The ground gave way beneath Cloudjumper's massive claw. The dragon skillfully levered the frozen soil and drilled on, pushing the debris away. Once the hole's dimensions were to his satisfaction, he gave an encouraging look to his human.
"Thank you, Cloudjumper," said Valka. She came to the hole, whereupon Cloudjumper spread the inner pair of his wings around her, providing shelter from the surrounding chill.
This was a custom they developed, for which the purpose was two-fold. Within the first few months from adopting Valka, Cloudjumper noticed she was reluctant to relieve herself when she was being watched, and tended to seek secluded areas when the need arose. Further observation allowed him to discover she was sensitive to temperature changes. Using his wings to form a protective barrier around her turned out to solve both of these problems.
The mighty Stormcutter sometimes wondered why humans were so secretive of their body functions. It was almost as if they couldn't stand their true physical forms. It made sense, he supposed, considering how pathetically weak they seemed in comparison with other mammals. Objectively speaking, humans were fragile creatures. They had no scales, their fur was scarce, and the tiny fragments of hardened skin at the ends of their fingers had no use beyond scratching. Yet, it was precisely because of those limitations their kind had become so powerful. Since their skin was so delicate, they learned to wrap themselves in skins of the animals they killed. Since Nature failed to equip them with proper claws and fangs, they learned to create tools. In human hands, everything could be given a new purpose, be it pieces of wood, stones, or animal bones. Some humans even knew how to turn ground into a fluid, and then solidify it into the shape of a claw, no less deadly than that found in natural predators. No other kind exhibited this much creativity. Only humans shaped the world around them to better accommodate their needs.
This was what fascinated Cloudjumper the most in his own human. It wasn't that Valka adjusted herself to the world of dragons - she took elements of the human inheritance and integrated them into the scale mosaic. She made a life for herself without disturbing the dragons, which in itself was pretty impressing, but the woman went even further and made herself indispensable to the flock. Her small, skillful hands were perfect for removing shards from the dragons' skin and dressing their wounds. Her slender frame easily slipped through the smallest of openings in cages, traps, and trapper formations. Armed in the knowledge of human minds, human crafts, and the vast array of ways they had for tormenting their enemies, Cloudjumper's partner continued to fool her own kind and improve the lives of countless dragons.
She left her mark in all the right places.
He was proud of her. His Beautiful Soul.
(...)
Having completed her down-to-earth necessities, Valka decided she could spare a moment to satisfy her aesthetic sense. She was going to need a lot of energy for the task she had yet to complete, so getting some positive stimuli was highly recommended. Thus, she followed the direction marked by a low rumble, arrived at the edge of a large cliff, and took in the sights.
For once, the weather was excellent. A nearby waterfall proudly resisted the Winter's clutches, its powerful stream crushing ice off the rocks and sending it swimming to the valley below. The river, very much like a silver snake, slithered across the pale landscape. All the fields lay bare, resting under a thick blanket of sparkling snow. Scattered throughout the scenery, providing distraction from all-consuming whiteness, were clusters of stout log buildings, each of them releasing clouds of smoke. A harbor could be spotted in the distance. Valka knew for a fact, if she flew in that direction, she'd reach the Isle of Berk.
She was minutes away from her family.
It won't be long before she sees them again. If everything goes well, that is.
She had to find a single woman in the Peacable Country, an island roughly six times bigger than Berk. The task seemed considerably difficult, but Valka was well prepared for it. She spent her entire childhood on this island. There wasn't a cave she hadn't explored, a river she hadn't crossed, or a particularly interesting natural feature she hadn't sketched in her notebook. She knew the exact location of every village and which Tribe controlled it. For instance, the village at hand happened to be a Hooligan village. They paid tribute to the chief of Berk. This also happened to be where Valka first met Stoick. He was accompanying his father on an inspection and she came to take a look at them. It never would have occurred to her underaged self that she was looking at her future husband.
Alas, this was no time for reminiscences. She had a job to do.
She begun with a simple process of elimination. This region - the North-Western one - belonged to the Hooligans. The South-Western region was being controlled by their allies form the Meathead islands. The very North was regularly raided by Outcasts. The remaining 25% of the land - the South-Western quadrant - was where the Native Peacables dwelled. This was the only zone Rhea could have taken refuge in - the only zone that guaranteed her safety from both the enemy tribes and Stoick's allies, who may have been able to identify her son as his. Therefore, this very zone was Valka's safest bet.
Having arrived at those conclusions, the Dragon Whisperer took a deep breath. She had to brace herself for the final stage of her mission.
She turned towards her dragon. Cloudjumped cocked his head curiously. It was the honest, good-natured curiosity, indicating genuine interest in her endeavors and personal feelings. With a side serving of blind faith and an underlying message of "I am here for you, whatever you do".
It was so uplifting.
A gentle smile brightened Valka's face. Feeling grateful, she moved towards her companion and pat his jaw. Cloudjumper purred in satisfaction, leaning against her palm. She rubbed him in a circular motion, taking delight in the bliss that settled on his muzzle.
He had compromised so much for her on this journey. He agreed to wear a harness and bear the weight of her luggage. When she needed to make an impression, he turned himself into a manifestation of power. When she needed to explore densely populated areas or conduct a private conversation, he waited until she was done. All the while he never once acted against her or in any way indicated he was running out of patience.
He was reliable, her Cloudjumper. A true soul of understanding. She wanted him to know she appreciated it.
"Soon, Cloudjumper," she said softly. "We will make it back for Snoggletog, and you will get all the rest you deserve."
The dragon regarded her with his wise eyes. 'I am with you, Beautiful Soul, as long as it takes.'
