Valka had begged and pleaded with Stoick not to spread the good news. The Chief was, naturally, over-the-moon, once the initial shock of her confession had worn off. He had wanted to go up to the Hall, to shout it from the rooftops that he was going to be a father; he was so ecstatic that Valka was certain the whole village would overhear them through the walls of their home. She practically corralled him inside their house to keep him from trotting off.

"Please Stoick," she had whimpered, "not yet."

"But why Val? This calls for celebrations!"

"No! Please, I couldn't bear it, all that doting and staring…"

"They wouldn't be staring at you for bad reasons Val-"

"A lot of them would though!" Her fists had balled up in his tunic. Her crying had exhausted her.

"You know how the women of this village are, they're nothing but gossips and busybodies. I don't want that scrutiny everywhere I go. I don't want them judging me," she sniffled, wiping her face. "They already judge me for being weird, for having…different views…but now it'll be that I'm too skinny to have the child of the chief, or that I shouldn't eat that if I want a boy, or do this, not that and-"

"Whoa, whoa, okay love, okay."

Valka had not realized she had been rambling, her mouth hardly able to keep up.

"Sorry," she had muttered. "Please Stoick, give me more time; give us more time. This is our happiness, not the world's."

"Alright Val," Stoick had kissed her gently, sweetly; a promise on his lips. "Does anyone else-?"

"Gothi and Lundy. That's all…unless you count Snotlout."

Stoick had chuckled, "No, I guess we can't count Snotlout."

And that had settled the matter, and had sparked the longest month of Stoick's life. Valka found it almost amusing how frustrated Stoick was that he couldn't share his happiness. She had watched him bounce Snotlout on his knee as an onlooker remarked about how he was bonding with his heir. Lundy and Valka exchanged numerous knowing glances, much to Stoick's chagrin.

"I can't even tell Gobber?" he had asked one evening.

"No, of course not!" Valka responded, shocked at the notion, "Two mugs of ale and the whole village will know! Do not tell Gobber!"

"How about your mother then?"

Valka had considered this; she felt guilty about not telling Ursula, but she had decided it was for the best. Having Lundy in on the secret was bad enough. Her mother would have not been able to control herself, not when it came to a grandchild of her own blood.

So the secret had remained, and to Valka that made her little bug all the more precious. Stoick, busy as he was, made certain to come home early. As they laid on their bed, Stoick would press his cheek against Valka's belly, and tell stories of Viking lore or of his own youth.

"I need to make sure they know my voice," he had insisted to a sleepy Valka one night.

"I'm sure they'll know you," Valka had yawned, "You talk to them enough."

Stoick had chuckled, before going off onto another story about his extensive travels.

To say that he was head over heels in love was a gross understatement.

"Wow," Stoick said as they dressed. The skies were threatening the first snowfall of winter, and so the couple needed to add extra layers to their already adequate clothing. Valka had stripped out of her warm, wool nightdress, and searched for the thickest leggings she owned. When she found them beneath the bed, Stoick had gasped in amazement.

"What?" she asked, holding up the leggings before her, shaking them free of dust.

"You're…showing."

"You've seen my bump before."

"No I mean…you're really showing Val, look!"

Valka glanced down: in the brief moment that she had bent down, her belly had shifted. Now instead of being a tiny, easily concealed bump, it protruded into a round mound.

"Oh no…" she whispered.

"You're not fat-"

"It's not that!" Valka snapped, suddenly panicked, "Everyone is going to notice! Oh Stoick-"

"Hey, calm down Val," he stepped across the room, pulling her trembling body to his bare chest. "It's not the end of the world."

"I know it's not…I just," she sniffed, "I was enjoying the quiet."

"Well…in five months it won't be quiet around here."

"Ohhh…" she retracted, pacing in a frenzy. "I don't want them to see me. I haven't even told my mother yet!"

"Why don't you tell her today?"

"And leave the house with," she gestured to her belly, "this?"

"Ugh," Stoick rolled his eyes. He stepped over to his wardrobe and dug out a lump of fur: it was an old brown cloak. "Here…I'm not using this. It's cold enough already. Stitch yourself something to cover whatever you want to cover," his eyes brightened, "then maybe make a swaddle for the bug."

"I can't make one in a day-"

"You won't have to…I'll go see your mother and say that you're unwell. She'll come over and you can tell her today."

"But we wanted to tell her together."

Stoick shrugged, though his smile was glistening with pride. "Well, our bug must be a stubborn one who doesn't want to cooperate."

"Vally?" a quiet knock came at their front door an hour later. Valka did not answer; she had a needle in her mouth that her nervous fingers could not thread for anything. She sat in Stoick's chair, the fur draped across her lap. She had already cut a sufficient piece for a swaddling blanket, and was now attempting to transform the bulk of the fur into a concealing, fashionable wrap.

"Oh," the door creaked open. Ursula stepped inside, shaking off her boots before hanging her cloak. "I didn't think you'd be down here. Stoick said you were ill, I thought you'd be upstairs."

"I'm fine," Valka said, "just tired. Thought I'd do some sewing."

Ursula pulled up a chair; Valka kicked the small bit of fur behind her sewing basket, out of sight.

"That's quite a fur there."

"Stoick gave it to me; the man had it stashed away collecting dust. I figured I'd could make something useful out of it."

"I'm glad you picked up on sewing," Ursula smiled, "You girls are so busy now you can't have your sewing circle."

