A RESTLESS NIGHT

The snug pressure at his back suddenly lifted, and Hiccup stirred, fighting the nudge to wake. It was dark – pitch dark. Midnight, probably. With a mumble he curled up and burrowed further into his pillow… clinging tight to sleep's clutches… yielding to its enrapturing lull once more…

It almost took him. Almost. For not two seconds later, the sheets behind him flew open and the warmth was exchanged for a torrent of chilled air that rushed in.

Hiccup woke with a start. Departing footfalls reached his ears, and by the time he sat up in bed, the distant sound of retching wafted in through the doorway. Tossing back the furs, he leapt out in attempt for the door, though quite unsuccessfully, for his foot connected with nothing but air and – "Oomph!" – he found himself face-down on the floor instead.

"Urgggh..." he groaned, jaw throbbing painfully. That was going to look wonderful tomorrow... But right now, it was trivial. Between a resigned mutter and colorful choice of swear words, the weary chieftain groped around for his prosthetic. Fingers made quick work of the attachment and, at a pace too fast for his sleep-filled state, he hurried on down the hall toward the washroom. At the door, he swept the bangs from his jaded eyes, took a quick breath and knocked.

"Astrid?"

There was no answer. Both dread and relief simultaneously washed over him. After knocking once more, Hiccup announced his coming in and gently pushed on the wood.

His wife was kneeling on the floor by the wall. Gaze down, bent forward, her eyes took no acknowledgement of his presence, glazed over the bucket clutched tightly in her arms. Instead of their usual sparkle they held a dullness, and the skin peeking beneath her sleeves matched the sickly pallor on her cheeks.

Heart sinking at the sight, Hiccup immediately rushed forward and dropped into a crouch beside her, placing a soothing hand on her back as he gathered her sleep-strewn tresses with the other.

"Thanks," she managed weakly, "Sorry for– for waking y–" Though she never finished her sentence, a severe bout of sickness breaking her off.

"Shhh…" he rubbed the softest of circles between her shoulder blades, "There's nothing to be sorry for. We're in this together, remember?"

Astrid nodded feverishly, though Hiccup wasn't sure whether it was because she agreed with him or because she wanted him to be quiet. He settled on the former when the smallest of smiles broke through.

Taking heart, he augmented his massage on her back. "I'm here for you, okay? All night if need be – though I hope it doesn't come to that, but I want you to know–"

"Hiccup," she cut him off, sallow but fierce, "please shut up." And with that her body lurched forward for bout three.

Hiccup closed his mouth with a meek nod, swallowing the urge to apologize as further contents unloaded from her stomach and brought an awful sensation to his own. It was remarkable there was anything left to come out really, considering she'd barely even touched his cooking today. After a few seconds of guilty contemplation, he settled for retrieving the rogue locks that had escaped his clutches and fallen back over her cheeks.

Freyr, he felt so useless. Together, he'd said – they were in this together. Yet Astrid was the one bearing the brunt of it all while he could only sit there beside her, breaking at her discomforts. He'd do anything to relieve her, share the load – he'd take it, would that he could.

Hiccup squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. Gods, he hated seeing her like this.

When she dry-heaved and cautiously pulled back, he left her side to fetch the urn from across the room. Tonight at least, he'd been somewhat prepared. After the smaller, less brutal episodes she'd endured the prior two evenings, the young chief had taken the liberty of doing some extra cleaning and ensured fresh water was readily available in foresight of this happening again.

Astrid's arm reached out as Hiccup knelt back at her side, and she grasped the urn urgently, washing out her mouth and spitting into the bucket.

"Better?" he hesitantly asked, relieved when she gave a slow nod in reply.

"Better."

"I'm sorry," he said softly, "I just wish there was something I could do."

She caught his searching eyes and gave him an exhausted but loving look. "Hold me."

The suggestion wasn't merely to lift his spirits. Astrid's eyes held a longing, an intent and desperate plea; she needed her husband's embrace, his comforts, his warmth. Shuffling up with his back against the wall, Hiccup gently but fervidly gathered her into his arms. Astrid leaned in, grateful, resting her head in his chest as he tucked her legs over his knees, pulling her into his lap.

