Under Pressure

Chapter Seven: The Last Gift

The next few days passed very quickly. The official ceremony naming Hiccup as chief was a lot more somber than it should have been. So many Berkians had expected Stoick to merely retire and pass on the chieftainship himself. Without him, it seemed a lot less cheerful, less happy an occasion.

The moment Hiccup was named chief, his life was filled with boring meetings, mindless decisions, and a surprising amount of breaking up fights. Due to his experience running the Academy, he was fairly good at conflict resolution and management but it was still quite frustrating and felt like a waste of time.

He left for his duties early in the morning while Finn and Astrid were eating breakfast and returned late at night as Astrid was tucking Adrianna in to bed. Throughout the day, he sought out his family but was only able to spend a few minutes with them at a time. He didn't know how his father had time to raise him, seeing as Stoick had been made chief before Hiccup was born, but he resolved to find some way to make it manageable.

Before Hiccup knew it, a whole week had passed since Stoick had died. He had made no plans for the twins' fifth birthday (which was getting alarmingly close) and had barely been able to find time for his family. He had performed eight marriages, three funerals, and four welcoming ceremonies. He had stopped a very drunk Hooligan from attempting to lead a rebellion, saved Edgar from falling off a cliff, and had put out a few fires in the Great Hall's tapestries. How Stoick had kept up with all crises without going insane was a mystery.

But the worst moment by far had been nearly two weeks after Stoick's death. Hiccup was trapped in a very long and boring meeting with the council. Astrid woke Adrianna earlier than she would have liked that morning and walked her down to the Ingermans thinking that a play date with Helga would lift her spirits. It was summer at last but this day in particular was sweltering. When she turned to walk back to her house, she half considered taking Finn swimming.

The sun's noonday rays glared down on Berk, heating Astrid's hair so much that her neck felt slick in sweat. As she walked toward the cool sanctuary of her home she was half tempted to take her signature braid down and tie her hair into a high bun. She felt much older when she attempted such a hair style and it felt so much different, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

She lifted her braid off her neck as her feet hit the wooden planks of the bridge leading to her home. A small red head on her front porch caught her attention when it suddenly lifted and then slowly lowered to his knees again. Finn was sitting on the porch. She didn't know when he had plopped himself there, but it had to have been about half an hour ago. He had done the same thing last Thursday. She and Hiccup had talked about it last week, concerned and wondering why their little man spent his entire day, and only one day, sitting on the porch staring at the wooden bridge.

Finn was completely alert as he always was. His keen blue eyes still picked up on the butterfly fluttering past him or his Uncle Snotlout flying overhead on Hookfang. He clearly heard the man call a short stiff greeting to Astrid when she finished crossing the bridge. Finn was acting completely normal. This wasn't like Adrianna's type of flashback when she wasn't entirely there; he was definitely fine. He was choosing to sit on the porch all day today, just as he had last Thursday. Astrid sighed as she approached her son. She needed to get to the bottom of this.

"Finn?"

Finn's head stayed lowered on his knees in a pout but his eyes lifted, giving her the saddest look she had ever seen on him. She saw Hiccup in that look and it pained her heart. She squatted in front of him and brushed his bangs out of his eyes. "What's wrong sweetie? Why are you sitting on the porch all day? You should go play while it is still light out."

Finn looked down at his shoes, his finger smashing ants as they crawled by, and he shrugged. Astrid considered the ants scrambling for cover as their comrades met their demise at her little boy's pudgy digits before she looked back at him. He looked so... forlorn.