"This is unbelievable," groaned Hiccup, furiously brushing one of Gobber's prosthetic attachments. "A bedtime story. She told me a bedtime story and now she's leaving. You don't tell somebody a bedtime story and fly off gods know where without giving any reason why. You just don't!"

He tossed the now shiny accessory into the "clean" basket, where it landed with a cling. Toothless, who observed the piece's flight, flinched. Gobber, who sat in a chair nearby, did not divert his attention from the bare stump of his left forearm.

"Aye, you don't,." he nodded, inspecting the skin of his crippled limb. There seemed to be no abrasions he'd have to worry about.

"She said she was worried about me," Hiccup went on, brushing yet another of his mentor's prosthetic pieces. "That she wanted to be there for me. To make up for the time we lost. She sounded so sincere, Gobber. I trusted her. I bared my soul to her. And she abandoned me. Again."

Overtaken by sadness, the boy stopped brushing and dropped his head. Physical activity seemed to ease his anger, but that only made his grief more noticeable. Made him more vulnerable.

Toothless, sensitive to his rider's emotions, pushed his head beneath his palm. Hiccup pat him, but could not bring himself to smile.

"What am I make of this, Gobber?" he asked, feeling hopeless.

"Y'know, boy," said Gobber in a light tone, "women are meant to be loved, not understood," he applied a portion of a herbal balsam onto his stump, letting out a sight of bliss. He then remembered he was supposed to be comforting Hiccup, and spoke on. "Your mother, you see, is not a person you can understand. Not even Stoick gets her. Valka... she's her own kind of person."

To this, Hiccup snorted. "She's her own person, alright. So much she can't be anybody else's."

By now he was feeling so bad he could swear all of his guts were soaked in bitterness. He picked up the piece he had been cleaning and turned it in his hand. As if there could have been words of wisdom carved on its surface. Toothless followed his rider's example, but didn't see anything particularly interesting, either. It made him worry even more about Hiccup. Poor boy ran out of his nest, coloring the air around with vibrant anger, and now seemed so burnt out. The dragon had no idea what to make of this. He purred, striking Hiccup's palm, but that only earned him an absent-minded pat.

"Do you think it's because she's lived with dragons for all these years?" Hiccup asked, his tone full of resignation. "Or was she always like this?"

It wasn't clear whom he addressed the question to – as his attention was still on the prosthetic piece – but Gobber replied right away.

"So long I've known her," he admitted, taking no break from massaging his stump. "A wild child, always running off gods know where, doing things 'er own way. Reminds me of a certain someone when I think about it," he grinned at his apprentice.

Hiccup stared at him vacantly. "So you're saying I am just like her?"

"A LOT like her. Not JUST. For starters, you're not a girl. Also, you carve attention. She resents it. You care for your image, she couldn't care less for hers. But, at the end of the day, both of you mess up big time. Hard to say which of you gave Stoick more gray hairs."

"Thanks for offering me the comfort I so badly needed," said Hiccup sarcastically.

Gobber rose off his chair and trotted over to his apprentice.

"All I'm saying is, our actions do not always reflect our intentions," he took the prosthetic piece from Hiccup's hand and held it in front of Toothless. "Open up, boy."

Intrigued, Toothless opened his jaws. Gobber placed the piece between his teeth and pushed his lower jaw up. "There, that'll do," he concluded, and – to the utter shock of the Night Furry – picked up the brush Hiccup had been using and proceeded to clean the prosthetic piece. Then – ignoring the dragon's discomfort – turned his attention back to the boy.

"I mean, you never meant to let the dragons take our resources for the winter, did you?"

"Well, no..." admitted Hiccup, his gaze locking with that of his black-scaled friend. Has Gobber really using him as a vise?

"And you never meant to make your father worried, is that right?" Gobber inspected his work with a keen eye of a blacksmith, blew some air on the piece held by Toothless, and brushed it some more.

"Well, I guess..." admitted Hiccup, scratching the back of his neck. This conversation was getting kind of awkward.

"And you sure as Hell didn't mean to hurt Toothless, didn't you? It was his life you were going for, wasn't it?"

"Yes," sighed Hiccup. He somehow lost the drive for arguing.

"There ya go," said Gobber enthusiastically. "Welcome the exclusive club known as human race, messing things up since we breathed our first. Toothless, that's enough. Thank you."

He took the prosthetic piece from the dragon's mouth and tossed it into the "clean" basket.

The Night Fury still was finding it hard to comprehend what was going on, only felt that he was taken advantage of. But then, Hiccup too had been cleaning those fake metal limbs of Gobber's, so maybe this wasn't a bad thing?

