This plot was the brainchild of the incomparable psychicsaphie. Wellspring of ideas, sounding board and beta, thank you so much!

Disclaimer: Not mine, no money, no sue.

Almost finished! *cries* I am going to miss this story and all of you faithful and lovely reviewers. You are all the epitome of WIN.

Kat: I know! *shivers too* Thanks! xv323: Oh my! Blushing like the SUN here! Thank you so much! I haven't any plans for a sequel as yet, I'm probably going to take a break for a bit first. There's a lot of upheaval in RL at the moment, so it may take some time, but I promise you I won't stop writing, especially HTTYD fic! clockwork mockingbird: Yeah, in your face, Alvin! (and your leg, and your side, and your arms... euurgh...) Go Rusalka! Hiccup's conditioning sure stuck, didn't it? Now for more - and yes to both questions! *g* Thank you mockingbird! story master: Oh, give it a go! It's all about practice. Read as much as you can, and start by writing short stories or small moments. Build it up. Try writing in Microsoft Word or something else that has a spell-checker. And RE-READ everything you write before you post. A million times. Sometimes it gives you more ideas, helps you pick things you've missed, gives you the chance to fix your mistakes. Writing a story's plot out first (not the story itself) can give you ideas for twists, or helps you pick the main themes. I'm so happy you liked what happened to Alvin (The evil snot!) and that you've enjoyed this so much! Thank you! Voldyne: Hah, got his just desserts, the traitorous bastard! Agrippina and Nero are stuck! Hah! Thank you so much! Romance and Musicals: Hee, thanks! Yay Rusalka! Yeah, if I saw someone being eaten, I think my first response would be to throw up too. Bleargh. *shudder* Ze Great Camicazi: Well, we can still hate Alvin's slimy little ghost. Yeah. A little thing like him being dead can't stop the AHC! The Incredible Puba: Thank you! I'm sorry you found the wait boring - I was trying for suspense, guess I missed. Something to work on in future I suppose! I wanted the battle to feel mostly rushed - battles usually tend to be (hollywood, you lying liar!) and thanks to all the planning, it was a done deal, really. Next one is the last chapter! Stevethepokemaster: Well, I guess this could count as an after-party, and Hiccup's definitely dealing with poor Astrid's moods! Thank you, so glad you liked Alvin's end! childofthestorm: Thank you so much! You were right! *pins badge* Oh, thank gawd, I'm so happy the battle lead-up and scene could be followed - I rewrote that a billion times to get it to the point where I could follow it! SO MUCH DETAIL, sheesh. (We're not actually going to see the clean-up, but assume that all the survivors were sent home and no dragons were harmed permanently *g*) darkmaster7987: Thank you, thank you, thank you! Poor Rusalka, going to have indigestion, she is! Yep, I wanted Al's death to be suitably grisly, so that even amongst the sense of triumph there would be a certain horror to it. I made myself a bit queasy! (Aha, FF. net, logging you out, grr!) guardianskye: Thank you so very much! So glad you're enjoying it!

The penultimate chapter! THE FLUFF. IT'S EVERYWHERE.

Nine weeks later…

"This is impossible!" Astrid burst out, throwing the dress across their room. Hiccup looked up from his drafting table with a carefully hidden smile.

"Trouble?" he asked.

She flopped back onto the pallet, her belly rising above her like a mountain peak. "I don't fit into the dress for Ruff's wedding," she grated, "the one I made not even two weeks ago. This kid is taking after Stoick."

Hiccup raised an eyebrow. In fact, Phlegma had told him that because of her natural slenderness, the baby seemed disproportionately huge. Not that he was going to say that out loud. "They do say these things skip a generation…"

She made an incoherent noise of disgust, and rubbed her face with her hands. "And now I can't get up again," she growled. Hiccup bit his lip to disguise his grin and went to help his wife sit up.

She was halfway through her eighth month of pregnancy, and as her girth steadily increased, so did her temper. The inability to do the simplest things – like stand up under her own power – had led to a perfect frenzy of carpentry on Hiccup's part. Every bench in their house now boasted a pole affixed to one leg for her to grab and haul herself up. The stairs to their loft were bracketed by rails for her to hold. Even their tub for washdays had a bar for her.

