Through the thin clouds, they could see the finishing touches being put on the statue. Though they were several miles away, on a different dot of land, it was clear enough in the late afternoon to see Stoick The Vast's great image being surrounded by Nadders, Nightmares, even a familiar Hotburple hovering low at his knees, threading ropes and hooks to erect the statue just off the mainland.
Hiccup bent himself into a sitting position at the edge of a cliff with a groan, setting his forearm against his knee. Despite his newfound duties, he always found time in the day for a flight, and found it much of a necessity these days. Often, he was alone. Sometimes with Astrid. Today, Valka had joined him and was nearby, murmuring something to their dragons who were tutting agreeably.
He heard her boots crunching through the thin sleet on the grass and glanced up at her as she made to sit beside him.
"Its…" He couldn't seem to come up with any words that didn't threaten to tighten his throat and make him queasy all over again. "Flashy," he decided.
She laughed shortly, but didn't smile. "He would've liked it; it's an honor. When I was young, they told us that the statues of past chieftains surrounded us to keep the village in peace and from harm. It's a symbol. But no matter how to the others choose to remember him, he still lives in you, Hiccup."
Her eyes locked on his. She had this way about her that wouldn't allow someone to look away without her permission first. She held a gaze, and though her words were few, she always said exactly what she meant.
He watched her for a moment, trying to decipher exactly what depth her eyes—that mirrored his own—could hold. It was always hard to tell. Some things about her were plain: she was bright and affectionate, and wise in ways Hiccup knew he had yet to see, not just with dragons. But she was still very much a mystery. There was a side of her that demanded to remain unknown, and even if Hiccup had known her his whole life, he probably wouldn't have discovered it.
He had wondered briefly, watching his parents dance, what she had been like before. Exactly how much she had changed and transformed since her years with dragons. He wouldn't ever know, much like he would never Toothless's origins or what it was like to have both of his parents at once. But perhaps it was not the beginnings that counted.
He looked away and began to absently gather a small pile of sleet at his feet. It had flurried this morning in the chilly air that surrounded Berk, but it should've been the rainy season.
"I…have been thinking of leaving," Valka admitted suddenly. He looked to her, but she was looking away now, her eyes dull and locked on the ground. It made him feel worried to think she was having trouble finding her words.
"Not that village hasn't received me kindly, but…" She sighed and waited several seconds. "Though you're here, it still isn't home. It hasn't been home in…in a lifetime."
He watched a hard line of sadness and regret form on her brow.
"Some of the creatures are happy here, and they'll be welcomed to stay. But I'd take the others with me…"
"So you've decided then?" he asked, not meaning to interrupt, and not meaning for his voice to make an abandoned and desperate crack. But it had, and it brought those green eyes upon him again, and her hand to his cheek, reaching far over the expanse between them.
She watched him again, like she was taking in his every feature.
"My son," she said, soothingly. She had that way about her, and it just puzzled him more. What would she have been like when he was twelve and pushed into the mud, or ten and sat by himself at mealtimes, or fifteen and lying his way to the forest on afternoons to feed a wounded dragon?
"My boy," she said again, firm and believing. "I hadn't ever expected this to happen. I would've never guessed I'd see you again. You, and your father…you were gone from me. And know this, that I didn't stay away because I disliked you or thought there was anything wrong. You are the strength your father saw within you."
He glanced down but didn't pull out of her grasp.
"And I'm not leaving now because of any such reason, either," she said resolutely, leaning away from him and dropping her hand.
"I know," he confirmed.
"I want to see you marry that pretty girl," she said, making Hiccup grin and roll his eyes. "And I want to see my grandchildren," she said expectantly, as if she expected them tomorrow, and he laughed.
"These are things I never thought I'd see or have ever again, Hiccup." She wasn't continuing or crafting pretexts. She expected him to understand. It was a statement, so he nodded.
"You can…still see all of those things, Mom," he said, hoping she understood that he wanted her to visit, not that he was trying to bait her to stay.
And then something unsettling, yet oddly calming, churned in his chest. He'd never called her that. He'd never called her anything except the crazy-feral-dragon-lady, and he wasn't sure that counted as any sort of compliment. He wasn't sure if he'd ever say it again, but it was nice for now.