Meanwhile Hiccup looked uncertain. Gobber smiled at him warmingly and pat his shoulder.

"Look. I've no idea why your mother left. But I know she didn't do it to hurt you. She's crazy, but she's not cruel. And I'm sure she will be back in time for Snoggletog. You just wait."

Hiccup sighed. "I hope you're right."

"Aren't I always?" Gobber snickered. "Now, be a good boy and help me dress up my stump."

Hiccup forced a smile. "I'm on it."

(...)

Upon dressing Gobber's stump, Hiccup still did not feel ready to go home. It wasn't only a matter of confronting his father – whom he felt he owed an apology – but also crossing the village. It might not have been much of a distance, but it was an intense one. Full of people at work. Decorations being hung. Families preparing for Snoggletog together. Everything to remind Hiccup that his mother had left.

She would be back in time for Snoggletog. She promised she would. He wanted to believe her. Still, something was telling him that he was being naive. His mother was an oath-breaker. She abandoned him and his father. Why should a promise of such a person be considered honest?

Perhaps he was being too hard on her. She did return. She didn't want to, but she did. Because he wanted her to. For him she left the place that had been her home for 14 years. Faced her fears. Dealt with prejudice. Struggled. Suffered.

Hiccup shrugged. Valka was making up for her mistakes. Even if it was costing her a lot, it was a burden that was rightfully hers. He should not have to feel guilty about forcing her to accept it.

He should not have to feel guilty about letting her know she was hurting him.

He should not have to fear she would leave him forever if he gave her a piece of his mind.

Hiccup realized, the reason he was so angry with Valka, was because he didn't want to lose her. So what if she wasn't a perfect mother? Her attempts at closeness might have been awkward, but they certainly were honest. She did help him integrate Vikings and dragons. She taught him about dragons. Encouraged him to teach others. Beamed with pride when he lead his friends in a formation.

Perhaps they were better apart than together. But he loved her. Cared for her. And wanted to have her in his life, no matter how badly she messed things up.

He should tell her just that. He will, once she returns. Once, not if. Yes. This is the version he would be sticking with.

Hiccup nodded to himself. It was time to go home. And apologize to his father.

(...)

Stoick had helped Valka pack. Personally filled a sheepskin bag with fresh water and closed it tight. Handed her a compass and a map of the Archipelago. Kept a mental count of the sandwiches she was preparing for herself. Watched as she secured her luggage at Cloudjumper's stomach with the harness she had made for him – a harness the dragon did not like, but generously tolerated. Valka gazed longingly in the direction of Gobber's smithy – where Hiccup had taken refuge – but ultimately chose not to force herself on the boy. It would be up to Stoick to pass her goodbye to him. Along with yet another apology. On his behalf, the chief of Berk hugged his wife tightly and asked her to watch out for herself. She promised she would, and that she would be back in time for Snoggletog. And then – inevitably – she jumped onto her winged companion's back and set off. Stoick watched her go, watched as Cloudjumper's body turned into a dark dot, watched even after the dot disappeared from the sky. A gentle rub from the side brought him back to reality. Thornado was looking at him with a sad face. Stoick pat his dragon's head and managed a half-hearted smile.

"Guess it's just you and me, huh, Thornado?" he asked the Thunderdrum, finding solace in feeling his scales against his palm. Intelligence shone in Thornado's eyes, his groans were interwoven with great care and affection. The chief found himself brightening up, faced with clear evidence of love his dragon had for him. It will not be easy, having to wade through this time of the year without Valka, but he'll manage somehow. With such reliable comrades by his side, he'll manage just fine.

Or so he thought until Thornado joined the swarm of dragons flying over Berk.

Not just Thornado. All dragons have left. Dropped everything and soared. Chaos ensured. People panicked, cried, asked what in Thor's name was going on. Within seconds Stoick found himself surrounded by distressed faces, his ear-drums pierced by a cacophony of questions. Chief, what's going on? Where is Lady Valka? Is this her doing?

"Silence!" roared Stoick. People stopped screaming, but their unspoken fears still drilled into his skin.

"My wife has left on a quest," he announced. "A top secret quest. She will be back before Snoggletog. That is all I have to say."

Screams and moans erupted with double force. Stoick could barely stop himself from joining the frustrated choir. If anybody had reasons to complain, it was him. He was stabbed in the back, punched in the gut, by his own wife no less. Alas, why should anybody feel for him, if he had made a conscious choice to keep that woman by his side? Anything Valka did to the village she did because he let her. At the end of the day, it was him who had to take the credit.