"Gods, I've never felt so ill," she mumbled into his nightshirt. She squeezed her eyes shut and breathed out heavily.

Hiccup's lips pressed softly into her hair. "You sure about that? Including Slitherwing poisoning, hypothermia, and the Scourge of Odin here?"

"Mmh," he heard the weak smile in her voice, "well, I suppose a night of yakking up seawater comes close."

Hiccup grinned. Hypothermic puking convulsions weren't exactly pleasant for the person being used as a furnace either. "Actually, I was going to count that one as mine."

They both chuckled – regrettably on Astrid's part, for her body suddenly tensed as a fresh bout of queasiness settled in. Slowly, he felt her relax again, nuzzle further into his chest. "Whoever thought to call this morning sickness was an idiot."

Hiccup hummed in agreement. It had been days – weeks now – where she couldn't keep anything down. "Still, it is morning at the moment."

His statement elicited a soft, disheartened groan from her. "We're going to be exhausted for tomorrow's chiefing."

"We?" he asked with a sigh. "By we you mean Hiccup will be exhausted for tomorrow's chiefing – and yes, he will be, but he'll survive. You, milady," he asserted firmly, "are staying home to rest."

Astrid shook her head at snail's pace, though the gesture was no less insistent as she contended with a mutter, "No, I can't. There's too much… too much to–" But her refutal was cut short once more as she twisted out of his embrace and lunged for the bucket, casting out whatever was left with a violent heave.

And once more Hiccup was at her side, fingers collecting her hair, soothing her until she calmed.

"This is all your fault, you know," she eventually mumbled. But when he saw that, despite the nausea and fatigue, her eyes were filled with affection, he relaxed.

Her hand crawled across the floor, feeling for the urn, and he picked it up for her. "I dunno…" he teased as she rinsed out again, "I recall you being the one to kick off said series of events, actually."

Carefully, Astrid curled back up in his lap. "Mmmh," she grinned wearily, fingers playing with the ties of his shirt. They tickled his bare bit of chest peeking beneath the fabric. "I do remember… that part was fun."

Hiccup chuckled as he wrapped her close again.

His palm came to rest on her abdomen, stroking the flat, smooth skin through her nightdress. There was no bump yet – though he didn't expect there to be, checking daily with a loving caress. To think that a little life was growing this very moment beneath his touch… half him, half Astrid, in an entirely new person. And to think that although he could never love anything more than the beautiful, remarkable woman wrapped up in his arms, Hiccup already loved and adored and revered this little life inside of her with more love and adoration and reverence than the world.

Their child – their very own son or daughter. It was surreal.

"They say when you're carrying a girl," he said thoughtfully, "the morning sickness is often worse."

Astrid tilted her head back, opening weary eyes to look up at him. "Where did you hear that?"

"Well, there's been a bit of talk around the village, you know… about us."

Her face would have paled drastically if it had any more color to lose. Being Chieftess oft put Astrid at the center of village gossip – one of the drawbacks to marrying "the most unconventional knucklehead in the archipelago," she oft quipped – but now, carrying New Berk's heir… that was another story entirely.

"Gods, have I been that obvious?"

Hiccup chuckled at her surprise. His hand came up to brush the bangs from her clammy forehead, "You've been throwing up more than a Gronckle in a forge, Ast."

She groaned defeatedly, gaze drifting to her womb, and her fingers flexed tenderly over the fabric of her nightdress. "Just what we need, huh?" she muttered, "As if your daddy doesn't worry enough already."

Hiccup's breath hitched. It was one thing to think the title, but to hear it spoken aloud – good Odin, to hear it spoken from Astrid's lips – enraptured his being into a state of bliss that surely even Valhalla could not contend with.

"Only when your very tired and reckless mommy refuses to listen," he lay his hand over hers with a firm squeeze, "Just as you've been trying to tell her the past few weeks."

