"I'll kill him! By Odin's beard, I'll strangle him with my bare hands!"
"I'd focus your efforts into the task at hand, dear."
"Besides," she thought to herself ruefully as another howl ricocheted against the walls of the bedchamber. "He was not the only one who thought this was a good idea."
No sooner had Valka offered her fuming, and currently laboring, daughter-in-law this piece of wisdom and ceased her mental musings did another spasm seize the girl, causing her current grip on the older woman's hand to tighten in an almost unbearable feat of strength. It took extreme mental prowess for the chief's mother not to cry out herself every time the bones of her hand were crushed together, but that would not do. A crippled hand she could bare to live with; a grandchild, however, she could not. Ironically, she had to admit that her son, and the father of this forthcoming child, was the most sensible choice for this post than herself, as she had barely begun to function successfully in society after so many absent years, but alas, the midwife, a protégé of Gothi, refused any male presence in the chamber until the birth was completed. So here she sat, legs tingling angrily at their lack of use for duration of the night, trying to encourage her son's wife as best she could; all the while repelling haunting memories of her own experiences that tried to cloud her mind and leave her useless to those who needed her. So many memories had bombarded her mind when she first placed booted feet on the soil of Berk and saw what was her former home, what had been familiar faces; each one daily refusing to let her forget her foolishness at remaining hidden for so long.
Despite her best efforts to remain on task, Valka allowed her mind to tentatively drift back to when she had lain on a bed very similar to the one on which Astrid lay now. She had grown accustomed to pain during her life, both physical and mental; the life of a Viking bore no easy paths. But when her pregnancy had been made known to her, she had felt no fears similar to those the other young mothers had bemoaned. In the privacy of her own thoughts, she equated it with another battle to be fought, like those of hand-to-hand combat training in the arena, but with a much softer and pleasanter prize for the victor than bruises of the skin and a few battle scars. Yet that fateful morning, with a delicate spring breeze lifting the frost from the ground, exposing the budding periwinkle blooms of the blåveis to the sun's rays, she realized, quite intensely, how wrong she was.
Valka could not, even after twenty years in solitude with her own musings, fully articulate her experiences when the sun had risen in the sky. To say the process was painful would be a woeful understatement on any standards, but perhaps more painful than the sensations of fire she had felt throughout her body was the burning sense of lost pride. For reasons she had yet to discern, even to that day, she had thought herself immune to the trials of life; that perhaps all those who had gone before her had been exaggerating; that the paths of life were simpler and kinder than others had made them out to be in years past. But oh, how wrong she was!
Her awakening was intensified even more so by the shameful blubbering she had performed throughout the entirety of the experience. Yet her husband, her dear Stoick, had refused to leave her side, despite insistent commands from everyone present to leave the room. Surely her vulnerability and faint-heartedness during a time when women of their tribe were expected to be brave-faced and enduring, was a detriment to the honor of a Chieftain and his legacy. But if that were so, he did not show any signs of embarrassment. If anything, he behaved more ill-at-ease than she was, yet he feigned emotional strength for her even when the time had persisted and both of them had begun to lose hope. But when the tiny, pinch-faced infant she had labored for ten hours to bring into the world was carefully placed in her arms at last, the miniature, crimson-tinted face encircled by a woolen blanket peeking out, she had felt her heart swell with an emotion she had yet to describe. Love was too simplistic a word.
Yet instinct had painfully told her the fragile being she nursed was unfit for the harsh and unforgiving world he had been brought into, and she stole herself for the moment when he would be whisked away by the powers above as quickly as he had arrived. Gothi herself had voiced the doubts she harbored toward the boy's longevity, gently but not without sincerity, to the deflated couple. But Stoick, her dearest Stoick, had other convictions. Standing from the chair he had been sitting upon next to her bedside, he had squared his shoulders toward the healer, chin raised in pure defiance, bellowing out for the entire house party to hear, "This boy will be chief one day, an' don't you forget that!"
Neither spouse witnessed the look of joy that had spread across the healer's haggard features on that fateful day; when there, on the shores of a broken Berk, she had drawn with a coal-stained fingertip the symbol of a chieftain on Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III's forehead. There were oftentimes benefits, and joys, to being proven wrong...
