For Milady

FORTY-TWO: Hope

FORTY-TWO: Hope

Hjordis was sitting with Frida Ingerman in keeping the Chief company. The other woman was almost a splitting image of her son, a heavily-built woman with a round face, round blue-green eyes and fair hair pulled into a braided knot at the back of her head. The two women were swapping notes of home management, recipes and knitting patterns as they sat with the sleeping Chief, watching over the dozing Valkana. The child was swaddled warmly and laid comfortably on her side in her crib, the soft sigh of her breaths still audible above the respectful low murmur of the two women. The house was lit by the warm light of the fire, a couple of fat lamps adding a little extra light by the Chief's head.

Both women looked up as the door opened to allow Hiccup and Astrid to enter. Both had heard of the commotion in the Great Hall and had guessed what Spitelout had been agitating about-after all, the man had been boasting that his son was now the Heir. But they had also heard cheers and that usually meant that cooler heads had prevailed. Frida looked up with a smile.

"Any trouble?" she asked, a small smile lifting her lips. There was a pause.

"Not really," Astrid replied. "I mean apart from Spitelout wanting to recklessly attack the Fliers, Snotlout quitting as Heir, Hiccup having his Outcasting overturned and being reinstated as Heir...not much..." The woman stared at the self-conscious young man.

"You're Stoick's Heir again?" she checked and he nodded with an embarrassed rub of the back of his neck.

"Ah...yeah...you see...I was sort of suggested by Snotlout and the Council and..."

"Oh, thank Thor," Frida sighed. "Your cousin is a complete muttonhead!" Astrid stared at her.

"Wow," she commented. "I mean...we all know that you're the hero and he's the muttonhead, Hiccup...but the Tribe never really seemed to get that..."

"I can assure you, we've got that now!" Frida retorted and then her round face cracked into big smile. "Gods bless you, Hiccup. You're the best man to lead us through this-your father excepted, of course..." Nodding, he smiled as Astrid glanced over at her daughter and smiled.

"Was she any trouble?" she asked and Hjordis grinned.

"She's a little diamond," she reassured the blonde as Hiccup moved to take the chair by his father's head. "We'll give you some time." And they quietly got up and left, as Astrid located a stool and sat at Hiccup's side, looking at the Chief and seeing his son devastated. No matter how awkward Hiccup had felt for losing Berk's gold, how guilty he felt for being away or allowing Berk to be attacked during Hiccup's war with Johann, he was close to his father. And sure, their relationship had been pretty awkward until the boy was fifteen, since he slew the Red Death, Hiccup and Stoick had become close. The young man had developed the confidence he so desperately needed and had allowed his leadership abilities, strength of character and bravery to shine forth. And Stoick never wasted a chance to remind Hiccup how proud he was-of the young man as a son and as the future Chief of Berk. It was what had made their estrangement over the betrothal all the more tragic...but it was inevitable that Hiccup would rush back to Berk the moment that his father was injured.

As she watched, Hiccup gently found the bowl of water, laced with herbs that Gothi had carefully bruised into the water to help heal Stoick's wounds. And he was wounded...badly, to render such a powerful and determined warrior unconscious. His face was badly bruised, his eyes swollen and his head bandaged over the contusions from the Flier attack. Quietly, Hiccup bathed his wounds, his green eyes never leaving his father's face.

"I'm sorry, Dad," he said quietly. "I should have been here. This should have been me."

Astrid touched his arm, her eyes widening in concern.