Astrid rolled her eyes. But beneath his fingers Hiccup felt hers hug her stomach with greater fervor. "Reckless? Me?" she chuckled, "Daddy's the one who busted his jaw trying to get to us," and he looked up to meet a pair of sea-blue eyes smirking amidst fatigue.

He held her gaze in the most tender way, "And he'd do it again in a heartbeat if Mommy needs him."

Her eyes searched his with sheer devotion, fingers ever gently tracing his wound, "I know." And in that moment he wanted nothing more than to kiss her, vomity breath and all; to pour out the love that swelled in every fiber of his being. But she knew. And holding her heartfelt gaze, so did he.

Astrid brought her hand back down with a smile, guiding his palm in a loving circle across her abdomen. "So… a beautiful daughter, huh?"

Hiccup grinned. Since it was still early, they hadn't discussed what they thought the baby would be yet. He'd only entertained the thought in his private fantasies (and Odin Allfather, he'd had a lot of those recently). But the future loomed just around the corner, and the young father-to-be remembered the conversation like it was yesterday.

"Um… Hiccup?" she said nervously, standing in front of him in their kitchen, penetrating his maelstrom of fuzzy thoughts. "You know, it would really help if you said som–mpfh!"

He kissed her with the world's passion, hands gripping her waist as hers caught his biceps in surprise. She chased his lips dazedly as he pulled back, "I'm gonna be a father," and before she could respond he seized hers again, "You're gonna be a mom." Hiccup almost ran out of breath, or breath almost ran out on him, as he kissed her like it was just the two of them in the cosmos.

But it wasn't. It wasn't just the two of them in the very space of their embrace!

"We're gonna be parents, Astrid… Odin, we're gonna be parents!"

He pulled back to look at his wife, catch his breath, calm his heartbeat – awed to find her sky-hued orbs glistening with tears.

"Hey…" he gazed down at her, wide-eyed, and a sudden dread began to invade his ecstasy. His tender palms cupped her cheeks, his voice surprisingly small, "What's wrong?"

Astrid shook her head, biting her lip the way she always did before an emotional outburst only ever reserved for him. And suddenly a choke escaped her, tear-ducts bursting as her mouth curved into the widest beam he'd ever seen.

Zealously, Hiccup drew her in, tucking her head under his chin with one hand while the other wound firmly around her back.

Her arms wrapped around him tightly, "Hiccup, I…" but she couldn't find the words.

"I know," he murmured into her hair, pressing his lips to her temple moments after. "I know."

He held her for a long time, gently swaying her on the spot while allowing reality to settle. Slowly, his mind unwound and his thoughts dispersed into a somewhat orderly pattern. But slowly, Hiccup realized that it was all the same thought, repeating like a chant growing stronger with every chorus:

He was going to be a father.

"So… how long?" he eventually asked, pulse pounding wildly in his ears.

"A bit less than eight months, I think," Astrid's voice was nothing short of nervous. "Maybe seven."

He nodded, gulping down the elation threatening to burst within. Softly, lovingly, he pulled back to look at her, "So this is why…?"

"Yeah." Astrid's hand found his cheek, her thumb brushing the damp freckles beneath his eye – and Hiccup realized that he was crying too.

"And you're okay?" he proceeded to do the same for her, "I mean, how are you feeling?"

"Terrified," she half choked half laughed, leaning into his touch, "but otherwise fine." She grinned at the worry on his face, "I feel fine, Hiccup."

His eyes searched hers for confirmation, and then, as if naturally, he found his palm reaching for her stomach. They both looked down, Hiccup's forehead bumping the top of her head as Astrid's hand joined his, and together they explored the flat stretch of her tunic. He let her gently guide their massage, marveling in the phenomenon that for the next seven moon cycles a little child would be growing in there. Their child.

Seven months, which, really, was not that far away.

"This summer…"

"Mmh?"

"This baby… our baby…" – those words were surreal. Was he really saying them? – "…will be born this summer."

"I know," Astrid let out a shaky laugh, squeezing his hand intently.