A smile tugged hopefully at the corners of her mouth. "Yes. I can."
In the chilly air around them, Valka's eyes on his seemed to warm him.
"Alright," he said, and then chuckled because it was like he was giving her permission.
They settled into silence, watching the far-off swarm of dragons flying back to land, the statue standing proudly in the distance.
Hiccup sighed and poked at the ground before stealing a glance at her again. She was already leaving, after such a short period of time. He understood why, but something inside him longed for her to stay.
In reality, she held no responsibility for who he was now. She wasn't here to watch him feel so shameful and be teased daily by the other kids, by the other adults for that matter. She wasn't here during quiet nights at the Haddock house when father and son had no conversation to make, when he mostly hid in his room drafting new inventions. She wasn't here when he was in bed for weeks with a new and strange contraption attached to his missing appendage, and she wasn't here when his father—finally, since before he could remember—hugged him and held emotion behind it.
And as much as she could hold no accountability for him, he couldn't find it in him to hold blame against her.
She had missed so much, and they'd never be able to make time catch up with them. But there was something that he wouldn't let go of, no matter how far away she chose to stay from him. Something as unspoken and as mysterious as a rider's bond with a dragon. He knew she was, as his father always said, 'his own.' He just didn't know how a missing piece fit into a puzzle that he didn't know was incomplete in the first place.
She caught his stare. "What is it?"
He glanced away again and shook his head. "Nothing. I just…I feel like we're so…"
Cloudjumper mirred anxiously behind them, shifting his talons into the ground. Toothless was bounding up behind him from what seemed a great distance; Hiccup hadn't even heard them wander off.
"Alright, we're coming," Valka said, and Cloudjumper's mane of spikes wriggled in anticipation.
She rose, whatever Hiccup was going to say forgotten. "Perhaps we'll be back in time for dinner? Astrid told me she was roasting a lamb at your house."
Hiccup cringed. "Oh no." He looped himself into Toothless's harness. "In that case, let's take the long way."
Valka's laugh echoed upwards, as Cloudjumper's great wings pulsed. Toothless followed, and the sharp chill of the wind silenced anything Hiccup had been trying to say before.
At home, the pungent and tangy smell of lamb was pouring down the hillside upon which Hiccup's house was built, unfortunately unscathed by the battle just two weeks ago. Unfortunately, because he had hoped, as they surveyed the other homes and the damage to be repaired, that his would be among the ruined so that he wouldn't have to feel the empty presence of his father marked everywhere inside the dim lit home.
He swallowed all the emotion up before stepping inside, and Astrid kissed him sweetly on the cheek. He didn't even feel bashful when his arm caught her around the waist, and he pulled her close to whisper in her ear how wonderful her cooking smelled. Valka busied herself with setting the table like she hadn't been eating with the tips of her fingers for the past twenty years. She managed to find the mead they saved for special occasions, hoping it would boost their spirits and take the chill off their skin.
But when they sat at the table, all rumblings in Hiccup's stomach that indicated hunger ceased and he just pushed Astrid's tender lamb stew around the plate before dropping his fork.
"I'm just suddenly…not very hungry," he admitted emptily.
The room stilled in silence a moment before the two women dropped their forks themselves. "I'm sorry…I should've thought…"
Hiccup's hand pressed against Astrid's on the table, stopping her and assuring her it was ok. He rose, and steered himself for the stairs. Going for a flight now would make it too easy for someone to find him. Funny how that worked these days. He tried so hard to find detours and hiding spots that were far away from the main island, but he always seemed to be found no matter how far he and Toothless ventured to be by themselves.
Alone in his bedroom, he figured a more exclusive spot would be the rooftop, and planted his metal foot out the window first to test the slickness of the surface covered in thin icicles. He managed, and mentally bet that the two downstairs wouldn't come looking for him—at least for half an hour.
He'd watched the sun descend about two centimeters in the sky before he heard her voice.
"Your new hiding spot isn't very good."
He turned his head only slightly over one shoulder to watch Astrid already with one leg over the window sill to join him.
