Hiccup was numb.
For, after all, there was nothing more to feel. No wind rushing through his hair, no butterflies in his stomach from the exhilarating thrill of soaring through the clouds.
No purrs beneath him from one jet-black dragon.
It wasn't because he didn't understand. He did understand, had understood and would have understood no matter what. The choice to part with the dragons was one he had made himself. It was one he would defend vehemently for the rest of his life.
But that didn't mean it broke him any less.
His eyes wandered across his room, half-expecting to see his scaly friend pacing around his desk, poking curiously at the blueprints and half-complete contraptions sitting around it at any given time as he always was.
Or perhaps perched on the ceiling or lying on the wooden floor next to his bed, where he usually was in the mornings and evenings.
Where he'd been day and night when he was comatose after the attack. After losing his leg.
Or perhaps he might be looking at the map on the wall. He always did seem to enjoy glancing at the intricate patterns of the landscape they had explored together.
The map. His eyes landed on the map. Without realizing it, he found himself walking towards it, his legs carrying himself towards the parchment. His fingers brushed the wearied paper, as he recalled the memories of each place the dried pigment represented.
Dragon's Edge. Itchy Armpit. Places he had spent so much time at, with his friend by his side. All now so far away. He supposed he could sail over - it would be a long journey without wings - but he knew he couldn't.
It wouldn't be the same. Without him, they were out of reach, now and forever.
"Hiccup?"
Hiccup whirled around, eyes narrowed, hand already on his sword. Upon seeing who it was, his grip loosened, even if his eyes or the vice on his heart didn't.
"Astrid? What are you doing here?"
She walked towards him. She looked concerned. Her eyebrows were raised, her face knitted into an expression of worry in that way he knew so well. And yet, she couldn't have been farther apart.
"I just…wanted to check up on you."
She didn't understand. No one could.
"I'm fine."
"Hiccup, you've been in here for three days."
Three days. So that's how long it'd been. He wondered how he could endure it for a lifetime.
"Hiccup, I…we're worried about you. Please, I know you're hurting, but…we need you, Hiccup."
Yes, they needed him. Everyone, everything needed him to do something, no matter how much it would break him in the end.
"I need some time alone."
She reached forward. "Hiccup-"
"I don't want to talk about it. Please."
"But-"
"Just leave me alone!" She flinched, but didn't move. "Look, I know, alright? I-I'll come soon. I just need to sort this out first." He turned his back to her, his voice breaking as he spoke the last sentence.
She didn't retreat. He could tell that much by the lack of footsteps. Instead, she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"Hiccup…I'm sorry about Toothless."
No. Don't mention his name. Don't bring back the memories of what he had lost.
"I know I can't possibly know what you're feeling."How he had found her, thanks to him. Their flights together, on his back. How he had brought them together.
"But…please, Hiccup. I can only try to understand if you help me."
She gently placed a hand under his chin, guiding him around to face her.
Upon meeting her gaze, his eyes filled with tears. One by one, for the first time since the last time, he fully relived the memories he had shut out in his grief. The memories he had formed in the great blue sky, with her right behind him and with-
With him alongside.
Tears began to roll down his face. He let out a noise, one Astrid had never heard him make. A sigh, a gasp, and a sob, all at once, without heart and with emotion all at once.
He took a shaky step forward, before collapsing into Astrid's arms.
He had cried before. He'd cried as a baby when his mother had been taken from him. He'd cried as a young man on the cusp of adulthood when his father sacrificed himself for him. But now, fully grown and with the maturity of one who had seen life for what it really was, he cried harder than he ever had. For the loss of a friend, a brother, a soulmate.
She held him tight as he sobbed, never flinching and never moving even as tears built in her own eyes. Through his tears, he let out the anguish and grief he'd kept bottled up in his heart. As he let out his pain, she became his only grasp on reality as he wore himself out with his cries.
He felt himself being gently carried and laid down as he slipped into the unknowing coma of sleep.
He woke up hours later tucked securely into his bed. Slowly pushing himself upright, he noticed that his room had been cleaned. His blueprints had been filed away, his desk cleared of obstruction. A plate of bread and cheese, next to a mug of water. He noticed that for the first time in what felt like forever, he was no longer dressed in his flight suit but rather in a simple pair of comfortable bedclothes; his shoulders no longer burdened by dragon armor, nor his back by leather wings.
He noticed that the sun had begun to rise.
Getting up and strapping on his prosthesis, he slowly paced around his room, eventually finding his way to his desk. Sighing, he sat down, idly tapping his fingers on the wooden surface.
Something caught his eye. A book - sat on the edge of his desk. A new one - the edges weren't frayed and the parchment smelled fresh, unlike the majority of his journals. He had intended this one to document his and Toothless's travels, but he'd thought he'd packed it away days ago when preparing for Toothless's departure.
Toothless. That was the first time he had thought of his best friend's name in three days.
Opening it out of curiosity, he flipped through the empty pages. Empty, of course - except for a note stuck to the last page, scribbled in Astrid's handwriting.
"Tell me."
He didn't know if he could. It was too painful. The thought of his best friend still brought a sharp, stabbing pain in his heart that he knew would never fade away.
But then again, he knew he had to. Not just for her, for them - for him.
He knew someday his memory of his time together with his friend would fade. He knew his children, grandchildren - they wouldn't understand, and even if they did, someday, they would all forget. Dragons - his best friend - would become myth and nothing more.
He had to make them understand. Make them remember.
Seized with a sudden urge, a fire sparked to life in his heart. Or perhaps it was merely the rekindling of a fire that had been there all along, one that had been sparked to life by his best friend and which had only temporarily been damped by his departure. The fire to create, and to remember.
He picked up a nearby pen. With only a moment's hesitation, he pressed it to the paper, his hand furiously scribbling runes across the paper.
He would make sure his best friend would never be forgotten. And in the process, he remembered.
'There were dragons when I was a boy.'
Originally Part 2 of the 'The Last Flight' series, now reposted as an individual fic.
A/N: I was inspired to write this a few weeks ago when re-reading the original 'The Last Flight' (now Chapter 1), but I didn't quite know where to take the idea until recently, with the release of all the new HTTYD3 promo material. That pushed me to get this finally written down. Especially the inclusion of the 'There were dragons when I was a boy' monologue in the trailer - that really got my mind racing, even if it broke my heart.