The ships slowly bobbed and weaved against the furious waves. Eleven ships in total coasted his shores, twelve people who had lost their lives to the dragons.
Stoick stared at one ship in particular, the ship was like the others in size but that ship would forever be imprinted in his memory, as well as the other small ship nestled within it. Hiccup's cradle had been fashioned to resemble a Viking ship, only now it was his funeral ship. Stoick had made it himself with the help of Gobber when Valka had first told him the joyous news that she was with child.
It had been the third happiest day of his life. The first was the day he married Valka. The second had been when Hiccup had been born.
He had come so early into the world, as quick and sudden as a hiccup, hence the name they gave him, and he had been so tiny in Stoick's muscular arms. Valka had been so worried about their son, scared that he wouldn't make it till morning. He remembered laughing, still holding onto his son, Valka's son, their son and declared that Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third would be the strongest Viking to ever roam Midgard.
He would never know if he was right, for his son had been killed before he had even reached his fourth month.
He didn't have any happy days anymore. All he felt where was once was love was now reduced to burning anger and a stronger desire for vengeance.
They hadn't found any remnants of his wife or infant son after the raid. The majority of Berk assumed that the Stormcutter had taken his family back to their Nest, their bodies feasted upon by the very devil. Stoick's massive hands clenched into tight fists, his strong hands nearly breaking the bow in two had he not stopped.
He was chief. Everyone was watching him, waiting for the signal.
Slowly, Stoick plucked an arrow from a quiver and set it in the torch, waiting for it to catch fire.
It was Gobber who spoke the words, for Stoick didn't believe himself strong enough to speak them. His people had understood, sometimes even a chief must be able to mourn for his loss, and Stoick the Vast had lost everything.
"May the Valkyries welcome you and lead you through Odin's great battlefield. May they sing your names with love and fury, so that we might hear it rise from the depths of Valhalla. We know that you've taken your rightful places at the table of warriors. For great men and women have fallen. Warriors. Brothers. Sisters. Sons. Daughters. Friends. Fathers. Mothers. And a life so young and pure, the life of a child." At that last word, Gobber chocked slightly, grief overcoming him as he and the villagers stared at the floating ships slowly sailing onwards towards the horizon.
Stoick felt tears drip down his cheeks, his eyes as broken as ever. He couldn't fight back the small, chocking sob that erupted from him as he stared at Valka's ship.
There was nothing left to say. For Vikings didn't truly believe in long speeches, they were simple people with blunt, to the point traditions.
Stoick raised his bow, flaming arrow knocked in the drawstring. His broken brown eyes gazing at the ship with tears still streaming down his cheeks in thick rivulets. His eyebrows were still singed from the fire of the Stormcutter's fiery breath, as was his bushy beard, but Stoick didn't care enough to take care of it. What mattered of himself when his family was gone?
Against his very being that begged him to not release that arrow, Stoick let loose the drawstring and could only watch as the arrow arced towards Valka's ship. It hit its mark, embedded on Valka's empty funeral pyre with a small wooden cradle placed atop it. All they had to burn was Hiccup's cradle and some of Valka's clothing, for they hadn't found their bodies and most likely never would.
Hundreds of arrows alighted with fire were released by the other Vikings from their own bows, silently arcing in the sky. They began to descend and it looked as though the sky was raining fiery tears, each arrow meeting their marks of the other ships of their loved ones. But Stoick didn't notice them, for all he could see was her ship, now alight; silently sail away from the shores of Berk. He could already envision Hiccup's hand carved and brightly painted cradle engulfed in fire, just like Hiccup's nursery had burned the night before.
Valka… Hiccup… I'm sorry… Stoick thought to himself, his inner voice heavy with raw grief. I'm so sorry… I failed you… I failed you both… my love… my son… I'm so sorry…
Gothi stood by his left hand side, Gobber at his right. The village elder looked far older, grief tinged across her wrinkled cheeks. She was one of the few Vikings that had been truly kind towards his wife, perhaps the only one aside from Stoick and Gobber that Valka had viewed as a dear friend.
The small elder shook her head as she looked onwards at the burning armada, feeling far older than she herself was. She was the oldest of them all, and had been through so many Viking funerals she had honestly lost count. But this one would haunt her until it too was her time to depart from Midgard to ascend to the halls of Odin.
"They feast in the great halls of Valhalla now, Stoick," Gothi said, her voice scratchy from both age and grief.
Stoick looked at the woman who barely came up to his elbow, a sudden rage erupting from him. "They shouldn't even be there," he whispered hoarsely. "They should still be here with me."