(...)
Dragon didn't know why Raina didn't want to slide with him. When he did it, she looked happy. One time, she even clapped. He was sure she'd enjoy sliding if she tried it herself.
"I won't!" she said stubbornly. "I'll fall!"
"Then you'll get up."
"But it will hurt!"
He couldn't argue with that. Still, he refused to let go. "Then maybe you could slide on your butt?" he suggested. "You can't fall if you're sitting."
To him, it sounded like a brilliant solution. His friend, however, was skeptical. "But what if I catch a cold from sitting on the ice?" she asked worriedly.
"Then we'll have to find something for you to sit on," decided Dragon.
Immediately, he started to look around. They were in the courtyard in front of Raina's house. It was a simple stout log building. Next to it was an even simpler building, full of wood they had gathered for the Winter. A little further stood yet another building, which mostly served for storage of various things. In the other direction, a little further off, were the fields where Raina's dad grew vegetables, only that there were currently no vegetables, because they had harvested all of them before the snow fell. All of this was surrounded by a pine forest and a great lot of snow.
Nothing in their remote proximity looked like the thing Dragon was looking for.
The boy scratched his head through the hood of his outfit. Where should he start the search?
Following an impulse, he approached the edge of the courtyard. From there, he had a view of the trail that lead downhill, towards the main portion of the village. He and Raina weren't allowed to go there without his mom or Raina's dad, but taking a look in that direction could still help him somehow. He didn't know how exactly, but it was worth a shot. Raina trotted along - likely to remind him not to go too far - but neither of them spoke a word as they made a very shocking discovery.
On the trail that lead to their farm, there was a woman.
A woman they didn't know.
Raina's reaction was immediate. "Daddy!" she screamed and bolted for her house. Dragon stayed behind and continued to watch the stranger. Somebody had to watch her, he figured. At the same time, he tried to remember everything his mom told him about strangers. Don't talk to strangers. Don't let a stranger lead you away. If a stranger won't leave you alone - bite his hand, stab his eyes, kick him in the crotch, scream bloody murder and run. It didn't seem like he'd have to do any of that, though. The woman stayed where she stood, and stared at him as if her eyes had swollen. Her behavior was weird, but not threatening. As long as he doesn't talk to her, he should be fine.
A sound of frantic running indicated that Raina's dad was coming. He was a thin man, but had strong muscles from working on the farm. Also, his Winter coat, which he hastily wrapped around himself, made him look bigger - hopefully, big enough to scare off anybody who'd wish to harm Dragon or Raina.
The man stood beside Dragon and looked at the woman downhill. It seemed he didn't know who she was, either.
A moment later - having taken a steadying breath - he spoke up. "Y-yes? Y-y-you are?"
It wasn't that Raina's dad was afraid, or anything like that. He just wasn't very good at talking. Dragon's mom said it was a quirk he couldn't control, so they had to be sympathetic and treat him like a normal person. Dragon wondered if he should tell that to the stranger before she says something that could hurt Raina's dad. It seemed like a good idea, but what if the stranger also has a speaking problem? It seemed likely, given how nervous she looked and how long it was taking her to form an answer.
Fortunately, the woman found her voice in the end. "I'm sorry," she said, sounding like she really meant it. "I didn't mean to scare you. I am looking for Diarrhea the Dirty. I was told I could find her here."
"She's my mom!" exclaimed Dragon. "But she isn't here right now."
For some reason, him saying that made Raina angry. "Dragon!" she scolded, "You don't disturb grown-ups when they talk!"
"But they were talking about my mom," he retorted, not really understanding what the problem was.
"You were still rude!" insisted Raina. "Daddy was talking to this Lady and you disturbed him!"
Dragon didn't like her accusatory tone. She was as old was he was, she had to right to yell at him! "I was just trying to help!" he told her in a hurt tone. "Your dad doesn't like talking to strangers anyway, because they treat him like a moron!"
"Daddy is no moron, you moron!" Raina cried and struck Dragon in the chest. Dragon wanted to push her away, but Raina's dad separated them.
"NO f-f-f-ight-t-t-t-TING!" he told them firmly. Both children calmed down momentarily, sensing their situation was getting serious.
Raina's dad knelt between the two of them, turned to Dragon, took a deep breath, and spoke - slowly and carefully, the way he did when he wanted especially much to be understood.
"Dra-gon. I a-pre-ci-ate y-y. You. Try-ing. To. H-help. BUT. I. Am. The. Man. Of. This. House. I can man-n-n. - (deep breath) - ma-NAGE. Do. Not. Dis-turb. Me. When. I Talk. To. Guests. O-kay?"
To be honest, Dragon was a little annoyed. He didn't mean to do anything wrong, but he still got into trouble. It bothered him very much. Still, he did his best to look properly ashamed, because he didn't want Raina's dad to get angry for real. "Yes, uncle," he said, diverting his eyes.
Deeming the boy's answer satisfactory, the man turned to his own offspring. Once again, he took a deep breath, and tried his hardest to be understood.
"Rai-na. I a-pre-ci-ate. You. De-fend-d-d-d-ding. Me. You are-a goo-d-d-dau-t-t-ter. BUT. I. Should. Be. De-fen-d-d-d-DING you. Not. The. O-ther. Way. Round. And I d-d-on't want you t-t-o, - (hard swallow) - TO hit D-d-d-DRA-gon. Use. Words. O-kay?"
The girl nodded diligently. "Yes, daddy."
The man nodded in approval. "Now. Make. Up."
The children looked at each other.
"I'm sorry I hit you." said Raina.
"I'm sorry I made you angry." said Dragon.
Thereupon they shook hands.
