A Second Chance
Dragonheart sat cross-legged and stared ahead out to sea, her staff laid across her lap.
This time of year was always the most peaceful. There were none of the bad-wrong trappers here to take the King's dragons. Humans were so vile, so monstrous to other life and even to themselves. They do not change! They are...
She wearily sighed and absentmindedly stroked her scales and head-horns. The faint purr escaped her throat as she stared out to the blizzard beyond. To the frozen ice and deadly waters. Hearing the whistling, frigid wind howling its cry in the white mist. Only a few dragons would dare to fly in the cold now. She and Cloudjumper were not among those few unless there was a dire need or the King summoned them.
Now was peaceful.
She eventually tired of staring and rose to her two feet. That still felt strange now. It was so different from what had been for many seasons. Seasons of crawling and shuffling on her paws like a true dragon. And what had sparked so much reflection and inside-unease was... a true dragon.
Her staff held in her paws was something she had spent seasons gradually whittling away and carving, painstakingly fitting it with bones to make the rattles and calls that helped mark her as a dragon to the other dragons. Certain of their calls and noises could be mimicked.
Was she not a true dragon?
She did not walk as they did. Not truly. Her paws caught her attention again. So strange they were. She had claws yes, just like a true dragon, but she did not grow the claws herself. She found them and took them from a bad-wrong-trapper who had killed the dragon the claws had belonged to.
The pink skin under the hide that she almost always wore was another reminder of the truth. That painful truth that she tried to hide under claws, her helmet, and all her garb.
She was not a true dragon.
Her thoughts, so long kept here by painful memories and a cold chill, were starting to fly somewhere that they probably should not. To the past. To pain.
This nest had nothing but contentment for her until so recently. She had a purpose. A mission. Something good that she could do to fill her days, her life.
A way to keep running and not look back over her tail which she did not have.
'I don't know if he'll make it... he is so small...'
'Stop, you're only making it worse...'
'Stoick! Stoick...'
Her steps gradually carried her down the familiar blue passageway deeper into the nest. The rocks and various shed scales on the ground beneath her paws, beneath her feet, crunched as she passed.
Slowly. Wearily.
There were no dragons out on the ground now. Most were deep asleep, as they almost always were during the winter.
She could walk freely without being disturbed by someone wanting to sniff her, give a fresh, tasty fish, share its own scent, nuzzle her in greeting, or jump around eagerly to show off a healed injury.
Then she finally arrived where she meant to go. She needed council, advice from one far greater than herself.
The King knew somehow. He knew that she was seeking him out. He always knew.
She bent forward at the waist and purred softly from on the ground next to his deep pool. His deep purr followed along with a very faint dusting of misty breath.
King, I do not know what to do.
His eternal, deep blue eyes stared back into her green ones.
Fear threat mind chill you lost good here...
She sat down on the shore before his Majesty and lay her staff across her lap. Thoughts of her breaking open traps, mending wings, and being swarmed by eager hatchlings passed in her thoughts, whether by chance or by design.
I know that I do much good here.
She paused and looked up to a high ledge. To the source of all her recent confusion. Great joy and pain together in one flight.
But I have done bad also. I have been weak.
The King sighed softly.
Old bad hurting nest fires death sad...
I thought I could fly on my own and leave behind part of my family. That I could let them go because it would be better for them without me.
Hatchling yours yes no gone. Killer be? Kin-liver be?
I was afraid. I gave up hope. That is why I never went back. I was too tired of trying to change them and make the world better even if it would be dangerous.
The King shifted where he lay and slowly bent down to her. With gentleness almost impossible from such a titan, he brushed her side with one of his great tusks. The mere thought that these same tusks could impale boats made her shiver with humility at his power and control.
She opened her eyes again and found his great blue ones.
I am not a dragon.
Wings no tail no scales not yours horns not yours two-leg no kin yes...
She blinked.
"I am not," she whispered.
Change world not you other yes will...
How do you know that?
His eyes looked haunted, or maybe tired only, for an instant.
See she has she told me...
Maybe you know, but I lost my chance.
Dark wing small cold hurt go talk mend...
That was confusing.
He has no hurts that I can help with.
Talk mend help...
The King stepped back and took his place in the water after closing his eyes and giving a clear summons.