Hiccup had loved every minute of it. As she swelled and grew, he could feel his chest puffing out to almost the same degree. He loved it when she had started to waddle, though he sensibly hid it from her. He loved it when she needed his help. He loved it when she had outgrown her original smock, and he loved the prowlike dome that was their child, protected by her body. His hands were drawn to it constantly, and she had begun to bat him away irritably. He loved that too. The extra thickness of her hair, the glow in her face, the pink spidery lines low on her abdomen – he loved the lot. Sometimes he felt like his heart would burst.

He busied himself most days with the smithy, with Toothless, and with preparing for the baby. He'd built a crib and more shelves and a table and whatever else Gerda, Phlegma or Val told him they might possibly need. The crib was a real triumph of Hiccup Flair – a small steel counterbalance filled with water could keep it rocking gently all by itself. Astrid had taken one look at it and burst into fond laughter, before kissing him soundly.

Winter was drawing in with its usual ferocious pace, and so he wasn't able to build extra rooms onto the lodge before the baby came. He or she would be in their loft with them, and when spring arrived, Hiccup would begin the work. His plans and drafts sat on his workbench even now.

True to his word, he took Toothless flying every day for a week to repay him for everything. The dragon had been ecstatic – and truth be told, Hiccup had needed it just as much. Both he and Spike were getting drowsier, but they were still awake for the moment. They were getting through immense amounts of fish in preparation for their long hibernation, and no doubt they'd be asleep within the week. Hiccup had created a warm and cosy nest by the chimney for them to take their winter's nap.

Astrid hadn't been idle either. She'd spent a lot of time with Ruffnut, learning to sew. The pair of them had created dresses and smocks and warm little hats and woollen shoes, and a new item tended to show up on the baby's shelves every day. Hiccup had goggled at the tininess of them.

They'd also made clothes for himself and for the rest of her pregnancy, and Astrid had been very proud of the dress she'd made to wear to Ruff's wedding that evening. No wonder she was upset. Hiccup rubbed her back as she muttered under her breath.

"Look, maybe we can let it out?" he ventured.

She rolled her eyes. "I thought of that," she said snippily. "There's not enough in the seams."

"We add a piece?" Hiccup suggested. She blew out a breath.

"There isn't enough time," she sighed. "We've only got a couple of hours before the baths." She rubbed her bare stomach as a ripple passed over the top of the immensely stretched skin. "I really thought I'd still fit into that," she mourned.

Hiccup kissed her temple and went to pick up the dress. It was quite nice – a warm rusty wool that complimented the glow in her cheeks. "Hmm," he said thoughtfully, turning it inside out and inspecting the seams – which were indeed as small as possible. "Any more of this material? We wouldn't need to take the whole thing apart," he mused.

"Hiccup," she began, but he put a finger on her lips, before dropping his hand down to her belly. The baby pushed at him, and he felt his face begin to crease into its normal foolish 'the-baby-kicked!' lines. Astrid raised a patient, long-suffering eyebrow as he re-gathered his thoughts.

"Look," he showed her the side seams. "We unpick these for six or so inches, and stitch in another piece. We don't have to add a whole panel, just maybe a sort of diamond shape? It won't take long. Tell you what, you unpick, and I'll sew, how does that sound?"

She scrunched her nose at him. "You're humouring me," she accused without rancour.

"Well, you're very scary," he said with a smile, turning her chin and kissing her. She hummed into the kiss.

"Okay, deal," she leaned her forehead against his, and he reached for her belly again – but she slapped him away and reached awkwardly for her scissors. "The material's in the box," she said absently.

He nursed his hand with a mock-wounded expression, and she rolled her eyes once more. "Honestly, Hiccup, it's amazing you've managed to get anything done, what with your hands on me every two seconds and your head in the clouds…"

"It's always been in the clouds when it comes to you," he said with a crooked grin that became a lascivious smirk, "and I am never going to want to take my hands off you."

She chuckled as she began to rip the seam. "Okay, loverboy, show me this diamond patch thing and we'll talk."

