This is where I belong ||httyd fanfic||

58. The regrets

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As much as Valka craved a warm feeling from her son, that of a freshly brewed cup of tea would have to do. His wife, wife of all things, had been courteous enough to lead her back and give her the grand tour of her dream come to life. Everywhere she looked past curious stares at her and her dragon, Cloudjumper, every dragon had a comfortable home, a place to eat and rest and a gentle scratch or two from accepting Viking neighbors. Compared to a certain dullness that the anguish of war brought, here was the kaleidoscopic paradise she had banished to delusions of grandeur.

She took a long, almost envious glance around the lavish palace of a house many times larger than her old home that supposedly belonged to her son. She sat on throne-like chairs, her feet on rugs, drinking from cups even chests of gold a Monstrous Nightmare's size couldn't procure. Near littered on the shelves and sturdy walls were ornate, exotic wares from oceans over, thick books written in numerous languages, and paintings of Hiccup and his Night Fury depicted as hailed heroes, voyagers of unknown frontiers, and loving friends. Every object had tethered to it an adventure beyond the known Archipelago and shone with storied revelry like gems in the open light despite the wear on some.

If only it were all Berk, if only Berk allowed itself such hope.

Valka drank her tea in humble silence. Her son's sudden indifference to her arrival had a good part in setting that mood. A leader's vigilance was what he passed off with as he took Torch and a newly awakened Toothless to the docks to assist in island patrol, leaving her and Syn alone. 'A chief's work is never done,' he quoted his own father as he walked out, though she knew...

"He hates me, doesn't he?" She asked looking down into her cup.

Syn paused her spoon mixing her tea. "Well, "hate" is a strong word. And Hiccup, well, it takes a lot for someone to get that far on his bad side. Stoick, for example..."

"Ah, Stoick..." She sighed. "Such a fool I was, thinkin' anything could change there."

To think that Stoick could bother to put his tempered blade down long enough to raise a child was yet another foolish hope on her part. Syn had been enthusiastic, in a word, when sharing the details as per Hiccup's lonely childhood on Berk, allowed to heal only when that beautiful ebony dragon flew in. She had half a mind driven by fury and motherly instinct to rain a fiery tempest of vengeance on Berk and her oafish husband, but quickly reminded herself that she had no such right. After all, where was she in all that time?

"Well, change doesn't really come easy."

"And sometimes it doesn't come at all. We have three centuries of war to prove that much."

"And the eight years after to deny it."

Valka only looked at the young woman and smiled sadly. "True enough, dear. I came this far hoping to see it for myself, as much as Cloudjumper and my own senses screamed sense at me."

The room went silent for a moment. The atmosphere seemed to waver in between directions like realms teetering on the Great Tree's branches on the sensitive topic of the old woman's whereabouts other than Valhalla. Perhaps it should have been discussed with her son present, but Syn was a bit too curious and wanted to do more than just sip honey and herb tea all day.