Thank you for all the reviews! I'm actually turning this Hiccup deathfic into a series. Because, well, an idea for a second series popped into my head that sorta/kinda relies on the epilogue of this story. Since I can't just say "hur hur, after Drago and his Bewilderbeast were defeated, yatayatayah," this one-shot has turned into a multi-chapter story.

Have more sadness. I promise I won't incinerate your feels in later chapters. u v u

A parent should never outlive their child.

Life can be cruel in that sometimes young lives would be cut short and innocence would be lost when it should not. Stoick, with bow and arrow in hand, glanced sorrowfully at the lonely boat in the distance. On it was the resting body of Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, covered by a thin, white sheet. His helmet was placed above his head as a symbol of his leadership, his talents, and of who he was. Stoick did not want to set his son ablaze, but he had to give Hiccup a proper, traditional burial no matter how grey the sky or how bland the commodities. It was only right.

"Today, we have lost a friend. A loved one. A son," Gobber declared. Stoick touched the tip of the arrow to a scorched wood whose core was still burning hot. "A youth cherished by all has perished, but he shall not wither from our hearts." The Chief of Berk pulled the arrow back, his hands unusually steady, and aimed the would-be-projectile at the drifting boat. Gobber's words started to seem more and more like gibberish, but Stoick didn't mind not comprehending, or even hearing, any of it: with each word uttered that described Hiccup, his heart sank further.

He watched, out of respect and admiration, when the Vikings present around him each sent their arrows flying at and hitting the ship after he had done so. A fiery dance engulfed the wooden boat, glorious, beautiful, mesmerizing. Stoick scoffed. What was so enthralling about Hiccup burning into colorless ash?

It was at this point that he realized Toothless was missing. A part of him was glad, because how dare that reptile show his face around here, after he had murdered his best friend? A second part of him, though, was worried for the Night Fury. Undoubtedly, Toothless suffered a great loss, and suffering through it alone would be anything but helpful. He knew, firsthand, how it felt to lose a very special someone (except Stoick didn't murder his wife, of course).

Where is that dragon? Stoick trekked through the carnage of what once was a beautiful island. Soon, he spotted Toothless perched on an icy blade overlooking the vast sea ahead. He, like Stoick, was unreasonably calm, perhaps numb from the realization that he had committed the greatest sin anyone could imagine. The burly man didn't have the time to take one step towards the Night Fury before a hideous choking sound was emitted from Toothless' throat. Alert, Stoick stopped mid-step. A moment of silence before another one of those wretched dragon-noise followed. What? That was when the man heard, loud and clear, a sniffle. Is he crying?

Slowly, Stoick took a seat below the mourning Night Fury, though his presence was probably not welcomed: as soon as Toothless noticed he had company, he hid himself behind his large wings. Was the dragon embarrassed, for he was a proud Night Fury unable to let anyone see his vulnerability? Or, perhaps, was he just ashamed to face anyone at the moment? Either way, Stoick wanted to lash out at Toothless. It was his fault, after all. But, a part of him who knew better held the anger back. "Pardon him," his subconscious seemed to whisper. I'm trying. Toothless was immensely precious to Hiccup, and he was pretty sure Hiccup held no vengeance against the dragon. He was also sure the boy would instantly forgive Toothless if he, Stoick, was the one killed. Hiccup was a kind, albeit highly idiotic, kid.

"Things will be different from now on," Stoick broke the silence with a sigh.

Toothless did not move. Gah, I can't do this. He was a Viking, not a therapist, much less so a dragon therapist.

"At least he didn't suffer." Toothless wailed. If this was a "How to Make a Dragon Cry" contest, Stoick felt like he would've won first prize.

What now? What should he do now? If Toothless didn't stop with those horrid noises, Stoick felt as though he might lose it and just whack the thing with a giant hammer. That would be disrespectful, but dear Odin not even Valka cried so hard! The sticky hands of Frustration tugged at his shirt, but he immediately swatted it away. Toothless is sad, let's just focus on that, he told himself. He let the dragon cry and sob in peace, waiting for the storm to pass, for the perfect moment to say something worthwhile. Comfort was not his forte, but he had to try. For Hiccup.

"It's not your fault," he managed to say after silence had engulfed the two. Stoick could tell that Toothless was waiting for more, because he could see those scaly ears of his poke through from above his wings. "You tried to fight that giant's power, but you couldn't-I get it… You're not to blame." Stoick didn't know if he was trying to help Toothless or comfort himself. Then, he remembered what Gobber said before he had tuned him out.

"Hiccup is alive!" Stoick said, slightly too ecstatic. Toothless lowered his wing, revealing the saddest, most hurt face ever that it made the man's stomach twist in pain. Good job, Stoick, now the reptile is expecting an alive Hiccup popping out from behind me.

"Hiccup is alive-within us," he clarified, hoping he didn't destroy the last of Toothless' happiness. "So long as you live, you will carry him with you. Wherever you go. Each time you close your eyes, you will see him. He will always be with us, no matter what. Everything will be okay." These empty words started to make him want to cry as well. But, surprisingly, the dragon slowly nodded, then hopped down from his higher spot and curled next to Stoick. That was unrealistically easy. Toothless still had that miserable expression of his though.

Stoick sighed. "You know what will make you feel better?" Toothless lifted his head, fully listening to what the Chief of Berk had to say. "Punching Drago Bludvist into his next life!" Toothless was definitely interested. He, however, knew that the Night Fury wanted to do more, to see more than Drago beaten to a pulp. "Let's go get the others and then we can show that madman what we're made of," he said, standing up and heading back to where he came from. Toothless followed, a fiery intensity burning in his eyes. Time to make Drago pay.

The other Vikings were waiting for the Chief's return, some more patiently than the others. What was clear, though, was that none were high in spirits. Their eyes fell on the approaching Stoick and Toothless and saw ferocity instead of moping faces.

"We are going back to Berk," Stoick firmly declared. "The madman will not hurt anyone else."

"How? We're kinda stuck here," said Ruffnut.

"He," Stoick pointed to Toothless, "can pull us in a ship."

"Stoick, don't be unreasonable," Valka remarked. "It will be too taxing for a lone dragon to do. I'm not doubting Toothless' strength and endurance, no, but I think you've put on a couple extra pounds over the last twenty years." Ouch. That hurt.

"Then what do you suggest we do to get off this island?"

Valka's lips twisted into that of a sly smile.

I'm a sucker for sappy and cheesy scenes. u v u

I apologize for the sudden drop in writing quality (this scene was not planned) and for its brevity. I also apologize for how rushed this scene is (but it's not that unrealistic, right?)-Stoick is bad a comforting others, and instead focuses on what he's good at: beating the ever loving life out of Drago.

Please R&R!