Chapter Text
The days following Hiccup’s becoming chief were a blur. There would normally be a ceremony in honor of the new chief, but Hiccup insisted that it be put off until the village was repaired. He seemed to jump into his work, eagerly giving out orders and working until he was about to drop. Everyone was thoroughly impressed with the new chief’s work, and encouraged him to continue.
Except for two.
The first of these two was Astrid. She quickly noticed the dark circles under his eyes, and the way his shoulders slumped in exhaustion. She watched him anxiously as he rubbed his aching back and neck, and how he tiredly walked home at the end of the day, too worn out to even eat.
The other was the young chief’s mother. She was concerned as she greeted him at the door every night. He would give her a half hearted smile, and slouch up to his room, but not to sleep, mind you, to work some more. He would stay awake into the wee hours of the morning, planning for the next day: drawing plans in order to rebuild houses, and whatever else he decided to work on.
Valka had woken one morning, far earlier than the sun, and noticed a light coming from Hiccup’s room. She quietly climbed the staircase and entered, finding Hiccup still at his desk, fast asleep. Sighing, Valka removed the pencil from his fingers and turning his head to the other side so that his neck would not be so stiff. She tenderly draped a fur over his shoulders and blew out the candle.
But as much as his overworking worried her, she was almost more worried that he had not yet properly grieved the passing of his father. He had only cried the day of the tragic incident. Valka suspected he was making sure that he did not give himself time to cry, as if he thought that ignoring his sorrow would somehow ease the pain.
She knew from first hand experience that this only made matters worse, but she thought it best to let her son grieve in his own way. So she never brought up to the young man, and rather tried to make up for the time she had not been there for him.
On one occasion she had found him blankly staring at Stoick’s old chair in the living room. When she asked him if he was alright, he quietly said he was and left. She could only wonder why he seemed to avoid grieving his father, but she didn’t feel that it was her place to say anything just yet.
Valka was not the only one to realize Hiccup had not had the time to mourn. Astrid tried her hardest to give him much needed affection. He accepted it, but did not give very much in return. He was just too tired.
The young woman still wanted to have a decent conversation with her sweetheart from time to time, so she stopped by his house one evening. She passed Valka in the square, and told the older woman where she was headed. Valka agreed to see her later, and continued her shopping.
Astrid stepped in the door and called out to Hiccup, but there was no reply. Rolling her eyes, she climbed up the stairs and walked into his room.
Hiccup sat on his bed facing away from her. He hardly seemed to notice that she had entered, so Astrid made her way around the bed and sat beside him. He didn’t even glance up as she eased herself down. He was intently examining his helmet. Not his flight helmet, but his “Viking” helmet that his father gave him, the one he hadn’t worn in ages.
“What are you doing?” Astrid asked, resting her head on his shoulder.
Hiccup didn’t reply at first. “It was a matching set,” he whispered finally. “It’s half my mom’s old breastplate. His helmet was the other half.”
Astrid smiled. “That was a nice gift. You should wear it in his memory.” She squeezed his shoulders.
“I can’t.” Hiccup hung his head and sighed. “I’ll never be the chief that he was. He was a born leader. He knew how to care for his people. I- I’ll never measure up to him.”
“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” Astrid chided gently. “You will. You already have. The progress you’ve made in the village is remarkable.”
“It’s not, Astrid. Dad could have done it fifty times better. All of it. My work is pitiful. I shouldn’t be chief. Dad should.” A gruffness began to show in his voice.
“Where is this coming from?” Astrid wondered aloud. “You’ve talked badly about yourself before, but this is a little much.”
“Things shouldn’t be this way!” He growled, stiffening. “I’m not the makings of a chief! I never was!”
Astrid placed her hand on his cheek, trying to pull him toward her. “Hiccup-”
Hiccup pulled roughly out of her grasp, standing abruptly and forcefully throwing the helmet at the wall. “Why him?!” he shouted. “He didn’t deserve it! It’s not fair! Why did it have to be him?!”
Astrid was startled at his sudden outburst, and she stiffened nervously. Hiccup very rarely got aggressive, but when he did, it wasn’t a very good idea to be around him when he did.
“This is all Drago’s fault!” he snarled, turning to her with balled fists. “I swear I’ll kill him! I’ll kill him!” Hiccup seized a knife off his desk and stabbed it into the wall so viciously that his hand slipped off the grip and across the blade. Hiccup drew a sharp breath through his teeth and grabbed his palm.
