A/n: I can't stop. There's all this unfulfilled angst inside me screaming to be let out. Enjoy!

With the rush of battle and the joy of victory, it was easy to forget that with it also came great loss, if only for a few moments, but it all came crashing back when, as he made his way towards the Mead Hall to gather some volunteers and begin the long task of repairing the village, someone came rushing towards him calling, "Chief!" and he immediately turned to look for his father.

Of course, that was immediately followed by the realization that his father was not behind him, and never would be again, and Hiccup's heart fell into his stomach, heavy and cold, and suddenly, he couldn't breath. He staggered to a halt, breath leaving his lungs in a sharp exhale as his ribs or his lungs or something in his chest contracted with a vicious twist and gods, if it didn't hurt.

The poor unsuspecting viking who had unintentionally caused this inner turmoil stumbled up to where Hiccup stood, motionless, staring at the ground and gaping like a fish, trying desperately to blink, or breath, or move or do something, anything, than stand there uselessly and remember that he was never going to see his father again.

"Chief?" they asked again. Hiccup never did find out who it was. He couldn't see. He couldn't think of anything except his father, leaping in front of that plasma blast, lying motionless, lifeless on the ground and oh gods…

"Don't," Hiccup choked, his voice coming out in a shaky, whispered exhale that he could barely hear, cracking slightly. "Please-"

"Chief, I-"

"Hiccup?" He knew that voice, and for a moment his brain woke up, bringing him violently back to the present, to reality, and there was Astrid, standing in front of him. When did she get there? And she looked at him with concern and he wondered where he had seen that look before, and it had been when his father had- oh Thor almighty.

"Astrid, he's-" but he broke off as a sob ripped from his throat, and his shoulders hitched and he staggered forward, overcome by a sudden powerful wave of grief that he couldn't stop.

There were arms around his waist, then, Astrid's arms, he'd know them anywhere, and he clung to her, gripping the back of her shirt until he couldn't feel his knuckles, and she clung back just as fiercely, whispering something that he couldn't make out through the roaring in his ears. Something nudges his shoulder, and he knew then that Toothless was there, crooning at him in concern, and Hiccup half turned in Astrid's embrace to lay a hand on Toothless' head, desperately craving the comfort of knowing that he was not alone. He had Toothless. He had Astrid. But his father…

He did sob then, a real, gasping, choking sound that made Astrid pull back and look at him, even as he stayed motionless, eyes closed beneath tightly shut lids, a tear escaping on either side and he suddenly realised that they were standing outside, in broad daylight, and he was chief and chiefs shouldn't cry. Chiefs were strong. Chiefs were brave. Chiefs were so many things, things that his father had taught him, should have taught him, never would get the chance to teach him, because he was…

His knees buckled, and he felt Astrid falter under his weight, but then Toothless was there, holding him up, anchoring him as he always had and the roaring abated slightly.

"Sorry, Astrid, I'm sorry," he gasped out, trembling with the force of trying to pull himself together, hold himself together, and then they were moving. Astrid's hand was in his, and Toothless was on his other side of him, head warm and reassuring under his arm as they helped him take staggering steps forward.

He opened his eyes, and his head pounded against the daylight streaming down and the flood of emotion threatening to rip him apart from the inside out, and he whimpered against his will.

"It's ok, babe," Astrid whispered, wrapping the hand that wasn't entwined with his around his shoulders and rubbing his arm reassuringly as she led him away from the middle of the dirt path they had been standing on.

He didn't know, didn't care, where they were going until he heard the familiar creak of his front door, and he stopped, planting himself as firmly as he could and pushing weakly back against Astrid's hold because that was his father's house, he had built it, and rebuilt it time and time again. He had built all the furniture, every wall, every floorboard. His shield still hung on the wall, his scent still filled the bedclothes of his pallet and oh gods he was never coming home.

Somewhere deep inside, beneath all the grief and pain threatening to crush him, Hiccup knew that none of this should come as a shock. He knew, he had known from the moment he had realized what had happened, but somehow being faced with it directly like this overwhelmed him.

"Hiccup, we need to get you inside-"

"He's...Astrid…" he choked, "My dad is d-dea-" and finally he stopped fighting the tears and realized how tired he was but he was chief and chiefs shouldn't be tired, chiefs needed to protect their people, and run the village and there was so much he needed to do and Odin, if that didn't make him cry all the harder. He was so tired, but he didn't think he had it in him to go into that house. "Please, Astrid, wha-what do I do?" He could hear the desperate plea in his own voice, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Toothless' comforting weight never left his side.

