Here we are, the last main chapter of the story! Only the epilogue remains after this.

I hope this one wraps up the conflicts well enough. It's far from perfect, but I think it's a logical enough endpoint. Thanks for reading, and I hope a bunch of you will be so kind as to post a review after you're done reading. All feedback, positive or negative, is greatly appreciated.

[6/27]: Changed the chapter title again because the new one is clearly better.

25. Voices of Peace

Valka talked to herself for the entire flight out. It had been easy to spot Gothi and her company of healers once the tiny island came into view, and even easier to load all of them onto Cloudjumper's back before heading back for Berk. No one dared say a word on the return trip, but she felt Gothi's eyes on her back the entire time. Valka was too afraid to look back and read whatever was in the old woman's eyes.

When they reached Berk again, Valka directed Cloudjumper to land in the center of the ravaged village and let the healers dismount before promptly taking off again. She didn't want to be flagged down by Stoick or Hiccup. There was no doubt that they'd seen her, wherever they were, but they thankfully let her be as she headed for the eastern cliffs. She sent Cloudjumper into a chaotic landing on the bluffs, and for the first time in hours felt that she could finally begin to relax.

From those highlands beyond the village, she had a good view of the devastation. Ice had infested the island, shimmering with a blue-green glow in the morning sun. The frost might've been beautiful, were it not surrounded by scorched land and decimated houses. There were a handful of destroyed dragon traps in different areas of the village, and in the harbor stood a massive collection of warships of all shapes and sizes. The longships of the victorious Vikings were most plentiful, outnumbering the remaining sleek warships of Drago's army. The conqueror's flagship remained in the center of it all, completely devoid of life as it bobbed on the surface.

The day passed her by with surprising quickness. Berk was fairly quiet as healers made the rounds of the village treating the wounded. A few hours later, she spotted Hiccup against the sky, heading for Gothi's perch high above the village, which had incredibly survived the battles below it. Along with Astrid and Stormfly, he landed on the hut's porch and disappeared inside—probably to have his own injuries checked out. He'd been adamant that he didn't need immediate treatment, for there were far more Vikings with worse injuries than him.

Valka stayed on the cliff all day, waiting. Composing herself for the moment that she would have to face Stoick. She knew there was no escaping it; she owed him an explanation. She could already hear him shouting at her, angered beyond compare once he learned the full truth of her 'death'. Hiccup had been angry with her, but there was no describing the fury that would surely ignite within Stoick the Vast's heart.

The saddest part was that Valka deserved to be screamed at, deserved to be made to pay for all of the anguish and mourning she'd inspired. Stoick would be justified in his anger.

She looked over the edge of the precipice as if for inspiration. Hundreds of feet below her, the waves crashed against the rocks, hissing as the sea salt painted them and wafted into the air. She watched the water push and pull in its eternal, unstoppable dance. There seemed to be an unusual jubilance in their motion, odd until she considered that the sea, in all its vastness, was free of Drago Bludvist for the first time in many, many years. His scourge had been built on its surface, growing like a cancer on the waves until today.

Perhaps Njord was thanking them, praising them for their courage. Showing gratitude to them for doing what the god could not.

Valka straightened her posture as she looked up again. She needed to be brave, like her son had been today, and face her demons. Face her mistakes. She needed to enter her old home, brush her fingers against the wooden supports and the tables and feel the warmth of the hearth she had so loved when she'd lived there. They were part of her past, and she knew that they had to be part of her future now, too. She owed it to her family after causing them twenty years of pain.

Cloudjumper grunted beside her, as if knowing what troubled her. Their bond was a close one, unrivaled by any in her life. She reached up a careful hand, eyeing the unique guards on her armor that reached over her fist, and the Stormcutter gently lowered his head to place his skull against her head. The great dragon's golden eyes flicked shut and he exhaled with a deep, resounding rumble.

"Thank you, Cloudjumper," Valka sighed.

She turned around and took a few quick, aimless steps away from the cliffside before realizing someone was in front of her. She skidded to a halt, recognizing the beard and red hair. The helmet, she recognized, was new, or at least it was to her. He'd removed it as if in reverence, holding it in his lap.

Stoick the Vast was sitting in a chair. Well, not quite a chair. There were wheels at its base fashioned from wood, resting on the ground where the legs of the chair might normally be. His legs, gratuitously bandaged, rested on an inclined plane that jutted out from the strange seat so that they wouldn't scrape the ground. Without watching the contraption in action, she deduced that its purpose was to allow him to move around without assistance. As ridiculous as it was, she had no doubt that he preferred the device to being guided around everywhere by two men, his devotion to the old macho "Viking Way" be damned.

Valka's eyes trailed back up his body, crammed into the strange chair, and she recognized with a start that he was staring at her in sheer awe, the same look he'd been giving her that morning when he saw her just before she'd fled. Valka gulped. She had to say something. Anything. But her throat was as dry as could be, and her lips were sealed shut by her own fear.

