Valhalla
Hiccup would never forget that night.
He was young then, so little that he just barely came over is father's knee, but big enough to get into all sorts of trouble if Stoick took his eyes off of him for more than a second. He'd gotten into trouble earlier that day when he snuck into the field to pet a baby sheep and left the gate unlocked, which lead to the village being forced to put their usual tasks on hold to herd the animals back into their proper place. That had gotten him sent to bed early even though he wasn't sleepy, one of Hiccup's most hated punishments (It was even worse than having to eat that nasty food his father insisted would make him big and strong).
He must've ended up falling asleep anyways, since a few hours later he woke up to urgent voices talking in the room below. Confused, Hiccup pulled himself out of bed, knowing that something was wrong even at his young age. As late as it was, there shouldn't be anyone in the house right now expect for him and his father, since his mother was on the boat that left to look for dragons and everyone else in the village was tucked away in their own beds. The only time anyone else ever came in the middle of the night was during Dragon attacks, but there was no yelling or panic like there usually was during one of those scary raids, just a bunch of deep voices talking low and distressed.
Troubled, Hiccup pushed his door open and slipped down the stairs, his slight weight not making a noise as he made his way to the ground floor. Someone had lit a fire, which gave off just enough light that Hiccup didn't trip or stumble as he crept closer to the crowd of six or seven adults standing around his dinner table, all looking pale and upset. Stoick was there too, sitting in a chair with Gobber by his side, patting his back with a comforting hand. Despite the talking earlier, things were now silent. A heavy quiet that made it hard for Hiccup to breathe.
"Dad?" Hiccup said cautiously, breaking that silence. Almost immediately, the attention of every adult in the room except for his father centered on him, and Hiccup wondered for a moment if he'd done something else wrong to warrant the panicked looked that crossed every face that was now staring at him.
"Hiccup!" Gobber said, alarmed. Something was wrong. Gobber never got upset or frustrated even when everyone else did. And yet, now Gobber was hobbling towards him, a meaty hand grabbing his boney shoulder to steer him back to the stairs. "Ya shouldn't be up right now, lad. Go back to bed now, like a good little Viking." There wasn't much Hiccup could do with Gobber easily pushing him back the way he came, but Hiccup turned and gave his father one last confused glance, wondering why Stoick hadn't said anything to him even when Hiccup called for him. Stoick still didn't seem to notice though, his eyes focused on something on the table. Tilting his head, Hiccup got a glance of the thing his father was staring at and felt his own eyes go wide. Before Gobber even knew what had happened, Hiccup's tiny frame dodged and sprinted past him to head back to the table. "Hiccup-!"
"That's Mom's!" Hiccup exclaimed, pulling himself up onto the tips of his toes to look at the battered armor laying woebegone on the table. It was mostly just pieces, with the chest part being the biggest remaining part. Hiccup knew the armor well, the dings and scratches and the way that it felt when he hugged his mother goodbye before she left. Confused, Hiccup turned to the other adults in the room. "What happened? Why is Mom's stuff here? Where's Mom?" The silence came back to greet Hiccup's question, heavier and more suffocating then before and Hiccup didn't understand it at all. Why was the armor on the table, and not on his mom like it was supposed to be? That was all he wanted to know. Why wasn't anyone telling him that. Frowning, Hiccup turned to his father to repeat the question. "Dad-"
That was as far as Hiccup got before the breath froze in his throat.
Hiccup didn't feel himself slide back down to stand on his feet properly, or notice the uncomfortable glances the other grownups in the room were giving each other as the silence went on, uninterrupted by the curious little boy. All he saw in that moment was Stoick's face, and the sight of it made Hiccup feel a pain he never imagined was possible. Slowly, almost frightened, Hiccup reached out to touch his father's hand with his own much smaller on, his eyes never leaving Stoick's face.
"Dad…?" Hiccup had barely whispered, but Stoick finally seemed to hear him, perhaps because of the touch. His eyes finally left the shattered breastplate sitting on his table to rest on his son's face, and the pain Hiccup felt intensified by a hundred.
Stoick didn't say a word to reassure Hiccup, or explain to him what was going on. Pulling himself out of his chair, the giant chief of the Hooligan Clan fell to his knees in front of his only child, taking the boy into his arms to hold him close. Hiccup's head ended up tucked under Stoick's chin, his father's beard scratching and tickling at his face as the boy just sat there, confused and frightened and in pain and with no idea what he was supposed to do.
And for as long as he lived, Hiccup would never, ever forget that night.
It was the only time in his life he'd ever seen his father cry.