Stoick fell to knees as he watched the dragon fly away. He could still hear her calling his name, her voice echoing on the wind. Tears rose.
"Stoick!" The chief looked up. Gobber was standing probably twenty to thirty feet away, a did-I-just-see-that look on his face. Eyes wide, Gobber glanced in the direction the beast had gone, and then back to Stoick. He ran to his friend.
"Stoick, I..." he sat next to his friend with some difficulty, still recovering from the last dragon raid's destruction of his leg. Around them, the battle raged on: fire burned their homes, people screamed, dragons roared, but all Stoick could hear was Gobber and the ringing in his ears. All he could see were tears. "I don't know what to say..." Gobber was in shock. Stoick was too. He could feel his arms going numb.
Gobber threw an arm around his friend. Oddly, the smithy wasn't wearing an ax on his arm; he wasn't wearing anything, actually. It was just a stump. Still, a hug was a hug, and Stoick allowed it as the tears began to fall.
"Val..."
"I know," Gobber sighed. "I know..."
Another cry rang through the broken house. Not Stoick's, and not Gobber's. For a moment, Stoick wondered if Valka had been let go, but another scream allowed him to distinguish it for what it was.
Hiccup.
Hiccup.
Dear gods, he'd been crying this entire time.
Stoick jumped to his feet, will to live suddenly flooding his chest. He hurried to the cradle and bent over it.
Hiccup was young, barely six months old, and up until now Stoick hadn't done much in the way of caring for the child. As chief, he had far too much work to do, and it was Valka's job anyway. In truth, he was somewhat afraid of the wee thing, too small and too weak as he was. Stoick often feared he'd crush the babe like a bug. But now...
Now, he saw his little son bleeding. Now, he saw his baby boy crying for a mother he would never again have. Now, his instincts took over.
He scooped Hiccup up in his arms, tucking him against his chest and beard. There'd be blood on his shirt—the boy had a cut in his chin—but Stoick couldn't honestly care less. He buried his face in his son's hair and wept openly for his lost wife.
He didn't know how long he stood there, hurting and tired, but eventually Hiccup stopped crying, and soon after so did he. And then Gobber was at his side.
"At least the boy is safe," he said.
"Yeah," Stoick nuzzled his tiny son. The boy huffed.
"You at least saved him," Gobber continued. "There's part of her in him somewhere."
And Gobber was right. Hiccup had Valka's eyes and hair. He was half him and half her, and the longer Stoick thought about it, the more he realized just how right Gobber was.
Because at least he had Hiccup.
"Yeah," he said softly to the boy, "And those beasts won't ever get to you...not ever." He bounced him. "You're still here," he announced proudly. "And you always will be. I'll take good care of you!"
Because that, of course, is what Valka would want.