Gods help this woman once he gets his hands on her.

He started to walk, taking heavy steps. People parted in front of him, but the cacophony still filled his ears. He pushed forward, his anger brewing. He needed to get home. To close himself in his own four walls. To think. To try and make sense out of this. To somehow defend the thesis that painted Valka as innocent of the dragons' strange behavior.

Odin's beard, he wanted to trust her. But she was making it so damn hard.

(...)

Stoick ordered Spitelout and Phlegma the Fierce to keep an eye on the Bog Burglars – to take notice of their conversations, theories, jokes, drunken confessions, anything that could indicate they knew more than they were willing to admit – and report back to him. Burnthair and Hoark the Haggard were given the same instructions, only in reference to their own tribe. Neither pair has so far reported anything remotely useful. Bog Burglars were a little taken aback by the recent events, but generally kept their cool and waited for the situation to unfold. Berkians were gloomy and upset, many claiming that Snoggletog was ruined. Only Mildew argued that they have been perfectly happy celebrating without dragons for generations, and he preferred things to stay this way (He also speculated that Valka must have been after the dragons from the start, and would not be coming back unless to take over Berk, but Stoick's agents had the mercy to withhold this piece of information from their chief).

Meanwhile Stoick locked himself in his house and racked his brain, trying to remember every bit of information he had managed to obtain from Valka before she left. He was especially focused on what she revealed while he was feeling her pulse. Valka was not a particularly convincing liar, at least not in his eyes.

He knew that Valka acted out of her own volition. That there was a piece of information she came across by accident and needed to verify. It had nothing to do with Bog Burglars, Drago Bludvist, or dragons. So why did the dragons leave?

They looked like it was beyond their control. Like some mysterious force was calling them. Could there be another Queen or King?

But Valka said Berk was not in danger. That she said when Stoick was feeling her pulse.

By gods, she used to be so straightforward when they were young. She never wrapped wool around his eyes. Sure, that did cause frictions between them, but at least he never once doubted her honesty.

As Stoick walked around the hearth, groaning and rubbing his temples, Gobber sat at the table and kept cool. He arrived as fast as he could – right after he had saved Hiccup from the agitated crowd – knowing his presence was absolutely necessary to keep this family from going over the edge. And gods, was he right. Even Toothless was unusually anxious. Ever since the other dragons have left, he's been occupying the roof, groaning and staring longingly into the sky. The Night Fury obviously missed his winged brethren and yearned to follow their trail, but that was impossible without Hiccup's assistance. Thus, on top of everything else, the lad had to worry about his black-scaled friend.

This had to be their worst crisis since Hiccup's escape from the arena.

But well, no crisis will solve itself. Thus, in spite of the temptation to remain silent, Gobber spoke up.

"You know, Valka's disappearing and the dragons' disappearing don't have to be related. You thought about that?"

"Of course I have," growled Stoick. Then, instantly regretting such a harsh response, let out a heavy sigh. When he spoke up next, his tone was weary. "I want to believe she's innocent, Gobber. Gods know I do," he confessed, making no effort to hide the depth of his anguish. "But what good is my wanting when all of my people condemned her right away? If they say yes, and I say no, what does that make me?"

Gobber shrugged. "Assertive."

"A fool."

"Neh. A fool jumps to conclusions. You, on the other hand, explore the possibilities," It was a poor attempt of consolation, and the blacksmith realized it, but he had to start with something. It's not like his nonsensical babbling could make the situation any worse. "Consider this: even if Valka did have anything to do with the dragons' disappearing, she may not have known that when she was leaving."

Stoick did not look enthusiastic, but refrained from commenting. Thus, Gobber continued.

"Let's assume Valka is verifying that rumor or whatever. It turns out to be a little harder than she had thought, and that makes her worried. So Cloudjumper, seeing how she's worried, sends for reinforcements. He pretty much took charge after we killed the beast. He could do that," the blacksmith smiled, deciding he liked this little theory of his. It sounded a lot more clever than he had imagined.

Stoick looked intrigued. "That... makes surprisingly much sense," he admitted.

"And that's just my half-hearted musings," said Gobber happily. "Think of the solutions we could find if we put our minds to it."

The chief nodded, playing with the tips of his facial hair. He was inspired. Half-hearted musings worked their magic.

Suddenly there was knocking at the door. Stoick went to open it. Rather than any of his agents, he was confronted with Blight – an elderly woman who served as the village's primary laeknir.