Raina's dad patted them both on the shoulders, lifted himself off the ground, and looked at the strange woman. She hadn't moved from where she stood.
With a heavy sigh, the man braced himself for yet another round of excruciating communication. He straightened his back, inhaled a deep breath, blew it out slowly, and focused on the stranger.
"Rhe-a. Went. F-foh r-r-e w-walk. I. Don't. Know-when s-s-she. com-ome-omes b-b-back."
"I see," said the woman. She stirred uncomfortably and screwed up her face, as if she wanted to say something more, but couldn't find the right words. Ultimately, all she added was: "I'm sorry to have troubled you.", while simultaneously starting her retreat. She took a couple steps backwards, threw one last glance at the three of them - with particular focus on Dragon - turned around and walked away in a hasty pace.
For a moment, their questioning eyes followed the unusual visitor. Dragon frowned a little, trying to make sense of her strange behavior. Raina held onto her dad, anxious for an indication of what he was going to do. The man let out a burst of air - partially out of exhaustion and partially out of relief. To him, the problem was solved, even if temporarily. Feeling increasingly better, he sent his daughter a reassuring smile, patted her head (more specifically - the scarf she wore around it), and ushered her towards their house. Dragon followed suit, but he couldn't help stealing one last glance in the direction the mysterious stranger had taken.
What a strange woman. She hadn't even told them her name.
(...)
If there had been any doubt in Valka's soul concerning Stoick's involvement in the creation of Rhea's son, it evaporated the moment she saw the child. It was too early to speak of a striking resemblance, but the youthful softness couldn't deceive a knowing eye. What she saw beneath that hood was a promise of a bulbed nose, strong jaws and a lean face. There was a generous, wide mouth, equipped with full lips. There were thick, heavy eyebrows, resting above small, sparkling eyes. Their color may have been amber-brown, but everything else proclaimed the truth.
There was no trace of doubt in Valka's soul that what she saw was a fruit of Stoick's vast loins.
It took all of her willpower not to fall apart right then and there. A chill clutched at her insides. Air in her lungs may very well have solidified into shards of ice that expanded like pufferfish. It was a small mercy that her legs served well enough to carry her away from the farm, and that the residents showed no interest in pursuing her. Any sort of verbal communication was out of question. At the moment, she was struggling just to form a coherent thought.
Stoick had a son. She knew and he did not.
'You have a son,' she mouthed. 'Stoick, you have a son.'
A ghost of a smile made it to her face.
'Stoick, darling, he looks so much like you. You are going to be so proud.'
At this point, she stopped. All of a sudden, her legs felt heavy and her throat tight. Her breathing was getting fast and ragged. Her hands begun to subconsciously curl into fists.
'...so proud...'
She shook her head, a pathetic attempt at loosening her jaw muscles and freeing her eyes from the sting of fresh tears. There was no ignoring the jolt of pain that struck her right in the heart. She dropped to her knees, smashing her fists against the snow and narrowly avoiding hitting it with her head. A bitter sob emerged from her throat.
'This should have been OUR son. I should have been his mother. Gods, I should have been Hiccup's, in more than a name!'
Valka wept, curling into a ball under the weight of regret. She had thought she could handle it, but once again, she had been wrong. True, Stoick had told her about his episode with Rhea. It had been a difficult conversation for both of them, but she'd had more than enough time to process it. Learning of Rhea's son - who could possibly be Stoick's - was an unexpected blow, but again, Valka managed to pull herself together. She gave the matter a careful consideration and made a conscious decision to find her husband's former lover and their child. She knew what she was going to find if she sought hard enough.
Bullshit. She knew nothing. She amounted to nothing. Whoever believed otherwise was bound to be left with a huge, stinking, earth-shattering nothing.
'It's all my fault. It's all my fault.'
In the end, difficult conversations just weren't enough to prepare her for this meeting. Coming face to face with Rhea's boy, she was confronted with a living, breathing, physical proof of the tragedy that begun with her betrayal. A proof with amber-brown eyes. A proof who had a name.
'I'm sorry. Stoick, I'm so, so, sorry.'
Weeping intensified, as did the visions flashing through her brain. All of her fuck-ups. All the fuck-ups committed by her loved ones because of her fuck-up. She was the cause of a whole massive cluster of fuck-ups, she alone.
'No.'
All of a sudden, the voice in her head didn't sound accusing. It sought confrontation, but gave her room to defend herself.
'Tell me: if Cloudjumper hadn't taken you that night, would you have left on your own?'
'No.'
'Would you have left me and Hiccup just like this?'
'No, of course not!'
'Remember the confidence with which you said these words. Grab it and never let go. Let it become your armor and protect you.'
Valka swallowed, struggling against the lump in her throat and the tightness in her chest. She blinked rapidly. When her hand brushed her cheek, she told herself the wetness came from the snow.
Stoick's words echoed through her soul. She could almost feel his strong grip on her shoulders.
The next moment she was visited by the vision of their son.
'For all it's worth, I think you are a great teacher. And a great person. And I'm really glad you're here.'
Valka propelled herself firmly against the surrounding coldness. Pulling herself into a sitting position, she opened her eyes, allowing the remaining tears to escape. Mimicking the stuttering farmer for whom Rhea worked, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She repeated the procedure a couple of times, until she felt sufficiently stable.
There was some strain left in her body, but her mind was clear as a day.
'I did not abandon my family. I was abducted. Against my will. It is true that I chose not to return to them when I had the chance - this act of betrayal can and will weight my conscience. But nothing more than that.'
'I did not ask Cloudjumper to take me to the sanctuary. That decision was his alone.'
