(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
When Hiccup awoke, the sky was bathed in color.
The sunset painted it in a sea of richness, each saturated shade bleeding seamlessly into the next vibrant tone. Hiccup rose slowly from his cozy nest of furs, arching his back until it cracked and giving his wings a lazy half-stretch.
He'd slept the whole day away, it seemed. With how tired he'd been after leaving the Hofferson house, it wasn't entirely surprising. He'd only beat the dawn to his doorstep by a matter of minutes, making it to his room just before the curse kicked in.
Somehow despite the hours he'd gotten, he still didn't feel fully rested.
Hiccup gazed out his window, blood tingling as he watched the last threads of sunlight disappear on the horizon. The shift overcame him, familiar purple fire embracing him once more. Once the magic had completed its task, he rolled his neck, trying in vain to get the stiffness out of his muscles.
As he stretched, his eye caught on something unfamiliar that was sitting on the floor, just inside his open doorway. As tired as he'd been coming home, he was certain that he'd have noticed it there – his father must have left it for him at some point during the day.
Curiosity sufficiently peaked, he wandered over to it, taking in the sight of a neatly folded pile of leather. He crouched down beside it, sifting through the different pieces until it finally clicked – this was the same set of armor that his father had wanted to gift him, back before things had gotten so messy.
He'd completely forgotten about it, but it seemed his father hadn't.
Hiccup picked it up, turning the smooth leather over in his hands. The last time he'd seen it, it had been dusty from years of disuse – now it was clean, polished and looking brand new. It had clearly been handled with care as it was restored for him.
Remembering the reason that his father had taken it back in the first place, Hiccup twisted the armor to look at the shoulder pad. Gone was the impaled dragon motif, replaced instead by the stylized silhouette of a Night Fury.
Hiccup stared at it for a moment, stunned by the choice. He wasn't sure what he'd expected his father to commission – perhaps the Haddock family crest, a viking ship or another general reference to Berk – but it hadn't been this.
He traced a claw over the custom illustration in wonder, taking note of the fine craftsmanship of the work. It was sewn into the leather, rather than painted. This hadn't been a rushed decision, as this sort of quality would have taken weeks of labor to complete – this had been a very deliberate choice, one that had to have come before his secret had been revealed. His father had wanted to represent Hiccup fully, and he'd clearly spared no expense in achieving it.
Hiccup had seen dragons incorporated into armor before, but they'd always been portrayed as the victim – either suffering or dying at a vikings hand. This was the first time he'd seen a design break away from that pattern, instead showing the Night Fury coiled and poised to strike. The dragon looked both strong and formidable, unchallenged by any opponent.
Almost heroic.
Hiccup set the armor down with great care, getting to work stripping off the more casual set he'd been using since his return to Berk. He got to work fastening the gift into place – a feat that took longer than he'd anticipated as he struggled to made sense of the complex series of shiny buckles and straps. This was no common set of armor, and it showed.
Once firmly secured, he was taken aback by a discovery: while there were pads and straps that lined the length of his right arm, there was no matching set included to cover his left. Had a piece somehow come disconnected? He hated to think that he'd lost part of the gift already.
Hiccup looked down at the floor, wondering if he'd dropped the missing pieces in the messy mound of blankets and furs. It wouldn't be the first time he'd lost something in the tangled heap.
A quick search revealed that he hadn't misplaced any of the armor. He had, however, missed a new green tunic that had been mixed in with all the leather, and so he got to work removing the set and switching out his tunics.
One more he was perplexed: there was no left sleeve.
Hiccup blinked, trying to make sense of it as he buckled the armor back into place. This had to be intentional, he realized now, but why?
His curse mark was on full display, ink black scales glimmering in the moonlight.
"Oh good, it fits," came a voice from the doorway.
Stoick strode into the room, reaching out to adjust the placement of a buckle on Hiccup's chest. Once satisfied, he stepped back, nodding to himself. "I'd say it's much more suitable for you, but what do you think?"
"Oh," Hiccup said, looking down at the gift. He nodded, hoping to convey his genuine gratitude. "Yeah. It's amazing – thank you. I really do love it…I, um, just can't help but wonder why…"
"Why…?"
Hiccup raised his left arm to his shoulder, claws brushing lightly against the spot where the tunic and armor ended abruptly. He wasn't sure how to phrase the question, but he hoped the gesture was enough that his father would pick up on what he meant.
"Ah," said Stoick, nodding easily in comprehension. "A last minute change, actually. When I went to collect everything this morning, I asked Arne to remove that bit. The time for secrecy is over so I thought…well, I thought it was high time you didn't have to hide any part of you."
It suddenly dawned on Hiccup – the Night Fury insignia, the missing sleeve…they were his father's way of showing his public support for his son and all that he may be. He'd done it in a way that integrated the message into traditional viking armor, visibly cementing for all to see that Hiccup still had a place in the tribe, exactly as he was.
