Astrid smoothed Hiccup's unkempt hair down with her hand when he groaned. It wasn't in her character to be caring or concerned, but maybe things had changed, because she really did care about Hiccup, and she really was concerned for him, try to deny it as she might.

She couldn't help worrying, never leaving his side, not even feeling tired. When she did feel the urge to sleep (albeit it was seldom), she always ignored it and brushed it away, thinking about how if she fell asleep, if Hiccup woke up in pain, then she wouldn't have been there to take care of him, or help him through it.

She stayed there, the minutes ticking by and by, the cycle continuing as if it literally had no end to it. Hiccup was still breathing, but Astrid knew that that could change in a split second. She didn't trust herself to leave the bedside; how could she? He could die while she was away, and that was something she didn't want to risk.

She thought that maybe, Hiccup would survive the night. If he did, then maybe Valarie could find something that would help him. It already seemed to have been so long already; maybe morning was coming. Maybe the sun was about to rise. Maybe the night was wearing to an end.

She tried to stay in the positive. She was sure that way day came, they would find the cure for it. She didn't know why, but everything seemed brighter in the morning. At that moment, in the Haddock house, it was gloomy and dark, when normally it was filled with so much light.

She heard a slight, almost silent growl, and then leaned over the side of the bed to look at Toothless. His emerald eyes were on her and his rider, regarding her with a coo of concern.

"It's okay, Toothless," said Astrid, but how could she say that it was okay when it wasn't? It wasn't okay; Hiccup was dying. And if he died, Astrid knew that it would never be okay again, no matter how much time passed.

Toothless, in response, stood up and crossed over slowly, sniffing his master, before he recoiled, disliking the distinct smell of infection, sickness and sweat that the boy carried. However, in another moment of hesitation, Toothless chose to ignore it, pressing his head gently against Hiccup's chest, purring as if somehow that would save the young rider's life.

Astrid watched the Night Fury with sadness in her gaze. She knew Toothless loved his rider and would do anything and everything to try and protect him and save him, but at that moment, both Astrid Hofferson the Fearless and Toothless the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself were helpless as they watched their dear friend push through his pain and suffering.

It wasn't much long later when she heard the front door to the house open, followed by frantic footsteps ascending the stairwell. Unsure of who it was until he approached, Astrid wasn't surprised to see Stoick in the doorway. The Chief of Berk looked tired yet concerned as he said Hiccup's name and crossed over to the bedside, placing his hand atop his son's head.

"D-did Valarie tell you?" Astrid stuttered.

Stoick nodded sadly. "I can't believe this," he said, running his fingers over Hiccup's hair. "I cannot believe this."

"Me neither," said Astrid. "I can't...I can't believe there's nothing we can do. I mean...there has to be something we could do, instead of just sitting here doing nothing!" She knew she'd said it a lot. She said that all the time, practically, feeling angry and hating herself because there was literally nothing she could do. She knew it. She knew there was nothing.

She hated herself for it. She hated herself, and she hated the Gemsho. She wished the Gemsho were still alive, just so she could kill it again.

It would have been better than watching Hiccup suffer without being able to help him.

Stoick shook his head sadly. "She already explained the situation to me," he said. "She's looking for something in her books, but...so far, I don't think she's found anything, or else she wouldn't have wasted a second getting here to tell us."

"You...make a good point," said Astrid, as much as she wanted to deny the truth. "I just really hope she finds something. I mean...she has to. If she doesn't…" Her voice trailed off, only because she couldn't say it. She could think it all she wanted, but she couldn't say it out loud when that's what it came down to.

"I can't believe he's dying," she whispered, not meeting Stoick's eyes. She glanced up at him at length. "Dying," she repeated.

"I know," said Stoick. "Me neither."

Nothing else needed to be said. Stoick pulled a stool over next to the bed, sitting on the opposite side of Astrid, beside Toothless. Hiccup was sleeping fitfully, and there wasn't anything they could have done about it. It was scary, not knowing how much longer Hiccup was going to be alive.

After a few more minutes of whining and moaning in his sleep, Hiccup finally opened his eyes, squinting at Toothless in front of him, his Father across from him, and Astrid leaning over him.

"Hey…" was all he managed to say at the moment. He felt far too exhausted to say or do anything else, so in the end, he just settled for closing his eyes and relaxing, trying to take his mind off the terrible, mounting pain and clawing arms of unconsciousness.

"Hiccup," said Stoick, placing his hand on Hiccup's shoulder reassuringly. Hiccup was still lying on his side, pressing his back up against Astrid's crossed legs with his arms wrapped loosely around his stomach. He opened his eyes when he felt his Father's gentle touch, double blinking until his vision cleared.

"Dad…" Hiccup said in response, his voice weak. He managed to lift a shaking hand, putting it on top of Stoick's, giving his Dad an unconvincing smile.

"Are you feeling okay?" said Astrid, her voice full of more concern people who didn't know her better mustered. She knew it was a rather stupid question, but she wanted to hear how Hiccup was doing from his own words.

Hiccup shook his head tiredly, closing his eyes once more as they became heavy.

"Scale of one to ten, how bad?" Astrid asked.

"S-s-seventeen," said Hiccup.

"Hiccup, that's more than ten," said Stoick.

"I k-know," said Hiccup. "I-it's s-sevent-t-teen."

Astrid knew what that meant. It meant that Hiccup didn't know how to express his pain, and the fact he was being open with it was what made it even more terrifying.

He wasn't getting better.

He was getting worse.