III.
"You," Astrid remarked with a painful verbal stab, "are late."
She stood atop a cliffside which overlooked Dragon Island's eastern harbor. Hooligans occupied both Dragon Island and Berk, currently, as two stations of the war, and in the last month, the Haddocks had remained on the former. Thus, behind Astrid, down a few rolling hills, a cluttered village of wood-carved Viking houses awaited her, along with a number of bustling Vikings and dragons. Hiccup could not hear or see many details from the distance, but he well-knew by now what he would find. Small fishing boats in the harbor. The clang of a forge rising up alongside peaceful conversations. Children darting down pathways, laughing. Not home, not like Berk, but still… welcoming.
The chief alighted from his dragon; with a quick hop, he pulled himself out of Toothless' saddle, adjusted the gear on his prosthetic foot, and stepped down to genteelly greet the missus. The dragon grumbled contentedly at finally landing on solid ground, and turned away to his own tasks while the two young Vikings reunited.
Hiccup glided up to Astrid with a small knowing smile on his face, cape fluttering behind him with his distinctive, swinging stride. "And you," Hiccup returned more politely, drawing his wife into a short kiss on the lips, "shouldn't be out in this weather." He glanced downward, just a little, toward her swollen belly. Astrid glanced down, too.
Still carrying on a terse and sardonic voice, she returned, "I am fine," and after a little emphatic pause, declared, "and so is the baby. Gods. You don't even handle dragon eggs this delicately. Do I need to remind you how many times my axe has saved your stupid life?"
"Ah – ah, I know, I'm sorry," Hiccup stumbled. With his arm around her waist, the chief started leading Astrid back toward the village proper. "Just want him safe."
"Her," Astrid insisted, quickly yanking on the braid at the back of his head. Likely as not, it had loosened and come slightly undone during the blustery flight home, and she wished to sit him down and fix his hair immediately. "I am quite sure it will be a her."
"Her then," Hiccup agreed amiably. For all he presided as chief over the tribe, he knew when his wife was in control. Instead of bickering, he continued on the conversation, pointing out, "You know, we still haven't come up with a name for her."
"I've got a few ideas."
When she failed to elaborate, Hiccup prompted, "Aren't you going to share them with me? And what about my ideas?"
"I don't know if I trust your ideas. You named your first dragon 'Toothless', that young Driver Dragon 'Spiky', and your Terrible Terror 'Sharpshot'."
"Sharpshot isn't a bad name," Hiccup protested with a shrug. He glanced back at Toothless, bouncing gleefully behind them, as though asking for affirmation from a friend. But whatever support Hiccup wanted, the dragon did not give, too distracted by the sudden, apparently frightening appearance of a grey squirrel skittering at his feet. Hiccup chuckled as the dragon jumped before resuming his playful argument with Astrid. "And if I remember correctly, you called your Terrible Terror 'Sneaky', which frankly isn't any better." His voice fell into a lighthearted sarcastic jibe at the last point.
Astrid turned around to glare him in the eye while still walking toward the Hooligans' settlement. She completely avoided his remark about her childhood Terrible Terror and instead ranted on about his own insufficiencies, which were quite many, so it seemed. "And don't even get me started on the names of all the islands from your old mapping project. Even Tuffnut could have done better than that, and he's the one who once decided to call his old Dragon Racing team 'Snotnuts'. But every single time I open the map, I'm greeted with geography like 'Itchy Armpit Island', 'Squashed Bug Bay,' and 'Butthole Harbor'."
"I did not name anything Buttho –" Hiccup laughed mid-sentence, explaining, "Toothless helped me name things."
"Well, he's not helping name our kid," Astrid determined. "I am not going to wind up with a daughter named 'Slobbering Tongue'."
"We – we could always do something more traditional, like some of my relatives' names."
"Your family has as terrible naming habits as you do, babe. Don't for a second suggest 'Chinhilda' or I'm going to punch you." Her voice was deceptively sweet as she threatened him. Then again, she often punched him when she felt like being sweet, anyway.
"Then by all means, milady," Hiccup returned, "do tell me what you've come up with."
"Well," she said glibly, "I was thinking maybe 'Ella' or 'Maire'. What do you think?"
Hiccup answered, "Sound fine. We can talk more about it later."
With a huff, Astrid returns, "That means you don't like them!"
"It means I'm considering them."
"Fine then," she said. She turned around to give Toothless a friendly nudge in the nose. "You'll convince him for me, won't you?" she asked.
Changing conversations, Hiccup asked, "So how was the village while I was gone?" They passed the first line of houses, all of them simply constructed, not painted, but cozy nonetheless. A few men and women glanced up from their works and waved at the passing couple.
"Oh, nothing exciting, really. Unless you count the twins accidentally setting fire to the armory."
The chief rolled his eyes. Sure enough, as they passed the low, long building, a horrid whiff of smoke caught their noses, and more than a few patches of the building sported charred, blackened wood. He glanced over it briefly before walking onward. He would speak to the Thorstons and examine the damage more at a later time. "You sure it was accidental?"
"Who can ever know with the two of them? Sometimes I feel as though neither Tuffnut nor Ruffnut have ever grown up."
"Well," said Hiccup, glancing back at Toothless and remembering when his dragon ended his own childhood – a euphemism to say the least – "sometimes I feel as though that's not always a bad thing. I'd certainly prefer that to war councils." He glanced uncomfortably downward to fidget with his belt buckle.
Astrid, concerned, inquired, "Did it not go well?" She leaned down and inward to force Hiccup to look her in the eye.
"No, no, it went just fine. I'm no master war strategist, but… well. The other chiefs are more than competent enough."
"You're competent," Astrid protested.
"We actually might have a good plan and a way out of this war. One of them, anyway. The Vigilante's stowed away in Fort Sinister, and we drafted up a battle strategy to surround her." He chuckled slightly, muttering, "I never thought I'd sound so much like my father."
"This sounds really good, though!" Astrid jubilantly responded as they stepped toward the center of the village. She widened her eyes for emphasis. "This means we'll actually be able to put a stop to her and not have to worry about our dragons turning against us!"
"Yeah, well," Hiccup mumbled, "that was the most difficult part of the meeting."
"What was?"
"I – I want the end of this war just as much as any Viking. Maybe even more than some. I just tried to fight the council of chiefs not to kill her once we…"
"Did you tell them why?" Astrid asked quietly.
"No." Hiccup, pursing his lips, responded in even softer a voice, "It wouldn't do well for everyone to know that the Vigilante is my mother."
Sensing her husband's discomfort, Astrid walked in silence for a short moment, and then after a respectful moment turned around and said, "It shouldn't matter to them, anyway. You have done amazing things, Hiccup. You've done so much."
Hiccup glanced around at the entire village.
"I just hope it'll be enough."
"It will be," Astrid said with a small smile. She stepped up to the porch of one of the houses – their residence on Dragon Island – and beckoned him to step inside. "Come on, babe. Everything is going to work out fine."
"But –"
"No," she said. "No buts. Relax, Hiccup. You're overworked. Let's make tonight a time to relieve some of that stress."