At that realization, Hiccup felt a thickness building in this throat. "Thanks," he said.
Stoick reached out, resting his hand gently on Hiccup's forearm. "Besides, you've got natural armor," he reminded, tapping a finger against the exposed scales. "No shame in that."
Hiccup rolled his eyes, but he couldn't fight the lopsided grin that stretched across his face.
He was happy.
Stoick found her by the cliffside, lying in the grass.
Valka had always loved to watch the sky, once claiming that she'd never felt more at peace than when she was watching the stars. The memory was hazy, blurred by the passing of time, but he'd never forgotten her passion when she'd made the claim. It seemed, at least, that much hadn't changed.
Just like he'd done back when they were still courting, Stoick lowered himself to the ground and stretched out beside her. He folded his hands behind his head, bracing himself against the chilled ground.
After she'd been taken by the Stormcutter, he'd tried adopting her favorite hobby in the hopes it would bring him some sense of comfort. That it would draw her spirit to him. In that time, he'd quickly learned that the sky did not provide the same sense of peace to him, abandoning the habit just as quickly as he'd started.
What brought Stoick peace was the comfort of having his loved ones near. With Valka lying beside him, he could already breathe easier.
"I met Queen Mala this afternoon," he informed her, recalling his brief interaction with the foreign monarch. She'd been both poised and commanding, moving about Berk with a confidence he'd never seen from an outsider before. "...an interesting woman."
Valka hummed in agreement.
"She told me why you brought her here. Is the…I mean, will your dragon be alright?" It felt strange to ask after the wellbeing of a dragon, especially the one who had separated them so long ago, but he wasn't blind to the bond between his wife and the creature. Nor could he ignore the effort the dragon had put into aiding their cause.
Valka had been off kilter ever since the battle's end, wrapped up in thoughts of the injured Stormcutter. Seeing her frantic reaction to the injury, it had been clear that she and the dragon were now a packaged deal – if Stoick wanted to reconnect with his wife, he'd have to be ready to welcome the dragon into his life.
"Cloudjumper's a fighter," remarked Valka, a hint of pride in her voice. "He'll pull through just fine, but that arrow wound will take time to heal. Any scarring won't affect his flight long-term, but Mala believes he should stay grounded until the wound closes, just to prevent any complications."
The dragon being landlocked wasn't the worst news Stoick had heard. He doubted Valka would leave without her dragon, which silenced the fear she'd disappear with the dawn.
Though…he supposed he barely knew her anymore. Perhaps she'd just take off and return for the Stormcutter when it healed. She'd flown off with the Nadder when she needed to, who was to say she wouldn't ride off on another dragon's back now?
He didn't want her to disappear again.
"Val…" Stoick wasn't sure how to ask the question. He wasn't sure he was ready to face the truth of her answer. "Were you serious before, about giving me another chance? Would you really stay? Could we try to be a family?"
It was a lot to ask of her, and he knew it. Twenty years apart was no small thing, and whatever life she'd built for herself in that time may not be easy to leave behind.
Valka was quiet for a while, contemplating the question. "I won't promise to stay forever," she said finally, twisting her head so that she was looking at him. "I can't. I just…I don't know if I can really come back to this life. I've changed far too much to know if it's even possible for me to find a home here again. I don't want to disappoint you if I can't…"
Stoick could see the doubt raging in her eyes, and he couldn't find it in himself to be upset with her line of thinking. Of course she'd be hesitant to return to a place that had been long since buried in her heart.
She'd likely grieved it, much like he'd grieved her. Reconnecting with Berk would be like resurrecting the dead.
"Aye, you've changed," he conceded, "and I've already mourned the woman that I lost, all those years ago. Maybe she's not you, not anymore…but I'd like to get to know this you. That is, if you'd let me?"
Maybe they could never return to what they'd once been, but why should that mean they couldn't move forward? Start anew?
"You've changed too," she observed after a moment, biting her lip. "I can see that now. I…I do want to at least try – for you, and for Hiccup. I just don't know how long I can…"
"I understand," he said, brushing his hand against her own. She didn't join their hands, but she didn't draw away either. It was a start. "I'll cherish whatever time that we do have, but I won't stop you if you choose to leave. For now, let's just see how things go."
"Alright."
It hadn't been a surprise to anyone when Stoick ordered a celebratory feast. His son was safe, his wife was home and the tribe had all come together to protect their own in an inspiring display of strength that would make any leader proud.
No one wanted to wait long, and therefore everyone was happy to chip in on the preparations – pulling together an extravagant feast in just one week's time. The village even dipped into their winter provisions to supplement their efforts, resolving to buy replacements when the next trade ship sailed through.
The air was abuzz with energy, and Berk felt truly alive.