He was panicking and out of breath; although at that point in time, he was unsure of which had appeared first.
After desperately trying to sprint through drifts that reached up to meet at his waist, the Chief of Berk reached the door of his home to lean upon it heavily, panting as his lungs burned with the sudden exertion and stress placed upon them. The cold had not even attempted to nip at his face or sneak itself underneath the outer garments he wore in order to chill his bones, because despite the ferocity of the storm surrounding them all, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III was anxious over one thing: his family. For he had realized, upon galloping sloppily across the village square, that the agonized cries of his laboring wife had ceased, leaving only the whistling of the wind and a tangible soundlessness that stabbed at his heart. He felt the breathlessness coming not from his hurried jaunt but from the anxious pounding of his heart as he had neared his home, whose lights from within shone warm and bright against the cold exterior.
Moments before, he had been sitting in the Great Hall, trying to distract himself with mindless drivel and conversations about things completely insignificant to him at that time. It was a useless pursuit despite Fishlegs' later, and yet valiant, efforts to comfort him and build his confidence with speeches and advice. While he appreciated immensely the fact that someone cared as much as his friend did for not only his well-being, but those of the dragons' as well, everything that was said was tucked away in the back of his mind as the loud gasps of air coming from his chest drowned out all other sounds.
As he blundered through the doorway into the great room, he beheld a glimpse through the gaping door of his wife lying prone in the bed which occupied the room opposite. His throat tightened as he realized how small and fragile she looked lying there, damp, honey-colored hair brushed away from a weary face whose pale tone of skin made him cringe. Her eyes, noticeably red around their rims, were closed as if in sleep, her unrecognizable expression leaving him to fret increasingly; a barrage of various scenarios dancing in his mind. As he stood, frozen in place, his mind frantically whirling and oblivious to the other occupants of his home, they gathered around their chief with comforting words and pats on the back. His mind could only conjure images of another disaster, another failure to hold onto something they both, from the very beginning, loved so dearly.
Thoughts of his beloved, her excitement and joy of finally being the mother she so desired to be dashed away yet again made him nauseous. Despite her tough exterior and warrior spirit, the woman he had come to love could be so loving, so gentle, with a softness about her countenance that made him respect her all the more. They had wanted children for years and could only look on and paint a smile on their faces as their generation had little ones of their own. They were happy for them all of course, and as Chief, Hiccup loved them as new protectorates under his care. Yet any way they tried to look at it, nothing could substitute holding their own child in their arms. Hiccup longed for the day when he could teach his young ones everything he knew about his beloved dragons, to hopefully see their eyes light up as his did upon a new discovery. Now, looking at Astrid's ashen face framed by the sweat-stained pillow under her head, the thought of these things never coming to fruition made unshed tears prick his emerald eyes yet again, no matter how much he commanded them away.
It was then that a sudden sound came from within the bedchamber, causing everyone present to look upwards with a start. The sound entered Hiccup's ears as a horn does from a distant shore, when the fog surrounding the listener seems to absorb all but the distinct noise that emptiness emits. It is only when the listener focuses intently on what they hear does the fog clear and the path become visible to them and sounds ring clean and unhindered. It was when Hiccup released his self-torturing thoughts to listen intently at the sounds which had caused all present to look toward him with expectant grins splitting their faces.
At this moment his mother appeared in the bedroom doorway, a sparkle in expressive eyes that matched her son's. She opened her mouth to call out to her child, who had the appearance and countenance of a drowning man, when within the depths of his eyes came a light of final and true recognition, a gleam that only grew as the realization presented itself deeper in his mind.
It was the cry of a newborn; the cry of a child. His child.
A/N: So apparently this plot has been done to death; I didn't know because I don't read HTTYD fiction much, if at all. Hopefully I bring something new to the table, even though it's just turned into a character study more than anything else... This little filler chapter was supposed to be the first half of the final chapter, but I just thought "what the heck", might as well make it three! Despite it all, I'm enjoying this so much there might be four. Heaven only knows!
As always, faves/comments are appreciated! I'll even take a "this is crap" at this point... /joking/