"I figured if people find me when I'm actually trying to be hidden, they won't when I'm not."
She perched next to him, testing her weight on the beams and ice. "Sound reasoning, definitely."
They sat in silence a few moments. That was there way, and he sort of liked it. That they could be that comfortable. But she spoke.
"So Valka's leaving. Is that what's wrong?"
She always knew when and where to twist the knife.
"No," he answered, sounding like a whining child. He flicked a bit of ice down the beams of the roof, watching it bounce.
"I believe you," she said dully, sarcastically.
"No, its not," he said more firmly. "Its all of it."
"Are you mad?"
"Of course not. I want her to…to be happy, and all of that. But its weird because she just got back here. I want to get to know her more and everything, but it still seems unnecessary in a way. Her being here, I mean. I thought she was dead for my whole life. And she just stumbles upon me? It really doesn't make any sense."
"Maybe. But maybe it feels unnecessary because you won't let yourself deserve it."
He paused and looked over at her. It wasn't difficult for her to ever decipher his psychobabble. At one point it had been, but she'd listened to enough of his rants by now to be able to sort out the true meaning of his words. She was amazing like that.
"You've really got to stop doing that," he said, feeling like he should smile but didn't have the strength to.
She leaned against his shoulder. "It's a good skill to have if I'm going to keep hanging around, I think," she said nonchalantly and proudly all at once.
They fell into silence again, and Hiccup wondered if she could really be right. He hadn't ever thought of himself as undeserving of anything. True, he'd never felt like he belonged anywhere, and had stopped trying to please people long ago. He just had figured he'd settle for something less, and maybe that's where the undeserving part came in. But now, with circumstances shifting, he had to reevaluate, and it all just seemed too much to think about, even for his busy mind. Maybe he'd just have to let thing unfold themselves.
He nudged the crown of her head with his cheek. "Hey."
She hummed in response.
"Remember that night we discovered Tailfin Island? And we stayed gone way too late."
"Do I remember your dad and my brother almost murdering us when we got back just before dawn? Of course I do."
"Do you remember the bonfire?"
He heard the smile in her voice. "I remember what happened around the bonfire, quite vividly, yes."
He let himself blush and continued. "Remember how we talked about maybe getting married?"
"Yeah."
"Well, I want to do that. Tomorrow."
She sat up and looked at him wide eyed. "Tomorrow? Hiccup, we've got to prepare. There's so many other things going on right now, so much work to be done. And I'll have to make a dress. Oh gods, a dress." She seemed to deflate at the thought and it made him laugh and lean over to nuzzle his nose against her cheek.
"Maybe not tomorrow. But soon. In spring. Do you want to?" He looked up at her, eyes expectant and wide like a dragon hatchlings'.
"Of course I do," she answered softly. "In spring."
He bent forward just a few inches and kissed her, allowing himself to linger there for a handful of seconds. She reciprocated with a small, teasing peck. "Let's get back inside before we catch our death out here."
She helped him back over the ledge and into his bedroom. Dusk had already fallen, so she kissed him at the bottom of the stairs and said she should go home. Valka appeared through the backdoor after feeding Cloudjumper and Toothless their dinner.
"There's a room upstairs for you," he told her. "With an empty bed. I know you don't want to stay in the downstairs bedroom, so…" He trailed off, and took a gulp of air. Why did anything concerning the mention of his father tighten his chest so much?
She nodded and touched his cheek when she passed him, ascending upstairs and leaving him to his thoughts, finally without interruption.
He plopped himself on a chair in the main room, head between his hands. He gazed at the flames in front of him, low and crackling.
"Dad," he said to no one. This felt ridiculous. But it could work. "Maybe…" he whispered, dropping his hands. "I'm…really at a loss here, and I don't have any idea how to lead…I'm really uncertain about pretty much everything, except that I know I want to marry her. And you'd be happy of that."
He paused. "Things are going to be hard. They're going to be strange for a long time. But maybe it'll all work out, anyways."
He watched the flames dance in response, and leaned backwards in his chair to rest into the smooth hide that covered it.
Maybe it would work out.