Astrid arrived early to the hall, hungry and sore from a busy day of sparring sessions. Aside from a quick stop home to get washed up, she'd headed straight to the gathering space with purpose. She was quick to stake out the table that she and her peers preferred, laying claim to it before the room became too crowded. Two mugs of mead sat in front of her, untouched for the moment.
The late afternoon sun streamed through the open doorway, bringing a sense of warmth and coziness to the space, despite the wind's occasional gusts.
Astrid kicked her feet up on the bench, stretching out to fully occupy one side. Now, all that was left to do was wait.
Fishlegs was the first to appear, so focused on the thick book in his hands that he nearly collided with the side of the table. His elbow brushed against one of the mugs, and she had to quickly reach out and steady it before it could spill.
"Careful," she cautioned, throwing up an arm defensively to make sure he didn't run into her next.
"Oh, sorry Astrid!" Fishlegs looked up, smiling sheepishly. He shut the book, tucking it under his elbow as he navigated around to the other side of the table. Once seated across from her, he set the tome down on the table with a thud.
"What's that?"
Fishlegs tilted it so she could see the cover. In neat, even script it read: The Revised Berkian Guidebook to Understanding and Training Dragons: Volume I.
A bit wordy for Astrid's taste, but she got the gist of it. "New Book of Dragons?"
"Yeah," he said, nodding enthusiastically. "Hiccup's been helping me put this together. We've been going through each classification and delving deep into what makes every species–"
"Save the nerding out for someone who cares," interrupted Snotlout with a groan, coming to stand beside Astrid. He eyed her outstretched legs, raising an eyebrow. "Saving me a seat? Astrid, I didn't know you cared."
"It's not for you," she corrected with a scoff, taking a large swig of her mead.
Snotlout continued to stare at her, "are you seriously going to block the whole bench?"
Astrid set down her mug and crossed her arms, unwavering. "That is the plan."
"Plan?" Tuffnut dropped down beside Fishlegs, leaning his elbows on the table. "I like plans. Who are we pranking and how soon do we start?"
His twin slid in beside him, shooting them a conspiratorial grin. "I am so in! I've got some expired yak milk we can use – extra curdled and everything. Been saving it for a special occasion, but I'm feeling generous. I'm thinking we replace the–"
"We are not pranking anyone," interrupted Fishlegs, shaking his head in disapproval. He turned his attention to where Snotlout still hovered, nodding towards the empty seat at the head of the table. "Just sit there – she's not going to move."
Astrid hummed in agreement, surveying her nails as Snotlout huffed in annoyance. He could pout all he wanted, she didn't care. She was saving the seat for someone else.
So long as he showed. He'd insisted that he would, but she'd seen the reluctance in his eyes. If his fears were too great to quiet, who knew if he'd still take the leap?
The hall continued to fill, volume growing as vikings began to strike up conversation.
Stoick and Valka had taken their seats of honor up on the dais, locked in deep conversation with one another. The former chieftess was drawing stares – many had questioned her sudden reappearance and where she'd been so long, but no one dared interrupt the couple. One look from Stoick and they know that their curiosity would have to wait.
A large shadow filled the doorway, blocking much of the sunlight from passing into the room. Astrid glanced over, heart instantly warming when she caught sight of the Night Fury in the entry.
Hiccup walked into the hall, movements slow and timid as he tread into the space. His head was tipped down, shoulders hunched inward as he walked. A hush fell over the crowd as many Berkians got their first close-up look at the heir's other form, grappling with the knowledge that he and the dragon before them were one and the same.
She could see the strain on certain faces – especially those who were not as skilled at masking their emotions. It reminded her that even those with perfect poker faces may not be totally at ease. Though it saddened her to see their internal struggle, she understood why they were struggling.
Growing up with a fear of dragons ingrained within oneself was not something that could be shaken off easily. They'd have to learn to separate history from the present, and to accept the truth of Hiccup's condition – it would take time and experience seeing him like this for things to change.
In coming to the feast before sunset, Hiccup had taken the first step in healing that rift.
A quick glance at the dais revealed a beaming smile stretching across Stoick's face. He tipped his drink towards his son and inclined his head in greeting.
"Oh my gods," whispered Fishlegs, sounding near giddy with excitement. He leaned over the table, eager eyes sweeping over the dragon in their midst. He looked like he'd been told Snoggletog had come early, but Astrid supposed that wasn't the worst reaction.
"Hiccup!" She called, raising her voice to carry across the hall. Her greeting served two purposes: drawing his attention and reminding everyone present that it wasn't a matter of what they were looking at…but rather who. "Over here!"
He perked up at the sound of her voice, swiveling his head to find her in the crowd. He made quick work of maneuvering around the tables, coming to a stop beside her.
She leaned over, lowering her voice as she informed him. "I know it's got to be hard, but I'm really proud of you for going through with this."