He beamed, and went to cut some darts for his wife's maternity dress.

Fishlegs spluttered as they dunked him once more. Hiccup thought he was doing very well. Odin knew Hiccup himself had been a drowned rat at this point.

The groom's ritual bath before the wedding was generally observed by the male friends and family of the victim. Hiccup tried to stay out of the ribald teasing that was turning his friend's face beet-red. Fishlegs was drenched with one last pitcher of herb-laced water, and allowed to get out of the tub. He looked immensely grateful as several skins were thrown at him to dry off with.

Their elders had been drinking since that morning, as had 'Lout and Tuff, so Hiccup judged that poor Fishlegs and himself were the only sober ones in the room. 'Legs began to shiver slightly in the frigid air, stripping the water off himself with his hands and with the furs as all around him men told risqué wedding stories with a leer and a wink. The small round scars of Toothless' bite showed up even under Fishlegs' impressive mass of body hair. "Uh," he whispered to Hiccup, "do they ever stop with all that?"

Hiccup grimaced. "Well, yeah. They pass out eventually."

Fishlegs winced and struggled into his wedding tunic. It had been made by Bloodnut Thorston, and was covered in embroidery as the woman expressed her joy over her eldest daughter's wedding with the medium of thread and fabric. No doubt Ruff's dress was twice as ornate. "Is any of what they're saying…?" Fishlegs looked sidelong to Hiccup as Gobber told a raucous tale to a red-faced and chuckling Hensteeth. "Is it…?"

"True?" Hiccup smiled a little, and sat down as Fishlegs pulled on his leggings. "Not much of it. Just… look, whatever you do, don't go fast. It'll hurt her a bit, but if you go slow it won't hurt so much and the pain only lasts a little while anyway. But go slow."

Fishlegs nodded owlishly, and took a huge shuddering breath. "Okay. Okay. Nope, less okay… I feel like I'm going to throw up."

"Well, that part's normal," Hiccup said wryly. "I did too, and Ruff probably feels the same way right now. But 'Legs, you love her, right?"

Fishlegs nodded again and began to tie on his boots. "Yeah," he said, and a small smile tugged at his round face. "Yeah, I do."

Hiccup slapped his broad back, and stood. "Then go get her," he said cheerfully, and Fishlegs swallowed hard.

"Uh," he said stupidly, and ducked his head as his cheeks flamed once more under his neatly trimmed beard.

Hensteeth, beaming proudly, hoisted their family sword and frogmarched his son out of the Ingerman lodge. Fishlegs looked back at Hiccup helplessly as he was led towards the square before the Mead-Hall by drunken, friendly but inexorable hands. Hiccup gave his friend a thumbs-up and an encouraging look, but the panic in Fishlegs' eyes didn't lessen. A grin began to cross Hiccup's face, and he schooled it hurriedly. Poor 'Legs.

The Gothi was waiting placidly outside the hall surrounded by the rest of the village, her wrinkled hands folded over her lap and her eyes drooping as she nodded off. She stirred and rose as the men approached rowdily and the crowd began to hoot and holler. Her face creased in a smile of welcome as she nodded kindly to the vibrating Fishlegs, and patted his shoulder.

"Have you the mundr?" (1) she asked. Fishlegs stammered and fumbled at his belt to produce a pouch. Six bright gems glittered into his broad palm, and Tuffnut's eyes grew very round.

"Your crazy sister is not worth that much," Snotlout said in an awed voice.

"Dude, shut up," Tuffnut said hoarsely, worshipfully staring at the gems.

Fishlegs' head snapped up and he fixed suddenly steady eyes on Snotlout. "Yes, she is," he said evenly, pouring the jewels back into the pouch and placing it firmly into Tuffnut's nerveless hands.

"Here, where'd you get 'em?" Gobber asked Hensteeth a trifle sulkily. "You been on a raid an' didn't invite the rest o' us? You know that's very bad manners."

"They were my father's, about all he did leave us. Never saw a use for 'em until now. You can't eat gems." Hensteeth rumbled with a shrug. "Fishlegs insisted."

"You are now my favourite person ever, 'Legs," Tuffnut breathed, gawking at the pouch in his hands.