"Chief, may I?" she asked respectfully.

"Come on in," Gobber called from where he sat. "Misery loves company."

"Gobber!" shouted Stoick.

"Just joking," said the blacksmith. He was actually happy with Blight's visit. She was smart, she could help them make sense of the mess they had to deal with.

Stoick sighed and invited the guest in. The woman thanked him and got down to business.

"Mildew is saying we've been happy celebrating Snoggletog without dragons for centuries."

Gobber interrupted her hurriedly. "Blight, you know you should never listen to what Mildew says. He stopped making any sense a good 30 years ago."

He wondered why she'd even bring it up. Mildew's input was quite obviously the last thing they needed.

"Sadly, this is true," admitted Blight. "However, this time he may have a point. Did you ever wonder why we celebrate our annual holiday at this time of the year?"

Stoick groaned. "Blight, I really am in no mood for guessing games."

The woman did not let herself be discouraged. "I consulted my mother. We thought about it and concluded there has never been a raid on Snoggletog. Not as long as we remember. We have not yet consulted the Book of Dragons, but I feel certain in assuming that we celebrate Snoggletog when we do precisely because it's the one time of the year we never had to worry about dragons."

The two men stared at her in profound silence. She watched them with a light smile on her face, and the faintest gleam of pride in her eyes.

"What is happening now is nothing out of ordinary. This is how it's always been. Only we never considered it an inconvenience."

"So the dragons will return?"

Startled, the three of them looked up. Hiccup descended from the stairs, keeping a hand on the wall for support. His eyes were focused on Blight, and concern was painted on his face.

The elderly lady gave him a reassuring smile. "Yes, Hiccup. They will. They always have."

The boy approached her, emitting an aura of frail, carefully blossoming hope. "Could you ask Gothi how soon we may expect the dragons' return?"

Blight sighed. "I could, of course. But I'm afraid they won't be back until after Destructive Winter."

"Oh."

"But then," she added in a livelier tone, "I never wander around in this time of the year. For all I know, there may be a dragon or two fooling around when we are busy keeping ourselves from freezing to death."

Hiccup considered this. "There is somebody who's always wandering about in Destructive Winter. She may know something," he decided.

Blight nodded approvingly. "She may indeed."

"I am going to talk to her," the boy declared, his spirits rising.

"By all means, do," agreed the laeknir. She then put a hand on Hiccup's shoulder. "But I must ask you to come to my house first. I have a problem that requires your immediate attention." she confessed.

The Tribe's heir was puzzled. "What is it?"

Blight's face showed deep concern. "It's about Rusty's dragon. She's soundly asleep, as she always is during the day, but I worry what she may do once she awakens. She is a dragon, after all."

Realization dawned on Hiccup's face. "The Speed Stinger."

Of course. Night – the Speed Stinger Valka had brought to Berk – lived with the laeknar now. As a flightless dragon, she could not leave Berk. She could not go where the others have gone. Just like Toothless. Toothless, who was jumping on the roof, groaning, and displaying signs of anxiety. If Night feels the same kind of instinct the winged dragons do, she may act up. And potentially paralyze everyone on the island.

A new anxiety filled the room as everybody realized what a big problem they may be dealing with.

"I know she's a good dragon," said Blight, sounding as if she felt obliged to apologize. "She's never caused us any problems. It's just... I don't want anybody to get hurt."

"I see," Hiccup nodded in acknowledgement. He could sympathize with the elderly lady's concerns. As much as he liked dragons, he knew they could be dangerous. And unpredictable. And Speed Stinger was not a species typical to Berk. It was only natural to be vary of them, especially after today.

Only that the natural reaction may not always be the proper reaction.

The wheels in Hiccup's head turned. Night was not just a random Speed Stinger. She was a Speed Stinger whom his mother had brought to Berk. A Speed Stinger she saved after she had lost her pack. A Speed Stinger she had nursed to health, bonded with, and whom she trusted to act properly around people. That should mean something. Right?

The boy shook his head. A few minutes ago he had been certain that his mother had fooled him. That she was responsible for the disappearance of dragons. Now he knew the accusation was unjust. It made him feel relieved and guilty at the same time. He was her son, he should be defending her. Believing in her. And he condemned her, just like everybody else. Then, mere minutes later, he was about to make the same mistake and accuse her of all the worst intentions right away.