Hiccup looked up, pupils blown, "Odin, this is the heir to Berk…" and suddenly his mind was soaring Night Fury speed. "We'll have to make an announcement soon – after we tell the others, of course. What do you reckon? My mom and your parents first, and then, Gobber, do you think?"

"Gobber?" Astrid looked up with a smirk. "Are you sure about that?"

He contemplated her thoughtfully, "No… no, definitely not. Gobber should be last; once he knows, the whole village will know–"

"And the twins. They'll probably yell it from the rooftops or something crazy."

"Oh Thor," Hiccup felt his face pale, "Yeah, right. I think we should let them know when we want the village to know. So long as no one's missed… and we…" Slowly, he trailed off. And quick as his thoughts had flooded in, they all suddenly dissipated like smoke as the image of a bright, mighty chieftain danced across his mind.

"Hiccup?"

He felt Astrid's gaze intent on him, the grin sliding right off her face.

"My dad," he said slowly, more to himself than anything. His voice was suddenly shaking, "Dad will never know."

It felt as if a hole had just been ripped through his chest; as if someone had taken the extra heart he'd grown in the last few minutes and torn the original right out in its place. He could picture it clear as day: huge, beaming Stoick striding around the village with a new-born in his arms, lording the fact over every Hooligan that this was his grandchild. That his son, his precious boy, had too become a father.

Hiccup was going to be a father.

And his own father wouldn't be there to see it.

In his numb fingers he felt the warmth of his wife's, conveying comforts too delicate for words. Her voice was full of emotion, heartfelt but firm, "He knows."

Behind tears of their own, Astrid's striking eyes spoke an assuredness that made the world stop. "How… how do you know?"

"Because if anyone would challenge Valhalla for a grandchild, Hiccup, it's your father."

Hiccup couldn't help but smile a little. Yes… if anyone, Stoick the Vast would challenge the gods themselves to ensure it.

He found himself grinning through tear-streaked vision, thought of his father's joy overpowering the sorrows of his absence. This is what Stoick would have wanted for him… for the both of them.

"Well, he did lecture me on the topic quite a bit. Almost as much as being chief actually – and you."

He looked reverently at the woman standing before him, a sea of past ravings and praise bubbling to surface. Everyone knew Stoick downright adored Astrid. The way he'd cheer her name at the dragon games; boast her being his future daughter-in-law; unabashedly hail her as his 'warrior-successor,' even to allied chieftains. And now the fallen warriors in Odin's halls would know it too.

Stoick adored Astrid, across realms – literally. And with her brow curiously raised and cheeks tinged such a beautiful shade of rose, Hiccup couldn't resist.

"Son, marry her," he said in a thick Scottish brogue. He let go of her middle to rap a fist to his chest, "Odin himself could choose none better than the lass!"

Her grin followed as he lifted his pointer finger with a dramatic stride. Oh yes, he still had a few good impressions left, even though she'd heard most of this one.

"She'll make sure to look after you, keep you grounded, give you strong sons in the plentiful!"

Astrid laughed, flushing an adorable crimson. "He… he really said that?"

Hiccup paused mid-stride, lowering his hand as he donned his normal voice again, "Yeah. Couldn't get that one of out of my head for a long time." He smirked thoughtfully, "Actually, I still haven't."

Astrid smirked back, folding her arms across her chest. "You forgot to mention that last part when you finally took his advice, Chief."

"Well," he chuckled as he moved to stand in front of her again. His hands found her waist, thumbs fondly trailing the sides of her abdomen, "I didn't want to scare you off, milady."

With a look that utterly drowned him, Astrid slid her arms around his neck and pulled him down until their noses touched. "I will give you plenty of strong sons, Hiccup Haddock," she said devotedly, and seized his lips with a ravenous zeal that could well have led to their first child – were she not presently carrying said babe. And once again, the incredulous words rebounded in his skull. He was going to be a father!

Hiccup held her firm against him as they slowly pulled back for air. "You know," he grinned softly against her lips, "a beautiful daughter would do just fine."