"Hey?"

"Sorry, 'Lout, but you never gave me jewels. Only a black eye once," Tuffnut said apologetically to his friend. Snotlout snorted and folded his arms.

At that moment the doors of the Thorston house swung open, and six-year-old Chestnut Thorston led the charge, holding Ruffnut's family sword in his little hands and scowling impressively. And it was a charge. Rather than move slowly between the villagers, Ruffnut marched purposely towards her prospective husband, her chin lifted stubbornly. She grabbed his hand, glared at the Elder, and said in a steely voice, "Let's do this thing, then."

Fishlegs gulped and looked down at their joined hands as though they were live snakes.

The Gothi laughed, and began to conduct the transactions.

Hiccup leaned back against a rock upon which Horrorcow was napping. A wreath had been placed around her bulbous head, and her protruding eyes were lidded with contentment. He scratched her cheek reflectively, remembering the day when it had been him stammering over the blessings, and an equally scary woman had gripped his hand.

That scary woman had sat herself down on a bench across from him, and her altered russet dress looked lovely on her. Her hair was caught back in one of her ornate headbands with the headscarf wound underneath, and her cheeks were aglow with the ruddy warmth of late pregnancy. She looked beautiful, he thought, and the corner of his mouth rose in a crooked smile.

The mundr had been exchanged, and so the dowry was the only transaction still to process until the next morning, when Fishlegs would give Ruffnut her morning-gift. Bloodnut Thorston casually rattled off the gifts she was giving to the newlyweds, and Fishlegs' eyes began to boggle. The Thorstons were wealthy traders, and Bloodnut had done well for her family as the village seamstress even after the death of Waspsnest Thorston two years ago from the winter sickness. The new couple would be a rich pair. Ruffnut looked somewhat irritated that her mother wasn't giving her their Zippleback, and Tuffnut crossed his arms smugly.

Then the sow was led up to the boulder before the Mead-Hall, and its neck was deftly cut. The attention of the Gods was invoked, and the Gothi dipped a fir-bundle into the blood, flicking it over the pair and the attending crowd. Hiccup scrunched his nose as it splattered him on the cheek, even as the sow was whisked away to become sausages for the feast. He'd been really glad the stupid ram had refused to be sacrificed at his own wedding – being splattered with blood wasn't his idea of a fun time.

Then the prayers to Odin, Freyr and Frigga were made, and the congregation fell reverently silent, though Crosseyes Gudmunsson was attempting to surreptitiously stifle his burps throughout the whole thing. It wasn't working, and the noise floated above the whole crowd. A small titter interrupted the solemnity of the moment. Crosseyes gritted his teeth, but another burp escaped him and Hiccup bit his lip to stop from laughing out loud. He met Astrid's eyes, and hers were also sparkling with merriment. The minute their gazes crossed, the laughter threatened to get away from him and she had to squeeze her eyes shut and he had to bite down harder to refrain from giggling all the way through the sacred rite.

Fishlegs handed Ruffnut his family's sword, and she viewed it with a critical eye, hefting it experimentally as he hovered anxiously. Eventually she relented and gave him a sly smile, and he seemed to realise that she had been deliberately teasing him. His eyebrows knitted in a hurt expression, and she grabbed her sword from Chestnut and handed it to him with a wink. He smiled then, a trifle foolishly, her sword looking like a toothpick in his hand.

Then Fishlegs held out his new sword to his mountainous, blubbing father and Hensteeth slid the ring onto the hilt. Fishlegs then shyly offered the hilt to his new wife, and Ruffnut grabbed the ring eagerly and shoved it onto her finger. Then she held out her sword to her tearful mother, and Bloodnut dropped a ring onto the offered hilt. Ruffnut gave Fishlegs a blinding smile as he took it and managed to get it onto his broad finger. It was a smile so unlike her usual sly smirk that Hiccup was actually taken aback at how happy she looked.

The swords were then held together, and they locked hands over the pommels. Fishlegs looked a bit frightened, and Ruffnut determined, as they said their vows.