Cloudjumper breathed and then spread his enormous wings, taking off into the air and leaving Valka alone with her long-lost husband. She couldn't find it in herself to disapprove of the dragon's action, even if she tried. This was between her and Stoick, and she could not run anymore. Cloudjumper seemed to know that. Perhaps that was why he had not alerted her to Stoick's presence. There was no way he had only noticed at the same time Valka did. The dragon had most definitely known.

Valka returned her gaze to her lost husband, somber. Stoick started to open his mouth, slowly, and Valka forced herself to jump out and steal the first word from him. If he was going to scream at her, she had to at least get a word in edgewise first.

"I… I know what you're going to say, Stoick," she blurted out. Stoick closed his mouth, his emerald eyes trembling as he looked upon her like she was a dream. He let his hands fall to the wheels on his chair, rolling himself forward carefully and beginning to close the distance between them.

Valka's heart hammered harder in her chest with every inch that he went, like he was a vise slowly closing its jaws tighter and tighter against her. "How could I have done this? How could I have stayed away all these years, and why didn't I come back to you? To our son?"

He stopped, waiting directly in front of her now with nothing left to separate them but the rigid air. He looked at her with such longing, his bottom lip shuddering a bit at the sight of her. His monstrous beard had been cleaned and brushed since she'd seen him that morning, the collection of little braids he'd taken to shaping in the facial hair conspicuously absent for the time being.

The twenty-year gap between them seared Valka's very skin, causing her to break a sweat just by being in his gaze. Cracks scattered across her enduring façade, made no better as Stoick started to roll himself forward again, his gawking stare unwavering, like he was seeing her for the very first time. Valka wanted to cry out, but she couldn't find the strength to do much more than sniffle. Stoick's expression was killing her, his silence like a greatsword slowly sheathing itself in her chest.

"Quit being so stoic, Stoick," she begged, "Shout and scream at me for leaving you and Hiccup. Scream so loud that Odin comes down to complain. Tell me that I'm heartless for abandoning both of you, that I'm a bitch of a woman, just please stop looking at me like that."

Stoick raised his shaking hands, reaching roughly for hers. Valka couldn't say what overcame her, but her own hands drifted forward to clasp his, and he grabbed onto her fingers and held them so gingerly yet interlocking them tightly enough so as to make sure she wouldn't pull away from him. He brushed his calloused thumbs over her fingers and the palms of her hands, as if she were some sort of hallucination that would dissipate into ash upon being touched and blow away in the breeze, and then he lifted his head to look at her and his gaze wandered across every feature of her face, drinking in her appearance some twenty years after he'd last laid eyes on her. Not once did he frown, or grimace, or sneer. His piercing green eyes were as soft as she could ever remember, holding only reverence for her.

"You're as beautiful as the day I lost you."

All of Valka's resolve, fear, shame, everything left her with those words. "How can you be so… so… merciful? Hiccup needed so much time with me, I was sure you'd need the same."

The sea crashed against the cliffs again. Stoick shushed her, his smile showing through his beard. "I wanted to take your hands and embrace you the moment I saw you on the hill. When Hiccup told me, I wanted to tear Berk apart searching for you, not a care for the enemy in our midst. And all day, I wanted nothing more than to shirk my responsibility and find you. I feared that you'd run away, maybe for the same reason that you didn't return after that night."

"Stoick…" Valka started, her gaze drifting down to their interlocked fingers.

"If I drove you away, please tell me." Valka flinched and her eyes darted back up to look at him, noting the sorrow streaking across his face. "If it is my fault that you thought you could never come home—"

Valka ripped one of her hands from his grip and stepped forward, leaning to meet his eye level and tugging the hand of his that she still held closer to his chest. With her now free hand, she caressed his cheek, feeling how time had ravaged his handsome features. He wasn't ugly, far from it, but she could see the stress that she had caused him, forcing him to lead alone for so long. Wrinkles that were not there when she'd left were prevalent now, scars from the weight of the solitude he'd borne for so many years by himself.

"It wasn't you, Stoick. It was me; I see that now. I thought that Hiccup would be better off without me… without his dragon-loving mother to pull him against you. I told myself that you wanted the next great dragon slayer, and that if I remained, you could never have that."

Stoick frowned. "Val, you'd have been so ashamed of me. I wasn't a good father."

"And I take responsibility for that," she interjected, "Whatever you did while I was gone, however you struggled with our son, it is no one's fault but my own."

"Val—"

"I left. That's the truth," Valka said, "But I won't leave again. I'll be here to stay, if you'll have me."

Stoick beamed. "I'd like nothing more, Val," he said, "Nothing more."

Valka grinned, and then surged forward to plant a kiss on his weary lips. Stoick pushed tenderly back in response, raising a calloused hand to Valka's chin to hold her and be certain that she was real. When he felt her begin to pull away, he rested there, eyes closed and chuckling as he felt her breath ghost across his face.