He hummed in response, eyes darting around the crowded room in a clear show of nerves. Still, he sat himself firmly on the floor beside their table, hovering near Astrid's side. No matter how he felt about taking the leap, he was going to stick with it.
There was a loud clanking noise followed by a sharp ringing as Stoick tried to get the crowd's attention, repeatedly slamming his spoon against his metal goblet.
Hiccup flinched beside her, ears flattening against his head in discomfort.
"Er…sorry, Hiccup," his father apologized sheepishly when he noticed what had happened, setting the spoon back down on the table. He turned his attention to the rest of the tribe, who were now watching him steadily.
Stoick cleared his throat, expression sobering. "Berk is more than a place," he began, taking care to lock eyes with each member of the tribe as he spoke, addressing them all from the heart. "It is, at its core, its people. Our people."
There were a few sharp whistles of agreement, and Stoick waited for the noise to die down before continuing.
"I have never been more proud, nor more grateful for our people than I am in this very moment," he declared, resting a hand over his heart. "I thank you – all of you – for stepping up and protecting our own. You've defended our island with valor, stood firm against those who would do us harm…and you helped save my son."
Heads turned towards their table and Hiccup ducked his head, clearly not liking the added attention.
"No chief could ever ask for more," said Stoick, "and it is my greatest honor to serve you all. But, enough of that – Odin knows you're not here to hear me speak! Enjoy the feast!"
There was a round of applause throughout the space, punctuated by a few stray whoops of approval. Then, the food was served and attentions quickly shifted, conversations building to a dull roar.
Purple fire burned in Astrid's periphery. She turned her head, watching it fizzle out and leave behind the lanky form of the young man she loved.
Things quieted in the hall once more, the sight of the transformation leaving many speechless. Those who had witnessed it on the beach of the Red Death's island had been too overwhelmed by the battle to fully process the sight of it – now, they were able to witness in perfect clarity.
Good, she thought. The more they saw the reality of it, the sooner they'd understand.
Astrid swung her feet off the bench, clearing a space for Hiccup at the table and pushing the second mug of mead over. She nodded to it, all but ushering him to the spot.
As he moved, she took note of his new ensemble. From the Night Fury detail on his shoulder to the missing sleeve, it wasn't lost on her how the armor was designed not only to reflect Hiccup's duality, but to emphasize it.
She approved whole-heartedly.
"Hey, why does Hiccup get fancy new armor?"
"Shut up, Snotlout."
"It looks great," she told him truthfully, admiring the way the armor hugged his lean form. Decked out in the finery, he looked every bit the son of a chief that he was.
Hiccup settled in beside her, sitting close enough that their arms brushed, skin against scale. He shot her a grateful smile, saying a quick thanks before turning to face their peers.
"Oh," his eyes lit up, seeing the book in front of Fishlegs. "Did you finish it?"
Fishlegs appeared a bit dazed, still visibly rattled by the sight of the shift. "Oh…" He shook himself, clearing his thoughts. "Almost! I've been adding in your mom's notes – they're amazing, by the way! I can't believe how much she knows about the different nesting habits, and that section on dentistry was really fascinating–"
"I'm glad," Hiccup cut in, tension easing a bit from his posture.
Fishlegs pushed the book across the table, "I marked a few pages for you to add in drawings," he explained. "Then, I think we'll be ready to present it."
Hiccup thumbed through it, nodding to himself as he made note of each section. "I can work on these tonight," he assured. "I'll aim and get it back to you tomorrow at sundown, but I'll let you know if I need more time. Also, I had some thoughts about the cover. Do you think we should…"
Astrid tuned them out as they discussed cover designs, taking a deep breath and letting herself savor the moment. For now, they were all together and they were all safe. She slowly swept her gaze over the room, taking in the joy reflected in her tribe's faces.
This was a moment of peace that she wanted to preserve in her mind forever.
As she was trying to commit it all to memory, she noticed that something had changed. The massive sculpture that had hung high over the center of the hall her entire life was now gone. In its place hung a grand chandelier, edged in the same bright gold that had once been used to depict a dying dragon.
It wasn't perfectly smooth – there were runes carved into the gold, she quickly realized. Squinting at the distant lettering, she recognized a few surnames. Haddock. Jorgenson. Thorston. Hofferson.
The list went on and on, and if Astrid were to hazard a guess she'd wager that every Berkian surname was represented on the new fixture. A new symbol of unity to replace the centuries-old one of war.
"What are you looking at?" Hiccup leaned over and asked, having caught sight of her startled expression.
"Look up," she instructed, pointing at the new addition. "Seems like your dad's done some redecorating."
Hiccup did as she asked, inhaling sharply when he caught sight of the replacement. His green eyes scanned the names, quickly coming to the same conclusion she had. "But…why would he…"
"Isn't it obvious?" She asked, reaching for his hand and squeezing lightly. "he did it for you."