And Astrid then pulled him into a heated series of kisses that Hiccup's mind would relive for a very long time, well past the strenuous days of her morning sickness.

"Where'd you go?" she asked gently, pulling him from the realm of reflection.

He smiled into her hair, "I was thinking about the day you told me."

Her thumb affectionately brushed his knuckles, his hand enclosed in both of hers atop her womb. It was a sensation that forced him into wakefulness – in contrast to the cold, hard wall against his back. Astrid let out a deep and shaky breath, and for a moment Hiccup feared she was about to be sick again.

(If there was anything left to come out.)

"I hope you're right about this being for a daughter," she mumbled tiredly, "Otherwise I might have to cut back on that promise."

Hiccup contemplated her for a moment, and then, catching on, found himself grinning. "Well, we could always rephrase it a little," he offered, "A plenty strong son is fine."

"Mmh, yeah… yeah, that sounds wonderful…" Astrid's voice was thick with exhaustion. She smiled as she closed her eyes again, and sensing her about to drift off, he tilted his head back to examine her.

"Ready to head back to bed then?"

She nodded, but made no inclination of wanting to move.

Hiccup sighed, shuffling a little at the stiffness in his back that he was becoming all too aware of. Reluctantly, his hand slid out to trade places with hers. He gave her a heartening squeeze. The last thing he wanted to do was cause her further discomfort. But it was preferable to waking up on a cold stone floor. Fighting the lull of sleep himself, relief flooded in when Astrid responded at last, leisurely and carefully disentangling her limbs from his.

She took both his hands when he stood to offer them, helping her slowly rise to her feet as a numb, tingling sensation left his legs. When she straightened up, Hiccup saw that her knees were trembling. Wordlessly, palm resting on her back, he bent down a little and sought her eyes for permission.

Cheeks regaining some color at last – albeit in a blush – the depleted shieldmaiden took a wobbly, determined step toward the door. Hiccup shook his head in awe of her stubbornness, for barely a second later her shaky fingers were gripping his bicep for support. And after a few more persistent seconds – with husband equally adamant as wife – Astrid relented.

Blush deepening, she allowed him to curve his hand beneath her knees, and in one steady motion Hiccup lifted her up off her feet and into his arms. Moving concurrently with him, she draped her arms around his neck and pulled herself closer, resting her head snug against his collarbone.

The snarky quip he expected never came, and as he glanced down at her fatigued profile Hiccup couldn't bring himself to grin in his victory. It was a testament to just how ill and exhausted she felt; Astrid never let him off with the last say. Never.

Careful to keep her feet secure through the door-frame, he gently glided down the hall to their bedroom. Laying her down on the furs, he rested her head on her pillow and guided her legs to center. Once she was comfortably settled, his tender hands gathered the covers she had tossed aside and tucked them neatly over and around her.

By the time he brushed the sticky fringe from her forehead, Astrid's lids were peacefully shut and her breaths deep in slumber.

Staunchly, with great effort, Hiccup fought the desire to follow suit and dragged his tired body back to the washroom to clean up. And as he did so, any pity he had for himself dispelled, the inordinate desire to care for her with all that he was and all that he had melting every other want to the background.

Quietly, he made his way back to their room, and with sleep beginning to inundate his senses, his limbs went into automatic mode, fingers fumbling away at the straps of his prosthetic and legs swinging up onto the bed as he pulled the furs over himself.

Turning onto his side, he watched the blankets rise and fall with his wife's tranquil breaths, reveling in the fact that she still looked so beautiful despite the night's circumstances. And when he slipped his hand beneath the furs to rest upon her stomach, he found both of hers already there, sheltering the little life they'd made together.

A beautiful daughter. Or a plenty strong son. Hiccup's chest swelled with pure elation at the thought of either. Surely, he would grow a second heart some time soon.

He grinned, placing his hand atop Astrid's. And just as a sleep that vowed to be infinitely more serene began to take him, his vision closed with the picture of her lips tugging in a restful smile.