"I promise," Fishlegs quavered, "to do whatever you want me to do – within reason – and make you happy, and not make you mad. Oh, and I promise to make you laugh. And drawl! I like it when you drawl, uh… and um, I promise to keep us safe and look after us and any uh…umchildrenoranything, and… and I promise to keep finding new ways to show you that I love you, like, plus three hundred love," he said with more animation.

Ruffnut, still smiling beatifically, nudged his shoulder. "Yeah, so, I promise all that too. Except don't drawl, you sound way stupid when you drawl. And I promise to totally love every list you come up with, and not to ever ruin your books or experiments, and to make sure you know how smart you are, idiot."

Fishlegs bent his head, and grinned hard against his chest.

The catcalls and whoops began as Fishlegs leaned in and gingerly kissed his bride, and she yanked him down firmly and made him do a more thorough job. He was grinning stupidly as she released him, and Ruffnut's expression was a bit smug. Hiccup whooped and clapped as Fishlegs' head was pulled down again and Ruffnut launched herself at her husband's lips once more. Astrid's cheers and laughter could be heard above the throng.

And then Ruffnut tore herself away and sprinted up the hill to the mead-hall. Fishlegs gaped after her for a second, before realising what she was doing and raced after her. She had too much of a head start though, her long, limber legs eating up the metres and she was crowing from the doorway even as the crowd laughed at them.

"Yeah, I won!" she cheered. "I won the bride-running! You boys have to serve the girls all night!"

"No, it's members of the groom's party, you trollface!" Tuff howled, but Ruffnut was too busy dancing in glee to retort. Fishlegs reached her and caught her around her waist as she punched the air in victory.

"I won!" she laughed, and kissed him again as the villagers began to swarm up the hill towards them – and the ale-barrels. "Yeah, the girls won!"

Fishlegs dropped his sword over the threshold and lifted Ruff easily over it into the hall, and Hensteeth immediately caught his son in a massive bear-hug, his giant frame dwarfing even Fishlegs. His huge face was wet and proud, and he blubbed incomprehensibly as he shook his son in his embrace. Stoick covered his smile and gently steered the two further into the hall so that the crowd could enter. Hensteeth set Fishlegs down at the head table and sighed hugely and happily, before heading in the vague direction of the barrels. The minute Fishlegs had been released, Ruffnut latched onto his arm like a fierce blonde limpet.

Hiccup managed to reach Astrid as they poured into the hall, and she leaned against his arm. "I beat you up the hill," she whispered sultrily in his ear, and he shivered.

"Yeah, but everyone was too drunk to remember who won what," he replied softly. "Besides, I was too nervous to drink, so no one had to serve me."

"You drank my mead," she said, her eyebrows rising.

"That was a noble deed of heroism, I'll have you know," he retorted, and she giggled and pulled a face.

"I'll say. I don't envy Ruff and 'Legs their beverage selection for the next month."

"Urrgh," he said in emphatic agreement, finding a table. Fishlegs was aiming for the rooftree, his eyes squinted and his tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth. "A silver says he gets it."

"No bet," she sniffed. "As strong as he is, they'll need another rooftree."

"Are you impugning my rooftree-stabbing skills?" he said in mock-outrage. She prodded his arm and rolled her eyes.

"It stuck in all right, didn't it? You worry too much. Besides, the whole of Midgard can see that you're strong enough to sire children."

"Heh," he grinned, and his hands dropped reverently onto her belly once more. She allowed it and kissed his cheek.

"They look happy," she commented quietly as Fishlegs turned to a new chorus of cheers, the sword sticking a foot into the rooftree and his face flushed with victory.

"Yeah," he leaned his head against hers as Ruffnut casually handed Fishlegs a goblet. The Elder tried to slip the ceremonial Hammer of Thor into Ruff's lap for fertility even as she grabbed the goblet back and drained it. The Hammer fell off with a clatter as Ruff shuddered, making a sickened face. "Although Ruff looks kinda green right now."

"Could you get me some water?" Astrid asked then. "Just looking at her is making me feel green."

"Water, and I'll get you a plate," he promised. "Lamb, pork or fish?"

She hemmed and hawed. "Lamb," she decided reluctantly. "I want the fish, but Phlegma'll kill me if she sees me eating more of it."