No, he decided. Not this time. Valka was crazy, but she was not cruel. If she said Berk was not in danger, he will believe her. If she knew the dragons would, at some point, leave for no apparent reason, and made no effort to prepare the villagers in advance, she must have been certain there was no need for precautions. If there was a risk of Night getting out of hand, Valka would have at least warned Hiccup. She would have prepared him to deal with the problem. If she hadn't, there was no problem to deal with.

Confident in his reasoning, the Hooligan heir met the laeknir's eyes.

"I am going to be there when the sun sets," he declared firmly. "But you don't need to worry. Night won't hurt you."

Blight did not seem entirely convinced. "Are you sure?"

"I am sure," confirmed Hiccup. "Speed Stingers are family-oriented, and you and Rusty are Night's family now. She won't hurt you. She won't hurt anybody. This is what my mother believed in, and I'm going to believe in her."

He spoke with relaxed confidence that surprised even him. He felt as if a terrible curse was being lifted with every word he said. As if this simple declaration washed away the worries this day had brought. As if everything would be alright.

Blight gave him a shy, joyous smile. "Thank you, Hiccup. That is good to hear. Still, I am going to appreciate you being there when Night wakes up. Just in case."

"Of course," he agreed.

The guest considered him for a few more seconds, her gaze bringing to mind the image of a loving grandmother.

"I shall be going then." she decided. "I will be seeing you later, Hiccup."

Suddenly Stoick spoke up. "Blight."

The woman stopped in her tracks. "Yes?"

The chief opened his mouth, but no words came. After a few seconds of hesitation, he waved his hand. "No, nevermind. Gods be with you, Blight."

The woman smiled. "Gods be with you, chief," she replied and left.

You see, Stoick remembered that Valka had visited the laeknar the day before, and wanted to ask what they talked about. On the second thought, however, he decided against inquiring. For one thing, Blight was very strict about confidentiality – she wouldn't tell him anything. Secondly, he figured there was no point in fanning the flames of his paranoia again. Valka had asked him to trust her, and trust her he would. No matter how foolish it may seem to anybody else. If his hopes are shattered and his good will thrown into his face, then so be it. The world won't end.

Sitting in his chair, Gobber nodded in approval. One more crisis has been solved.

(...)

Another snowball exploded mid-air.

It was a game they played. Rusty threw, and Night received. The Speed Stinger watched attentively as her human formed the balls, took a swing, and pitched. So far every single shot was reduced to white debris way before the ground level.

Hiccup, who observed the scene, could not bring himself to be happy for the pair. The fact that Night didn't act up or try anything funny was reassuring – the chief's son certainly appreciated having one problem less to worry about. Still, he couldn't stop thinking about Toothless, who, unlike Night, was far from being okay. The Night Fury was visibly restless. He climbed onto the roof and refused to get down, his gaze fixed firmly on the horizon. All the time he alternated between shivering and jumping. If he took a break from pacing, he groaned. It tore Hiccup's heart, both the visuals and the acoustics. Yet, what troubled him the most was his own anxiety.

Toothless wanted to get away from him.

It didn't matter that all other dragons (sans Night) have left. Hiccup was not okay with being abandoned by those he cared about. It was bad enough his mother betrayed his trust and crushed his dream of a real, family holiday. Now his best friend wanted to follow suit. Worse, he was putting on a show due to his inability to leave Berk. Valka, at very least, had the decency to act embarrassed.

The Hooligan heir did realize he couldn't hold Toothless to the same standards as he did Valka. Dragons had instincts, urges they couldn't control. For some reason, they avoided humans at this time of year. It wasn't as if the Night Fury had any choice in this regard. He was a victim of the circumstances, just like his human. Hiccup should be feeling for him, not blaming him. It just wasn't right.

Thinking about this was making Hiccup's head hurt. As if an aching heart was bad enough.

The Hooligan heir supposed he could help his winged friend. Make some adjustments to the artificial tail. Or build a whole new tail, one Toothless could operate on his own. Then, he'd be able to fly away and join the other dragons. And leave Hiccup to wallow in misery.

On the other hand, if Toothless stays on Berk, he will grow more and more restless. He will suffer. And Hiccup will have to watch.

The young Viking clenched his fists. For him, Snoggletog was pretty much ruined. But Toothless still had a chance to get something out of it. And he'd be damned if he didn't try his hardest to make it happen.

Firm in his resolve, Hiccup bid Rusty and Night farewell and headed for the forge. He had a busy night ahead.

AN:

Fun fact: In the original version of the story, I had Stoick press Blight for details regarding the conversation she'd had with Valka. Blight responded with: "Chief, are you sure you should be speaking like this to your supplier of contraceptives?" ^_^