OKAY, EVERYONE: I know HTTYD2 came out last year and most people in this fandom have probably already seen it, but I'm still going to put a warning: THIS CONTAINS MAJOR SPOILERS FOR HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON 2, SO IF YOU DO NOT LIKE TO HAVE THINGS SPOILED, DO NOT READ. Other than that, go for it! :)

Real quick: I just got so many ideas for one-shots. Like, no joke, TONS. So, I'll probably be posting A LOT of one-shots, and I also know that I said I was going to get up to 75 stories and then take a break of fanfiction for a while...

...But...

Well, one-shots don't really count as stories...well, they kind of do...so, what I'm going to do is, even if I do go over the 75 story limit, I'm going to finish up the requests I have, maybe post some of my own requests, and then go from there. So, get ready to be bombarded with one-shots. XD

My father died last week.

It happened so suddenly. After a quiet dinner, he went to bed early, and died in his sleep. That morning and the days following afterwards had been crazy and hectic, full of tears and sobbing.

I didn't show my face in public for the first week, and now, as I am walking through the plaza, catching every single little tiny solitary glance of pity the villagers are giving me, some small part of me wants to go back to hiding in my room with my blankets covering my entire body.

I don't speak to anyone, and they don't speak to me, either. They know better than that. Some of them know what I'm going through; some of them have also lost loved ones that meant the world to them, like my father. Some of them, however (like Snotlout, Fishlegs, and the twins) just offer me reassuring smiles with sorrow hidden behind them.

One of the things that makes me the most upset, though, is when someone tells me that they know how I feel. Of course, maybe they know what it's like to lose a loved one, but no, they don't know how I feel. They can't travel into my mind and feel what I'm feeling.

I'm not in the mood to do anything. I told Stormfly before I left the house not to follow me. Sometimes, I half-expect her to pop out of nowhere, the goofy "let's go flying and pretend nothing bad ever happened!" grin on her face, but she never does. I kind of miss her already.

Vikings aren't really known for displaying their emotions openly, so I take my anger and hurt and sorrow out on every single tree in Raven Point, flinging my axe at them, letting the blade sink into the wood, each time more deep than the last. This is where I'm heading: Raven Point.

As soon as I get to the forest, I instantly take notice of all the previous axe marks I've created in past encounters. I don't think about it very much, though. The next thing I know, I'm unsheathing my axe and hurling it towards a tree.

The blade sinks into the wood.

My father is dead.

I yank the axe out of the tree, and then throw it at another one. This time, my aim is a tad bit off, yet the axe still penetrates the wood as if it were made of paper, just a few inches from where I had aimed for.

My father is dead.

I grab my axe once more, and throw it at another tree. THUNK. The blade meets the wood. I storm over to it, and yank the axe out of the tree again.

My father is dead.

My father is dead.

My father is dead…

"AGH!" I shout suddenly, throwing my axe into the forest, not aiming for anything, not caring what I hit at that moment. I feel tears forming in my eyes, and no matter how hard I try, I can't force them back.

My father is dead, and saying those four words (even if just to myself) makes it feel real. He's dead. He's never coming back. Now, I'll have to live the rest of my life without him.

A sudden voice breaks me out of my thoughts. "Astrid…?" The voice is tentative, but I suppose everyone's a bit nervous around me when I'm angry. I recognize the voice instantly, though. I spin around, coming face-to-face with Hiccup. He's standing about two feet away from me...how had I not heard him coming before now?

"What?" I say. My voice comes out angrier, flatter, and thicker than I meant for it to be, so it sounds like I'm mad, and annoyed.

Either Hiccup ignores it, or he doesn't notice it. He nods in the direction I threw my axe. "Want me to get that for you?" he offers, rather offhandedly.

I nod subconsciously, and he runs off, his uneven footsteps breaking the recently developed silence of the forest.