"I thought I'd have to die," said Stoick, "before I'd get to do that again." Valka cracked a brazen smile, descending into a fit of snickers. She glanced down at the odd chair he was sitting in, from its strange gears to the wooden wheels on its sides.

"And what, exactly, is this contraption?"

Stoick looked down at the chair before answering. "Your son made this. A prototype that he never perfected, I think. Gobber pulled it out of storage and Gothi signed off on it."

Valka smirked, blue eyes sparkling with mirth. "Get tired of needing help to go anywhere?"

Stoick chortled. "Exhausted by it," he said. They shared another laugh. It might have felt morbid to joke about Stoick's current condition were he not so unapologetically cheerful. Valka could see in just his eyes that he didn't mind, that he was merely happy to be alive.

"Should we head home?" she asked. Stoick's eyes absolutely sparkled at that, thrilled that she was referring to the house as home. For better or for worse, they understood one another. They would rise above the twenty years they'd been apart, the twenty years of deception and secrecy.

"Absolutely," said the Chief of Berk. He placed his hands on the wheels of his chair and rolled backwards, pivoting around as Valka walked up beside him. They went together, Valka walking and Stoick riding through the grass away from the bluffs toward the house they'd shared long ago.

"I suppose Cloudjumper will need a place to stay. He's much too big for the house."

Stoick shrugged. "We'll see what we can do. Perhaps we can build him a great big shed next to us and have it all to himself."

Valka looked over and scoffed, though more out of disbelief than anything else. The notion was ridiculous. "You don't mean that," she said. Surely, he didn't.

Stoick grinned. "For you, my dear," he said, recalling the words he'd whispered long ago whenever she asked something of him, "Anything."

Astrid watched with bated breath as Gothi placed her frail hands against Hiccup's torso, gently applying a pressure that made him wince and try to recoil. The elder's hands dropped, and she stroked her chin, considering him. She motioned for him to breathe, and he did, failing to contain a pained grimace in the act.

Gothi performed a few more quick tests and then gestured for Hiccup to hold his left arm out so she could examine his wrist, the other spot on his body that was hurting. She gently rolled the joint and Hiccup cried out in pain, clenching his teeth to contain the noise. Gothi, blank as ever, stroked her chin some more and hummed, thinking as she turned to examine her shelves.

"Well, this isn't ominous or foreboding at all," Hiccup grunted as he watched the old woman. Astrid was sitting on his right, and she took his uninjured hand in hers and squeezed.

"You'll be fine. You've been through a lot worse, right?" she said.

"At least I was asleep for that," he muttered, and Astrid slugged him on the arm purely out of instinct.

Hiccup outright yelped, "Ow! Violence," and Astrid instantly regretted the action. Gothi's resulting glare didn't help any, either.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to him, and he shrugged weakly.

"S'fine," he mumbled, "Like you just said, I've been through a lot worse." That time, he glanced up at her and smirked, earning a smile out of her.

Astrid looked around Gothi's hut, situated high above the village. Their dragons had flown them up here for Hiccup's examination and were waiting patiently outside. Gothi's walls were lined with shelves stocked with medicine and related materials, and the old woman was busy trying to find exactly what she needed. She whistled and one of her Terrible Terrors flapped over, ready to assist.

Gothi was the proud caretaker of a pack of the devious little reptiles; five years ago, they had taken to her even more quickly than she had taken to them. The day they had first taken her flying had been in the running for one of the most peculiar days on Berk. The pack had banded together to carry Gothi across the village, and the sight of the old woman descending as if she herself were levitating had been enough to scare a Viking warrior into fainting on the spot. One old wife had even run screaming into the town square, absolutely certain that Ragnarök had arrived.

That little episode notwithstanding, the little dragons were surprisingly smart and Gothi quickly trained them to help her with just about whatever she needed. Sometimes, they'd even know exactly what to look for upon seeing a patient with a familiar injury and fetch the necessary materials from the shelf without being asked, a feat that never ceased to amaze those lucky patients.

Gothi made a couple of grunting noises—the only sounds that she could make—that apparently meant something specific to the Terror, because the sly little dragon flapped over to an open cupboard and rummaged around before reappearing with a few small but sturdy rods of wood. Gothi produced a roll of bandages and held out her free hand, so the Terror delivered the sticks to her and then flapped over to the perch by the shelf to return to the rest of its pack, immediately getting into a snapping match with its brethren.

Gothi then gestured at Hiccup, tossing her skinny arms up in the air.

Hiccup frowned. "You just gestured to all of me."

Astrid stifled a laugh with her hand, allowing her grin to peek through the gaps in her fingers. "I think she needs you to take your shirt off, babe."

