FOUR:

Light filtered back and Hiccup opened his eyes, his head pounding and he groaned before throwing his arm across his eyes.

"Glad you're back with us, son," a familiar gruff voice said and he rocked his head to see the huge shape of his father, squeezed onto a simple metal trestle chair. Hiccup blinked his bleary emerald eyes and frowned.

"D-Dad?" he rasped, his voice hoarse. Gently, Stoick leaned forward and offered a glass of water, tenderly guiding it to his son's lips and supporting his head as he had when Hiccup was a small child. "Thanks..." Grimacing, Stoick leaned back, the chair creaking alarmingly.

"What's the last thing you remember?" he asked gently and Hiccup considered.

"The trench...there was an attack out of the mist," he managed. "Grenade! I threw it away..." Stoick's brows dipped and he shook his head.

"That was a very brave thing you did, son,' he admitted. "Astonishingly stupid, but very brave. It had a short trigger so could have detonated in your hand..."

"But the others would have been killed!" Hiccup noted, his voice a little stronger.

"So could you!" his father told him sharply. "What in Helheim are you doing here, Hiccup?" he demanded and the young man closed his eyes.

"I had to come," he sighed. "After Dagur was killed and Snot injured, Fishlegs was left all on his own...and Heather was desperate. I-I had to come to help him..." His father observed him closely and the younger man gave a shuddering sigh. "And I couldn't take any more accusations of cowardice. I-I just knew I was a disgrace, a stain on our proud tradition of service and honour. I mean, here you are, at your age and I was at home, able-bodied and just running the factory..."

"Son-you are a highly skilled engineer, a man whose talents are in huge demand," Stoick hissed. "You shouldn't be here...but because you signed up as a common private, I cannot just demobilise you because you are my son..."

"And I-I wouldn't expect you to," the young engineer sighed. "Is Fishlegs alright?"

"A few scratches and bruises like the rest," the General reassured him, his big face curling into a smile. "You were the worst injured-a bang on the head and a concussion." Hiccup nodded slightly and lay back, his body aching.

"So I'll be back to the front in no time," he guessed and Stoick slowly nodded.

"If I could do anything, son, I would," he murmured. "You should have spoken to me. I-I don't know what I would do if I lost my only son..." Eyes fluttering open, Hiccup reached out and grasped his hand.

"Dad-you know I have to protect Berk from the enemy," he murmured. "And Astrid...and the baby..."

"Val," Stoick murmured. "Valerie Rachel." Hiccup's eyes slammed open and he gaped as his father grinned.

"Wh-what? When? How-how...?" he gabbled, sitting up instantly and finding his vision spinning. Stoick's hand closed on his shoulder.

"While you were trying to get yourself killed in that attack, your wife gave birth to a healthy baby girl, Valerie Rachel," his father explained. "Born at 11 in the morning on November 11th. Nine pounds three and a quarter ounces."

"Ah...she takes after her grandfather then," Hiccup managed dryly.

"Was that a crack about my weight, Private?" his father growled playfully.

"Wouldn't dream of it, sir," Hiccup grinned back, then lunged forward and hugged his father. "I'm a Dad," he breathed, his eyes screwed shut. "Oh Thor, Astrid went through all that without me...what kind of man am I?" His father squeezed him firmly and sighed.

"An idiot," he muttered. "For an amazingly smart young man, you manage to do some remarkably stupid things, Hiccup." He released his son. "Heather and Snotlout were there for her, if it's any comfort. Heather telegraphed me to make sure that you were informed. And I will do everything I can to see if there is any possibility of leave..." But the look in his eyes told Hiccup very eloquently that even General Stoick Haddock's authority wouldn't be enough-not at this time. The war was finely balanced, every body was needed...and even one skinny, half-concussed engineer from Berk was valuable.

"I...understand, Dad. Could I ask you a favour? Could you let Astrid know that I know..and that I love her...love them...both very much?" His emerald eyes were calm and his voice steady but his father understood the necessity of the gesture.

"I promise, son," he said firmly. "Now rest. There is precious little peace back in the trenches." Hiccup nodded and lay back, his eyelids fluttering.

"Fish is there," he breathed. "Promised I'd have his back." Stoick watched him drift off into sleep and then walked quietly from the room, casting worried glances back at the thin shape in the white hospital gown under the crisp sheets. Gobber was waiting outside.

"How is the lad?" he asked and the General shook his head.

"Starved, exhausted, very stressed and wounded," he said heavily. "Like half a million others-but he's my son, Gobber. Keep an eye on him. And if something happens, I want to know instantly." The two limbed Major gave a curt nod.

"Yessir," he managed sarcastically. "Though this is Hiccup we're talking about. That lad can find trouble in an empty room."