I know he's trying to take my mind off the subject of my father, and I'm partially grateful for that. However, despite his efforts, I can't get it out of my mind. The fact that my father is gone...it's just too hard for me to fully register.

Hiccup returns just as fast as he left, my axe in his left hand, which I think is strange at first, before I remember that he's left-handed. My mind feels scrambled. All I can think about is my dead father.

"Here," Hiccup says. I take my axe from him, and, instead of throwing it at another tree, sheath it around my waist again.

"Thanks," I mutter. Then, a sudden thought occurs to me. What is Hiccup doing here? He hardly ever comes here anymore. "What are you doing here?" I ask flatly.

"Seeing what you're doing here," Hiccup says, speaking as if it were obvious.

"So you followed me?" I ask.

"No," Hiccup says. "I saw you leave, and came after you."

"So, you did follow me," I say.

"Yeah, kind of," Hiccup says, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. I cross my arms. I'm really not in the mood to talk to him at this moment. "Look, Astrid, we need to talk," he says. "I know it might be hard to…" He pauses, and then shakes his head. "But it helps. Trust me. I know how it feels-" /

"NO YOU DON'T!" I shout, my sudden anger getting the best of me. "YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT I FEEL! YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M GOING THROUGH! DON'T YOU DARE TRY AND TELL ME THAT YOU DO!"

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I wish (I so desperately wish) that I can take them back. Just how selfish am I? Of course Hiccup knows what I'm going through; he lost his mother before his first birthday, and yet I still had the gall to yell at him and accuse him of trying to comfort me?

Way to go, Astrid. You might as well have just slapped him in the face.

Hiccup had talked to me before about his mother's abduction by dragons. It's a touchy subject for him, but sometimes I can coax him to talk about it. He told me that he mourns still over his loss, even after fifteen years. He told me that one of the main reasons he mourns over losing his mother is because he has no memories of his mother.

With my father, at least I can remember all the good times I had with him. That always eases a bit of the agony for me. But Hiccup doesn't even have that much. All he has is an empty place in his life, and he doesn't even know who once filled it.

Who do I think I am?

Besides, he never said he knows how I feel (the statement that always makes me mad). No, he said "I know how it feels." He does, too. I had yelled at him for being right. I have no excuse. Hiccup didn't do anything to deserve my anger. And yet I had taken it all out on him.

Slap him in the face again while you're at it.

It takes me a moment before I realize that Hiccup hasn't said anything since my outburst. I look up at him. I can't read his expression. He's looking at me with...sorrow...pity…? Hurt...understanding…? He doesn't look angry, not even slightly, but he doesn't really look anything else, either. He's just...staring at me.

Anyone else would yell at me. In fact, I half-expected Hiccup to yell, too. My Mother would yell at me. Most my friends would yell at me. Heck, I bet my Father would yell at me. But Hiccup just kind of…stays silent. His eyes speak a gazillion words, none of which I can make out.

I'm ashamed of myself. We stare silently at each other for another moment as I wait for him to finally say something (anything, really), until he speaks up.

"Okay." That's all he says at first. His voice carries no emotion. "I'll just go then." He spins around, but I still catch a hesitation in his movements. He's hesitating, for whatever reason...maybe I struck a chord with him.

"No, wait…" I stumble forward as he begins walking away, grabbing his wrist loosely. He can still break away from me if he tries. He doesn't, though, staring at me with those big green eyes of his. I still can't make out his expression.

"I didn't mean it…" I say. What's rushing through his mind? "Hiccup, I didn't...I wasn't...I didn't mean it…"

"You did though, Astrid." What is that expression!? Does he even have an expression at this point!? "I know you didn't...mean for it to come out that way, but you meant everything you said, and...I understand that."

He does understand it, quite possibly better than I do. I'm, once again, washed with guilt.

"I wasn't thinking, Hiccup…" I want him to say something else. I want him to make a point. I want him to react somehow. He hasn't really fully reacted to my screaming at him, and it's making me worried. What is he thinking? Is he mad? Is he neutral about the whole yelling thing? Does he want to end this conversation as badly as I do?