Hiccup's face turned Monstrous Nightmare-red. "Oh. Um…"

Gothi audibly groaned and repeated the gesture. Astrid stared Hiccup down, "She says the shirt comes off or she'll have the Terrors rip it off of you." Astrid was spitballing there; Gothi probably hadn't explicitly meant that, but the mental image was very amusing.

"Since when can you understand her?" Hiccup asked, daring to see through her.

"Since now," Astrid said. She walked over to his side. "Just lift your arms up, I'll take it off for you. I'll try my best not to touch your wrist." Seeing that he wasn't getting out of it, Hiccup submitted and lifted his arms over his head. Astrid reached down and tugged at the hem of his tunic, pulling it up so that his torso revealed itself inch by inch. Astrid steadfastly ignored the lump that formed in her throat at the sight of his abs and the rest of his flat, lean stomach. She cursed herself—there was absolutely no reason to be getting hot and bothered right now. The baby must be doing this to her. This was the absolute least sensual way she'd relieved Hiccup of his shirt. Ever.

Hiccup's grunt jarred her out of her semi-erotic trance as she accidentally put too much pressure on his injured wrist. She mumbled an apology and tugged the rest of the tunic off, discarding the forest-green garment to the floor. She came back around to the front of him, noticing Gothi's brow crease with concern.

Astrid quickly saw why. There was a nasty, obvious bruise below his right chest. She wondered how she hadn't noticed when she was taking his shirt off. Stupid pregnancy brain. Gothi wandered up to examine him some more, putting more pressure around the wound and ignoring Hiccup every time he complained. When she was satisfied with her various tests, she walked back and grabbed her staff to write in her sandbox.

"So, that rib is definitely broken," Astrid more or less translated the old woman's writing.

"That explains why just breathing doesn't feel amazing," Hiccup muttered.

"But she says she can't feel any evidence of a punctured lung, so it won't be too much healing time," Astrid added as she watched Gothi write some more.

"What's she saying now?" Hiccup asked.

Astrid hummed as her eyes grazed over Gothi's peculiar handwriting, "That your wrist is just sprained, and that you're lucky it isn't broken," Astrid said.

"Lucky's debatable; this is my sword hand, my writing hand, my pointing hand…" Hiccup lamented, grimacing after he finished speaking. Astrid rolled her eyes at him and he flashed a slight smirk.

Gothi set down her staff and hobbled over, signaling for Hiccup to hold his arm out to her. He did, and the old woman motioned for Astrid to lend her a hand. Gothi carefully held Hiccup's arm with one hand, passing the bandages to Astrid before aligning a few of the sticks with Hiccup's wrist. The elder grunted and Astrid started to unroll the bandages. Hiccup winced as Gothi set his wrist perfectly straight, and Astrid leaned over to start wrapping the bandages around his wrist, covering the sticks and a decent part of his forearm in the cloth. She made sure to tie it tightly so that nothing would come loose, ignoring Hiccup's groans as he fought the pain.

Gothi eventually motioned for Astrid to stop, leaving Hiccup with a fairly thick cone of bandaging around his lower hand, wrist, and about halfway up his forearm, completely covering the sticks and holding them tightly in place. Gothi took the bandages from Astrid and waddled away, whistling for a Terror to come take the bandages from her and set them on a shelf that she normally couldn't reach.

"Shouldn't we brace the rib?" Hiccup asked. Gothi shook her head and started writing again in her sandbox.

"She says compression can make it harder to breathe. If you manage to get sick in this changing weather, you need to be able to breathe as deeply as possible so that it won't get worse," Astrid explained. Hiccup parted his lips in a casual ah and nodded.

"Well, okay then. Thank you for everything, Gothi," Hiccup said, and he started to stand up with Astrid's help.

Gothi grunted at them both, causing them to freeze in place. The old woman waggled her finger at Astrid, motioning for her to come closer. Hiccup carefully sat back down, and Astrid let go of him, walking over to the elder. Gothi started to scribble in the sand once Astrid was close enough, writing quickly and concisely.

Does he know?

Astrid didn't have to think about it to know what the old woman was getting at. She nodded carefully.

"Everything okay over there?" Hiccup asked.

"She wants to talk about the baby."

Hiccup was silent for a moment. "Oh," he finally said. She heard him shuffling around in his seat, as if trying to get comfortable. "What's wrong, Gothi?"

The old woman started scribbling in the sand with her staff again so that Astrid could read the runes. "Nothing for now," she translated, "but she says we need to be prepared for complications resulting from all the action lately. I'll admit I've been knocked around here and there."

"Complications?" Hiccup repeated.

"Miscarriage," Astrid said, and Hiccup made an 'O' shape with his mouth.

"Does she think you're at risk?" he said fearfully. The tone of his voice prompted Astrid to look over her shoulder at him, if only to calm him down a little with her gaze. Astrid glanced back at Gothi, who was already writing out a response. The elder's frail arms tensed with the effort and her face contorted.