The beat and wind of wings disturbed her, waking her from where she had apparently fallen asleep on the ground. A heavy thud broke her reverie as a familiar dragon landed next to her.
She glanced over toward the King and saw that he was clearly deep asleep.
Ugh, another of those dreams...
Then Cloudjumper huffed in her face, fouling her with his fishy breath as he so liked to do.
"Cloudjumper! We have talked about this!"
He only chuffed proudly at her before stepping back and offering her a wing.
"Alright, I guess I should."
She hooked her staff onto his wing and was lifted up onto his back. Then they flew up to the special ledge that had been theirs for so many seasons. He landed and immediately curled up where he had surely been sleeping before.
Then she started slowly walking down into the alcove, the passageway that led outside onto a far ledge. She turned a corner and saw her little corner of the world again.
The myriad of crates and boxes salvaged from wrecked and destroyed trapper ships. Many different supplies and tools had been recovered through the years. Her little hut in which she passed many nights by a warm fire. The few books she had been able to acquire through the years. The scraps of paper on which she had drawn a certain Stormcutter.
And now...
She sat down on the furs just inside her hut and picked up her pencil and a scrap of spare paper. Then she started on the new drawing that she had been working on weeks ago before the revelation. It had not felt... proper to continue once she learned the truth.
But that was just running, no different from what she had done for years. No more.
She looked over and considered the subject only a few paces away from her.
The triangular head, the closed eyes, the head frills, the large ears, the ridges that started on the forehead and flowed all down the back and tail, the large folded wings, the tucked limbs, the forepaws that were subtly different from those of most other dragons and allowed for writing, the sharp and dangerous claws, the dark scales and hide, the fins at the base of the tail, the long and strong tail itself, and the majestic tailfins.
Shadowwing, the Night Fury.
Hiccup, the son she abandoned.
He had apparently been a budding artist also in his past life. Like mother, like son?
She set aside the drawing after an unknown amount of time adding to it. Another log went on the fire. Then she stared at him as he slept in peace. His great back slowly rose and fell with each deep breath like a bellows. His eyes were still in a dreamless rest.
There was no doubt in her mind as to the truth. This dragon before her truly was her son. He knew things that only one who lived on Berk and knew Stoick would know. But this meant that dragon magic, if that was even a thing, existed. Though, she did know that there was something truly unnatural about at least one type of dragon.
Maybe there was hope for her.
If he could be changed into a dragon by accident, maybe she could also. Maybe she could finally leave behind the last of what tied her down to the ground. To get wings and fly on her own among the clouds. To feel as though she would never need to come down.
Sigh.
No, that is running away also...
Painful truth.
This is something with me, with who I am. Not what I am. I cannot run away from my problems when I am carrying them with me. I would only carry them into the sky also.
The flames crackled while the wind howled outside.
Is he happy with what he is? He definitely would not want to change back at such a terrible price as his brother's life. But he really does care about that Astrid. What if he had a true choice?
Her thoughts turned again to a far northern island that hid a couple great secrets. Two wondrous things that the rest of the world could never know about. Why the King and He-Who-Remembers had shared the truth with her was truly humbling. To be shown a memory of even the great King bowing in respect to the King of Kings was...
If there was anyone who could help with Hiccup's situation, one way or another, it would be He-Who-Remembers. Was he a god? An Aesir? A Vanir? Or neither, as he himself had assured her?
Hiccup twitched in his sleep and grumbled softly. A bad dream?
What was there that she could do now? What were they? She had forfeit any right to claim to be his mother when she chose to not come back. She had tried to believe that it was for the best. What comforting, deluding lies...
Though, who knows what would have happened if I did come back? Would he have ever tried to prove himself? He might never have shot down Toothless, and the war would still be going on as long as that Queen still lived.
Pointless fighting.
If the King had known about that Queen, he would have killed it. An Alpha that turns on its own is no Alpha. Maybe the fighting could have been ended long ago. Maybe...
Sigh.
What might have been was buried under too much possibility.
More movement as Hiccup moaned softly and shifted his tailfins over his head. Then he settled down again.
Life was very slow during the winter. The days were short and dark. Almost all the dragons settled down into this cycle of sleeping for well over half the day, some of them for days straight, and only waking to eat, drink, or relieve themselves. Hiccup at least wanted to be awake more than the other dragons so that they could both talk, him using the writing box they had made together.
