XXIII.

A small, well-contained fire, supplied by a nearby Big Spotted Gormless, flickered between two sets of human hands. Yet as welcoming as the setting initially appeared, a few incongruities marred an otherwise homely-seeming evening dinner. Fingers hovered but never touched the food resting on twin makeshift platters, each of which held a few half-cooked, half-burnt sturgeons. Instead, one left hand fidgeted, thumb rubbing pointer finger, curling and unfurling knuckles, thumb tip feeling out on other fingers the joints and callouses and tiny wrinkles and hair and textures. Once that hand reached up to nervously rub a rough leather vambrace resting on the opposite forearm, as though to firmly assure himself he still wore some armored protection from the quiet giant seated silently directly across from his hands and the fire. She stared into the flames, their bright yellowish lights flickering inside a pair of dilated irises.

"So your father," she said, shattering silence with a nervous verbal lilt, "he is doing well?"

Hiccup shifted his weight, pursed his lips, and stared downward. He had thought his initial meeting with the Vigilante had been incredibly discomfiting, yet at least then they had restricted their conversations to important situations at hand. Hearing this stranger inquire after Hiccup's own father – a rather private conversation – painfully poked at the separated relationship of wife and husband, mother and son. Somehow, her asking after Stoick made Hiccup feel somewhat vulnerable.

"Uh, fine," he mumbled, right hand idly poking at a stick near his boot. "As always, pretty busy, I guess."

The sound of fire flickering consumed their sudden silence. In the distance, a dragon roared – it sounded like a Vampire Spy-Dragon or maybe even a Wolf-fang.

Then, thinking of how he might connect with the Vigilante – he still could not think of her as "Mom" – and simultaneously suggest that humans could change for the better and her war averted, Hiccup remarked, "Dad, uh, he – he rides a dragon now, you know."

The woman watched him sideways from across the crackling firelight.

"It's a Rumblehorn. Named Skullcrusher. An enormous, somewhat intimidating, stubborn beast. Never listens to anyone but him. Fits him perfectly – even I find it hard to tell apart my dad from his dragon sometimes."

To Hiccup's surprise, his mother responded to his last quip with her own, answering him in a low voice, "I think the dragon's the one without the beard, right?"

He pulled the corners of his mouth up very slightly into a small smile, still staring at the fire, and considering how strange it was to be speaking with the Vigilante over the mutually known chief of Berk. Hiccup breathed, "Yeah," and nodded.

The Vigilante, with a chuckle, remarked, "If only what you said were possible."

"If what were possible?"

"Your father, with a dragon." Glancing over at Toothless, seated behind Hiccup and being the only one to actually eat his sturgeon dinner, she pointed out, "I can hardly even imagine your father accepting your Night Fury friend."

You've thrown your lot in with them. You're not a Viking. You're not my son - the strength of some memories never faded.

Hiccup admitted, "Uh, he didn't take it all that well. But… then… he changed. They all did." And even though Hiccup knew he was repeating this conversation from earlier, he again remarked, "Pretty soon, everyone back home had dragons of their own."

"Believe me, I tried to change things as well, but people are not capable of change, Hiccup. Some of us were just born different."

Trying not to roll his eyes, Hiccup groaned, "Did you not hear anything I've been saying? It's already true that people can change. Berk is proof there is change. Why do you keep insisting that we have to fight –"

"We've already had this conversation. This peace you claim to have on Berk will never last. It's only a matter of time before men begin abusing dragons again." Standing, then brushing accumulated dirt from her pant legs, she stepped away, saying, "The night is late. Don't leave. The dragons know your scent." It was only after she started disappearing into the distant darkness that Hiccup also heard her murmur, "Sleep well, son," and begin humming the same song as he heard his first night in the fortress.