Chapter Text
When Valka opened her eyes, the storm had already passed.
She wasn’t sure where she was. Only that she was standing in a vast field of soft grass, glowing under a sky that shimmered gold and violet. The air smelled like salt and snowmelt. The clouds danced low, like dragons.
There were no walls. No chains. No battles. Only peace, pulsing like a heartbeat in the wind.
She looked down at herself — no bruises, no armor, no signs of time’s cruelty. Her long grey cloak whipped gently behind her as the wind toyed with her braid. The world was quiet here, but not empty. She felt it — presence.
And then—
A sound. A voice, cracking under the weight of disbelief.
“…Valka?”
She froze.
Slowly, very slowly, she turned. And there he was.
Stoick the Vast stood some paces away, a great mountain of a man in fur and fire-red hair, but his usual thunderous presence was quieted — as if he, too, couldn’t quite believe what his eyes were showing him. His shoulders trembled. His mouth opened, then closed. There were no words, not yet.
Valka stared, unable to breathe. He looked the same as she remembered: proud jaw, heavy brow, and eyes that had only ever softened for one thing — her. It hit her like a spear through the ribs. Her knees almost buckled.
“I…” Stoick stepped forward, voice hoarse. “I thought—I thought I’d be waiting longer.”
“Stoick…” she whispered, her voice breaking.
And then he moved. Crossed the field in long, unsteady strides until he was before her, callused hands reaching out like he didn’t know if he was dreaming. “Is it really—? Valka, is it you?”
She raised a hand, pressed it gently against his cheek. “It’s me.”
And that was all it took.
Stoick let out a ragged breath and crushed her into his arms.
He held her like a drowning man clinging to driftwood. His arms wrapped around her tightly, protectively, and his great beard buried itself into her neck. She felt his shoulders shake. Heard the softest sound — a sob, barely stifled.
“I missed you,” he murmured. “I missed you every single day.”
“I never stopped loving you,” Valka said into his shoulder.
They stood there for what could’ve been minutes or days — time didn’t seem to matter here. In Valhalla, the sky never aged. Dragons soared above them, riding air currents like they were part of the wind. One of them — a great, silver-scaled beast — roared above and dived playfully into the clouds.
Valka smiled faintly. “Even here, they follow us.”
Stoick pulled back just enough to look at her. His eyes were red-rimmed and full of awe. “You look the same.”
“You do, too.”
“Still scruffy?” he grinned.
“Still vast.”
They laughed softly — hers bright and lilting, his deep and warm.
A silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of quiet you could only share with someone who knew your soul.
“You should have seen Hiccup,” Stoick said eventually, pride and grief threading through every syllable. “What he became. What he did with Toothless. The boy changed the world.”
“I did,” Valka nodded, tears glinting in her eyes. “He found me. Even after all those years… he still found me. He forgave me.”
Stoick lowered his forehead to hers. “He has your heart, Valka. That great, brilliant heart that always believed in more.”
“And he has your courage,” she murmured. “And your stubbornness.”
“That he does.”
They sat together on a hillside, watching the skies swirl and twist with light. The dragon above returned, landing beside them with a thud of wings and an approving snort. Stoick reached out, petting its snout with the ease of a man who had learned to understand them at last.
“Still think they’re just overgrown lizards?” Valka teased.
“Bah. I was mostly right,” he chuckled. “They still leave droppings the size of sheep.”
They laughed again, easily this time. The kind of laugh that only comes when all the battles are over.
Valka leaned her head on his shoulder. “I wish we’d had more time.”
“I wish I hadn’t wasted so much of the time we had,” Stoick replied quietly.
Valka reached for his hand and laced her fingers through his. “No more regrets. Not here. Not anymore.”
He kissed her forehead. “No. Never again.”
The golden sun arced lazily overhead. There were no shadows in this place, only warmth — like the hearth in their old home, back when winters were long but love was longer.
Stoick squeezed her hand. “Do you want to see it?”
“See what?”
“Our house. They rebuilt it, you know. Up here. Every Viking who lived with honor has a place. But ours… it’s just how I remembered it. The roof still leaks when a dragon flies overhead.”
Valka smiled. “I’d like that.”
He stood, then offered his hand to help her up. She took it.
They walked side by side, just like they used to — except now, without the weight of grief. No war. No fear. Only wind, sky, and each other.
And somewhere in the distance, a voice that might’ve belonged to Hiccup echoed faintly across the sky, chasing a dragon through the clouds. It wasn’t the real Hiccup, of course. Not yet. But Stoick smiled anyway.
“He’ll get here eventually,” Valka said, hearing it too.
Stoick nodded. “And we’ll be waiting. Together.”
And so they walked — husband and wife, warrior and dragon-rider — into eternity, where love, like dragons, never truly dies.