"I know you weren't," he states blatantly.

So he knows now? Of course he does. He can read me like a book, and I can't even read his face to know what he's feeling.

"I'm sorry, Hiccup," I say. I'm worried at what he's feeling. Normally, I have no problem knowing what he's feeling, but now…? "I didn't mean to yell…"

"It's not that, Astrid."

What? He's not upset with me for yelling at him?

"I just…" He pauses, and for a second, it looks like he's going to stop talking altogether. "I just wish you didn't have to go through...this."

So that's what it is. He's sympathizing with me. I almost roll my eyes. It's tempting, but I force it back. Still, though, I don't want his sympathy.

...

Do I?

I would get angry at anyone else, but Hiccup's….different. I can't hide anything from him. I try, and I fail. Somehow or another, he always gets the truth out of me, sometimes without even speaking.

That's what he's doing right now. He's just staring at me knowingly. He knows what I'm going through, and he wants me to talk to him. The blank expression is gone. He's back to being Hiccup.

"I can't do it, Hiccup," I say, running my hands through my bangs, finally letting go of his wrist. "I don't know how most people just...move on, and continue their lives. I can't do that, Hiccup."

He's shaking his head before I even get through speaking. "No one's asking you to, Astrid," he says. "No one can really move on and continue their lives without some sort of scar."

"How...how did you do it?" I ask.

"I don't know, really," Hiccup says, shrugging. "I guess for most of it, I was too young to really realize what happened, and then when I got older, I suppose it just...it was something I had to deal with."

"Does it still hurt sometimes?"

"It never really goes away."

"Oh." I look down at my feet, shuffling one against the forest floor. "It hurts, Hiccup, knowing that he's…" I can feel tears in my eyes, and I know that once they start, there's no stopping them. "...gone," I manage.

"I know," Hiccup says, and I'm sure I hear his voice crack.

I want to hug him. I step forward, and then pause. I just got done screaming my throat out at him. Does he want me to hug him after all that?

Before I can fully react, Hiccup steps forward and beats me to it, answering all my previous questions with just one small movement. I hug him back, probably tighter than I intended to.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I'm so sorry, Hiccup."

He doesn't speak, probably only because he can't find the words to say. A sudden thought occurs to me.

What would I do if Hiccup died?

I squeeze him tighter. I don't want to imagine something happening to him, but still...the image lingers in my mind.

"You won't die on me, will you?" I ask. My voice is shaky. My tears are falling.

Now Hiccup squeezes me. "No," he says. "No, I won't."

"Promise?" I ask.

"I promise, should lightning strike me dead," Hiccup says. I wish he didn't add that last part. Hiccup instantly tries to fix what he said. "Oh, I mean...well, not literally, just...gah…"

"I know what you mean," I say. "Thank you, Hiccup."

"You can always talk to me," he says. "About anything, really."

He means it. He means every word of it.

"Okay," I say, nodding.

…

Hiccup's father died yesterday.

The effect is more than I wish to think about.

At least my father died peacefully, in his sleep. Hiccup's father died with a scream of his son's name, followed by the deafening sound of a plasma blast crescendoing. The terror in Hiccup's eyes that day was something I had never seen before. Not even during the battle against the Red Death did he look so blatantly horrified.

He had watched his father die. It's been about five years since the death of my father (we were fifteen then. Strange. It seems that it happened so much more recently). That time had been hard for me; in fact, it's still hard for me, but at least I didn't watch my father die. I don't think I would have been able to handle that.

Hiccup, though…? No. He had watched the death of the person who raised him. Worse than that, he blames himself.

He told me yesterday that he wished it had been him that was killed instead of his father. He wasn't joking, either. He was dead serious. He doesn't kid about stuff like that.