Astrid gasped a little and jumped to her feet, rushing over to him. “Let me see,” she said gently, tenderly taking a hold of his wrist. He jerked away from her, shuffling over to his bed. “It’s fine,” he muttered. Astrid stood for a minute, debating what she should do.
“I’m sorry,” Hiccup went on, “I shouldn’t treat you like that. It’s just-” he trailed off, staring at his profusely bleeding palm.
“It’s just what?” Astrid pried, sitting next to him again, beginning to cart her fingers through his hair.
Hiccup turned to her, tears brimming in his eyes. He drew in a shaky breath. “I miss him.” His head drooped, and tears fell slowly down to the fur below. His shoulders shuddered as the tears increased.
Astrid reached out and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer to her. His tears were now falling in her lap, along with a few drops of blood from his hand.
“It should have been me,” Hiccup sobbed, shaking uncontrollably. “It should have been me. Why did he have to get in the way? Why did he have to die? He- he had years left to his life. Why?”
Astrid thought that it was probably best not to answer; he should have his tears. The sight of him sobbing was enough to bring her to tears, but she had loved the chief as well. She missed him too. She had always loved how Stoick would tell her that he was proud of her, or when affectionately called her his “future daughter-in-law.” At first that had been somewhat embarrassing, but she had learned to love the title.
Hiccup tried to wipe his eyes, but by now his hands were covered in blood. He chuckled through his tears at the predicament he had gotten himself in. “Astrid,” he began with a sniff, “could you pass me a handkerchief or something? I’m a mess.”
Astrid smiled and slid her hand from around his shoulders to his cheek, and placed a loving kiss on his forehead. “Sure,” she replied sweetly. She stood and fished around though the piles on paper on his desk and finally produced a small cloth. She passed it to him, and he took it gratefully, wrapping it round his injured hand.
“This has to be the dumbest injury I’ve ever managed to get.” Hiccup shook his head, and the statement earned a laugh from Astrid.
“I don’t know,” Astrid giggled as she headed for the stairs. “You’ve had some pretty stupid injuries.”
“Where are you going?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be right back.”
And she was. She quickly gathered a glass of water and some bandages, and brought them back up to Hiccup. The cloth around his hand was already soaked with blood. She gave him the water, and he thanked her before gulping down a few sips.
Astrid peeled off the bloody cloth, and set it to the side, picking up a wet rag to clean the wound. He winced and the fabric made contact with his skin. Once his skin was visible again, Astrid skillfully wrapped a bandage around his left palm.
“Thanks,” he said with a smile, moving his fingers around to adjust the bandage. “I wouldn’t have been able to do that for myself.”
“I know,” Astrid grinned. “That’s one of the main reasons I did it. Well, besides the fact that you were bleeding everywhere.”
She sat beside him and started another braid in his hair. She suddenly remembered how much he hated it, and stopped. He didn’t need to put up with more braids right now. She pulled out the braid with her fingers and fiddled with his hair.
“Feel any better now?” she asked, laying her head on his shoulder. She felt him nod. “Sometimes it really does help to cry. I know from experience.”
He glanced over at her. “Sure.”
“Oh, please. You’ve seen me cry.” Both laughed a little. Astrid put her hands on his shoulder and began to rub them, and he sighed in pleasure. “Earlier you said that you felt you could never measure up to your father. Is that really how you feel?”
Hiccup shrugged a little. “I guess so.”
“Well, I was thinking about what you said. You didn’t want to wear your helmet because you would never be as good a chief.”
“I won’t.”
“Your father must have thought you would. Right from the time he gave you that helmet.”
Hiccup looked to her, confused. “What?”
Astrid stopped massaging him and looked him in the eyes. “If he had felt that you would never be the chief he was, he would never have given you a helmet just like his. He knew you could be just as wonderful as chief if not a better one.”
Understanding began to dawn in his eyes. Astrid went on. “When you see that helmet, Hiccup, think of what your father knew you could be, not what you think you can’t be.”
A smile lit up her boyfriend’s face. “You know what? You’re right.” With that he planted a hand on the back of her head and pulled her toward him, kissing her more vigorously than he had in a very long time. He pulled away with a smack, stood, and headed down the stairs.
Astrid sat stunned for a moment. If this was how he reacted to a pep talk, he was going to be getting quite a few more in the future. She smiled to herself as she picked up his helmet off the floor and set it gently on the desk, right where he was sure to be reminded that it was part of a matching set.
THE END