"She says no," said Astrid, "that I'm young and strong, but there's always the possibility. Fortunately, I don't have any injuries from the battle that might up the risk. But Gothi thinks we should hold up on telling anyone else until we know that the pregnancy's taken hold."

Hiccup nodded. "I think I can manage that well enough. How much longer until we can be certain?"

"Another… two months?" Astrid guessed as she read more of Gothi's writing. The elder nodded and leaned against her staff, her ash-gray hair in tatters from the toil of the day. Bags were starting to form under her eyes; the old woman looked exhausted.

"Two more months of keeping a secret from my ultra-perceptive father? Easy peasy," Hiccup drawled with an almost-excessive dose of sarcasm. A little voice in the back of Astrid's mind whispered that it might not end up being two months, because she could lose the baby in that timeframe and the secret would come out on its own then. She chased the sinister murmur away and padded across the small room to rest a hand on his shoulder. At the sensation of contact, Hiccup glanced up at her.

"It'll be fine," she said cheerily, "I'll help you keep the secret." Hiccup couldn't help but crack a wide grin as he stifled a snort of laughter, causing Astrid to break down as well.

"As if you have a choice," Hiccup jeered, amused.

Gothi watched the two young lovers with a warm smile on her frail face. The sight of Hiccup and Astrid brought out an energy that she could not describe. She was happy for the both of them. Knowing where they'd been in their lives only six years ago only made the way they doted on one another sweeter. They reminded Gothi of herself when she was a young maid.

Hiccup and Astrid ceased laughing, and both began to feel that they'd overstayed their welcome. "Is there anything else, Gothi?" he asked, and the old woman shook her head. "Well, then I guess that means it's time to go." Astrid grabbed his right hand and helped him rise from the chair, Hiccup groaning as his broken rib complained.

Astrid led him out of the hut, where Toothless and Stormfly were patiently waiting. Both dragons crooned upon recognizing their riders and bounded over, the force of their weight starting to shake the perch's foundation.

"Toothless, calm down, bud," Hiccup urged, and the Night Fury obeyed. Toothless nudged his head against Hiccup and grunted. "Yeah, I'm gonna be okay, bud. Just a scratch."

Nearby, Stormfly trilled and leaned into Astrid's touch as she stroked her neck, the Nadder's wings twitching with each little caress. The dragon brushed her snout across Astrid's belly with a measured squawk, affectionate.

"She knows," Hiccup said.

"She's the reason I even started thinking I might be pregnant. I was out flying with her and Toothless when I lost my breakfast on a sea stack. I'm not sure what she picked up on, but I went to see Gothi later that day," Astrid explained.

"Part of me wishes you'd told me sooner," said Hiccup, "But I get why you didn't."

"It isn't your fault, Hiccup. I kept the secret because… well, because of me," Astrid said. She patted Stormfly's neck and marveled at her blue scales, keeping Hiccup squarely in her peripheral vision. "And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't still scared."

"About risking losing it?" Astrid nodded and Hiccup peeled away from Toothless to take her hands. Astrid tilted her head at him and smiled weakly.

"I know Gothi said she thinks it's unlikely, but how much does that really mean?" Astrid asked, "Anything could happen, that's just a fact."

"It is," Hiccup agreed, "But she wasn't kidding about how strong you are. And for what it's worth, I think this baby's pretty strong, too. It did basically help defeat an evil warlord Hel-bent on conquering the entire world." Astrid scoffed and looked away to contain her laughter. She could almost feel Hiccup's grin on her back. "Hey, can you prove to me that it didn't?"

"I guess not," Astrid conceded, if only to let him have the moment. She met his eyes again and beamed before leaning forward to kiss him, a short and sweet peck on the lips. "Thank you," she said when she pulled back.

"So, I'm thinking Dagnes for a girl."

Astrid stiffened and tilted her head up at him. "Excuse me?"

"It's a combination of Dagny and Agnes. What do you think?"

"Are you serious?" she blurted, incredulous.

"You're right, I should probably think of another one for a boy. Just in case," Hiccup said. He rolled his eyes up, thinking out loud. "How about Spitball?"

Astrid rolled her eyes especially hard and started walking toward Stormfly. "Yeah, Hiccup, if that's the best you can come up with, you're definitely not going to name any of our children."

Hiccup snickered in that way that said he was very proud of himself. "Plural."

Astrid's back arched like that of a cornered animal, mortified and defensive at the same time. "You're impossible."

She tugged her hands out of his grasp so she could climb atop Stormfly's back. Hiccup meandered back to Toothless as Stormfly stretched her wings with a content squawk, and Astrid took a long look at the ravaged village far beneath them. Spears of ice still littered the island, and she suspected that a fair number of families would be sleeping in the Great Hall for the next several nights, for their homes had been destroyed in the carnage of two great battles. In the harbor, many of Drago's ships continued to drift on the waves, mixed in with the larger horde of Viking longships from the allied tribes. There would be a lot to do over the next few weeks in order to get Berk back into working order.