"The world is never kind, Chieftain." Gothi said, "It never will be."
Stoick didn't seem to register her words, his gaze still locked on Valka's burning ship. Gothi looked at her leader, not recognizing him at all despite the familiar features. Stoick was colder now, a bitter man with nothing left, a man who had lost everything.
"I will kill them all, Gothi," Stoick whispered hoarsely, anger swirling within him like a maelstrom. "Every dragon I see… they will fall under my axe and sword until no more of those demons fly in the sky. I will kill them all."
Gothi closed her eyes at that, knowing that Stoick would keep to his word. She didn't approve of it, the vengeance that burned within her leader was all consuming, sooner or later when there was nothing left to fuel it, it would destroy Stoick. She had seen many Vikings lose their loved ones and embark on a journey of vengeance; it always resulted in a bitter life until they were killed fighting the beasts they had sworn to destroy. Stoick had only just begun that journey.
"Stoick… As a father and husband, it is your right to do this, but you were not just a father and husband, you are Berk's chief… A chief's duty is to his people, not his family. A chief cannot be distracted by oaths of vengeance when he has a village full of lives to protect."
Stoick bristled at that, "Are you sayin' that I should just let this go," he all but snarled at her, eyes full of fury that burned into the elder with the power of a vengeful god. "That I should forget what 'as happened to me family!?" he turned around to glare at her, practically leaning downwards to stare her straight in the eyes. "You do not know of my pain, elder." He said with a voice as cold as death. "For all your years and experiences, you know nothing of the pain that dwells within me!"
"You're not the only one who has lost someone, Stoick." Gothi's voice was sharp. With her small, knobby cane she gestured towards the other ships that were burning besides Valka's.
The chief continued to glare at her, murderous thoughts burning within him. Gobber looked at the scene with uncertainty, actually terrified that Stoick might throw the elder off the cliff, he certainly looked ready to do it. Stoick wouldn't do it though, right? Stoick would never do such a thing.
Gobber suddenly realized that the Stoick he had known from growing up together, as close as brothers, the Stoick he saw become chief, the Stoick who had nearly cried on his wedding day, the Stoick he saw become a father… was not the Stoick he saw now.
His friend and brother was all but dead. His body still there but his spirit gone, it was as though some vengeful shade had possessed his friend's body and now controlled. Stoick wasn't Stoick anymore.
"Stoick… please, not here. Not now…" Gobber whispered to him, all too aware of the gazes from the other villagers staring at the trio. "Don't do this at the funeral… Valka wouldn't have wanted-"
"You don't know what she would have wanted, Gobber!" Stoick roared at him, his face as red as his beard and eyes wild. "You don't know, Val's dead, you don't know what she would have wanted…" Stoick said out the words as though they chocked him, tears streaming down his cheeks and into his beard in thick rivulets.
Gobber tried to find some way of calming his chief down, but couldn't think of anything. How could he help his friend when he had lost his entire family in a single night by a dragon? Valka was dead. Hiccup was dead. Stoick had nothing left of his family, nothing left of life, nothing left but vengeance.
"You're not the only one who misses her, Stoick…" Gothi murmured as she looked out towards Valka's ship, tears threatening to spill from her own aged eyes. "She was like a daughter to me." She said softly. "I cannot tell you how many times she was in my hut when she was a child, learning about which herb did this, or what flower did what. Sometimes I think she only came to me because she had nowhere else to go, nobody else to turn to. She had nobody to talk to, for everyone ostracized her. She was so alone before you came, Stoick. She had very unpopular opinions."
Stoick would have laughed at that if he were still able to do so, instead he scoffed darkly. "An opinion that was false." The dragons had killed his wife, those devils had killed the only person who sympathized them, and perhaps they had taken joy in breaking Valka's worldly views before eating her and their son. The thought hurt him with the sharpness of a battle axe.
"Aye, that is true," Gothi muttered, "But you most stay strong for the village. You are chief and already what happened with Mildew has spread like wildfire."
Stoick looked ready to growl at her like an angry bear, "If you think that I'm changing my mind about sending him away from the village, need I remind you that I was all in favor of killing him?"
"Yes, I am aware. The villagers are all aware of what happened. A chief cannot attack his own Stoick. Even if they deserve it," Gothi said, trying to conceal the anger that had slowly bubbled within her frail form, remembering what had happened right after the raid.
