figured if I asked Hiccup to leave them out of it, he would. That he’d do me that one favor, after how much I’d tried to help him with the legalities of property transfer and the intricacies of Norwegian. That after everything…

Maybe he’d come to care for me.

The boss man would call me naïve if he knew. I guess I never could quash that little romantic in my chest, who kept insisting I wasn’t just fated to become some cranky, law-practicing old maid. But affection is a powerful thing, and I’d be an idiot to deny the reserve of it that was steadily building for Hiccup.

“And you…” He turned and walked away from the table as he said it. He started pacing back and forth, burying his face in his hands and groaning. “That’s the worst of all.”

That’s when the unease really started to set in, but I kept my cool. No one ever accomplished anything by descending into embarrassing hysterics.

“What about me?” I asked (impressively calmly, I think, given the situation).

“Once we got the property deeds, we were going to…” He cut himself off and sank into his hands, heaving a strangled breath.

I didn’t want to make him say it. “You were going to let your friends eat me. When I wasn’t useful anymore.”

“Yes!” He lowered his hands and looked right at me, and I saw he was teary-eyed again. “But I CAN’T, not now that I know you. These last few weeks have been the best I’ve had in decades. I’ve realized that I don’t just want to go to Oslo—I want to walk the streets with YOU, stopping at those little stalls to buy kebabs for the cats. I want to hold your hand under the aspens in the park and feed oats to the ducks—and I’d probably only eat one or two ducks, I promise. I want to ride the streetcars and window-shop and buy you things for Snoggletog…or whatever your equivaent of that nowadays is, anyhow. I want to roam the fjords with you at midnight, when it’s quiet—and watch the stars and the northern lights when there’s no one around but us. I want to see the moonlight on the waterfalls, and I want you to show me everything you love.”

He took a deep breath then, like he was willing the courage to go on. “You make Oslo sound so beautiful, but I can’t—I just can’t imagine it without you there, too. Getting excited when you point out all the things we talked about and filling my head with all of your fun facts. Telling me about your latest property court cases over fresh-cooked fårikål I made. Taking the train into the mountains on the weekend and watching the lynxes and puffins and reindeer and white foxes. I want to experience it all with you, Anna.”

I just stared at him, stunned. How did I, your run-of-the-mill property attorney, manage to impress a man who was centuries old?

“And now…the thought of hurting you, I just can’t—” He cut himself off again and heaved a ragged sob. “I couldn’t forgive myself. I’m so sorry I planned to. Sometimes, I think the townspeople are right about me—I really AM some kind of vile demon.”

And that’s when—god forgive me—I made what was easily the most unprofessional move of my career.

I couldn’t help it. He looked so devastated, and I had to show him he was a better man than he believed.

I stood and crossed the room in a few strides. His head was in his hands again, but he looked up as I approached.

And then, before my logical lawyer brain could kick in, I leaned in and grabbed his cheeks and I kissed Count Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III just like in the fairy tales!!!

His mouth was on the cold side, and his lips were dry and chapped, but he tasted so right. And he smelled like chocolate and nuts and cake batter and a little bit like what had come to feel like home.

I think I shocked him at first, because I felt him stiffen. But then he melted into it, and cold arms wrapped around my neck and suddenly it was one of those moments where I felt rather foolish for ceasing to believe in magic when my childhood was over. If the mystical was a farce, how did you explain the soft, velvety feeling in my chest, brought about from nothing but unchecked bliss?

And let me tell you, I don’t think I’ve ever felt safer than in the arms of a centuries-old undead creature. The irony is scandalous, I know.

Even after our lips parted, he still clung to me like a lost kitten. I pressed my forehead to his, just to assure him I was comfortable.

I spoke as quietly and soothingly as I could, saying “I’m not afraid of you. And I know you’re not going to hurt me now. I trust you.”

“How do you know you should?” he asked me, voice trembling.

I had to laugh at this, and I told him “Because, um…I really don’t think you would have put so much thought into all the fun activities we were going to do in Oslo together if you still planned on draining all my blood out.”

That got a laugh out of him, too! I think I was doing pretty damn well, all things considered.

“You…don’t hate what I am?” he asked.

“No,” I told him. “I’m not really that surprised, given all your…well…all the oddities around here. But you can’t help it that you were cursed, and I can tell you’ve got a good heart. That’s what matters to me.”

“It’s just…ugh. It’s all so complicated now.” He pulled away a little, hands on my shoulders as he stared at the ground. “The four of us were going to take over the whole damn city, draining or turning every last one of them. But now I can’t. I can’t do that to your home! And I wouldn’t hurt the people you care about, but…how am I going to keep Mer, Ruff, and Tuff away?”

He started to pace again, gesturing wildly as he talked. “And I already sent off the property deeds to be approved by your boss! What am I going to do when they come back?! How do I tell Merida and the others that maybe I don’t want to do this after all? Would they just kill me? Could they just kill me?”

I pointed out that was unlikely, considering they seemed like they hadn’t been outside the castle to even hunt in several years, but he still seemed worried.

“I can’t take over an entire city!” he went on. “Or subject them to this—this life I’m stuck with! But I still want to go to Oslo, but I have to eat! What am I supposed to do?!”

I pondered on it as he continued with his anxious ramble.

“Well,” I said—perhaps a little cheekily, I’ll admit. “You know, there’s plenty of ne’er-do-wells and criminals in the backalleys of Oslo. I’m sure they could stand to lose a little blood here and there. I mean, the authorities TRY to round them up, and we lawyers try to make sure they can’t make any more trouble, but even the keenest of law-upholders can’t catch them all.”

“So how long would they last?” he demanded. “How long before I start having to eat good people again, Anna? I don’t know how much longer I can take it!”

I pondered more at this. “I don’t know. It would take careful planning, for sure, and you’d have to figure out how to reign in your friends so they don’t make all of Oslo into a bloodbath, but I don’t think it’s hopeless. I’m trained to navigate, er—tricky situations, you could say. Legal, mostly, but it’s not strictly limited to that.”

“I just don’t know.” He shook his head, breathing hard. “I want to go, I want to explore, I want to see my homeland again, but I don’t—I don’t want to ruin your city with my…my undead debauchery! And I don’t want to put your friends in danger, but I want to stay with you, and this whole plan is a mess, and I just…I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.”

He repeated the words frantically, over and over as he paced with his hands tugging at his hair. A strange calm settled over me, and for whatever reason, I suddenly felt more collected than I had in days.

Even if he was fraying, that didn’t mean I couldn’t tie up his loose ends. I didn’t pass the BAR to fall into panics whenever trouble arose.

“Hiccup,” I said, walking over to him again. I reached up and placed a hand on top of his own, guiding it down from his head and lacing our fingers together. His shaking seemed to wane, if only a little.

I spoke with as much confidence as I’d ever had, and I told him:

“I know it seems like a lot, but I promise you we will figure something out. I’m a lawyer, after all—it’s my goddamn job.”

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