"How about I have the fish?" he suggested slyly. "And y'know, if some of it goes missing, well…"

"I love you," she smiled.

"You too," he kissed her forehead. "Be back soon."

Hiccup navigated the rowdy crowd around the firepits and quickly arranged two plates. Valhallarama was already there, carving a fowl with deft, worryingly efficient slices of her knife. "Lovely wedding," she remarked a bit too casually, and smoothed his hair back. He smiled a bit sadly at her.

"How about I tell you everything about mine tomorrow night?" he offered gently, and she huffed, her eyes sliding away.

"Perceptive boy," she murmured. Hiccup, Stoick and Astrid had been trying to fill Valhallarama in on all the events she had missed throughout their lives. Dinner was held in the Haddock lodge rather than the Mead Hall so that they could sit and talk in the lengthening darkness. Astrid had been grateful for the excuse not to manage the hill to the hall twice a day – and everyone was getting a crash course in cookery from Valhallarama at the same time. Hiccup was easily the best at seasoning, but Astrid was frighteningly good at slicing and chopping. Stoick, who wasn't good at either, had become the masher and mincer.

Despite over two months of talking Val still hadn't heard everything, and some topics they skirted simply because it was too touchy. She had been livid to discover that her son had been something of a joke before his fourteenth year, and so the stories had become a touch strained at times. She had been especially angry with some of Stoick's actions. No matter how many times Hiccup said it was fine, that everything was fine now, Stoick would fall silent in guilt, Astrid would gnaw her lip and Valhallarama would bristle at the mere mention of those days.

"I'm sure you looked very handsome, and it was a beautiful ceremony," she said distantly, her hand smoothing over his hair again.

"Well, yeah, it's me we're talking about here," he said with feigned exasperation. Then he leaned in and kissed her cheek, and whispered, "I stammered more than Fishlegs did, and the ram ran onto the roof and bleated all night."

She snorted and batted him away. "Typical. Go on, you, get that to Astrid."

He grinned and picked up the plates, balancing them on one arm as he poured a goblet of water and snagged himself a small cup of ale.

"Hiccup, my man!" Snotlout bellowed effusively as he weaved into view. "Howsit going? Good wedding, amiright? I'd say yours was better, but I can't remember it."

"This does not surprise me," Hiccup chuckled, awkwardly picking up the goblet of water and his ale in the one hand. "You'd invented a new language before the sun had set."

"Yeah, that was awesome," said Snotlout nostalgically. "Oh hey, I saw Rusalka in the bay this morning. She says graaagh."

"Graaagh," Hiccup rolled his eyes. "Dragonese for 'hi', then?"

"Well, she did," Snotlout shrugged. "She came up for air, saw me, waved her tail around like a sail and went 'graaagh'. This is totally the truth, and Tuff was with me, so you can ask him too."

"Hey, I believe you," Hiccup said quickly. "Did she… did she look okay?"

Snotlout scratched his head. "Mostly she looked really big," he said thoughtfully.

Hiccup shook his head. "Thanks, 'Lout."

He pondered that as he wove through the people back to the table. Rusalka had been spotted a few times in the icy waters around the island, trumpeting and splashing and generally having a whale of a time. Hiccup was glad for her, though he hadn't had the chance to pat her since taking her to the water's edge after the battle. The sight of her still made his stomach twist with guilt, but it was slowly fading as her current happiness with her circumstances impressed itself upon him. Then there was the last sight of Alvin disappearing into her shark-like maw that had given him nightmares for a week or so. It still made him shudder, but as his mother had said, there was a certain poetic justice in it.

"What's got you thinking so hard?" Astrid asked as he sat the water and a plate of lamb and vegetables before her and got stuck into his fish.

"Snotlout saw Rusalka," he muttered reluctantly, and she put down the fork she had only just picked up.

"Hiccup," she said warningly, and he held up his own fork protectively.

"Not beating myself up, not thinking about being eaten, and not getting sad," he said hastily, and she relaxed, picking up her fork again and stealing some of his fish.

"Good," she said decisively, and then moaned around her mouthful of fish. "That's so good."

