A/N: I saw HtTYD2 last night. I am completely broken, in every good way and bad way and bittersweet way possible. I need to see it again ASAP.
MAJOR SPOILERS, AHOY!
The chief's house was, shockingly, mostly intact. There was a hole in the front wall and they'd have to reconstruct the west support that had a nasty looking crack in it, but after they'd melted away the ice (or rather, after Cloudjumper had done so for them), there it was, still standing.
Valka hadn't recognized most of the house – it'd been rebuilt too many times since she'd left. But there was one beam, the central support of the house. It was an old, charred, black tree trunk, scratched and tarred so thick it looked like pure resin. She'd touched it reverently, fingers grazing over old scars and warps. Hiccup would've seen her wipe at her cheek, but he was busy staring at his father's chair at the head of the hearth. He heard Toothless make a noise outside, and he felt a surge of anger at the sound. He squared his jaw, eyes stinging, heart guilty, and made himself look at anything else.
Astrid's family had cooked them dinner, but let them eat by themselves. They were quiet as they ate. Mother and son hugged each other, tight but numb, before they went to their beds.
Hiccup couldn't sleep. His mind was whirring in a restless agony that wouldn't really register with his conscious no matter how he tried to face it. He lied still on his mattress, heart screaming.
He dozed off at some point, only to wake up shortly afterward to a noise wafting up from the lower level of the house. He didn't recognize it at first, but then he realized that his mother was crying. He couldn't see her, but he imagined it, her curled up on Stoick's bed, the bed that would now be hers. Just hers. Hiccup listened to her for a while, and her sobs tore at his heart. He felt his own tears start to pool on his pillow as he stared blankly off into the dark. He couldn't take it. Rising quietly, he snuck downstairs and pushed the door of his father's bedroom slowly open. It still smelled like him. Despite all the ice and the draft that the damage had caused, despite the cooking and now Valka returned, the room was filled with that smoky, woodsy scent that had always meant dad.
Valka must have heard the door, but she didn't even move, didn't try to stop crying. He came closer and put a hand on her shoulder. "Mom," he said, voice cracking slightly. She finally turned, eyes red (though he could barely tell in the dark).
"Hiccup," She whispered, sitting up and reaching out to him. She let out another sob, but before she could finish he had her in his arms, and they wept over each other's shoulders.
Holding your tired, weeping mother in your arms while her heart shatters is an experience that no son could ever forget. But because of all that had happened, all he'd lost, and found, and been through, and all that was now expected of him, Hiccup would only ever be able to remember the moment through the memory of his own tears and heartache. Unlike the days that had led them here, she had no more words of courage to offer, and he had no more resolve to hide behind. They only cried.
Berk would start again tomorrow. Rebuilding would begin tomorrow. He would be their chief tomorrow. She would begin to teach them all tomorrow. But tonight, they would just be Hiccup and Valka, mother and son, holding each other together inside their broken home.
They'd learn how to be whole again in the morning. But for now, they would mourn.