Hiccup cranked the pedal on Toothless' stirrup to open his tailfin, and with a look over his shoulder at her, Hiccup ushered the Night Fury to get a running start. Toothless gladly bounded forward, picking up speed with a few quick footfalls before tipping over the edge of the perch. The dragon's black shape disappeared from sight, and Astrid squeezed her knee into Stormfly's flank.

"C'mon, girl. Let's not get left behind!" Stormfly shrilled and scampered forward on her muscular legs before leaping off of the roost to chase after Toothless. The Nadder folded her wings to build up speed and catch up, the Isle of Berk a blur beneath her wings.

The days began to blur together as rebuilding efforts began. The island was littered with ice, and there was a large population of dragons in need of rehabilitation from the horrors they'd suffered in Drago's clutches. The vast majority of them wore armor plates in various places on their body, most commonly the head, so the smithy was initially set to burn all day and all night in order to melt down the metal and repurpose it.

The influx of steel would've normally been huge for an island like Berk, as they wouldn't have to pay for more when the next trader ships came through, until Mogadon rose from his seat and complained that the other tribes were just as entitled to the repossession of the dragon armor as Berk was. Stoick had rolled his eyes and ordered the surplus divided into equal fifths and shipped off to the other respective islands. In exchange, the other tribes committed a share of workers to help with the repairs.

They weren't the only ones. The surviving soldiers in Drago's army that had surrendered were conscripted to assist as well, paying for their transgressions by repairing the damage they had done to Berk. It had been Hiccup's idea, with Eret's backing, and while it wasn't a perfect solution most people believed that it was better than a mass execution, especially since a fair number of Drago's warriors had been conscripted into the army against their will in the first place. In exchange for their labor, the soldiers would be allowed to sail away from Berk—on the condition that they swore to never return, of course.

After all of the logistics had been worked out, all that was left to do was, well, work. The majority of Hiccup's job was pretty simple, and he was capable of doing it even with his injuries. Using Toothless' newfound Alpha abilities, the pair controlled the efforts of breaking up and offloading ice from the land. Most dragons took to the new Alpha with enthusiasm; they had already largely followed Toothless for five years, so it was hardly a transition.

Still, there were a large number of dragons from Drago's army that did not remain on Berk. Once they were freed from their chains and armor, many of them had taken to the skies and not returned. Hiccup couldn't blame them. They had spent Odin knows how long under the dominion of Drago and the Bewilderbeast, and the prospect of freedom after a lifetime of oppression was too good to pass up. Perhaps they were not interested in following another Alpha so soon. The majority of the dragons from Valka's mountain returned to their home, too, preferring the independence they'd enjoyed for so long.

If anything, it kept Berk from becoming overcrowded.

When each day came to a close or Toothless' labor was no longer needed, Hiccup would head back to the house to find Astrid. By then, she had usually returned from her days' worth of work and was starting on dinner (much to Hiccup's sorrow, though she was improving). After Hiccup had sufficiently interfered enough (in the interest of preventing himself from being poisoned, he claimed), they would sit down and eat as they recounted their days to one another. If there was still daylight when all of that was over, they might head to the Great Hall to convene with their friends. If not, they usually just went to bed.

It was a new normal for a time, but the return to relative normalcy was a very welcome one, allowing the Vikings of Berk to recover from the horrors of the last few weeks by drowning themselves in work. Drago Bludvist was dead, as was his terrible dream, and all were better off for it.

Soon enough, a few days became two weeks, and then three, before the reconstruction was complete. The remains of the Bewilderbeast's ice had been dumped into the sea, the docks and dragon hangar had been repaired, and the houses destroyed in the crossfire of two separate battles were rebuilt (largely by the prisoners from Drago's army, since their destruction was entirely their fault). With the labor done, the Berkians upheld their promise, stacking the last of Drago's ships (which had been stripped of their weapons and traps, of course) with the released prisoners and casting them off. Any other vessels that still remained after the fact were promptly sunk.

But with Berk good as new came change, the kind that was admittedly long overdue.

Hiccup found himself one morning standing in front of the mirror, Astrid on his arm. She held one hand over her belly—she hadn't started to show yet, and still no one else but them and Gothi (and, according to Astrid, Heather) knew about the upcoming addition—and used the other to brush off his shoulder. He was wearing a great brown cape, the same one that he'd worn for their wedding eight months prior, though this time he was clothed in his riding armor. He'd updated it some, covering most of the leather parts with additional plating. His left wrist was still in a splint, and his broken rib was still giving him trouble, but he was healthy and happy, taking each day as he always did.

The only question left on his mind was if he was ready.