'I did not push Stoick and Rhea into each other's arms. It was something they decided between themselves, as two consenting adults.'
'Finally, I most certainly did not play any part in Rhea's decisions concerning her son.'
'I did not start a cluster of fuck-ups. I added a single fuck-up to a cluster created by a whole lot of people and dragons.'
'I don't blame anybody for my share of fuck-ups. Not Cloudjumper, not Stoick, not Rhea. As for their own fuck-ups, I have forgiven them. In return, some of them have forgiven me. Not all of them, but I am getting there.'
'We are un-fucking this cluster, and we're doing great.'
The final tear was out of the way. The final sob reduced to mildly bitter aftertaste. Heartrate and breathing restored to the normal rhythm.
Valka had her moment of weakness. There will be more such moments in the future, of this she was sure. Surprisingly, the thought didn't bother her.
She knew she could handle it.
As crazy as it sounded, this was what she genuinely believed in. She could say it with utmost certainty - she would be alright.
Her family would be alright.
The woman who succumbed to the ground had been a mess. The one who got up was calm and ready for the hardships yet to come.
She had a job to finish.
(...)
Rhea knew she wouldn't find what she was looking for in that bottle. Then again, she was used to making do with less. She raised the bottle to her lips and downed a huge swallow. When the liquid made its way down her throat, she tipped her head back and let out a loud huff.
Man, that felt good.
As the steam freed from her mouth faded into the chilly air, the woman closed her single eye in a momentary bliss. She wasn't the type to get mindlessly plastered, though the idea tempted her every once in a while. Mead was merely an occasional treat, the little bit of luxury in her otherwise harsh existence.
The world around her took on a dark blue hue. It was nowhere near late, but daylight was scarce this time of the year. The trail in front of her lead uphill, and was only partially trodden-in - mostly from her trip downhill earlier that day. Her current lodgings were on the outskirts of the village. Sig, her host, was a farmer. He grew vegetables, mostly cabbages.
Which was kind of ironic.
It struck her how eerily similar this trip was to the one she used to make back on Berk. The painfully long, tedious trek from the village to her grandfather's farm. Oh, how she hated it. She dreaded leaving the densely developed and densely populated settlement in favor of a solitary house inhabited by a single old man. The fact that the despicable, ill-natured geezer, whose chief delight was complaining about everything, who made her feel tolerated rather than welcomed, was her blood-relative, never failed to make her sick. She resented him and everything he represented. Every time she had to make the journey, she died a little inside.
'I'd choose a rug at your doorsteps over a bed in his house,' she'd told one of her employers in a rare moment of disarming honesty.
'If I found you sleeping at my doorsteps,' he'd replied, 'I'd carry you inside, lay you by the fire, and wrap you in my cloak.'
She'd smirked. 'Now I kind of want to try it out.'
'I'd rather you didn't,' he'd said, 'You deserve better than the doorsteps.'
With that he'd taken off his massive cape and put it over her shoulders.
She took another sip. That one went straight into her head, filtering the darker tones out of her brain. Unpleasant memories melted away while the pleasant ones solidified and begun to glow. Kind of like funeral boats on a river of gold.
Yet another sip. It almost felt like pouring honey over her heart. Or liver. Or the steel strands that formed all of her internal organs. Honestly, she sometimes felt like she was storing a frozen-solid pine forest underneath those warm clothes.
Well, she was a Viking. She was made for the cold.
With a slight shake of her head, she let out another huff. She imagined the steam came from her freshly lubricated inner parts. The thought was amusing.
Sufficiently cheered, she considered the bottle in her hand. Perhaps one more sip, she decided. She could offer the remaining mead to Sig, although he wasn't a fan of it. Perhaps she should have bought him something he liked. With a shrug, she pushed the thought aside. She could always make him some spiced ale. Well, perhaps 'always' was an exaggeration. Tomorrow. Yes, that sounded like a plan.
Content, Rhea raised the bottle to her lips.
And stopped her hand mid-way.
On the trail in front of her stood a woman.
She KNEW that woman.
She knew that woman died a tragic death many years prior.
'No. No way,' thought Rhea, struggling to steady herself. 'This can't be,' she glanced at her bottle. 'Odin almighty, what'd they put in this mead?!'
"Hello, Rhea," said the woman.
Rhea tossed the bottle aside.
(...)
Valka was certain she'd found the right person. A solid, hard-working type. Face in the shape of a rectangle. A single eye in the color of amber, underneath a shaggy eye-brow. A worn-out leather eye-patch. There was no telling what her hair was like, as it was hidden beneath a hood, but Valka was willing to bet it would be reminiscent of sheep wool.
The woman in front of her was Diarrhea the Dirty.
Diarrhea the Dirty was about to take a sip from the bottle she had been carrying when she noticed she wasn't alone.
A single amber eye met a pair of turquoise eyes.
A strangled sound escaped into the air.
'Time to introduce myself,' decided Valka, donning a light smile. "Hello, Rhea," she offered.
The other woman stiffened, her single eye growing wide. She stared at Valka. She glanced at her bottle. Focusing back on Valka, she tossed the bottle aside.
'She recognized me,' realized Valka. It made sense, she supposed. A prominent figure - like the chief's wife - may not be able to memorize the faces of all of her subordinates, but the subordinates would in all likelihood remember hers. Thus, what Valka regarded as their first meeting, from Rhea's perspective became an encounter with a ghost. This wasn't the kind of introduction Valka had had in mind, but to be fair, this was never going to be easy.
"Calm down, Rhea," she attempted, holding her hands palm-side towards the horror-struck woman. "I don't want to hurt you."