Stoick sat down opposite them, his weight making the bench creak, and placed a plate of his own in front of him. He had two spots of high colour on his cheeks, and his helmet was a bit askew, but he didn't seem all that drunk. "Did I just see you eatin' more fish?" he shook a finger at Astrid. "Phlegma's goin' to have your hide."

"Oh no, Astrid's having lamb," Hiccup said with a perfectly straight face.

"Mmm," she nodded, and took a bite to prove it.

Stoick chuckled hugely and began on his own meal, drinking sporadically from a tankard between forkfuls. "Yer foolin' no one," he told them cheerfully.

"What is your father talking about, Hiccup?" Astrid said in a loud voice.

"His wits are wandering. It might be a sign of advancing old age," Hiccup said sagely, and ducked as his father's hand came close to clipping his head.

"Smart alecky son of mine," he growled playfully. "Why'd I sail all the bloody way to Rome to get you back?"

"Because Gobber doesn't sharpen your axe for free," Hiccup said serenely, and Astrid laughed into her goblet of water.

"What don't I do?" Gobber asked, plunking himself next to his battle-brother.

"Bathe often enough," said Hiccup immediately, and this time, both Astrid and Stoick laughed. Gobber gave Hiccup a deceptively friendly smile, his stone tooth glinting in the torchlight.

"How do you feel about rakin' the ashes in the forge fer a few days, Hiccup?" he asked sweetly. Hiccup refocused sharply on his food and began to shovel it into his mouth. All three were laughing now.

"Share the joke?" Val sat down on Stoick's other side, and he kissed her briefly before nodding to Hiccup.

"Just our lad runnin' his mouth off again," he grinned. "You done at the banquet-table?"

"Finally," she said with aspersion. "Your dragon is circling it like a shark, by the way," she said across to Hiccup. "I had to throw him the goose carcass."

"He's after the fish," Hiccup sighed.

"He's not the only one," grumbled Astrid.

Hiccup casually shunted his plate over and put his elbow in front of it, and Astrid kissed him even as she stole a few more bites. Stoick opened his mouth to comment, but snapped it shut with a grunt of resigned acceptance.

"Hey, Fishing Basket!" Ruffnut's voice positively squealed, and she appeared at the end of their table, hopping from leg to leg. "Did you see?"

"Saw the whole thing! You look amazing, Ruff, it was great! And hey, congratulations, Mrs Ingerman," Astrid finished with relish, watching Ruff's face turn white and then red.

"Oh my gawds, I'm ancient," she gasped, her bridal crown wobbling as she pulled at her hair.

"Who said?" Fishlegs lurched up to the table, his eyes slightly unfocused. "I'll punch 'em for you, Ruff. I mean, if you don't want to punch them. I wouldn't steal your punch… person."

"Aaaaaand maybe you should lay off the mead for the rest of the night, Fishlegs. That is, if you're lookin' forward to the finale at all," Gobber said pointedly, and Ruffnut's face reddened again. Fishlegs blinked once, before putting the tankard down on the table as though it were poisoned. The burst of laughter almost lifted the roof off.

"Wha…?" Hensteeth sat up from under a bench suddenly, his mass of blond hair everywhere. He beamed proudly at his son for a moment, before his expression turned into a dizzy grin and he slumped back down. The laughter redoubled.

"Was… was that your dad, Fishlegs?" Snotlout asked as he approached, his arm slung over Tuffnut's shoulders for balance. Tuff was looking at Fishlegs as though he hung the moon.

"Uh, no," Fishlegs hedged. "That was some other man with the unlikely possession of one hundred percent of my dad's features."

"And your dad's voice," Hiccup pointed out helpfully.

"And your dad's cloak," Astrid joined in.

"And your dad's belt," piped up Tuff, only to be snarled at by Ruff.

"But that's not my dad," Fishlegs finished up, his eyes averted from Hensteeth's prone form. The huge man had a snore like a supercell thunderstorm.

"What's your father doin' down there, Fishlegs?" asked Phlegma as she reached over and took Hiccup's plate away. Astrid scowled ferociously.

Fishlegs sighed.