For the record, the only reason I'm walking in the middle of the night with the freezing cold wind blowing in my face is because of Valka. She's nervous around Hiccup, which isn't really hard to believe. She hasn't seen him in twenty years. Of course, she is his mother, but she might as well be a stranger to Hiccup. He doesn't know her. He just learned of her existence yesterday.

The same day his father was ripped out of his life.

I'm looking for Hiccup at Valka's request. Apparently, he never showed up, and she got worried, but she didn't want to go looking for him herself, because he hardly knows her. So, she asked if I could go look for him, and of course I said yes.

So, that brings me here. I don't know how I know, but somehow, I always know where to find Hiccup. He doesn't normally isolate himself, and when he does, he never goes very far, so finding him at the outskirts of the village, sitting a few feet away from the edge of a cliff comes as no surprise to me.

His back is towards me, so I can't see his face. I approach him gingerly, not wanting to scare him (I've done it before...who knew Hiccup could jump three feet in the air?). I touch his shoulder lightly, and he flinches, his head jerking in my direction.

"Hey, it's just me," I say quietly. "Just me." I plop down next to him when he relaxes. "So, have you-" I'm cut off when Hiccup hugs me. It doesn't take me long to realize that he's sobbing, tears running freely down his face.

I breathe in sharply. I really didn't expect this. As I was walking here, I expected Hiccup to brush me off with a quick "Stop worrying" or "Yeah, I'm fine." I hadn't expected him to break down in my arms.

He's a strong person, who really doesn't like people concerned about him or worrying (and often times fussing) over him. He likes to hide his emotions behind sarcastic remarks and dorky, lopsided smiles.

I didn't expect this at all.

I hesitate for too long. Hiccup pulls away slowly, his cheeks reddening from embarrassment. He wipes furiously at his eyes, but his tears still flow like rivers. He can't stop them.

I know you can't stop tears of loss once they start.

Before he can do anything else, I finally react, grabbing him and yanking him into an embrace.

He tenses at first (long enough for me to mentally scold myself for hesitating), and then relaxes again. His sobbing picks up, and he hugs me back tightly, as if afraid to let go.

Who knows? Maybe he is.

"Why did...how...why…?" Hiccup sobs, and my heart breaks a little at the tone of his voice. He's twenty now, yes, but he still sounds like a five-year-old who just got scolded.

I don't know why Stoick had to die. It seems that it's the people we care about the most who are often stripped away. My father, for instance. Hiccup's father (and Berk's Chief) for another.

"I know, Hiccup," I say, and I mean it.

"I know you do…"

Of course he does. He comforted me after I lost my father more than anyone else did.

"I can't do it, Astrid," he whimpers. "I can't…"

"Yes you can," I say.

"Not alone," Hiccup says.

"I know," I say. We both speak from experience. "No one can. But the thing is, Hiccup, you're not alone." I pause. "You know that, right?"

"Of...course," he says, only hesitating to catch his breath. "Thank you, Astrid."

"That's what I'm here for," I say.

I mean it, too. I mean every single word of it.

We both lost someone important to us. We've been through thick and thin together, really, between Outcast attacks, Berserker schemes, injuries, tragedies…

But we have each other. That's what we do have. And I'm holding on with both hands, refusing to let go.

Author's Notes:

SO YES, I LIKE MAKING CHARACTERS SAD. Of course, those of you who have read some of my previous stories *cough cough*...Be Brave…*cough* *clears throat* already know that I do.

Sorry, fandom.

Just so you all know, the "Astrid's father dies" thing is my headcanon. It's not actually canon (I don't think…? Is it?). We never really see Astrid's parents, but we know from episode 13 ("When Lightning Strikes") that Astrid's aunt is trying to find the end of the world, and so some people think that her parents went with her aunt...

But NOOOO, no, I had to make her father die. I couldn't have been reasonable! But hey, what do you expect from me, after all? I have happy stories, I have sad stories, and I have stories that kill the characters….

Yeah, that just about sums it up. :)

Until next story! :)

-BeyondTheClouds777