Hey, Queen here. Warning: This is not happy. Hiccstrid, yes. But not the happy kind. Fact is, life isn't always peaches and cream. This is dedicated to the hundreds of thousands of mothers who have lost unborn children. Read on. Don't say I didn't try to warn you.
She was supposed to produce the heir. It was her job, her obligation as Hiccup's wife of almost three years. But months turned into years and still, no child appeared. But at very long last, they found out that they were expecting.
Her mother was overjoyed, and started knitting baby clothes for the wee one. She couldn't stop whistling to herself, something Astrid knew was a signal of her happiness.
Hiccup was overjoyed, crafting a beautiful cradle and treating her as if she had turned to glass. He couldn't stop grinning, that same crooked grin she had fallen for all those years ago.
She was overjoyed, if a bit nervous. It's no small task, holding a life within yourself. She had never thought that she of all people would turn into a fragile being dependent upon others, but she suddenly found herself glad for all the extra help people were willing to give her.
It wasn't as hard to take it easy as she thought it would be. She mostly stayed at her home or her mother's and worked on mending clothes. (Her mother was a seamstress by trade, and had taught her daughter early. Though she would never admit it, Astrid rather liked sewing.) Sometimes if Hiccup was working in the forge, she would take her sewing there and they would sit and talk about names for the baby. He liked Norbert. She liked Ignatius. Neither liked Ignabert.
She didn't ride Stormfly anymore, but still visited with her dragon daily. One of her brother's daughters took her out flying everyday, so she still got the exercise she needed. She missed flying though, so a couple times a week, Hiccup would take her for a relaxed ride around the island on Toothless.
Even Toothless was treating her differently, more tenderly. Twice he had retrieved something from the floor so she wouldn't have to bend over, and whenever she was napping, he would sit at the front door and glare at anyone who talked too loud.
Morning sickness when it came wasn't as bad as people had warned her about, but her mother said that it varied from woman to woman. The cravings were odd, but Hiccup found them amusing, and was always willing to go track down whatever strange thing she desired at a given time. She found this so endearing that she frequently burst into tears, which her aunt assured her was just a side-effect of the baby.
And then, one day, she felt it. The nudge from inside. She doubted her senses at first, but soon there was no question. The baby was a tumbler. Hiccup was giddy with elation, and sat by her side with a hand on her middle for almost a week straight. She didn't think she could wipe the smile off his face even if she tried.
But... But. One day she woke up, and the internal pummeling that she had endured now for weeks was no longer there. After several hours, she began to worry, and then went to find her mother. After consulting with her, they went to find Gothi. A heavy feeling settled over Astrid as Gothi examined her, a grim look on her face that only kept getting deeper. At last, she wrote in the dirt, saying to come back tomorrow morning if she still didn't feel anything.
It was with slight panic that she walked back home that evening from her mother's house. Hiccup was waiting for her, and his smile faded a little when he saw her tear-stained face. Taking her in his arms, he held her close as she poured out her heart to him. He sat down at the table, with her in his lap, rocking her back and forth, telling her that it would all be okay. Once they had both cried themselves out, they went to bed.
The next morning, there was still nothing, and Astrid was starting to feel rather unwell. Hiccup went with her to see Gothi, and her mother met them there. Gothi once again examined her, and this time shook her head sadly before writing in the dirt with her stick. Upon seeing the runes, Hiccup burst into tears, her mother paled and had to sit down, and Astrid stared blankly at the ground.
Miscarriage. Somehow, she has miscarried her child. A wave of guilt hit her then, and she curled over on herself, wishing that she could just no longer exist.
Gothi pulled her chin up to meet her eyes. Not your fault, she wrote. Never your fault.
Her mother repeated Gothi's words. In these cases, nothing could have been done, she said.
Gothi sent Hiccup to his father, and mixed a potion for Astrid that made her stomach tingle and sent her to sleep.
When she woke up, the baby was gone. Her mother was crying. It had been a boy. A son. An heir.
She was the chief's wife. She had failed in her duty.
Over the coming weeks, the guilt faded, but did not go away. She and Hiccup cried together often, and they both sought solace through their work. Time and time again they were told that they could try again, but Astrid almost could not believe it. Once a child is carried for almost eight months and then lost, it becomes hard to see anything beyond that.
They will never forget him. He was the first. And though he did not stay, that doesn't make him any less significant. His memory will be honored through his younger siblings.
Because she was supposed to produce the heir.
-Queen