Very old memories returned to her in that moment. Baby Hiccup in his crib sucking on his thumb. Her swaddling her little son. Stoick looking down on him while assuring her that Hiccup would be the strongest of them all one day.
The thought of her Stoick, her old lover, her dear husband, and the father of her only child, was usually too difficult for her. There was too much confusion about him now in her heart. What savage seas, what waves of life had he lived to become what he apparently had?
Good people in desperate situations do bad things.
Then motion brought her back to the present.
Shadowwing was awake and looking over at her with his sleepy eyes visible under his tailfins. His great green eyes were so strange and also familiar at the same time.
"Good morning mister sleepyhead."
He chuffed at that and rolled his eyes. Then he hauled himself to his feet and padded over to the writing box. His claws clicked on the rock as he walked.
Bad hair day?
"Well, I would go outside and take a bath, but..."
They both glanced down the passageway to the swirling snow and wind outside. Then he grumbled.
Who has the more sensitive nose here?
"Hey, I've lived around dragons for twenty years. You don't smell that bad."
They stared at each other.
Snort. Snort.
They both burst out in laughter. She had to sit down and clutch at her sides. His throaty peals echoed down the passageway as well as his tail swayed on the rock.
Then they finally recovered themselves. Mostly.
So another bright and sunny day?
"Better than the last few. No frostbite on the spleen today."
He purred softly and glanced toward the fire.
Not a day for flying
I prefer curling up around the fire
On days like this
"I agree with that."
It helped a lot that the fireplace was right next to their writing box.
What to talk about today?
"I have a different idea this time. I have been writing a new Book of Dragons. Adding things that I have learned out here."
He gave an impressed hum.
Good idea
You must know things that we do not
"I could tell you more of what I've learned. Or I could tell you about the times I went to the mainland," she grinned.
He lifted an eyeridge and chuckled at that.
The mainland?
What for?
"Following trapper routes. Trying to see where they go. I traded some dragon scales for information."
He gave a bemused glance at her wild, scale attire.
"I had a change of clothes!"
Crazy feral vigilante dragon lady
"I resent that. I am not a... lady!" she objected.
Blink. Blink.
The laughing started again.
Darkness descended again a few hours later. The wind began to pick up. The temperature began to fall from the balmy freezing to death it had been during the day.
Cloudjumper was still asleep where he had been before.
Dragonheart lay on her furs and watched as Shadowwing reclined next to the fire. He took his place and then glanced at her. Or more precisely to the drawing she had been working on in the quiet moments throughout the day.
So she pulled it out and held it up for him to see.
"Almost done. Just need to get the tail and fins next time," she whispered.
He purred softly and gave her a small nod. Then he looked away from her and stared into the fire. His ears fell ever so slightly as the moments passed. Even on a dragon's face, his pensive and almost melancholy mood was quite clear.
Oh son, I think I know what you are thinking. Where is your brother? Is he safe? Is he freezing all alone in some cold cave somewhere? Will you ever see him again?
The quiet moment passed, and he wrapped himself in a wing. His deep breaths began to gradually slow, though his soft purring did not.
There was nothing else but the crackle of the fire and the whistle of the wind.
It was so hard to let go even after he told her that there was nothing to forgive.
That was mostly because she knew that she had no good reason. Maybe the sacrifice had been a worthy one when weighing the freedom and lives of all the dragons she had saved against her choice to abandon her son. Maybe it was for the greater good. Why did it not feel that way then?
He may have forgiven her, but she had not forgiven herself.
Not yet.
They could probably never truly be mother and son. They had different priorities and responsibilities. They were not even the same creature now.
Still, she knew she was not going to miss this opportunity. They were family even if under the most twisted and unimaginable conditions.
Valka knew that it was a second chance.
Author's Note – Valka's flaws as a character and plot element are quite obvious. Hiccup's film reaction to meeting her was also quite naive and unquestioning. In this world he was more ready to overlook certain of her flaws because of what he had already lost. This came together to a background theme of a winter blizzard ambiance combined with a crackling fireplace. This scene is the result of someone a while back mentioning that they would have liked to see a bit more Valka-Hiccup bonding after the revelation in the deep of the winter. I also wanted to give a true Valka POV since those have been rather infrequent so far.