Fearless Fables

Poppy

The mead was pouring, the bells were ringing, the dragons were still licking pie off of their humans after their children had pelted them with pastries, and the Haddock children were beginning to drift off in their parents' arms. Knowing that it was getting past their bedtime, even for a holiday, Hiccup and Astrid had already begun to rebundle them into their warmest furs for the long trek back to their home near the Academy.

"Bedtime, I see," Stoick remarked as Astrid hauled Finn up into her arms and headed to the door.

"Yes, well, my child is ready," Astrid said pointedly, more to her husband than her father-in-law. Hiccup was still wrestling Adrianna's arms into her coat as she struggled to watch the festivities.

"I don wanna go bed..." She muttered, near incoherently. "I'm not tired."

Hiccup laughed a little. "Are you sure about that?" The little girl didn't answer.

"You never liked to leave Snoggletog yourself, son," Stoick reminisced for a moment. "Actually, even at this age you used to sneak away and hide. Mm... it all changed when your mother died, though, then I had to drag you along."

Hiccup smiled slightly and hoisted Adrianna up so that her head rested on his shoulder. "Well, since we're claiming children now," he said to Astrid, "I guess my kid is ready too." He turned to the hall of remaining Vikings and shouted over the music, "Goodnight everyone!" Many stopped to return the courtesy. Stoick accompanied them to the door where other members of the tribe were preparing to leave or were hauling out the empty barrels of drinks and liquors.

"Well, goodnight kids. Happy Snoggletog." Stoick clapped his son fondly on the back and smiled at Astrid. "Get the kids off to bed."

Adrianna, who was still mostly awake, tugged on her grandfather's beard rather affectionately. He leaned forward to respond to her beckoning, and she leaned over to kiss him on the cheek.

"G'night Poppy. Happy Snogtog."

He smiled and kissed her on the top of the head. "You too, Anna. I'll see you tomorrow." He gently ruffled Finn's head, but as the boy was now completely asleep he didn't stir. When the door finally closed shut behind the couple, blocking out the icy blasts of snowy air, a hairy, unwelcome arm draped familiarly around Stoick's shoulder.

"Poppy?" It was Spitelout. He appeared to be rather tipsy, and was washing down his last mead with a pint of whiskey. "Stoick the Vast is called... Poppy? By a little brat?"

"That's my granddaughter you're talking about, Spitelout." Stoick shrugged off the man's arm.

"Still," Spitelout sniggered. "I have a hard time seeing a great warrior as yourself as a 'Poppy!' Couldn't you have come up with a more Viking title? Something more... rugged and manly? Becoming your son's father, you are!"

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Stoick gave the man a hard look, but Spitelout was a little too far from his right mind to refrain from opening his mouth.

"Well, you know... different. Soft."

"My son, the dragon trainer, is far from not being a Viking." Stoick felt rather defensive, though he was certain Spitelout probably hadn't meant his comment in a malicious way. Well, not too maliciously, at least.

"Poppy!" Spitelout continued guffawing for a moment before a handbell came to rest with a dull clang on his shoulder. Gobber, bell for a hand, was frowning at him.

"I think you need to sober up some, before Stoick sobers you up for good." He suggested. Stoick sighed.

"He's too drunk to kill, Gobber."