"Nope, though I don't really mind that much. I can actually concentrate here."

"What are you making?"

"Some sort of vest or shawl, haven't decided yet."

She held it up for Ursula to inspect. Her mother hummed in thought.

"Why not make it almost an apron?" She nodded for Valka to stand. Hesitant, Valka obeyed.

"Drape it over your shoulder here," Ursula moved the fabric, "Stitch it up the sides, hem it here…and you can have a belt right at your waist-"

"Great!" Valka jumped away before her mother could touch her waist. "That's a great idea."

"I have some every now and then," Ursula fiddled with the fabric, frowning. "Did something happen to it? There's a chunk missing-"

"Oh, Stoick said a dragon got ahold of it. That's why he never wears it."

"Would have thought Stoick would have worn it as a badge of honor."

Valka beamed proudly, "He doesn't need badges."

"True," Ursula smiled, "I'm glad you're so happy Vally. Your father always worried about you."

"About me being a spinster? Ha." Valka folded the fur on her lap, "Wouldn't he be surprised."

Her mother's smile faded. She glanced at her hands in her lap, her fingers the same long digits that Valka had inherited, only covered in faded scars and callouses from years of hard work.

"I've been thinking about him a lot lately," Ursula began somberly, "with Snotlout and you and Spite both married…all of the years he had left in his life…"

"It's not his fault Mum," Valka insisted, "You know that."

"No, it was Vally…but I can't blame him for his actions. I am equally to blame for everything…but if we had listened to sense then we wouldn't have you…we wouldn't have had this big, beautiful life that surrounded us for sixteen years," she dabbed at her eyes with the edge of her apron, the same one Valka had stitched her father's name on over a year ago.

"He left me with the greatest masterpiece anyone could ask for: he gave me you and your brother…and Lundy and Snotlout and Stoick. I just wish he was here to see it all. He would have been so…so happy…"

"But you're happy too, aren't you Mum?"

Ursula's smile never reached her cheeks, "Yes."

Valka's heart pounded in her chest. A knot of dread formed in her throat. "Mum?"

Her mother stood stiffly from her stool, her hands clasped together in an elegant bowl before her. Valka moved to rise, but remained; she had not told her mother about the baby yet.

"I went to see Gothi last week. This cough…it comes and goes, but last week my chest began to hurt. I thought it was from lifting Snotty…he's a big babe and I'm not as strong as I once was…but the pain wouldn't go away." She paused by one of the windows, glancing out at the blurry world beyond the confines of the four walls. The flurries had continued, falling slowly, dreamily.

"I thought she would give me something to help my muscles, a salve or a tonic…ten minutes turned into two hours…"

"Mum, what are you saying?"

Ursula glanced over her shoulder at her daughter, her gray eyes cold and voided.

"I'm dying, Valka."

The words covered them like a sheet of ice, turning every inch of Valka's body numbed. Instinctively, she reached for her stomach, for her little bug, to shield them from the cold. The trace amounts of air left in her body vaporized, leaving her starved for breath.

"W-what?"

Ursula held her chin aloft, defiant with the universe and its cruelties. She did not cry.

"Gothi said that my chest is clouded, that when she listens it all sounds muffled. She suspects that there is something unnatural inside of me, something we can't see. I've lost weight, this cough hasn't gone away and I'm so, so very tired Valka."

"Mum-" Valka choked out.

"Please don't cry Vally, it'll be alright. I think I've known this was coming for a while now. I know I'm not the same young girl I once was, but I'm not as old as I feel. Valhalla is calling me, though I don't know when I'll receive its message," her eyes glistened, not with sadness but with hope. "And I'll be able to see your father again."

"No, no you can't…you can't leave me!" Valka trembled violently, gasping for air. Her hands sought for something to contain the bile that threatened to expel itself from her stomach. She fought to suppress it, but lost. Without a second to spare she found a bucket for ashes and vomited into it, the force of which made her ribs feel as though they would crack. Her mother's arms wrapped around her as she heaved, stroked her hair and pulled it away from her face. Valka could hear her mother whispering to her, but her ears could not make sense of the words. All Valka could do was stumble out in between rounds of sickness: "Mum, Mum…"

"Shh, it's alright darling."

"No, no it's not alright," Valka straightened, her body clammy and her breath foul. She was angry, at her mother, at Gothi, at the gods, at herself. She would be angry at Stoick if he was here. The only innocent in the entire universe was curled up in her belly, blissfully unaware. Fate was cruel. Fate was evil.

"Mum, I'm pregnant," she pulled back her loose fitting robe so that the bump was visible. Ursula gasped, her hands reaching up to cover her mouth. For the first time since she entered the house, tears sprang to Ursula's eyes.

"Vally-"

"I've known for a few weeks but I kept it a secret, but I can't now," she gestured to her belly. "I was going to tell you before the whole village knew, but now…now-"

"I'm here, I'm right here darling."

Ursula pulled her daughter close, as though she was a baby once more. Valka always enjoyed being held and cuddled: Smitelout had said Ursula was spoiling her, but every moment Ursula spent with Valka was precious. The woman sighed in heartache: every moment with Valka was still precious, only now for very different reasons.

The next few months were going to be trying, she knew that. But Ursula was a stubborn woman.

"I'll be here," she pressed her lips to her daughter's head. "I'll be right there with you when this baby is born. I'll hang on for you. I promise-"

"Mummy-"

"I promise Valka."

And Valka knew she meant it.