Mildew. That man is lucky to even be alive at the moment, Gobber thought to himself sourly. When the raid had ended and everyone had collected their dead, Stoick had told his people what had happened to his wife and heir. Everyone was sympathetic to his plight, even if some of them hadn't liked Valka and her unpopular opinions, everyone that is, except for Mildew.
The man had openly stated that he was glad that the dragon lover was dead, finding it amusing that she was killed by the very things she was trying to save. Gobber, Spitelout and over a dozen Vikings had to hold back their chief who screamed bloody murder and tried to rush at him, yelling that he would rip the bitter man apart with his bare hands.
Mildew, the complete idiot that he was, had sneered at Stoick's attempt to kill him –not admitting to himself that the chieftain terrified him- and had even suggested that they don't burn Valka's items –seeing as they didn't have her body- which in itself was one of the greatest of disrespects one could give.
A Viking funeral was sacred, all Vikings must be bathed in fire in order to ascend to the great halls of Valhalla, but Mildew had claimed that Stoick's wife didn't deserve the funeral, stating that she had never been a Viking to begin with as she had never gone through their holy rite of passage, which was to slay a dragon. He stated that as she had never spilt a dragon's blood, but rather tried to protect them, meant that Odin and the other gods would not recognize her as one of their own and banish her to Helheim, where, in Mildew's exact words, was where she belonged, with the demons she loved. He had even gone as far as to inform the raging chief, who by then was practically pulling the entire village to get his hands on Mildew, that Stoick's son shouldn't be burned either, as he was the spawn of a dragon lover.
Stoick had ripped through the grasps of his people holding him back, mostly because most of them had released him in their shock of Mildew's harsh, though some thought it true, words. Stoick had then attacked him with the ferocity of a beast. He had been more animal than man at that moment, and by Freyja it terrified Gobber greatly just remembering that wild look in Stoick's eyes, as though the man had been replaced by a savage beast.
The only reason Mildew was even still breathing was because Gobber had hit Stoick on the head with his mace, even then it had taken three hefty swings to knock the grieving husband out. The only reason Stoick hadn't killed him when he had awoken was because Gothi had told him that too much blood has been spilt that day, there need be no more.
Gobber was certainty glad that he wouldn't be seeing much of Mildew anymore, because once Stoick had realized he couldn't kill the aging Viking, he had all but banished him from the village, forcing him to live far away from the others in a rotten hut at the base of the nearest mountain. Nobody had disagreed with their chief, everyone secretly glad to have Mildew out of their village.
"People will expect you to take a new wife," Gothi informed him softly.
Stoick jerked at her words as though burned. He rounded on her again, face furious and lips set in a savage grimace. "I would never do that, I would never betray Val in such a way! I loved her Gothi; by the gods I still love her. There will never be another, there will be nobody else, nobody except Valka." He snarled at her, looking more beast than man at the mere thought of replacing his wife when he was at her and their son's funeral. He could never love another woman again, for he had given it all to Valka, and now she was dead and she had taken his love with her.
"You might have lost a wife, Stoick, but you also lost your heir." Gothi said mournfully, remembering Valka and Stoick's small and frail son, now nothing but bones. "A chief needs an heir."
Stoick eyes looked so broken to Gobber when the village elder said that. "I know that Gothi…" Stoick whispered to the village elder, all anger gone as sorrow burdened him as he remembered the son he had failed to protect. "But I will never have another child, not after I failed my son."
Gobber looked down at his chief's statement, knowing how greatly Hiccup's premature death had burdened Stoick.
Odin, Thor, Freyja… why have you cursed him so? He's lost everything… The village blacksmith thought mournfully.
"Can we please discuss the matters the succession of chiefdom after this?" Gobber asked, "It's not right… talking about Hiccup's birthright as we burn 'im and his mother."
Stoick nodded his head at that, "I know Gobber… I know…" He looked at the burning ship, the ship that burned as his house had burned the previous night. His family was gone; he would never sing with Valka again, he would never hold his son in his arms. He would never see Hiccup grow into a man, would never see him kill his first dragon during training. He would never hold Valka in his arms, never sing their song again, never would he be able to tell her that he loved her with all his heart and soul. His family was gone, snatched by the dragons.
Stoick would kill them all. He would avenge his family.
Stoick the Vast turned his back on the burning armada of ships, unable to stand the sight anymore and slowly walked away, never once looking back at the ship, Valka's ship. There was nothing left for him, not even the village and her people could pull him from his vengeful path. He loved his people, as a proper chieftain does, but, despite his duty to his people, right now his duty was vengeance upon the winged devils that had taken everything from him.
And Stoick the Vast was never a man to ignore duty.