"That's not the problem: the trenches on the Frontline are the problem. And until this war is over, he's in danger."

oOo

Valerie Rachel Haddock was christened on December 8th 1917 on a cold morning with frost on the ground and a watery orange sun in the sky. Her godparents were Heather Ingerman and Simon 'Snotlout' Jorgensen and his mother, Astrid Haddock, made the promises on behalf of herself and the absent father. Valerie remained silent and watchful throughout the ceremony, only offering a faint wail when the cold water trickled over her downy auburn hair and off her wide forehead.

Astrid, wearing her best dress and suit coat and the wide grey hat that Hiccup so loved on her, made sure pictures were taken so that one could be sent to her husband in France. She, her best friend and daughter then went for luncheon with the Jorgensens and they welcomed the child into the family on behalf of the absent Stoick and Hiccup.

Christmas was a quiet affair with friends and family. The factory was only closed on the day itself but everyone made the most of the respite, though rationing was really biting. Snotlout was helping run the place and ensuring that Hiccup's designs were put into full production. Astrid had been determined to return to work as soon as possible and luckily, she had willing babysitters in Mrs Ingerman and Snotlout's mother, Asta, who was more than happy to care for the little girl. Resuming her place on the assembly line hadn't been difficult-because Astrid hated not being active and the job of a clerk was killing her. But it did mean that she had aching feet and sore legs when she returned home to care for her little daughter. But she had Heather at her side and together, the two women ran the house, looked after Valerie and worked.

Every evening, Astrid sat with her daughter in her arms and the photo of Hiccup carefully held where Val's now emerald green eyes could see. She had read that children could recognise their parents and imprinted on them so even before Snotlout had arrived after the birth, she had shown the newborn the image of her father and whispered 'Daddy.'

The winter was cold and long and Berk was hit over and over by losses, so that every time they went to worship, the roll call of the fallen extended. Astrid and Heather endured the eyes of those less fortunate, people envying them because they had not yet received the hated little brown telegrams that signalled their transition from wife to widow. Of course, no one realised that they had already lost friends, a brother and another relative invalided out-or that both their husbands slogged on the front line, enduring mud and ice and danger every day.

So Astrid kept her head held high and carried her daughter-or pushed her proudly in the perambulator, insanely grateful that the Gods had granted her the child they had so wanted and devastated that Hiccup had never set eyes on his daughter. And every day she prayed that the war would be over soon and that he would come home to her.

oOo

The winter had been horrible, the trenches turned once more into a quagmire that sucked men, horses and vehicles into oblivion. In their trench, Hiccup and Fishlegs were watching out for each other, shoulder to shoulder in every attack. There had been cheers when Hiccup returned after his injury and the men had celebrated with a brew and an extra blanket on his bed. Quietly, Hiccup had shared his good news with his squad and Fishlegs had given him such a powerful hug his bruised ribs had creaked.

"Valerie Rachel," he had murmured, his green eyes sweeping over the new father and his big face had cracked into a smile. "Hmm. Ruff would have approved. Though she would have turned your daughter into a real tomboy!" Hiccup gave a small, pained smile.

"Yeah...but she has Astrid who won't let her become a girly girl," he admitted. "And Heather will keep her in line. Oh Thor-I'm going to be utterly hen-pecked when I get home, aren't I?" Clapping him on his bony shoulder, Fishlegs had forced a smile onto his face.

"Hopefully sooner rather than later," he confirmed. Please Thor, sooner rather than later.

The letter that contained the little sepia image of a stern looking Astrid with the new child seated carefully on her lap had brought tears to Hiccup's eyes, the chance to see his beautiful wife once more and the little human being that they had created between them breaking his courage. He had sat on his bunk, tears sliding down his grubby face and had stared at the image for hours, fixing it in his memory. And then he had slid the picture into his pocket, closest to his heart before he found a piece of paper and penned a reply.

January 5th 1918

My most precious Astrid,

I don't have the words for what I feel right now. Shame that I was not there, grief that I missed the most important day in our life together and utter, utter joy that you are safely delivered of little Valerie. I have the picture close to my heart, where I need it most. Life here is horrible...but your news has given me courage and hope to carry on.

Fish is well and the boys in the squad are all happy and buoyed by your news as well.

I am enclosing a gift. It is not much and far too late for Christmas, but it is something I wanted you to have. Everything here is mud and ruin, the land torn up and ravaged by war...but shortly after I arrived, poppies bloomed on the bare earth. Swathes of red flowers, fighting bravely against the destruction all around to have their moment in the sun. So I picked one and pressed it for you. It is enclosed-as is a small seed head I grabbed a little later when we were over the top once more.

I sent these to you to remind you-and me-that even amid the most hopeless of times, there is beauty and love and hope. You and Valerie are that hope for me, that thing I must cling to in order to get through this.

Please plant the seeds in the garden as my promise that I will return to see them with you.