"Hiccup," she said, and she was crying too, now. "Hiccup, I'm so sorry." She gripped his arms, trying to make eye contact. "Hiccup, please, just come inside. You need to rest."

"She's right, son." A hand in his hair, and suddenly his mother was there, her own voice pitched low in sorrow as she gently tried to reassure him. Hiccup half-heartedly shook his head, exhaustion rapidly draining all of his strength and willpower to do anything but collapse and weep.

An insistent tug on his hand, and a gentle nudge against his shoulder, and also against his hip, and he stopped resisting and half stumbled over the threshold. They didn't let him fall.

They ushered him up the stairs, and lowered him to sit on his bed. His cries subsided to hitching breaths and dry sobs as he felt himself succumb to the exhaustion pulling him under. Astrid's nimble hands unbuckled his flight suit, his arm guards, his prosthetic, leaving him in his tunic and leggings, and he sighed as the weight was lifted from him. Hands on his shoulders, urging him to lie down, and he clumsily pulled his legs onto the bed and dropped onto his side. He curled into himself as he lay on his pallet, wanting nothing more than to shut out the world, if only for a short while. But then there was a warm body pressed against his back, arms wrapping around him and gripping his hands, Astrid's warm breath on his shoulder, her own tears wetting his tunic. He moved to turn towards her, to reassure her, but then there was a cool, damp cloth covering his swollen eyes, and he flinched at the unexpected contact against his face. His mother shushed him from above, Astrid from behind as his stuttering breaths began to slow. Toothless' snout pressed against his legs, a gentle, reassuring weight at the foot of his bed, and his mother's hands in his hair lulled him towards sleep.

"I'm s-so sorry," he whimpered, grimacing at his own weakness. "I'm the ch-chief, I'm not supposed to-"

"Hiccup," his mother cut in, quietly. "A chief protects their own. A chief has the love of their people. A chief leads the village in hard times and good." Hiccup stiffened in Astrid's arms, under his mother's touch against his forehead, where the smudged ash marked him as chief of Berk. "You, my son, have protected your people from incredible threats today. And you will continue to lead them well tomorrow, and every day after. And I have absolute confidence in saying that these people, particularly this girl here, all love you very much. But… nowhere is it written that a chief cannot mourn the loss of a loved one. You have nothing to be ashamed of, Hiccup. You have nothing to apologize for, love."

"He's dead," Hiccup whispered, his chest tightening again as he said it aloud for the first time.

"Aye," his mother said, her own voice thick with tears. "But, Hiccup, he's not gone."

"What if I can't-"

"You're ready, Hiccup," Astrid murmured, placing a kiss on his shoulder. "We know it. He knew it, too."

"You will be the greatest chief Berk has ever known, son. But for now, you rest."

Hiccup relaxed, body going limp against the pallet, against Astrid as she lay with him, holding him together when he could not do it himself. Toothless shifted against his legs, warming him when he felt so numb he didn't know what to do. His mother smoothed his hair and re-wet the cloth, soothing his headache and his aching eyes as he succumbed to sleep for the first time since before the battle, before everything.

And though his chest still ached, and his shoulders still hitched with stuttered sobs in the aftermath of his grief, feeling the comfort of his family around him, the warmth of their support and faith surrounding him, he knew that he would be alright in the end.

He let the darkness claim him.

He woke hours later, Astrid's arms still wrapped around his waist, the now dry cloth still covering his eyes. Slowly, he reached up and removed the cloth, blinking against the sudden light. He turned to face her, shifting his legs under Toothless' chin as the dragon lay, watching his rider. Astrid smiled softly at him, tenderly reaching up to trace the smudged ash on his forehead.

"Hi," he whispered, his throat rough from his earlier tears.

"Hi," she whispered back, her fingers trailing down his jaw, caressing his cheek as he stared at her. "Your mother went to heat water, for your throat. And the steam should help clear your head." Hiccup nodded, turning his head to face the Night Fury watching curiously from the foot of the bed.

"Hey, bud," he said, reaching out a hand towards the alpha. Toothless gave him a gummy smile and pressed his snout against Hiccup's hand with a warble.

His mother entered, a mug of steaming water in her hands. She sat on the bed with a smile, handing it to her son. Hiccup sat up, accepting it with a nod of thanks and took a sip, wincing as the hot water soothed his throat.

He sighed, fidgeting anxiously with the handle of the mug as he stared into the steam. "Uh," he stammered, clearing his throat. "Thank you… all of you."

"Of course, son," his mother said, smoothing his hair before leaving the room again.

"Thank you, Astrid," he said, when they were alone again. "I didn't mean to-"

"It's no problem at all," Astrid said, with a smile. "Chief."

Hiccup smiled back.