"I look ridiculous," he lamented, watching himself say the words in the mirror. Astrid laughed, a soft, angelic giggle that made Hiccup's stomach churn. He loved her so much, more than he knew how to say. And she was carrying his child. If he could go visit his twelve-year-old self and share such news, he was sure that his preteen head would explode.

"You look handsome," Astrid corrected, "Like a Chief." Hiccup hummed, staring at his image and struggling to believe that it was true. "Still having doubts?" Astrid's voice addressed him as an echo in his ear, and he winced.

"No? Yes? I don't really know," Hiccup said. He ran his fingers through his thick dark hair, briefly relishing the sensation as his fingernails scraped his scalp. He let his hand fall to his side and sighed. "What if I can't do the job right? What if I'm the worst Chief in the history of Berk, what if—"

His world spun as Astrid yanked on his shoulder, turning him around to face her and look her in the eye. Her free hand found his other shoulder and she tightened her grip, giving him one of her famous determined glares.

"Uh-uh," she said as she shook her head, "You, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, are the best possible person to lead us into the future. Think about all we've been through. How many other Vikings could've rebounded from losing their home and rallied their allies to take it back? How many people could invent gear to fight off the call of a literalalpha species to protect our dragons? How many people could change the entire culture of a group of people, much less ones as stubborn as Vikings?"

Astrid shifted her hand from his shoulder to his chest, resting it over his heart and drumming her fingers there. "I told you a few weeks ago that what you were looking for was in here, not out there. And I'd like to think that you found it in here, because the Hiccup that was before would've balked at the idea of facing down Drago Bludvist. Whatever pieces that might've been missing… you've got them now. And you don't have to lead by yourself. You may be the one to hold the title, but every great leader has people to help them. I hope you know that I'll always be by your side."

"Well, you kind of have to be. Chieftess and all that," Hiccup said, flashing a toothy, smug grin that earned a chuckle and smack on the shoulder from Astrid.

"Stop deflecting, jerk. You can do this," Astrid said. She leaned her head closer so she could look endearingly up at him. He was sprouting a little stubble along his jaw that he'd need to shave soon, though she could picture him quite well with a beard and had to say that she liked the mental image. "Okay?" she asked.

Hiccup nodded. "Okay."

Astrid rose up to kiss him on the cheek. "Good," she said as she lowered from her toes and released her grip on Hiccup's shoulders. She took his hand—the one that wasn't hurt—and gave him a grin. "Now, are you ready to go meet your people, Chief?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," Hiccup said. Hand in hand with Astrid, they crossed their bedroom, Astrid tugging the door open and letting him walk out first. He tightened his grip on her hand after she closed the door and they headed for the front door of their house. When they reached it, he separated their hands and opened the door on his own this time. Sunlight poured into the house, momentarily blinding them both, and when the light receded, he saw the majority of the village flocking toward the far cliffs overlooking the sea. At the center of the growing maelstrom of people stood Stoick, Valka, and Gobber.

Wordlessly, Hiccup and Astrid padded down the hill, well behind the horde of Vikings. Hiccup took in a deep, preparatory breath, familiar with their destination. As they drew closer, some people reached out to pat Hiccup on the back, wishing him a speedy recovery and congratulating him on his appointment. Stoick had made the announcement just the other day, setting the ceremony for the morning of Freya's Day.

They emerged from the edge of the village and hiked up the rising ground leading to the plain furthest from the town. The low plateau overlooked the water, the dragon racing arena off to the right and the dragon hangar jutting out of the rocks to the left. People congregated around its center, their incessant clamoring growing louder and louder as Hiccup and Astrid closed in.

They started to slither through the crowd, and Vikings erupted in cheers as they recognized the Chief-and-Chieftess-to-be. The throng of people began to part, carving a path for the two. At the end of the lane were Stoick, Valka, and Gobber, each of them smiling brilliantly. A few feet to Stoick's right was the Chiefsrock, an ancient blackened formation of rock that had been there for even longer than people had lived on the island. It was the site where the first Chief of Berk was chosen, one of Hiccup's ancient ancestors, and since then had served as the place where each new Chief was crowned as well.

"People of Berk! You all know why you're here, so I'll not waste time by going on a long spiel leading up to the announcement," Stoick began, looking at Hiccup and Astrid and beaming, "My son and I have talked at great length over these last few weeks, and have decided that finally, the time has come. After many, many years of serving as your chieftain, it is time for me to hand my position down to my son."

A rush of cacophonous applause circled through the crowd, as if every last Viking on Berk needed to get a supportive word in edgewise. Stoick grinned through his beard. "Before we begin with the induction of the next Chief, however, we must first recognize his wife, Astrid Haddock, whom will be his Chieftess as is her right, should she be willing to swear the oaths."

Hiccup turned his head to look at Astrid—he supposed that everyone did—and felt a surge of pride when she nodded. She stepped forward, carefully pulling her fingers free from his until she was standing before the Chief, his long-lost wife, and Gobber. The three of them looked upon her like a critical council of elders, able to see her every misdeed and every content of her soul with only their sharp, time-tested eyes.