I love you both with all my heart

Hiccup.

oOo

The fighting was fierce, attacks consistent and casualties high as the spring progressed into early summer. The weather was capricious, sun and rain in equal measures and the trenches and No Man's Land were boggier than ever. Fishlegs had made sergeant for his steady care for the squad, dealing with everything with his calm equanimity that Hiccup envied, even though a corporal's stripe marked the engineer's shoulder for his daring exploits and consistent bravery throughout his time in the trench. But inside, Hiccup knew he was breaking. His nights was shattered by nightmares-when they weren't ruptured by attacks or shelling-and exhaustion dogged his every waking moment. He knew he was jumpy, starting at any loud noise and he tended to drift when nothing was happening, his mind flying back to Berk, imagining a fine Spring day walking in the woods with the dogs or in the garden with his beautiful wife and baby daughter. And he treasured every letter like a gift from the Gods...

May 5th 1918

My beloved Hiccup,

Valerie is growing by the day and is looking more and more like your father-in shape, not in face thank the Gods. Her hair is an exact match to yours and she has the greenest eyes that remind me of you every time I stare into them. She smiles and sits and babbles and though she has managed Mama and Dada, I am certain she has no comprehension of their meaning-yet.

Toothless, of course, is devoted to her and constantly guards her crib. Heather is the best aunt and godmother imaginable and even Snotlout has stepped up and is supporting us all. I must confess, he is exceptionally good when it comes to digging the garden and chopping wood-though still impossible to hold a sensible conversation with. Stormfly is getting older but is still active and Heather's Windshear is having puppies! She is secretly delighted but is huffing and puffing. I hope that you are home to see them before we have to find them homes.

I miss you constantly and you are always in my prayers. Be safe, my love. I count the seconds until you return.

Yours

Milady Astrid.

"It's time!"

Hiccup's eyes snapped up guiltily at Fishlegs's words and he scrambled to his feet, pulled on his tin hat, grabbed his gun and stood by his friend. It was a patrol in No Man's Land, skirting the mine field and seeking for gaps in the enemy lines. There was a rising sense of urgency because there had actually been gains recently and there was a burgeoning belief that there may, finally, be an end to this appalling war.

Hiccup's emerald eyes flicked over the trench once more and checked he had his precious photo of Astrid and Valerie tucked into his shirt and had left his diary and letters bundled up in his little tin box besides bed. Fishlegs had promised to return his possessions to his wife-as he had promised the same for his husky friend. Then he cautiously peered over the top, and his hands tightened on the wood of the ladder as he clambered out of the trench and then hunkered down with the rest, his rifle trained on the muddy space ahead, covering them as they emerged.

It was gloomy and drizzle was blowing fitfully across the land as the little patrol picked their way through the ruts and craters, edging past puddles and muddy bogs as they approached the enemy lines. Slowly hunkering down, Fishlegs and Hiccup pulled out their binoculars and scanned the enemy fortifications, looking at the dilapidated props and abandoned guns.

"It looks deserted," Fishlegs murmured, but Hiccup slapped his shoulder, for he was scanning a little further along the lines-and he could see the tops of heads, moving back and forth.

"No-there are soldiers in there, watching us," he said in a gruff voice. He lowered the binoculars and then his eyes widened, "Gustav-get down!" The younger man-still only seventeen, his wide grey eyes and scruffy jet hair exactly how Hiccup recalled him as a troublemaking young lad from Berk-shook his head.

"I can see everything so much better from up here!" he called from the ridge as Fishlegs stared at him-and then at Hiccup.

"RETREAT!" the sergeant yelled as the whistle and whine of the first shell sounded. An explosion sounded, not too far away from them. The rest of the patrol turned and began to scurry at top speed back to their lines.

"Oh Thor," Gustav muttered and scrambled down from his slippery vantage point, sliding out of control and knocking both officers to the ground. Hiccup scrambled up, grabbing Fishlegs's hand as another shell sounded. His head snapped up and he saw the shell arching up, reaching its zenith and curving down directly at them. Suddenly fired with energy, the auburn-haired man hauled his much bigger friend up and shoved him forward after the fleeing Gustav.

"RUN!" he yelled, scrambling after Fishlegs. But less than a second later, the world around him exploded and as he slammed forward, he threw Fishlegs further away from the blast, shrapnel ripping into his leg. He cried and slammed into the mud, lying still as his friend stole a glance back. And then he saw Hiccup move.

"Gustav!" the husky teacher yelled and turned back, seeing Hiccup painfully haul himself to his knees. His left leg was bleeding, shrapnel sticking out of the boot and as he raised his head, he saw his friend. He groaned.

"Fish-what are you doing?" he groaned, seeing his friend approach. He waved his arms. "Get back! You have to get the men back..." His head snapped round as the sounds of shots echoed across the mud. "GET THEM BACK!" he ordered his friend, snatching his rifle and training it back at enemy lines. "Go back to the trenches, look after them men. I can follow slowly." His emerald eyes were pleading, his voice firm. "GO!"