Rhea took a step backwards. "You're dead," she blurted, trembling. "You were eaten by dragons."
Valka hurried with an explanation. "Taken by dragons yes. One dragon, to be precise. He didn't eat me. He took me to his Nest. This is where I've been all this time, learning about dragons, saving them, living with them. A few months ago, I've accidentally run into Hiccup. Long story short, we returned to Berk and brought peace between Vikings and dragons. I though you must have heard rumors, at least. I'll tell you the whole story some other time. If you so wish."
Hearing this explanation, Rhea seemed to calm down somewhat. She slowly tilted her head to the left, giving Valka a more thorough inspection. The Dragon Whisperer suspected the motion was meant to extend Rhea's field of vision, reduced in the wake of the accident. On her part, she stayed still, hoping to make the task easier for her interlocutor.
Finally, Rhea deemed it safe enough to speak. "What do you want from me?" she asked, her tone suspicious.
"I want to thank you," said Valka, "For everything you've done for my family. And apologize. For everything my family has done to you."
A peculiar expression crossed Rhea's face. "I am a cleaner. I was just doing my job," she stated dryly.
Valka sighed. It seemed she had to be more direct. "Rhea, Stoick has told me the truth. The ENTIRE truth," she declared, closing the distance between them. "I know you were lovers and how you ended up the way you are. You don't have to hide anything from me."
The other woman was eyeing her suspiciously. By now, she has completely composed herself, and showed no intention of giving way. "You don't say. You know the truth and you're talking to me? I'd sooner expect you to burn my ship," she remarked, making no effort to keep the bite out of her voice.
Valka decided to encounter it with compassion. "For what? For falling in love with Stoick? For comforting him when he thought I was dead? For wanting to be his wife and not just a mistress? Rhea, I have no reason to be mad at you. I am grateful to you, for being there for my husband and son when I wasn't. And profoundly sorry, since it is my betrayal that made all of their misery – and yours – possible in the first place."
There was a long pause. Rhea stared at Valka, her face unreadable. Valka remained composed, if a little anxious. Finally, a quiet smile pulled at Rhea's lips. Next came a snort. Then the former Hooligan shook her head, in what may have been an attempt to shake a grin off her face. Much to Valka's relief, it didn't work.
"Wow," uttered Rhea. "You surprised me. I don't know what to say."
She sounded like she didn't exactly understand what was going on, but was willing to take it as a good development. It was more than Valka could hope for.
Sensing her chance, the Dragon Whisperer held out her hand. "I would like to make peace with you, Rhea. Would you allow it?"
Rhea's expression morphed into a smile. A little despite herself, but a smile nonetheless. "Sure, Valka. Peace."
They shook hands.
For a precious moment, they both seemed genuinely happy. For exactly as long as it took Rhea to ask: "So, what now?"
Valka summoned her courage. This was where the tricky part begun. "I was hoping you would come home with me."
Just as she feared, Rhea's smile dropped. "To Berk?"
"Yes," confirmed Valka. "It would mean a lot to us if you could join us for Snoggletog."
She purposefully avoided mentioning Dragon. He may have been her main target, but it was his mother she had to win over.
Rhea shifted uneasily. "I would hate to spoil your family's holidays with my gloomy face."
She was obviously trying to keep her voice even and dull, but hints of bitterness and sorrow were still audible.
"You ARE family, Rhea," insisted Valka, upping her determination levels. "You belong with us."
Rhea shook her head. "Look, Valka. I appreciate your efforts, but you're biting more than you can chew. Nothing good will come out of me coming back to Berk. I will just be bringing up painful memories, and I really don't want that." With a grimmer tone, she added "Stoick doesn't deserve to have his mistakes thrown into his face."
Valka's heart sunk a little. Rhea may have wanted to appear cold and unyielding, but her façade was beginning to crumble. It was apparent that she still cared deeply for her former lover. Perhaps even loved him. If so, a confrontation was bound to cause her all sorts of suffering.
Valka suddenly felt like she was personally laying siege on Rhea's heart.
Casting the thought aside, the Dragon Whisperer called herself to order. She knew she didn't have the right to destroy the life Rhea had built for herself. Yet, she also knew that running away from a problem won't solve it.
Her son had taught her that lesson. It was her turn to pass it on.
"Trust me, Stoick doesn't need to see your face to remember the accident as clearly as if it happened yesterday. However, if you do arrive, if he gets to see you moved along with your life, he may finally be able to forgive himself. It would do both of you well."
Rhea frowned a little. There was something in her expression that Valka couldn't quite identify. Was it annoyance? Tiredness? It may have been anger, but what at? Rhea's own choices, or maybe the fact that Valka, of all people, was confronting her about them? The Dragon Whisperer couldn't tell, and it was making her feel uncomfortable.
The former Hooligan pressed her eyelids together. Valka could only imagine what ran underneath. Memories accompanied by flashes of pain. An inventory of assets at her disposal. A network of allies and safe harbors she'd established on her journeys. Maybe even – Valka dared hope – visions of little Dragon, enveloped by Stoick's muscular arms, illuminated by his love.
But when Rhea's eyelids opened, it was as if the golden face of the Sun appeared from beneath the horizon, determined to deploy all of its light and heat to a single spot. More specifically – to boil the azure out of Valka's eyes.
Several moments of silence ticked by, in which the former Hooligan refused to produce a response and continued to stare at her interlocutor with an unwavering gaze. Valka was struggling to keep her anxiety in check. Rhea didn't speak a word, but her eye clearly held the message of 'You are treading on thin ice, bitch.'. Or perhaps Valka's insecurities were getting the better of her again.