"Eat that lamb, or that baby's goin' to have gills," Phlegma scolded, tipping Hiccup's plate in front of the ecstatic Toothless.

"I don't feel like lamb, I feel like fish," she moaned, and her head hit the table.

"You don't look like one! Get it? Aw, come on, pay that one, please guys," Snotlout held out his hands pleadingly, and eventually crossed his arms as the group gave him identical flat looks. "Man, can't wait till Spring. Bet the girls in Phlock have way better senses of humour than here."

"Yeah, great 'senses of humour'," Tuff sniggered, his fingers air-quoting and a smirk on his lips. He erased it quickly when he saw Astrid's knowing look. "And I will respect them utterly and listen to them and be totally there for them," he added hurriedly.

"What did you do to my brother, Fishing Basket?" asked Ruffnut in awe.

Astrid speared one of her vegetables and looked up with a calm smile. "I've always been good at training."

Hiccup tucked that wisp of blonde hair escaping her headcloth behind her ear. "I can attest to that."

"Oh, stop it, you two," Gobber threw a piece of bread at them. It flew high, and smacked Spitelout in the nose. He blinked, his normal impassivity cracking a little.

"Is it that time already?" he asked Gobber, and the smith shrugged.

"Not quite yet, let 'em get a bit drunker first. Then we start the obligatory food fight."

"I think we missed that one," Hiccup turned to his father, and he nodded.

"Aye, that happened after you two took over the lodge an' locked everyone out, an' set that Hofferson harridan to guard it…"

"Stoick," Val murmured.

"An' she stood there, axe an' all, an' told me I couldn't go into my own house! Me!"

"Dad?" Hiccup ventured.

"The flamin' cheek of it, tellin' the Chief, an'… an' she's behind me, isn't she?"

"Yes," said Gerda dryly. "Behold, the harridan approaches." She kissed Ruffnut's cheek and gave Fishlegs a hearty handshake. "Congratulations, dears. Has anyone called you Mrs Ingerman, yet?"

"Astrid did," Ruffnut scowled at her friend, who poked out her tongue.

"Oh, already? Now, that's not fair, Astrid, you should let your old mother have her fun," Gerda tutted. "Call her Mrs Haddock in return dear, it'll wear off."

Ruff grinned. "I like your mum, Mrs Haddock."

"Yeah? You wait til you're on the end of one of her scolding jags, Mrs Ingerman," Astrid retorted, and both girls glowered at each other fiercely before the façade cracked and they began to snigger.

Toothless shoved his head onto Hiccup's lap at that moment, and crooned pitifully. "Oh no way, bud," Hiccup said adamantly. "I gave you guys a whole basket of fish only this afternoon. And then you ate the rest of my dinner. Don't look at me as though you're wasting away, you big faker!" He rubbed affectionately at the black scaled brow, and Toothless whuffled irritably.

Around the mead-hall, people shouted and sang and drank, their goblets lifting into the air and their faces flushed with ale and merriment. High in the rafters, dragons whirred and chirruped and warbled in contentment. Spike sat among them, grooming a Terror with lazy, sleepy strokes of her beak. Below, people hugged and kissed, and new lovers and old ones whispered secret pledges to each other. The night drew in outside the mead-hall, a soft dark caress that promised sweet things for their tomorrows.

Hiccup took a great breath and let it out slowly.

"You okay?" Astrid asked him, squeezing his hand. On his lap, Toothless rumbled, his pupils round with love. Around him, his mother and father, family and friends smiled and joked. His son or daughter grew inside Astrid's body, waiting to meet him.

"Yeah," he breathed, and kissed her softly. "Yeah, I'm good."

She smiled.

(1) Bride-price, a sum to be paid by the groom's family to the bride's.

This is as accurate a Viking Wedding as I can contrive with the limited information available. Most of it is from the inestimable Viking Answer Lady!

Well, that's really the end of the story! An epilogue to be posted tomorrow - about you-know-what.

The day after, I will post the timeline I promised - and it'll be my last chance to respond to any anonymous reviewers. I'll send PM's to any subsequent signed-in reviewers though!

You guys are awesome. I hope you know. :)