Written for hyde and jackieforever20
Years had gone by since the accident. An entire century had passed since she had flown those trained dragons among the sky with Hiccup. It was sad that dragon riding had to end, but bones could only accomplish so much before turning old and frail with the rest of time. Although Astrid had only just rounded her thirtieth birthday, she was much too old for flying dragons. Instead she had settled down at a small settlement near the coast. She tended to a few retired dragons, and a couple of dogs, and spent a considerable amount of time tending to her recent child. Astrid had named her daughter Elise after an inspiring Viking woman. Hiccup loved the name.
Astrid had just placed Elise down for the night and found herself pacing the floor of her office. She let the creaks of the floorboards keep her company on this lonely night. She thought at length of the times that Hiccup and she had together and she wondered if he would be proud of the Mother she was turning out to be. She exhaled slowly. She was, once again, lost in a repetitive process of self-torture. She was remembering laughter and anger, remembering their lives.
Astrid walked towards her old chest and stared down at it thoughtfully. Could she? Would she really pull out those old letters, once again, and relive the words he had written? Sometimes, at the end of the reading, she felt relieved and comforted. Other times, she felt worse off than when she began. She reached towards the chest with trembling fingers and pushed open the chest, not stopping until her hand grasped the worn paper, firmly and decidedly. And she read:
My dearest Astrid, It has been many months out here now. We have barely begun to deal with all the blood shed from the previous dragon war and, now, we are forced to partake in this monstrosity again - forced to relive old battle wounds. Sometimes, I wonder what effect we would have had on dragon lives had we just left them as our enemies. Instead we befriended them, I befriended them, and we brought them into our homes with love. How was I to guess what war this would create?
My dearest, God, how I miss you. Things are worse now than ever. The dragons, those that haven't been damaged or killed in the war, are showing a considerable lack of spirit. I believe they are tired. Toothless barely looks at me anymore. I wonder if he resents me for not seeing how dragon riding would all turn out. I wonder if he blames me for not knowing that slavery and power would become the focus of the Viking community. I have seen so many dragons die, my beloved, I have seen so much needless death. I suppose no one feels benefited from this war. The dragons we fought for are now mostly damaged… or dead. The worst of it all is not having you beside me, although I feel a sense of relief that you are safe from this miserable war. Perhaps, when this war is over we should consider moving. I no longer feel a sense of community with the Vikings. I spend most of my nights longing to have you in my arms.
Astrid, The war is over. We are coming home and expect the journey to take a month. Toothless died last night.
When Hiccup came home two and a half months had passed since had even received that final letter. The day he walked in the door she was not able to recognize him. Somewhere along the line, Hiccup had changed from that small humorous boy she had fallen for into an empty man. He held no emotions in his eyes but numbness. And he spoke little, if any, words to her. Astrid pushed for details on Toothless' death. She pushed for him to speak to her, but he remained placid and unfeeling. He was lost to her. With his rejection she began to lose herself as well. It is true that we can lose our lovers before they even leave. Astrid had lost Hiccup and, yet, he woke up beside her every morning.
After many long months of silence, Hiccup finally approached her. He came to her while she was sleeping. The morning was cold and crisp and she was wrapped rather heavily in a pile of blankets, attempting to avoid the weather. He sat down on the bed suddenly and scared her so thoroughly she jumped a foot in the air.
"Oh my gosh," Astrid whispered between gulps of air, "I didn't expect you there."
"Why would you," Hiccup responded heavily, "I have barely spoken to you in many months let alone sat with you."
Astrid stared at him in silence. She didn't know what to expect from him anymore.
"My love," he smiled, "what a patient kind woman you are to keep by me. No woman would have put up with such rejection for so long. And yet, you were able to sleep beside me every night even with the silence I put you through. I understand that you can't possibly love me anymore, but then why did you stay with me for so long?"
"I do still love you," she interjected, "I never stopped. Not for a second!"
"You crazy woman!" Hiccup all but yelled, "How dare you love me so much that you stop yourself from living while you wait for me! How dare you be so selfish. What sort of horrible man puts the woman he loves through such rejection for so long? All because he can't see past his own grief," Hiccup grabbed her hand at this point and began kissing it softly, "You crazy woman. You should have left me. You should have left me long ago."
The kissing became more intense. He kissed his way up her arm, to her lips, and submersed himself in her very fiber for hours. And she let him. She kissed him back just as passionately. She did not wait for an explanation for his grief. She didn't ask what had killed him inside so bad that he had been broken, or what had affected him so entirely that he had been given back to her. She allowed him to kiss her over and over again. They had kissed until they were both nothing more than the emotion between them.
Eventually, Astrid came back to reality. She stood in her office staring off into nothingness and still aware of how his lips had felt against hers that day. And now, shortly after her thirtieth birthday, she was lost in that same kiss. It is true, Astrid realized, that our memories can be lonely. That we can suffer from nostalgia so completely that they can torture us. She had no reason to be sad. Hiccup had given her a wonderful life and a child, but memories were the ash of the earth. They are all that is left when time moves forward. Sometimes, Astrid thought, even good memories can leave you with a heavy heart. Astrid did not cry because she could no longer create memories with Hiccup, she cried because the ones she held were so full of emotion that they still had the potential to hurt. She loved Hiccup so entirely that she could find herself in anguish over events that happened long ago. And she often pondered the way their lives had turned out. Astrid left her memories to the office and walked out of the office to the bedroom, before padding softly to the bed. Hiccup lay silent, fast asleep and unaware of her restless night. As she crawled in bed beside him, he pulled her into his arms on reflex. Astrid wasn't even aware if he had woken up to do this. She wondered if he ever remembered their lives together with as much anguish as she did. And as Astrid settled herself down into her pillow, she came to the sudden realization that our memories, our stories, are sometimes what drive our love forward. She realized that, even in the event of tragedy or death, our memories create a world of their own, and outlast time.