Swallowing against a lump in her throat, she acknowledged that she could no longer push away admitting just how much she knew. "Your son is Stoick's, isn't he?"
The statement, poorly disguised as a question, did not seem to surprise Rhea. "So you know about Dragon," she stated bluntly.
Valka nodded. "Yes. I saw him," after a moment's hesitation, she added "He seems like a good child."
Rhea heaved a sigh. She turned away from Valka, leaving the beaten trail for the closest pine tree, and promptly rested her back against it. Slumping slightly, she rubbed her forehead, while a dull murmur emerged from her throat.
Valka took a step in Rhea's direction, but made sure to stay within the path. "Did you tell him? About Stoick?"
"All he knows is he was born from my stomach. I haven't told him a man was involved."
There was a pause.
"He is bound to ask someday."
"I am prepared for it."
There was another pause.
"What about Stoick? He has the right to know."
The amber eye flared up in anger. "He had the right to YOU, if I recall." The former Hooligan pulled herself away from the tree and stood straight, giving Valka a sharp glare. "Tell me: if you were alive all this time, how come you didn't come back to him? To your son?"
Valka's heart tightened. She had no intention of deflecting away Rhea's accusations, but neither was she going to wallow in self-criticism. Neither approach felt appropriate, as either could be interpreted as putting her own feelings above those of the people she hurt. What she opted for was a simple, matter-of-fact confession. "I made a mistake."
(...)
Endure. Of all the things Rhea's mother taught her, this was the most important - endure. You are a Viking. You are tough. Don't give in to despair - tears won't get you anywhere. And so forth, and so forth. She knew for a fact that there was no point in complaining. Those who may be willing to hear her out have no power whatsoever to better her situation. Those who do have such power have more pressing matters to attend - that, or they straight-out don't care. At the end of the day, it made no difference if she felt mistreated, unhappy, or even slightly down - she had to pull her load, like any other person.
Rhea had gone against this credo once. She had taken a chance and loudly voiced her displeasure to Stoick the Vast. It had cost her an eye.
Now, in spite of only having one eye left, she was seriously considering releasing yet another rant.
Out of nowhere, she was approached by Valka the Reckless. Valka the Reckless, who just so happened to be married to Stoick the Vast, chief of Berk, whom Rhea had seduced. Valka the Reckless, whose personal belongings Rhea had burned to ashes. Valka the Reckless, who reportedly died 15 years ago. Valka the Reckless, who was now claiming to have survived in a dragon's nest all these years, and to have returned to Berk a couple months ago, after accidently having ran into her son Hiccup. Oh, and by the way, they have also brought peace between Vikings and dragons.
Seriously, how could Rhea treat this strange woman as anything but a vision created by her mead-soaked brain?
She played along. She talked to the ghost. She even managed to crack a smile. For, really, this was ridiculous. There she was, getting absolution from her poorest life choices from the wife of the man she had seduced. Heck, the woman admitted to sharing the blame for her husband's affair with Rhea.
'I am grateful to you, for being there for my husband and son when I wasn't. And profoundly sorry, since it is my betrayal that made all of their misery – and yours – possible in the first place.' - Those were her exact words.
Valka the Reckless, the wife of Stoick the Vast, thanked her - Diarrhea the Dirty - for sleeping with her husband.
Gods, this was funny.
And so Rhea laughed. And so she agreed to make peace with Valka. And she shook her outstretched hand.
Afterwards, things took turn for the worse. Words of comfort and reconciliation were followed by accusations and demands. 'You ARE family, Rhea. You belong with us.' was followed by 'Your son is Stoick's, isn't he? He has the right to know.'.
Dragon. This was all about him. And why shouldn't it be? He was Stoick's son. He was family. Rhea? She was only an obstacle between the chief of Berk and his property. So what if she had nourished this child underneath her heart for nine months and labored for nine hours to bring him into the world? So what if she spent a good couple of years combing the grease out of Stoick's hair, scrubbing his feet with a pumice stone, and providing him with decent meals? So what if she watched over Hiccup, his precious firstborn, who at one point asked her if she was his mom? None of that made her any less guilty of smuggling the chief's second son out of his reach.
Rhea came to realize that Valka had served her the good old honey and hatchet. Something she wanted to hear followed by something she didn't. And for a moment, she fell for it.
She shut her eyelids. A headache was setting underneath her skull. No matter how she looked at it, there were only two possible explanations for the situation she found herself in. Either her mead-soaked brain presented her with a very realistic illusion of Stoick's late wife to act as personification of her most concealed fears, or said wife has indeed survived for years in a dragons' Nest and has indeed sought her out under the pretense of making amends. If the former was true, then no real person could possibly get hurt by anything Rhea says. If the latter was true, then the woman in front of her was guilty of treason, and Rhea didn't owe her the slightest bit of consideration. Either way, she has ran out of fucks to give.
"Tell me," Rhea demanded of Valka, "if you were alive all this time, how come you didn't come back to him? To your son?"
After a moment's hesitation, the mysterious figure uttered: "I made a mistake."
Mistake. That one word, like a magic spell, unraveled the epically tangled mess of conflicting emotions that restrained Rhea's innermost thoughts and feelings.
"Mistake," she mumbled, the word slipping from her tongue like a spit of venom. "People said Stoick made a mistake when he took you for a wife. The girl knows how to land a punch, they said, she's quite handy with the spear, they said, but will she dare aim it at a dragon? Hell no!"
She tossed her head and begun to pace on the snow. "Valka Wrinkly, Valka the Reckless, Valka the Devil-sympathizer. Bitch never done anything worth mentioning, yet acted like she pulled the Sun from beneath the horizon every goddamned day. Always arguing, always running her mouth, crying about dragons killed in the ring, calling century-old traditions madness. Heck, there were rumors going on that you freed dragons from the killing ring."