"I'm coming back if you don't make it," Fishlegs promised and Hiccup nodded, turning back to train his rifle on the shapes gradually coalescing out of the mist. "I've got your back."

"And I've got yours," the engineer murmured, snapping the bolt back and firing. There was a yell and the thud of a body. Reloading, he trained his rifle and fired again. Another cry and another thud.

These aren't people. They don't have families and loved ones and children. They don't have friends, waiting for them. They aren't sitting in the mud, wanting to go home. They are just the enemy. They aren't like us. They aren't like me.

I shouldn't feel guilty for shooting at them, for killing them to save my friends from the same fate.

But I do.

He fired again and the shouts grew more distant, the patrol pulling away. Breathing hard, he lowered his rifle and slowly turned, realising there was no chance he could walk back. The ground was a mountain range of muddy craters and ridges, difficult enough with two legs, all but impossible with one. And it was only about half a mile back to their own lines, but he might as well be travelling to the backside of the moon.

He would have to crawl.

So slinging the rifle over his back, he sank his hands in the liquid goop, trying with all his courage to forget what it must contain and began to slowly drag himself through the mire. He couldn't see the lines any more but he knew that Fishlegs and the others would have gotten back safely. He had kept his promise to Heather and to Fishlegs. He had saved his best friend...

...but there was no guarantee that he could save himself. All he could do was slog on, putting every ounce of his determination into the effort, driven on my the desperate desire to hold Astrid in his arms once more. So he dragged himself up over the rise and briefly glimpsed the fortifications and the barbed wire round the tranches, up in the distance. And a small patrol, snaking to his right. His eyes widened for they were in totally the wrong place. They were heading into the mine field.

Gritting his teeth, he unslung his rifle and used it as a crutch to push himself to his feet and then wave desperately at the unwitting patrol.

"GET AWAY FROM THERE!" he shouted, waving furiously. "MINES!" He tried to stumble forward but he overbalanced and rolled and slithered down the ridge, right to the limits of the mine field and he froze, eyes wide. The patrol was walking urgently towards him, heedless the danger.

"No-it's over there..." the corporal in charge of the patrol argued, waving a map fiercely. Hiccup looked up and shook his head, his hands raised to try to get the man to stop moving.

"No, it's all around you!" he called urgently. "My trench is over there-you're in the wrong place and..." The man was only a few yards away and still moving. He took one more step...

...and vanished, the explosion consuming him and blast slamming Hiccup and the rest of his men back. Head spinning, the stunned and wounded engineer saw one land a few feet away, the look of shock on the man's face telling the watching Hiccup that he had landed on a mine. This time the explosion threw Hiccup and all the men into the air, tumbling them into a crater and piling body on body, mud seeping around the broken soldiers.

Sounds were coming in and out, his head reverberating and entire body hurting. Hiccup was buried under bodies, pinned and almost unable to move. the mud was cloying, sucking him down and it was all he could to to keep his head above the fluid. He tried to push the mangled mess of the soldier pinning him off and only just managed to get a little room to breathe. He could feel his wrecked left leg bleeding and as he struggled to drag himself up a little, he knew there was no hope he would be saved. No one would find him until it was far too late. The wet cold was already seeping into his body and he was beginning to shiver-but he curled up, resting his free hand over his chest and the precious photograph and bowing his head.

"I'm sorry, Astrid," he whispered as he began to shiver. "I'm sorry. I'm going to break my promise. And I hope one day you will forgive me. But I just wanted to hold you in my arms, one more time. I'm sorry..."

oOo

Astrid was at home, baking when the knock sounded at the door. Valerie was asleep in her crib upstairs and as she wiped her hands down, she walked through the tiled hall to the door-to see a young boy in uniform with a small brown envelope in his hand.

Her breath froze in her throat and her hand shook as she accepted the envelope, nodding and turning away as if in a dream. The door slammed closed and she turned back to glance through the open door to the Sitting Room, glimpsing Hiccup's photo on the mantlepiece before forcing her gaze back onto the brown envelope in her hand.

MRS ASTRID HADDOCK.

With shaking hands, she ripped the paper open and unfolded the fine paper of the telegraph, staring dumbly at the words printed on the paper. It took her three tries before her stunned mind would process the scattered words and she found her legs giving way, so she sat on the bottom step and felt tears begin to trickle down her cheeks. A wail began upstairs from her room where Valerie had woken but she was unable to move, for it felt as if her heart had been torn from her body.

VERY MUCH REGRET STOP CPL HICCUP H HADDOCK MISSING IN ACTION STOP

She covered her face with her hands, the fatal missive fluttering to the floor, along with all of Astrid's hopes and dreams.

Hiccup was lost.