"Astrid Hofferson Haddock," Stoick started, his voice low and almost ominous, attesting to the seriousness of the ceremony, "Do you swear to stand by your husband's side as his Chieftess, and advise him however he need be?"

"I swear," Astrid answered firmly.

"Do you swear to always serve as a voice of reason, as a guide, should he find himself in need?"

"I swear."

"And do you swear to love and protect Berk as its Chieftess for as long as you hold the title?"

"I swear."

"Very well. Then from this day, until death or retirement takes you from us, may you reign as the Chieftess of the Hooligan Tribe," Stoick decreed. Gothi shuffled toward her and Astrid dropped to one knee, bowing her head before Gothi as the woman scraped her finger along the Chiefsrock. The elder scrawled a smooth, steady line of ash that reached from the center of Astrid's forehead down to the bridge of her nose. Reaching for a second serving of the paint-like powder, Gothi then drew an identical pair of curved lines that crossed down the sides of Astrid's nose, reaching up to hug the lower half of her eyelids before streaking across her temples, the lines of ash breaking off where her hair began.

Astrid rose once the mark was complete, nodding fiercely down at Gothi as the old woman dipped her head. Then, Astrid made her way back to Hiccup's side, striding confidently and wearing a hard, battle-worn look that only added to the warrior mystique offered to her by the markings on her face. She reached Hiccup's side and curled around, gently reaching for his hand. They remained still for a few, foreboding seconds, only to have the reverie broken by Stoick.

"Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third," drawled the young man's father. Hiccup looked up, meeting his father's piercing eyes. "Step forward." Hiccup did as he was told (for once in his life) and halved the distance between himself and his father, skin tingling as he felt hundreds of eyes upon him.

"Do you swear to uphold and abide by the laws and customs of this island, and deliver fair justice to those who violate them?"

"I swear."

"Do you swear to always protect Berk and her people from any threat both beyond and within?"

"I swear."

"And do you so solemnly swear to always act in the best interest of your people as their chieftain, and never in the interest of only yourself?"

"I swear."

His father smiled down at him, the new emotion sending a tidal wave of relief crashing into Hiccup's shoulders that lifted all of the weight off of them, like he had just survived sailing through a storm. "Then by the power bestowed upon me by all those who came before, and of my own free will, I, Stoick the Vast, Chieftain of Berk, do formally rule that from this day forward, until he is unable or unwilling to do so, that my son Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III hold and carry the title of Chieftain and all the lawful powers that the position entitles, in the interest of the Isle of Berk and her people. Gothi, the mark."

The frail elder hobbled closer, using her staff for support as she reached again for the Chiefsrock, brushing her ancient fingers across the muddied black stone. Her fingertips became stained with an ashen hue and she rubbed her fingertips together as if to check the integrity of the ash. Once she was satisfied, Gothi turned and dragged herself towards Hiccup. He knelt down, watching as the old woman shuffled until she was right in front of him. She held out her fingers, sullied with the black residue of the rock, and Hiccup nodded before bowing his head, allowing his eyes to drift closed.

He heard Gothi shuffle forward one last time, and then her brittle fingers were on his forehead, gently grazing across the skin. He felt her index finger draw a wide arc opening upward, and then her middle finger scrawled a smaller half-circle that he knew would form the insignia of a Viking helmet. Lastly, she stroked her thumb straight down from the center of the drawing, splitting the drawing in two and dragging the ash down to the bridge between his eyebrows. Gothi's fingers carefully peeled away and Hiccup opened his eyes, finding the old woman backing up a few steps. The elder nodded and bowed her head.

Hiccup rose to his feet, the emblem on his forehead seemingly weighing him down as that age-old fear stirred up inside him again. He stood up at his full height and turned to face the assembly of people, his people, staring right back. The silence made him enormously uncomfortable.

He felt a new weight on his shoulder and glanced down to find Astrid. The ceremonial paint left her no less beautiful, the sunlight still dancing off of her golden hair and shimmering in her eyes. She sent him a smile, squeezing his hand as she leaned into him, supporting him.

Stoick raised his voice for all to hear. The call sent a shot through the crowd, every man, woman, and child at once erupting with raucous cheers. Toothless let out a deafening bellow, and all of the dragons assembled around the village answered with boisterous screeching, many of them resting on rooftops and spreading their wings wide as they blasted fire into the sky. Their cries mixed with the gleeful shouting of Vikings, a startling harmony that could only make sense on Berk.

They were the calls of a new future, the voices of peace.

"The Chief," bellowed Stoick the Vast, and there was a proud finality in the way he spoke, as if he'd been waiting since his very first breath to say the words, "has come home!"

The epilogue will be posted by next Saturday, June 27th.