She stopped to glare at Valka. "Stoick didn't care. He wanted you, and that was the end of the argument. He wanted you, and so you got away with all of your stupid shit," she said, her voice steady and sharp. "Me? I was tasked with managing the load of crap you left him with. That's all I ever do - clean up after those who had been more fortunate than myself and can afford to take a dump wherever the hell they please. I don't mind all that much, really. At least I don't have to carry the weight of the world on my shoulders. That's Stoick's job, and he's pretty damn good at it. I could take orders from him, even now. You? Your wishes impress me about as much as sheep farts," she declared in the mocking tone of joyful wonder. There she was, for once in her life, in the position of power. This one time, she got to deny a woman of a higher status something she desperately wanted. This one time, she could drag Stoick's beloved wife through mud and suffer no consequences. There was no way in hell she was letting this opportunity pass.
"I know what it is you're trying to do," she sneered. "You want to use my son – MY SON! – to fix the mess you've made of your life. You think you can blind me with a 'thank you' and 'I'm sorry', but I won't have it. You want to redeem yourself, then go ahead. But not at my expense. Not my son's. We won't be your pawns. We won't be your sacrificial lambs. I won't let you turn his world upside down just so you could sleep well at night."
At this point, Rhea made a pause to study her victim.
Valka did not make a sound. In no way did she indicate the desire to defend herself from the stream of insults and accusations. Her features remained untouched by anger or indignation. If there was one emotion Rhea could identify in her face, it was sadness. Somber sadness, rooted in gentle understanding.
It was as if she's had so many curses thrown her way she'd become immune to them.
As if her own conscience assaulted her with words far exceeding Rhea's in terms of cruelty.
For the first time since their eyes met, Rhea saw Valka for who she really was – a human being equipped with human emotions. A human being whose struggles resembled her own.
This wasn't the kind of impression she thought she was going to get, neither was it one she wished for. Alas, this was the one she got, and now she had to deal with it.
The former Hooligan let out a weary breath. There were many things she could still say, but was there a point? There was no satisfaction to be gained from assaulting a broken woman. Besides, all this yelling tired her out.
"Stoick has Hiccup," she breathed, a quiet desperation entering her voice. "He has you. This is the family he's always wanted. This is the family you should be fighting for. Dragon and I are better off by ourselves."
With this joyful accent, Rhea's rant was finished.
After a moment of most thorough consideration, Valka produced a reply.
"Assuming half of Berk shared your opinion of me… can you honestly blame me for letting you believe I was dead?"
Rhea froze. The question caught her unaware. Was Valka going to fight back after all? No, surely not. She looked so tired. So resigned. So… vulnerable?
"I was taken from my family against my will," stated Valka, her voice even and dull. "I did, with time, learn to communicate with dragons well enough to have them return me to Berk. I could have returned to my husband and son as early as a couple of months from my abduction. I chose not to. I thought they were better off without me."
She shook her head in what appeared to be disappointment with herself. "Valka Wrinkly, Valka the Reckless, Valka the Devil-sympathizer. I could have tried to convince them that Vikings and dragons did not have to be enemies, but would they listen? I was more inclined to believe they would label me an outcast. A traitor. Stoick was better off as the widower after Valka the Relatively Harmless Lunatic than the husband of Valka who had thrown away her humanity."
With that, she gave Rhea a look bereft of all hope. "I was wrong. I see that now. But I dare you to look me in the eye and tell me my decision was unjustified."
Rhea couldn't. And so she said nothing.
Several moments of silence ticked by. Finally, Valka made a move towards Rhea.
"You made a fair point – I don't have the right to turn your life upside down," she said diplomatically. "But let me tell you, as a mother who missed her son's childhood – if you don't take this chance, you will regret it. If Dragon finds out you could have let his father into his life and chose not to, he may hold it against you. And you, most certainly, are going to hate yourself."
Rhea flinched, frustration churning in her gut. She was tempted to fight back, but knew it would make her look foolish. Valka's words carried no bite, just genuine concern. Ironically, it was the compassion in her voice that stung Rhea the most.
"I beg of you," came the gentle whisper, "at least think about it."
Rhea shut her eye, feeling hopeless. She knew Valka was right. Dragon deserved to know his father - this was not a point she was ever going to argue against. Her own father had died before she was born. All her life she wondered if he would have liked her. Gods, what she wouldn't give for one memory of him.
She shook her head sharply, gritting her teeth. Her heart wasn't made of stone, no matter how hard she pretended otherwise. She knew just how much she was hurting her child. She knew exactly what she was depriving him of. She knew, and she regretted it.
Yet, she was no less aware of the price his father would have to pay if they were ever to meet.
(...)
Valka knew by now her best-case scenarios weren't going to play out - not that she ever expected them to. It was probably to early to completely disregard the worst-case scenarios, but she dared think she managed to connect with her husband's ex-lover. She took Rhea's rant with humility. She calmly presented her own arguments, and the other woman seemed to acknowledge their validity. There seemed to be enough good will on either side of the conflict to find a solution that satisfied everybody. That, in itself, was a success.
Rhea had a thoughtful look on her face. One moment, her gaze was intense and solemn. Next second, the amber of her eye got marred by sorrow. It seemed that she was thinking intensively, various parts of her debating the best course of action. Valka observed it in respectful silence, prepared to wait as long as necessary for the other woman to collect herself.
Finally, Rhea spoke. "Pretend for a moment you're just a random Hooligan. If I asked you how I lost my eye, what would you say?"
The question struck Valka as odd, but she figured Rhea was trying to make a point, so she answered dutifully. "You tripped and fell into the hearth."
"Aye. I tripped and fell into the hearth. This is what Stoick told people when they asked him. This is what I told them when they asked me. This is what we wanted them to believe in, the lie we have upholded to this day."
"Now, imagine what happens if Stoick learns of Dragon. He will no doubt want to acknowledge him, since that's the honorable thing to do. If Dragon becomes Stoick's official son, then people will begin to wonder – was it really an accident that cost me my eye? Or maybe it was a lovers' quarrel?"
Valka's stomach turned over. Realization hit her abruptly, like a bucketful of water into the face. It made sense. It all made so much sense. She understood exactly where Rhea was coming from, and it wasn't a comforting thought.
"It doesn't matter what we say afterwards," Rhea went on, embittered, "they will always question it at the back of their minds, wondering if their chief truly pushed a defenseless woman into a hearth."
She focused back on her unlikely comrade, her face twisted into a painful grimace. "I can't do this to him, Valka. If he were to lose his people's trust because of this, I would never forgive myself. He is a good chief. He doesn't deserve this. He shouldn't have to lose his reputation because of one mistake."
Valka could not think of an answer befitting this confession. Rhea looked like she was about to cry, and for a while, Valka's own eyes stung as well. They had a problem. A way bigger problem than she had imagined. It wasn't a matter of reuniting a father and son, but doing it in a way that didn't cause a scandal.
Gods, why did the whole world have to conspire against their family?
Rhea saw it. Valka's face proclaimed what she had long since figured out for herself. There was nothing more that needed saying. The former Hooligan picked a spot at the edge of the path, where snow formed a slight protrusion. Wearily, she sat down.
Valka shut her eyes tightly, shielding herself from the picture of defeat. There had to be something she could do.
'It saddens me that all those dragons have to die for their queen's greed,' she had once told her son. 'But the problem will not disappear even if she does. Killing dragons is Berk's culture. You can't single-handedly change the mindset of the whole society.'
'Who said anything about single-handedly?" he had countered her. 'We will change it together!'
'You have good intentions, Hiccup,' she'd told him some other time, 'But this is not gonna work.'
'We could go home,' he'd argued. 'Be a family again.'
Valka had to acknowledge, Fate had a twisted sense of humor.
'When Hiccup talked to me at the Sanctuary, did he feel the way I do now?' she wondered. 'The way I see Rhea now, was that the way my son saw me?'
She glanced back at her current comrade in misery. The other woman still looked worn out and resigned.
'I am not Hiccup," Valka told herself. 'I am me. I can only be me. But maybe this is exactly who I need to be right now.'
"Rhea," she said, "if people were to find out that Stoick pushed you into the hearth, what would you tell them?"
The other woman reluctantly met her gaze. With only a briefest moment of hesitation, she produced the following reply: "I'd tell them I had provoked him," she said solemnly. "I'd tell them I burned your belongings and questioned your son's legitimacy. I'd tell them, if I were in Stoick's shoes, I would have done the same."
Valka nodded in acknowledgement. "I take it you forgive him, then?"
"There is nothing to forgive," countered Rhea, thought she didn't sound convincing.
"What if he asks for it?" Valka persisted. She trotted over to where Rhea sat and knelt in front of her. "What if he says: 'Diarrhea Ashesdottir Svalrsyn, the Dirty - do you forgive me for pushing you into the hearth?'"
Rhea flinched. Her gaze escaped to the right, the motion exposing a greater portion of the leathery patch covering the left side of her face. Seeing it up close, Valka made an interesting observation - though the surface was flaking off, a picture of an eye could still be recognized. Residues of orange pain were still hanging on.
This had to be the same eye-patch Rhea wore when she left Berk. The eye-patch Hiccup had made for her.
She'd kept it, all those years.
"If..." Rhea uttered, "if it comes to this... then I'd say to him," she straightened her head and looked into Valka's eyes, "Stoick Squidfacesson Haddock, the Vast - I forgive you for pushing me into the hearth."
Valka smiled warmly. "You know, Rhea. If recent events have taught me anything, it's that the human capacity for forgiveness is greater than we imagine it to be. I may be wrong, but if you find it in your heart to forgive Stoick; if Stoick found it in his heart to forgive me, even though I caused him so much suffering, then I dare hope our people would be willing to forgive him."
Rhea looked doubtful. "You don't know that."
"Aye. I don't," agreed Valka. "I know he is a good chief, and I know he is a good father. I also know that, no matter what either of us may think, there are things he has to decide for himself," she smiled, a fragile, apologetic smile. "Let us tell him what the options are, and trust him to make the right choice."
Silence engulfed them again. A subtle, gentle silence, very much like the white dust that sparkled in the air. Valka continued to smile, hesitant and non-assuming, but ready to provide comfort. Rhea put on a doubtful look, a mixture of worry, shame and confusion. Slowly, all these emotions faded. With an exasperated breath, the woman shifted, letting her body rest on the snow. Though her face remained thoughtful, the rest of her seemed to relax. After a moment's hesitation, Valka positioned herself next to Rhea. They stayed like this for a while, the two of them, gazing into the darkening Winter sky.
"So," said Valka, "What now?"
Rhea shrugged. "We need to align our testimonies."
AN:
With this update, we have caught up with the AO3 account. From here on, updates will not be as frequent. I am currently working on chapter 18 (to be called "Unexpected guest"), and there shall be at least 2 more chapters after that. I am not yet sure how to divide the upcoming content, so the final count may be anything between 20 and 24 chapters. Most likely 21 or 22, but I cannot tell for sure.